#i just know someone is going to reblog this with some snarky 'well actually'

[cacodaemonia]

Curly/smart quotes in google docs

So, I know that formal advice for writing says to always use curly quotes rather than straight quotes. For reference, the first line in the image below has curly quotes and the second has straight quotes (the curly/straight thing also applies to single quotes/apostrophes):

Allegedly, curly quotes are easier to read than straight quotes, but I've never found that to be the case, and I just prefer the compact simplicity of straight quotes.

However, their main benefit in my eyes is that they don't fuck up html. As you can see in this chart from Practical Typography, straight and curly quotes are fundamentally different characters on computers:

So if you're writing in google docs with the intention of pasting something it into AO3's summary, notes, end notes, comments, or main text html boxes, be aware that those curly quotes are going to destroy html for things like links and images.

I've had curly quotes turned off for so long that I'm not sure if this very handy AO3 posting script for Google Docs converts them to straight quotes or not, but either way, I wanted to share how to turn curly quotes off if you want.

First, go to Tools, then Preferences:

Under Preferences, in the General section, uncheck 'Use smart quotes.' You can also fiddle with other things in Substitutions, which is handy, but that's up to you.

Keep in mind that this will not convert all of your curly quotes to straight, or vice versa. It only changes what you type after changing the setting. If you want to convert all of your double and single quotes, you'll have to run a find and replace.

Anyway, I'm sure plenty of writers will be horrified by this, but it's made my life a lot easier. So if, like me, you use quite a bit of html on AO3 and have no plans to become a published author, you can try out straight quotes if you feel like it. ✌️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Partners in Crime 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker

Summary: you're left reeling after your divorce but the chaos has only begun. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I��m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You hate the mall. Too bright. Too loud. Too fast. 

That day isn’t so bad. Tuesday, mid-morning. Most people are at work. Not you. Your part-time gig barely pays the bills, let alone keeps you busy. With that in mind, you shouldn’t be there to spend what little you have.  

It’s for a good cause. It’s your grandmother’s birthday next week and you owe her. After all she’s done, you owe much more than just a measly mall-bough gift but it’s all you can manage right now. One day it will be better. One day you will be able to pay her back. At least you keep telling yourself that. 

She paid for it all. Your way out, your lawyer, your apartment even. You can’t live in the senior’s community with her, that’s against the rules, but she parsed out some of her nest egg for the flat in the old brick building. For you. She’s the only one who ever did so much for you but what did you ever do for her? 

It’s not for lack of trying, only your own poor decisions. 

You enter the sparkling Swarovski store and keep your arms tight to your body, paranoid of breaking any of the numerous crystal pieces. You don’t know what she would like. It isn’t because you don’t know her well, you just don’t think she has much use for any of it. She’s always been painfully practical. That’s why you never wanted to ask her for help. 

An associate startles you as she appears beside you in her sleek black pantsuit. She offers help but you get the sense she’s checking in, making sure your hands aren’t sneaking into your pockets. You make sure to keep them visible and move your satchel across your back. You tell her you’re just looking and blow out between your dry lips. Maybe a hoodie wasn’t the best choice. 

It was meant to be a solution. You wanted to get out of your grandmother’s hair. How long had you been living with her? He was the answer to that. You thought so. You wanted to believe it. For ten years, you tried. He always spoiled it. 

Then she had to bail you out anyway. 

As you come to the sharp corner of a shelf, you’re startled by another customer. You hadn’t seen them when you came in or heard them. You glance at them fleetingly and turn your attention to the shelf of Mickey Mouse decorations. Definitely not those. 

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” the man frightens you again as he nears and presses his hand to your back. He sidles by, and you dodge away from him, coming dangerously close to colliding with the display of birthstone necklaces. 

You shake off the close brush and blink at the glass. You peek over at the man as he seems overly interested in a paper weight shaped like a dove. His mustache and sleek haircut make him look like he’s been plucked out of some gangster period piece.  

The associate shifts from one side of the counter to the other. She’s watching you. You sigh. She still thinks you’re a thief. You shake your head and leave. 

It’s not worth the trouble or the money. You can find something better. You know you could get your grandma a box of chocolates and a card and she’d say she’s happy. You don’t want to get her what works; you want to do something for someone. Something more than just be there. 

You go down to Hallmark. It’s a similar atmosphere with a hint of warmness and more range in price. Still too much Disney and not enough variety. Your grandmother doesn’t need a rustic crate or a door sign with some snarky saying about wine. 

You stop to look at cards. You can at least grab one of those. As you reach for one along the top row, another hand swipes it from your grasp. You back up and look at the culprit. It’s the same man as the Swarovski shop. Strange. 

You recoil and scurry down the aisle towards the door. Is he following you? It could be a coincidence. Two stores. If he’s looking for a gift too, it makes sense. 

You cross your arms and march quickly through the bright mall, the skylight glaring down at you. You walk in and out of a clothes shop. You don’t know where you’re going now. You’re frazzled. 

You find your way to the As Seen on TV shop and meander around without intent. You’re at a loss. You’ll just end up at the bookstore like always. Another book for her birthday. Wowee. 

She might like the salt rock light. You don’t know. Ugh. 

It isn’t the gift. It isn’t her. It’s you. You’re indecisive. You're lost. Even if it was misery, you miss having someone to tell you what to do. Now you have to think and you do too much of that. 

“Those are pretty cool,” a voice slices through your self-pity. 

It’s the same man. Your eyes meet as you look up to see him. You blanch and open and close your mouth. The shop is so small, how hadn’t you heard him? 

You retreat without a word. He must be following you. There’s no other explanation. What do you do? You can’t just lead him out of the mall, back to your building, but how can you divert him? 

You find a bench down the next aisle of the mall, somewhere the associates in the vitamin store can see you. You’re safe there with people around. You look up and down, searching for the man and his mustache. Just a mother with her stroller. 

You’re paranoid. Stupid, just like he said. It’s all in your head. You’re just fucked up. You don’t know how to live in this world. Not alone. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the timbre tickles up the back of your spine and you twist to see the figure behind you. It’s an officer in uniform. “Mind if I ask ya something?” 

You nod and blink. You don’t like the cops. You haven’t spoken to them since the night it all came crashing down. The flashing lights, the sirens, the questions. It’s all a haze yet it’s stamped into your psyche. 

“Yes, sir,” you stand. 

He’s got dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. His shoulders bear a slant of authority as he has his hands on his hips. He’s taller than you, but so is everyone. You look across the bench at him as his white shirt pokes out from under his leather jacket, his belly straining the fabric. 

“You don’t gotta trouble yerself,” he shows his palm and reaches with his other hand to his belt, “I’m lookin’ for someone and was wonderin’ if maybe ya saw him.” 

“Oh?” You crinkle your forehead. 

“Got a pic somewhere,” he frees his phone from the clip on his belt and flicks his thumb over the screen, “here we are.” 

He turns the cell toward you and you can’t help but make a face. The image is blurry but it’s definitely that same man. You look back the way you came and gulp. 

“Reckon by that, you’ve seen him,” the officer says. “Sheriff Bodecker,” he introduces as he retracts his hand, “I’m doing an investigation. Mind if I ask some more questions?" 

“Well, I... didn’t talk to him.” 

“That’s fine,” he peers down in the same direction you did. The infant in its stroller begins to yawl and his cheek ticks, “how about you come out to my cruiser and we’ll do it there? Less ruckus?” 

You purse your lips. You can’t really say no, he might think you know that guy, whoever he is, whatever he’s done. You shrug. You don’t have much to say. You’re sure it won’t be much of an interview. 

“Okay,” you agree.” 

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

All I Want Is You (Jey Uso x Ex-Girlfriend!)

Part 1

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

Janelle is played by Justine Skye

Taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci24 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish

I USED THE SAME TAGS FROM 'YOU'RE THE ONLY GIRL FOR ME' LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE UNTAGGED FROM THIS.

PART 2

Friday August 4th 

Josh walked into the arena holding hands with his 4 year old son. He had a camera crew following him for some type of vlog that was being shown on the WWE’s Youtube channel. The camera crew was filming him walking past a trailer that had Joe’s face on it. He said some snarky remark about looking better than Joe when his son tugged on his hand. 

“Dad, look.” His son said. Josh looked to where his son was pointing and felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t know she was going to be there. He knew he would probably see her at SummerSlam since it was an event for both shows but he wasn’t mentally prepared to see her tonight.  “Can I go say Hi?” His son asked using his best puppy dog eyes.  Josh nodded and let go of his hand. 

Janelle was talking to Michael Cole when she felt someone wrapping their tiny arms around her legs. 

“Hi J!” He smiled up at her, his two front teeth missing. She smiled and bent down to pick him up.

“Hey bud. How you been?” She asked, melting a little when he wrapped his arms around her neck. 

“Good. I missed you.” He said still not letting go of her neck. 

“I missed you too bud.” Josh felt his palms sweat when he got closer to Janelle, he prayed that he didn’t say anything stupid with the cameras on him. She arched her eyebrow at him when she noticed the camera crew but didn’t say anything about it.. 

“Come on. Let's go get some food.” He said to his son trying to pry him off of Janelle. With them and the camera crew laughing when his son just wrapped his arms and legs around Janelle tighter. 

“No dad, I wanna stay with Nelle.” His son said, turning around and pouting at his dad. 

“You guys know each other?” The cameraman asked, causing Josh to stutter before Janelle rolled her eyes and answered for him. 

“We used to date.” She said 

“Used too?” The cameraman laughed when Josh and Janelle turned their faces up at him. “My bad just asking.” 

“Yeah used too, Mr. Nosey.” She said, rolling her eyes. Her expression softened when she brought her attention back to Josh’s son. “You don’t wanna go eat with daddy?” She asked, making Josh suck in a breath that hopefully the camera’s didn’t pick up. He loved when she called him that. When Xavier shook his head no Janelle turned her attention to Josh who was already looking at her. “He can stay with me until he’s ready to go with you.” 

Josh nodded his head. “My cousin was going to sit at Ringside with him during the show, I'll let you know when she gets here.” Janelle nodded and walked off with Xavier leaving Josh with the camera crew. “Yall not gonna cut that out huh?” He asked, seeing the smirk on the cameraman's face.

“Why do you have my nephew?” Joe Anoa’i asked as he walked down the hallway seeing Janelle with Xavier. 

“Because he likes me better than his dad.” Letting out a laugh when Xavier nodded his head in agreement. Joe took Xavier from Janelle. 

“You actually talked to Josh?” He asked his eyes widening when she nodded her head. “It wasn’t awkward?” 

“No gossip girl. I think we’re both over the break up.” Arching an eyebrow when Joe just gave her a ‘yeah okay’ look. “What's with the look?” She asked, taking Xavier back when he reached for her. 

“I mean,” He paused and shrugged. “Y’alls breakup tore up a friend group.” Holding his hands up in defense when Janelle narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m just saying we all used to hang out then yall broke up and I hardly see you or Tati anymore.” Janelle rolled her eyes. 

“Well, Tatianna is pregnant, so she’s not on the road anymore and I’m on Raw now.” 

“Yeah well you would still be on Smackdown if you didn’t ask to get traded.”  Janelle rolled her eyes. 

“I didn’t ask to be traded” 

“That’s not what I heard.” Janelle narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t understand where people were getting the rumor of her asking to be drafted over to RAW was coming from, but it was pissing her off. 

“I’m going to walk away now.” She said, turning her back to him and walking away, not giving him a chance to respond. 

“Damn I aint know Janelle was back on Smackdown.” Joe said as he sat down next to Josh in catering. Josh looked over at him. 

“Tell me about it, X traded on me as soon as he saw her.” He said picking up his fork to continue eating. 

“So how did it feel to see her again?” Joe asked. 

“Damn Uce, what you a reporter now?” Joe laughed. 

“Nah, I'm just wondering, I know things ended badly between y’all.” Josh nodded his head and swallowed his food before answering. 

“Yeah, but I think we’re both over it. It was months ago.” Josh looked at his phone when it beeped with a notification. It was Janelle telling him that Xavier had fallen asleep and she needed somewhen quiet to put him. He told her to meet him at catering so he could take Xavier back to his dressing room. 

“I’ll see you later Uce.” Josh said, standing up, throwing his trash away and walking out of catering to wait for Janelle. 

“Hey.” Josh turned and smiled at her, taking Xavier’s sleeping body from her. 

“Thank you,” He said to her. “For taking Xavier when he wanted to go with you. You didn’t have to take him.” He finished when she arched her eyebrow at him. 

“It was no problem.” She said rocking on her heels, when they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. “I’m gonna..” She started pointing behind her. 

“He nodded his head. “It was nice to see you Janelle.” 

“You too Josh, good luck tonight and tomorrow.” She said before turning around and walking away. 

Janelle didn’t see Xavier or Josh for the rest of the show. After meeting with Paul and confirming that she was definitely moving back to the blue brand. She headed to the parking lot stopping when she heard Xavier throwing a tantrum.  

“No!.” The 4-year old yelled out. “I wanna go see Nelle.” Josh looked around desperately. 

“ I don’t think she’s here anymore X. Come on we can get McDonald’s” Xavier wasn’t trying to hear that though. He started crying and kicking his legs harder. Janelle walked over to them. 

“Xavier. What’s wrong?” Xavier broke free from Josh’s grip and ran over to Janelle. 

“I wanna stay with you.” He cried into her leg. Janelle felt her heart break, she didn’t know that her and Josh’s breakup had this type of effect on Xavier. Josh crouched down so he was eye level with Xavier. 

“Xav, come on we talked about this daddy and Nelle don’t share a room anymore.” Him saying that only caused Xavier to cry harder. He looked up her. 

“Help me.” He mouthed to her. She cleared her throat and pried Xavier off of her legs and picked him up. 

“Okay. How about your daddy go and get the food and me and you can go back to the hotel and watch movies. I’ll stay until you go to sleep.”

“Promise.” He asked, pouting at her. She nodded. 

“I promise..” She looked back at Josh. “You wanna take my rental and I’ll take yours?” He nodded and gave her the keys and his keycard. 

“Room 3310, Jon is there.” Janelle groaned and nodded her head putting Xavier into the car seat. “Whatchu want to eat?” He asked her, holding the driver's door open for her.  She shrugged. 

“You know what I like.” She said before shutting the door and starting the car.” She looked in the rear view mirror at Xavier who was smiling at her and she could help but smile back.  Starting the car with a sigh, she started driving to the hotel

Xavier talked her head off the whole journey up to the hotel room. Janelle didn’t mind though. She missed being around him. They finally made it to the room, opening the door Janelle let out a surprised shriek when she saw Jon standing in his underwear. 

“Ayo, whatchu doin?!” He yelled as he ran into his room. She laughed and placed Xavier on the couch, crouching down to take off his shoes. 

“Do your boxers have frogs on them?” She said laughing when he came out of the room and threw a pillow at her. 

“Shut up, my mom gave them to me.” That caused Janelle to laugh even harder. “Why are you here?” He said walking over to his nephew and giving him a pound. 

“Me and Xavi having a movie night.” She said untying the laces on her heels and slipping them off her feet. Jon arched an eyebrow and her. 

“Just you and X?” He looked over to his nephew who was cuddled up against Janelle. Normally he would be ripping and running around the whole hotel room, tearing shit up. But now he looked so content with just being close to Janelle. 

“No Josh too.”  He looked over at her. “What? We broke up months ago. I’m over it, I'm pretty sure he’s over it and I’m doing it for Xavier. He had a whole tantrum at the arena.” 

“You might be over it, but I know my brother, he aint over it.” Janelle ignored his statement and turned her attention to the cartoon that Xavier was watching. 

Josh didn’t immediately pull off from the arena. He sat in the car for a bit. “What the fuck.” He muttered, scrubbing his hand over his face. He 100% wasn’t over their break up. He wasn’t even sure why they broke up. He came home one day to all her stuff packed and placed by the front door, the house keys and car keys on the kitchen counter.  He couldn’t even think of reasons why they broke up, they were happy or at least he thought they were happy. 

Josh pulled off, driving to the nearest McDonalds, his thoughts shifting to the ring box in his closet. 

The sound of someone knocking on the door paused Janelle, Jon and Xavier’s game of hide-and-seek.

“That must be Josh. I have his keycard.” She said walking over and opening the door. She took the drink out of his hand and set them down at the kitchen table. Jon walked over to the bags looking in them. Scoffing when he only sees two meals and a happy meal. 

“Man, you knew I was here.” He grumbled going over to the hotel’s restaurant menu and looking at it. “I'm hungry too.” Josh ignored him though. His eyes on Janelle as he watched her help Xavier sit at the table. 

“What?” She asked when she turned around and noticed him still standing there, staring at her. He shook his head and mumbled ‘nothing’ before grabbing his food out of the bag and going to sit on the couch with his brother.  He looked over at Janelle when she cleared her throat. She nodded her head over to the empty chair next to Xavier.

“What are you doing?” She asked. He sighed and got up from the couch and made his way over to the table. Giving her a look when she started laughing.  

Jon watched them with a small smile on his face, hoping that they could talk out their problems and get back together. They were good for each other. He got up and walked into his room, giving them privacy. 

After they ate, they went into Josh and Xaviers shared room. Janelle stood awkwardly by the door as Josh helped Xavier into his pajamas. 

Josh went into the bathroom to change,  leaving Janelle and Xavier. 

“Can I sit in the middle of you and daddy?” He asked, already climbing into the bed. 

“Of course,” she smiled at him, walking towards the bed, wishing she had a change of clothes.  She climbed into the bed next to him, tucking her legs so that her underwear wasn’t showing. 

“So what are we watching?” Josh asked as he came back into the room, dressed in some basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Janelle looked down and Xavier, who was looking at her already. 

“You want me to pick?” He nodded his head and snuggled closer to her. 

“Wow this is a lot of pressure.” She said, tickling his sides making him giggle. “Lets watch SpiderMan” Josh nodded and grabbed the remote to turn the movie on. 

15 minutes into the movie Xavier was rocked. Janelle looked down when he started to snore and laughed. 

“Guess he was sleepy.” She said, sitting up slightly so she wouldn’t wake him up. With Josh’s help she maneuvered him so he was laying on a pillow and not on her. “Well, goodnight.” She said, cracking the door so that the light from the living room wouldn’t wake Xavier. 

Josh looked over at Xavier to make sure he was secured and followed Janelle out of the room. 

“Wait.” He called out after her. She turned around, leaning against the front door. “Thank you, for coming to be with Xavier, I don’t know how I would’ve calmed him down.” She nodded her head. 

“It was no problem, you know I love Xavier.” That caused Josh to scoff. “What was that for?” She said, crossing her arms. 

“How you love him, but you abandoned us.” She gasped. 

“I didn’t abandon him or you Joshua. We broke up.” He shook his head. 

“No, you broke up with me, leaving me and my son heartbroken, that little boy asked about you for months. And what was I supposed to say? Janelle left you just like your mom?!” 

“That was uncalled for Josh!” She said, raising her voice slightly.  He shrugged. 

“Well it's true and I'm not apologizing for it.” 

“Joshua, we broke up, I moved out. Was I supposed to still come around?” She asked, frowning. She should’ve known this conversation was going to happen. 

“Why did we break up? Why did you move out? Im still fuckin’ confused.” She groaned and rolled her eyes. 

“Josh, come on. We argued everyday, we saw each other at work and at home. There was no escape.” He furrowed his eyebrows at her.

“What argument? We had slight disagreements.” She scoffed at that. 

“Josh we yelled from the time we woke up til the time we fell asleep.”  

“So what, we were going thru a rough patch, but that doesn’t mean you leave me and my son.” 

She groaned and threw her head back against the door, “I love Xavier, but I wasn’t ready to be a mom. I felt overwhelmed. There I was playing house with you-” He cut her off. 

“Playing house? Seriously?”  

“I wasn’t ready for that lifestyle! And then you kept talking about how good of a mom I was to X and how you couldn’t wait until we had kids of our own.” She was growing frustrated with him. Why couldn't he see where she was coming from. She was young and wanted to have fun. Did he understand the sacrifices she made for him and his son? 

“That's how people who love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together talk, Janelle!” 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore Josh. I just wanna go to sleep.” She said as she opened the door. 

“Go ahead, run away like you always do.”  She sighed and let the door close behind her, she wasn’t lying when she said she loved Xavier, she really did. And she wasn’t lying when she said that she wasn’t ready to be a mom. 

When she started dating Josh, she knew he had a son but she didn’t know he was a full time dad. Xavier would stay with Josh’s mom when he was on the road but all that changed when Xavier met Janelle, he didn’t want to leave her side. So Xavier started coming on the road with them and wherever Janelle went so did he. He would sit on the equipment boxes behind the camera, while she did her interviews. It got to the point where she was missing out on social events to stay with Josh and Xavier. 

She wiped tears from her eyes as she got on the elevator and pressed the button to her floor. 

Hopefully this will only be 2 parts. Enjoyy ❤️

[qprstobin]

Stobin Different First Meeting AU where they go to prom together. This was meant to be an au post and turned into a mini fic oops (written completely within a tumblr post so sorry for the poor quality)

(edit: realized I should link the fic I was inspired by for those who don't follow me and so didn't see me reblog it earlier)

Steve doesn't necessarily want to go to prom, right? Like yeah, he'd been imagining it for a while, but now that he was very, very single it just didn't have the same shine that it used to. And he really wasn't ready to start dating yet. However, he didn't want to just, not go to prom, and also knew it would seem really weird (and pretty fucking sad) if he didn't go.

Which leaves him in a conundrum.

He thought for a while that maybe he would go with one of the junior cheerleaders. While he didn't have any close friends anymore, he was still friendly with plenty of people. There were girls that wouldn't be going to prom unless they had a senior boyfriend - some he had even gone on dates with in the past who wouldn't think a single prom date meant that he wanted a new girlfriend.

However, he is pretty sure most of those girls would have... other expectations for the night. And honestly? He isn't quite sure that he was ready to get back on that horse either.

... Not that he thought women were horses.

He's pretty sure men are normally the ones called horses in riding metaphors.

Anyway.

That left him stuck. He couldn't just not go to prom, but also didn't want to wind up trapped on an actual date with someone. So who could he ask?

His solution ended up coming from an odd place.

Robin Buckley was... quite honestly, kind of a weirdo.

She was cute, in an alternative sort of way. She never took any of his shit (he wasn't completely sure she even liked him) but also reluctantly laughed at the snarky shit he said under his breath during their Film History class. And not in the fake giggly way girls did when they were flirting, but didn't actually care about what he was saying, just the way he said it. She actually seemed to think he was funny. Even if that revelation seemed to piss her off.

The only reason he was even in Film History that semester - and therefore, knew who she was - was for the easy A. He got to watch movies in class, and watch movies for homework. He was willing to plow through a couple of shitty essays in exchange for a class that he didn't feel like a complete idiot in.

(Well, he was pretty sure Robin thought he was an idiot about movies, but just because he had trouble remembering the names and shit of characters, didn't mean he couldn't analyze the themes, fuck you very much, Buckley.)

They had gotten assigned a project together early on, and it hadn't been completely terrible. She had quickly taken over doing most of the writing portions, but hadn't thought all of his ideas were terrible. By the end of the project he thought they were even sort of having fun together.

He'd always been one to try his luck, take a little more than he was given. So, after that assignment was over, he started sitting next to her in class, not wanting that easy, if sharp, camaraderie to end. Robin rolled her eyes at him and asked him what he thought he was doing the first time he did it, but she never sent him away.

They ended up chatting more and more during down times, passing notes to each other and sharing sly comments under their breaths during the movies. Steve often had trouble paying attention at school, his mind easily wandering away, and it was almost as bad during most movies, but Robin helped keep him on track.

The class turned into one that was done for the easy grade, a last ditch effort to improve his already hopeless GPA, and became one he actually enjoyed.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going to prom with Robin. It made the night seem a little less unbearable.

He thought about making a big deal out of asking her, because he knows that's what girls (and even Nancy) had enjoyed for past dances. He quickly scrapped that idea, however, because not only did he not want to put pressure on her like that, but also she seemed to hate public spectacles like that.

Or at least when aimed at her, they both enjoyed watching drama unfold in the halls a bit too much to say she hated it completely.

So Steve waits until the end of the day, their film class being their last, to pull her into an empty classroom. She follows him without question in a show of trust he didn't realize she had in him. The notion warms him, and for some reason makes it more difficult to get the question out.

"Why do I feel like you're about to try to sell me drugs or something?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He squints at her in offense.

"Why is that your first assumption?!"

"I don't know! Why else are you pulling me out of the hallway all secretive like, making sure no one followed us, into an abandoned classroom," she asks, throwing her arms into the air.

"The classroom isn't abandoned, it's the end of the day! Also, who does drug deals on campus, that's just stupid?" He asks rhetorically, before waving one hand through the air, as if trying to erase the current thread of conversation. "That doesn't matter, you're distracting me."

"Well then, get on with it! Some of us have practice we need to get to."

"It's like talking to the kids," he mutters to himself, "Whatever. I wanted to ask - will you go to prom with me?"

That stops Robin up short. There's panic in her eyes now, though Steve isn't sure what exactly put it there. Was his reputation that bad that even band geeks are terrified of getting asked out by him?

"You want to go on a date? With me?" she asks slowly, disbelief coloring her voice, though it doesn't hide her unease.

"No, I want to go to prom with you," he scoffs, "Not go on a date with you."

"That is a date, dingus! The person you go to prom with is literally called your date!"

"Okay, sure, maybe, but I don't actually want to date you," he said, rolling his eyes at her.

Like, okay, he understood his reputation for being... what did she call him last week? A 'huge effing rake'? But that didn't mean that he was trying to date any girl that looked in his direction. A lot of girls looked in his direction. That was too many women, even for him.

Robin relaxes a little at that.

"Then why are you asking me to prom instead of someone you actually want to date?"

"Because!" he says, resisting the urge to flail his hands back at her. "I don't want to date anyone right now. Most people I ask are going to expect all these things from me - they're going to want dinner, and at the very least a kiss at the end of the night if not more, or another date the very next day. Because Steve Harrington is supposed to want those things!" He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair to calm himself. "But right now? I really don't."

"Well then, what does Steve the Hair Harrington actually want?" She had relaxed fully at this point, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I want to go to prom with someone I consider a friend, someone who makes me laugh," he says after a moment of silence. "I want to dance badly to really corny pop music and drink just enough spiked punch that I don't remember how much I hate wearing any sort of tie. Then I want to go get milkshakes or go see a really trashy midnight horror flick, just because I'm having so much fun I don't want the night to end."

That small smile has grown into a reluctant grin on Robin's face. It makes her eyes shine and her freckles pop. Steve thought that if he was in a better place, if they had met at a different time, he could have fallen in love with her.

But they had met now instead, in some shitty public school elective course, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend that wasn't a snotty middle schooler.

"That sounds... like a lot of fun, actually," she says, mischief sparking on her face. "Who would've known the hidden depths hidden behind all that hair."

"Hey!" he protests half-heartedly, unable to keep a grin of his own off his face. "So what do you say? Wanna go to prom with me?"

"I guess," she sighs, acting like it was such a trial to go to prom with him. Him! But her next words make up for it. "Since we're friends, and all. However, I still expect you to buy me dinner, though you can keep the kiss goodnight to yourself."

Steve can't help the giddy laugh from spilling out of him. For the first time in weeks, he is actually looking forward to prom.

[diamondcitydarlin]

I don't think I'm going to say anything here that hasn't been said better a million times by other fans, but I feel as someone who has been a fan and supporter of his for an upwards of 20+ years now (so like, most of my fucking life) I need to. As a victim of SA myself, I need to. As someone who frequently sang his praises, reblogged his snarky commentary, spoke with him a few times, never thought a bad thing about him before now, and otherwise lauded him a 'safe person' (without good reason, I now realize) I need to. Staying silent indefinitely just doesn't feel acceptable.

(Under the read more is stuff that might be triggering, but is largely personal)

I took my time because for a long while after this broke I had to deal with my own feelings of grief. I know for some that sounds weird, but learning that someone you thought was a good person is in fact not a good person and was very likely just always putting that 'good person' mask on for show, finally seeing the truth of them does feel like a death- the death of the person you thought they were, the death of a person you came to like and respect that never existed in the first place. There was a divorce of identities I had to make there in my mind. I think that's the denial phase, right? Except I never wanted to deny the victims' stories, as much as I didn't want to believe any of it was true.

Of course, what else is true is that I never really knew him. Most of us didn't (even some who were actual close friends with him apparently). We accepted the personality he presented to us as a genuine person who laid all his cards on the table, assuming that this meant there couldn't be darker sides to him that he was carefully hiding so as to ensnare more victims. It seemed unthinkable. Until it wasn't. Until it was exposed to those of us who didn't already know about the underground whisper campaign of his predatory behavior and so much of what he did and said in the past years now seem unavoidably creepy. But they didn't back then. How could they? (Here's one- He has a 'bathtime' tag on his blog that he apparently used to get fans to take pictures of themselves reading his books while taking baths. Most of the 'bathtime' fan pictures he reblogged were of young women in close to NSFW/spicy bath positions with his books. This was around 2012 and it's blowing my mind that I didn't see the creepiness of that then)

This is about the time in my thoughts that I've started pivoting towards my own personal responsibility in the situation, as I have before when I've found myself in an unfair or victim position. Not to overly blame or be critical of myself for not knowing things I genuinely had no idea about until they became public, not to blame myself for being lied to as millions of fans were by a bad person, and definitely not to blame others for what happened, but rather to regain some kind of control in the future over a situation that feels very much out of my control (and ofc it is, on the whole).

While famous people being 'cancelled'/revealed as monsters using their platform to reel in victims is nothing new, I still allowed myself to be charmed and carried away by the persona Gaiman put forth publicly, allowed myself to think that THIS time it'd be different, not all famous men, etc, to the point that despite this being a clear pattern of behavior for a number of people in positions of power/wealth, I still allowed myself to believe and wholeheartedly accept that it could never be him.

Well, as far as I'm concerned, that's done with. While I will still have famous creators/actors/artists etc that I will go on 'liking', I have to remember from here on out that I don't REALLY know them, no matter how genuine or down to earth or open they seem, I do not know them or what they might be capable of (or have already done) and I cannot let myself fall into a feeling of personal trust with someone I don't fucking know just because I like their work and because they might SEEM like a decent person. It was never my conscious intention to put Neil or anyone else on a pedestal or think of them as gods or something, but even in assuming that everything he did and said publicly was genuine, I ended up putting him there anyway and it blinded me to who he really was, the signs of which were there from the fucking start, now looking back. I can't again let my unwillingness to face red flags keep me from fucking seeing them.

And, unfortunately, from now on I am going to be hyper-suspicious of famous people that ingratiate themselves into fandom spaces as though they're part of the group. As fun as it was to believe a creator could coexist alongside us without nefarious intentions, that was clearly just a fantasy. I'm not saying it would always be that way, or that anyone who interacts with their fans is a positive way is trying to prey on them, but the level to which Neil interacted with his fans and the fandoms therein should be regarded with a bit more suspicion in the future, I feel. We have to ask ourselves why a creator would be SO immersed, what are they hoping to gain, particularly if most of their fans are young and impressionable? Sure, their intentions could be pure, but there are a lot of predatory reasons for a much-loved creator with huge swaths of fans to try to ingratiate himself in their spaces and that's worth considering in future when someone is trying to be Mr. Popularity- I'm not naive enough, especially not now, to think that it won't happen again with someone else.

Anyway, this is all, the last thing I'm going to (try) to say about him and my feelings on this issue, because as a fan that wasn't directly preyed on by him but is feeling a sense of grief for personal reasons, my voice isn't nearly as important as those of people who were direct victims of his predation. Those are the ones we should be listening to and amplifying, especially as it seems likely even more women will come forward in their future.

I'm furious and disgusted and so so sad for all the women that were made to suffer from his manipulation. I'm sorry no one was willing to listen to them until now.

[athreehundredthirtythree]

A Story About Veilguard & Me

I normally pop on here, at infrequent intervals, to mindlessly reblog DA memes and art from mutuals. I very, very rarely post at all, and almost never in my own words. This time, though, I have to. And you'll have to forgive me--what I'm going to say might sound unkind or like I'm not giving the game a fair shake. Also, there will be MAJOR spoilers, and I'm going to get very personal. It will be long.

All this to say, I don't expect anybody to actually read it. Or care, for that matter.

But sharing is a part of grief. And I need to tell you a story.

My parents divorced when I was a kid, and my father moved 1800 miles away (approx. 2900 km for people who live in sensible countries), so my uncle was a formative figure in my life. He was snarky, sarcastic, brilliant, and kind. He was the sort of person who all the neighborhood kids considered a father figure. He was my first DM in my first tabletop RPG, and my first video game was Baldur's Gate, played as I sat on his lap. I made the decisions and he moved the characters and clicked things to make them happen. He was my first Valentine, sending me a Vermont Teddy Bear on Valentine's Day when I was a little girl. I'm in my 30s. I still have that bear. His son, my cousin, had prom the same night as mine since we went to the same school. But my uncle made sure to come over to my house to see when I was ready and tell me I looked beautiful. He was my father in all but name. When I was little, he brushed my hair and tucked me into bed at night, telling me story after story, improvised on the spot just for me.

When I was in college, he got sick. I was the last to know. My entire family knew before I did. My uncle apologized, said he hadn't meant to tell me last. He'd assumed my mom told me. She hadn't because she "hadn't wanted to upset me during the semester." I was upset, but, hey, at least I knew now. And my uncle was doing well and responding to treatment.

Some years passed. I had a kid. Then the worst loss of my life, followed a few months later by another kid. All the while, my uncle's health was in decline. I had to watch him go from being a bright, vibrant presence in my life, a sun I could guide myself around, to a husk of the person he was. But I would talk to him a lot. I tried to get him into Critical Role when he got too sick to play D&D anymore, so he could still keep it in his life. But my aunt couldn't figure out how to make the podcast work, despite my written instructions, sadly. Instead, I told him about anything I was doing--now I was telling him the stories, for a change: about my life, about my kids, about how we were all doing fine.

Everyone told me he was doing okay, he was in a status quo. He'd never get better, but at least he wasn't getting worse. Cold comfort is still comfort.

I came home after the holiday party at my job a few years later when my mom pulled me aside for a chat. My uncle's health was failing, she said, and my entire extended family had kept that from me because they didn't want me to be upset at work. I had a job to do, Mom said, and she wanted me to be able to focus.

It was as she was telling me this that she got the phone call. My uncle was dead.

Her lies made it so I never got to say goodbye in a way he could hear.

I will never forgive her that.

And she knows it. I've told her. And all she can say is she's sorry, but she made the best decision she could at the time. For the sake of a job I don't even have anymore.

All this to say: I hate Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

In this game, the writers at Bioware have just made me relive one of the worst things that ever happened to me. For the sake of a fun little plot twist.

It's not a fun little plot twist. It's not an extra twist of the fictional knife for pathos points. It is a real thing that happened to me--a light in my life went out and I lost a chance to say goodbye when it would have mattered because of someone else's lies.

Dragon Age was, bar none, my favorite video game series, and I have an encyclopedic knowledge of its lines and lore. I have loved it since the moment I booted up Origins. And now I don't know if I'll be able to play any of the games again, knowing how it ends for a character who, by every metric but height and hair color, is a dead ringer for the uncle I lost. Who was a comfort when my uncle died--I don't have my uncle anymore, but Varric was always there, a click away, endlessly supportive, with a one-liner and a story, so reminiscent of the presence I will forever miss.

Is that stupid? Sure. But who said grief has to be smart? I make no apologies.

The fact that Solas can be forgiven for this, can ride off into the sunset with a romanced Lavellan, and Varric's narration sounds approving of it... feels like a judgment. Varric's lines about it being "[his] decision, [his] sacrifice. And you [Rook/player] don't get to take that from me" feels like a very personal "fuck you." It feels like Varric, as an unromanceable character, despite fandom clamoring to smooch the dwarf since DA2, is more disposable than Solas. Fuck it, it's not like anyone loved him, right? It's not like he was integral to anyone's story.

I am aware that Bioware doesn't know I exist. I'm a random schlub on Tumblr, and people who've been callously lied to about a death in reality are a vanishingly small group of people, not an important bloc to consider. But if the entire company had set out to make a game to hurt me personally, if they'd had a vendetta against me and wanted to break my heart--and not in a fun, engaging fictional way like they usually manage, but in a way that reminds me of a very real grief and hurts in a very, very real way... this is the exact decision they would have made. To not just kill him, but to lie about it for the whole game. I could have been okay with a Varric death in this game. Hell, I intentionally bring him with me to do "In Hushed Whispers" in DAI so I can see the terror demon toss his corpse into the room for the extra pathos. Death in stories happens, particularly ones with stakes as high as this one.

But writing that affects you, that makes you feel, makes you think, makes you cry--it's only good as long as it's in good fun. And there's a vast gulf between "a story that made me cry" and "a story that made me fucking despair because I just realized I can't remember what my uncle's voice sounds like anymore and I'll never hear it again." Between "a story that gave my favorite character a send-off in a way I disliked" and "my uncle will never meet my son, and I just got a big, fuck-off reminder of that fact." And Veilguard is the latter.

I wish I could say I loved the game. I wish I could say the ending brought me the closure I never got. But closure is a lie; the wound doesn't close. You just learn to compensate. The story cracked my heart along fissures that will never heal. And it hurts as badly now as it did the day I lost him, when I found out how much my family, my own mother, lied to me and I lost out on the chance to say goodbye in any way that mattered.

A gentle reminder to any writers out there who've made it this far: remember your readers, your players, your audience all bring their own context to your story. A fun twist to you because you watched The Sixth Sense over the weekend can be deeply, heartbreakingly painful to a player, because they bring their own life to whatever tale you tell. Take care with how you treat your characters; they're fictional, sure, but that doesn't mean they're disposable--because what happens to them can matter more than you think to an audience member in grief.

Next month, it will have been five years since he died. A milestone and a tragedy. The son my uncle will never meet is sitting on my lap as I write this and try desperately to remember what his voice sounded like. And this time, there's no one, real or fictional, to offer that missing presence. Because knowing how the story ends changes how the beginning feels.

Thank you for reading.

[traegorn]

Because I've met your type before, and it's based on the way you talk about the numbers and people. It's not a general stereotype about statisticians, but moreso that people who talk like you do tend to also have that background.

(The other guess would have been an engineer, but they stereotypically don't tend to get as esoteric unless they're trying to sell you on [crypto/AI/insert tech fad].)

It's pretty clear from the things you say that you do not, in fact, understand the people you're angry at perfectly. So when you go around saying they "don't really care about anything other than how they personally feel" and calling any pushback "about the dumbest thing I've ever read", being treated as a slightly-lagging student is the best you can expect.

No, I do. The people I'm mad at I understand perfectly well. These are people prioritizing how something makes them feel over whether or not it actually helps anyone. Is the statement hyperbolic? Perhaps.

But it's not wrong.

Because you can talk to them about it for hours, and in the end their arguments run out and that's the wall you hit.

As for my saying your response being "the dumbest thing I've ever read" -- it's because responding to that post with what you did was both completely unrelated to the point of the post and expressing an opinion as fact. Not because a single vote's direct impact to the outcome of an election isn't statistically small, because what "matters" is a far more complex topic.

Even if we discounted the fact that there are small regional races on this ballot where single votes are impactful, voting numbers go beyond the election they're cast in.

And there's something to be said in how telling people their vote is unimportant is irresponsible when there are active psyops campaigns attempting to disenfranchise voters is, frankly, irresponsible.

While a single vote may not seem important, votes matter. That's what drives the entire system. While you can argue an individual, discrete vote is statistically unimportant, an individual voting does matter because those plural votes do not exist without that action.

I don't know much about you as a person, but I do know that you should at least consider the possibility that you might be completely clueless about these people. Even after decades of dealing with them. Because you are, and it's leading you to treat them very unkindly.

So I made a post back in May apologizing to my followers for reblogging more political posts than normal (because contrary to what it looks like now, I historically just use this Tumblr to talk about my creative projects and not politics). I asked people to vote in that post.

Someone reblogged that, and said they didn't know who to vote for. I replied kindly, and showed the (clear) differences between Trump and (at the time assumed candidate) Biden.

And that's when the harassment began.

So no, I don't owe everyone kindness. And the post you responded to was specifically about those people who had been sending me hate for months.

But also, the rhetoric in that post was deliberately chosen. A large percentage of the people who I'm arguing against will not change their mind no matter how kind I am to them based off of a Tumblr post. But the arguments presented in it will convince some and more importantly prevent other folks from falling for the rhetoric of those people.

And believe it or not my snarkiness and light frustration will spread it further online than kind words ever would. Like, my frustration is genuine, but I also knew if I masked it the post wouldn't go as far online.

Also it makes me feel better to vent sometimes. More than one thing can be true though.

To get to the content of the post as a whole, it's also in response to specific arguments that I've seen repeatedly get used. I didn't pick them out of a hat. The post is directed towards what these people are actually saying, and pointing out the big gap in their reasoning.

You may understand how numbers work, but you definitely don't understand how communication works.

I've been dealing with people like this in leftist spaces my whole life. They're not all the same, but their one commonality is that they haven't confronted the reality of their beliefs. The point of the post is to do that.

Some will listen, some won't, and passersby will be less likely to join them if I can help them see the flaw in going down that road to begin with.

If I have to explain the difference between morals and ethics to this condescending jackass like he's a college freshman, I'm going to tear my hair out.

[yellowflowerbub]

Preparation

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary. A casual night of preparation for an event with gojo

wordcount. 0.4k+

pairing(s). actor!gojo x makeupartist!reader

warning(s). reader is a bit of a tsundere, teasing

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

By far, your favorite thing to do when invited to events is prepare for them.

Yes, seeing all the actors you worked with dressed in their best attire after not seeing them since finishing the first season’s production was nice. However, nothing quite compared to the preparation of the event. 

You always fussed about taking a trip to the store to find a makeup product for his skin that'd never seen the light of day. Saying things like, "You know we can't order something in your shade online. They don't have your shade in the online stores." When you know it's not true at all. You truly just enjoyed spending the time dragging him throughout the isles of beauty supply stores.

You'd then complain about the extra time you would have to spend doing his makeup when you really didn't mind at all. He didn’t actually need much, just some touch ups here and there or coverage of a random pimple that appeared the morning of. Being so close and intimate with him was what you really enjoyed. And having an excuse to "blend the product" a bit more roughly if a snarky remark came from him.

He was well aware of this. Yet he still complained.

Every. Time.

“If someone would’ve told me, two years ago, that I’d be willingly sitting down to have my makeup done outside of set; I would call them insane.” He'd always say something along those lines. You roll your eyes and hold his face still.

“I guess I’m lucky you love your partner so much, hm?” You would always reply back.

Gojo would then turn to you again, “Very. Lucky.”

Then you'd smile and continue to touch up his makeup despite being very much done with it. You really just wanted to stray away from his teasing gaze knowing your entire face felt like it was on fire.

He probably couldn't see it but he knew the effect he had on you. And you knew he knew. You both knew each other so well, inside and out that you could tell by a simple glance what the other felt.

You would eventually pretend you finally finished and step back to admire your work through the mirror. Suddenly standing up, Gojo would stick his hand or hold out his arm for you to grab onto.

"Are you ready, my lovely, talented, gorgeous, stunning, head turning-"

"Yes." You'd cut him off, "Yes, I am very much ready."

"Alright then. Off to the car we go."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: a little actor au with gojo

Feedback and Reblogs are Appreciated!!

[princessofcurses]

[2] Take it.

Part 1 Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader Written from the perspective of Sukuna content warning: out of character, curse words, cigarette smoking, mutilation (quick and heals right back), blood, oral (F receiving), virginity lost, squirting Word Count: 4.4k If you like it, please leave a like and/or reblog ♡

The next night, she was sitting on the goose feather stuffed futon I had gotten for her yesterday. She was reading a book about the Big Three Vengeful Spirits while one of my servants painted her toenails. She told me to pick a color, and I picked a dark red like the color of blood. I got a kick out of seeing my choice on her toes. I took a seat beside her.

“Maybe I should get a pedicure too.”

“Get a manicure while you’re at it.”

Wait, did she say that because I was fingering her last night? Ugh. My servant flinched after Y/N had talked back to me. They were shocked and had bowed and ran off as soon as they finished with her nails, hoping to evade punishment I would usually give to someone (and those around them) who disobeyed me. But they would have no effect on her. The little brat has returned. I remembered her face as she was cumming hard around my fingers yesterday. Can I have her back? We hadn’t talked about yesterday yet but now was a good time to.

“What’d you think about last night?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

She gave me a coy smile and then stuck her tongue out at me. I wanted to grab her chin and kiss her. I wanted to do last night all over again. I wanted to finally put her in her place.

“It was okay.”

Okay? She fucking cried while cumming and it was just okay? She gives me a headache. I don’t know what to do with her.

“Why did you cry then?”

She brought her hand to her mouth and chuckled.

“I’m trying to figure that out too.”

She shrugged. I sighed deeply. I needed to solve her and unravel the mystery.

“For a moment, I felt like I was yours. And I didn’t like the feeling of upsetting who I belonged to.”

I felt a heat in my chest that traveled downward and made my stomach drop. Y/N actually felt true remorse for being a cocky brat, if only for a moment. I wanted to own her and call her mine. It did feel like she was mine when I touched her. I wanted to keep her by my side. I could pleasure her for as long as we live and I could train her to be my good girl too. I never thought to have a Queen, but she would be perfect.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I came back to my senses after I finished cumming.”

The image I had of us together in my head shattered by her crass words. I’ve never struggled this much to get something I want. I couldn’t stand it. She knows what she’s doing to me. I’m sure she’s teasing me.

She pulled out a packet of cigarettes and I looked at it with disgust.

“You can’t smoke here.”

“Fine.”

I blinked and she had vanished. She wasn’t in the shrine anymore. I went outside looking for her. I followed the scent of smoke and found her standing upon the highest point of the building. She smoked her cigarette nonchalantly.

“You’re disrespecting my dwelling.”

“What? You said I couldn’t smoke in there so I went outside!”

I sighed out of exasperation and my palm met my face.

“You’re so frustrating.”

We stood in silence together. She took a long drag and closed her eyes.

“Well… it was one of the best fingerings I’ve ever gotten. Like top three!”

One of them? She’s trying to piss me off. But I wouldn’t doubt she’d bring up the ‘hundreds of women I’ve slept with’ comment if I said something.

“To be honest, I really wanted you last night. I was aching for something to fill me up. I called out for you in a moment of weakness but I decided to stick by my words.”

My head perked up in interest. So she does want me. That’s valuable information.

“I mean it though. I’m not going to have sex with you. When I lose it to another virgin, let’s talk.”

She laughed and was about to leap down. I grabbed her wrist to keep her with me for a moment. She froze as we made eye contact. She could see how serious I was about wanting her but after a few seconds, she disappeared back into the shrine. I hated how easy it was for her to brush me off and I was crushed I had no chance with her. I couldn’t let her get away. There’s no way I would ever meet another woman who can be my equal in battle and is able to resist me. There must be something I can say or do to show her that the past doesn’t matter, that I would make her my whole life right now.

After a few moments alone to strategize, I followed her back inside.

“Let me lay with you.”

She shook her head.

“There isn’t enough space for you.”

“Just move over. I bought this anyway.”

“You bought it for ME.”

She pouted but then scooted over. I spooned her and took in the pleasant fragrance of her hair. She seemed to be ignoring me, opting to pay attention to her phone instead. Whatever.

I slowly moved my hand to her thigh and touched her softly.

“What about foreplay?”

“What?”

There was annoyance in her voice. We both sat up to face each other.

“I mean, you’ve had it before so I’m not taking anything from you.”

She put her hand to her chin and looked up to help her think, though she already knew what she was going to say.

“I don’t want to.”

“Is it because of what happened in the past, Y/N? What does it matter now? That was all before I met you.”

She shrugged with an arrogant smile on her face, knowing she had the upper hand here.

“I told you of my conditions.”

I put my head in my hands out of frustration. This was the last thing I could think of trying.

“I’ll cut it off.”

She gasped with concern but then bellowed out a laugh.

“You would really do that just to have sex with me?”

“Huh? Uh…”

Fuck. I made it an option now. What did I just do? Is it really worth it? I started thinking about her small mouth around my cock and how I would have to do some extensive training to get it to fit down her throat. I wanted to practice however many times, and as long as it would take. Was this the only way? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My thoughts were in a frenzy but I collected myself to say calmly.

“Yeah. I would.”

What the fuck. She has the most devious look on her face right now. She actually wants me to do it.

“I mean, you can use reverse cursed technique.”

The fucking brat. Her smug smile made me want to choke her out. I made a promise to myself that I would get her back for this if I get the chance to fuck her.

“It’s still going to hurt like hell. And be very disturbing.”

“I’m here for you.”

I won’t forget her mocking of me. She’ll get hers soon enough. I stood up and let my kimono drop to the floor. My dick was already hard and she eyed it through my briefs with an interested look on her face. She looked up at me and our eyes met. I swear I saw her subtly bite her lip. She then watched intently as I slowly took my briefs off, my cock popping right out of them. I’m sorry, buddy. We’ve been through it all together. This is fucking ridiculous.

“Can you promise me something, Y/N?”

She broke her concentration from my dick to reply to me.

“What is it?”

“Will you make me regret this?”

Her mischievous smile concerned me.

“No.”

That was sufficient for me. I leaned over to kiss her and our lips met. I didn’t expect her to be willing to but she wanted to comfort me. Her lips were soft and warm and they reminded me that what I was about to do would be worth it. Right? Why can’t we just fuck right now? Ugh. Let’s fucking get this over with. I used my cursed technique to cleanly cut it from the base. I dropped to my knees, using one of my hands to support me. The pain was intense and the sight of my dick falling to the floor made me want to throw up. Blood spurted everywhere and I was coughing up blood. Y/N stared in shock and amusement, like she couldn’t believe I had actually done it. I began to heal my dick and it grew back in several seconds. She covered her mouth and looked a bit disgusted but more intrigued.

“It’s done.”

“You’re crazy.”

“You really don’t know how much I want you.”

“Oh, please. It wouldn’t take you long to forget me.”

“How could I forget you after what I just did for you?”

She rolled her eyes with a smirk. I shook my head while I put my briefs and kimono back on. I brushed myself off and got down to lay my head in her lap. She petted my head while I was still recovering from the traumatic severing. She ran her fingers through my hair and lightly scratched my scalp with her nails. I couldn’t exactly say what I was feeling right now. It’s something I haven’t felt before.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing all of this for me.”

The snarky tone left Y/N’s voice and was replaced with a softer one for a bit. I looked up at her to meet her gaze. She brushed her hand across my cheek and then she traced the markings on my face with her index finger. Her touch was so soothing but it sent shivers through me at the same time.

“There isn’t another woman out there like you.”

She scoffed.

“How cliché.”

I sat up to face her.

“I mean it. I consider you my equal. There are very, very few people I can call my equal and I’ve killed most of them already. If I could kill you, I would’ve done so by now. But your technique neutralizes mine so I can’t. The next best thing is to make you mine. You’d be the perfect Queen for me.”

She stayed silent and we had a staring contest. She didn’t seem too impressed by my answer. I continued on.

“I could give you last night every night and much more. I’ll figure out exactly what you want. Mentally, physically, sexually, materially, everything."

She looked curious. I had to slowly chip away at her walls to bring them down. She is the strongest female Jujutsu sorcerer after all. She doesn’t need me but I could be everything she wants.

“Let me prove it to you.”

I outstretched my hand for her to hold. She hesitated but once she grabbed it, I kissed the back of her hand and I pulled her into me between my legs, with her back to my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and put my mouth to ear. I breathed lightly by her earlobe and whispered to her.

“I could be yours if you’ll be mine.”

My words sent a chill down her spine. I kissed her ear and gently took a fistful of her hair in my hand to tilt her head for easier access to her neck. I made sure not to be rough with her yet. I would ease her into it. I gave her soft kisses down her neck to her collarbone. She squirmed a bit, and she told me that she’s especially ticklish there. I followed the same trail with my tongue and she shivered.

“Do you want to know what else I can do with my tongue?”

Y/N nodded and I positioned myself in front of her. I spread her legs and went eye level with her cunt. I rubbed over her clit through her panties with my thumb, noticing how warm she was. I slipped her panties off and took a good look at her pussy. Beautiful. She had also waxed completely. I hadn’t noticed yesterday since I was only fingering her. Was she anticipating this moment? Has she been playing hard to get this entire time? Well, I’ve been waiting for this too, darling. She blushed and tried to cover her pussy with her hands.

“Don’t stare at it so much. It’s embarrassing.”

I smirked at her.

“Fully waxed, huh? And I bet you taste so good. Move your hands.”

As she exposed herself for me, I licked my lips and dove in. I gathered my saliva in my mouth and spat it right onto her clit for lubrication. Her face went red and she put her hands on her face out of self-consciousness. For a brat with a big mouth, her shyness right now surprised me. My tongue flicked up her clit a few times and a soft moan escaped her lips. I took the sound as an okay to go faster. I licked up and down at a steady pace. I brought my tongue down to her opening and I stuck my tongue in and out of her cunt. Her legs started to tremble.

As I focused my mouth on her clit, I moved up my hands under her dress to play with both of her nipples. She wriggled beneath me as I rubbed them between my fingers and she pushed herself closer to my mouth. I bet she could feel the smile I had on right now so I quickened the tempo. My tongue started at her opening and I licked slowly all the way to the top of her clit and then I changed to a quick up and down motion. I picked up the subtle movement of her cunt clenching into itself, signaling that it was time to add my fingers into it. I teased her orifice where her arousal was collecting. I lightly went over it without entering her. I made eye contact with her and she covered her face again.

“What happened, princess? Do you want me to stop?”

“No.. I want more, please.”

She spoke meekly. The smile I wore had a bit of conceit behind it. I had gotten her so vulnerable.

“Because you asked so sweetly.”

I inserted my middle finger slowly and she immediately tightened around it. I groaned feeling how tight she was. Fuck.

“That’s too tempting.”

I pulled the skin of her mound up to expose her clit completely. It had grown swollen and was obviously begging for attention. I wasted no time continuing my rapid licking. My up and down motion turned into circles which turned into licking one spot on her clit in particular and then moving to another spot, and remembering which places were her favorite. Throughout this all, I fingered her excruciatingly slow.

“I think you’re ready for another finger. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Sukuna!”

She had answered me just as I finished my sentence. I grinned at her maliciously. I finally had her exactly where I wanted. I added my ring finger inside of her and the two fingers alone filled her up. Her pussy tightened around my fingers repeatedly. I was getting restless. It wouldn’t be much longer until I can stretch her out with my cock. I fingered her slowly at first, but then I hooked my fingers upward and pressed that perfect spot at a leisurely pace. This elicited a loud moan from her and she pulled at my hair.

With my come hither motion with my fingers and my tongue licking away at her clit, her moans filled almost every other second. I brought my lips to her clit and sucked lightly. I then kissed up and down her folds before putting work on her clit with my tongue again. Her legs shook uncontrollably.

“Hold your legs back for me.”

She held her legs back by her thighs so I had even easier access to her. I sneered at her.

“You’ll do whatever I say?”

She nodded timidly. My goal was to pleasure her so much that she submits to me. It was working.

“I’m training you well, aren’t I? Look at me.”

She hesitated, probably embarrassed at what was happening down here. She made eye contact with me and I had on a devious smile while I licked her clit. She ran her fingers through my hair, feeling my undercut and then tugging at the top. She looked down at my tongue swiftly licking at her clit and my fingers entering and exiting over and over again. She was mesmerized. As we stared into each other’s eyes, I knew the sexual gratification was overwhelming for her. She felt filthy witnessing what I was doing to her and the pleasure on her facial expression made it obvious that she loved it.

“Sukuna, I want to cum..”

I chuckled haughtily.

“Go ahead. I give you permission to.”

Our eyes were locked on each other. She wanted to hold back and last a bit longer to savor the moment for just a few more seconds but she was at her limit.

“Right there!”

She cried out. I didn’t waste any time in giving her exactly what she wanted. She winced and closed her eyes shut, preparing for the orgasm she was about to have. I lightly slapped her on her cheek to make her regain focus.

“Fucking look at me.”

She opened her eyes to see mine glowing red. She had on that worried face she makes when she’s about to cum. The feeling crept up on her and then it hit her harshly. She gasped hard and then she began to gush. Her moans were still loud even though she was breathless and convulsing. I raised my head and began to chuckle again. My face was drenched in her juices. I slapped her cunt a few times, eliciting a yelp-like moan from her.

“Oh? Has anyone ever made you squirt before?”

She panted for air and shook her head. I went face level with her and pet her head with a warm smile.

“Good.”

I felt the heat radiating from her cunt. She was ready.

“So what should we do now?

“I want more..”

She spoke quietly and apprehensively.

“What? I couldn’t hear you. I won’t ask you to speak up again.”

My forbidding facial expression took hold of her, telling her to do as I say, now.

“I want more, Sukuna! Please give me more!”

“What do you want exactly?”

“I want.. your cock!”

I looked at her with a wicked smile that betrays all purity. I quickly undressed and she bit her finger at the sight of my dick. She was still holding her legs back for me and I grasped my cock and lined it up with her entrance. I gave her a couple of slaps to her cunt with it and then I rubbed it over her clit. She took in a short and deep breath, feeling some of its thickness and weight but before I entered, I leaned in close to her ear to tell her something.

“Your innocence is mine.”

Y/N’s expression had a bit of fear in it but she had no objections. With that little warning, I thrust myself fully into her, burying myself in her soaking wet cunt. She cried out in pleasure and in pain.

“Good girl.”

I said arrogantly as I slid my cock out slowly just before the exit, then thrusting back into her at the same agonizing pace, getting deep into her and feeling her cervix on the head of my cock. She was unbelievably tight. Her breath was labored and she let out her sultry moan that I loved hearing, all the while we made intense eye contact. Her eyes were wide with lust, her mouth was open, and her face in pleasure from me filling her up was exactly what I’ve been waiting to see. I stuck two of my fingers in her mouth and she immediately began swirling her tongue around them and sucking on them.

“You know, I don’t think I would’ve been able to tell that you were a virgin if you didn’t tell me. You’re so willing and I can tell your tongue is experienced.”

Her face went ruddy and she hid it with her palms. I moved her hands out of the way and gripped her neck.

“No need to be embarrassed about giving yourself up to me.”

I snickered and quickened my pace inside of her, the loudness of her moans egging me on. I tightened my grip around her throat and felt her clench hard around my cock, not wanting to let go. She put her hands on my wrist to hold onto. I groaned at how tight she was. At first, I thought for a second that I wouldn’t be able to fit inside of her but she’s such a good girl. She was taking it with no complaint even though I knew she was feeling some pain from a feeling she’s never felt before inside of her, stretching her walls and bumping into her cervix again and again.

“I could only dream about how good you would feel but it’s better than I could ever imagine. I want this every day.”

I’m not sure if she heard me over her moans. I might have to remind her later. I fucked her hard and fast, rolling my hips while thrusting into her. Her moans sounded like purrs. My little kitten. She meowed at me.

“Please, Suku. More..”

“I know, princess. Don’t rush me.”

I found her nickname for me very adorable. I smiled at her sinisterly and then I licked my thumb to lubricate it. It then found its way to her clit. I rubbed it up and down, matching the pace of my thrusts. She cried out her moans and her legs began to shake violently. I put them over my shoulders to stabilize her a bit more and my cock got even deeper inside of her. She winced and I pressed my lips against hers. The kiss was heated and passionate, our tongues meeting over and over. She moaned into my mouth and I couldn’t help but groan back.

I pulled out abruptly. She gasped and spoke with urgency to me.

“Don’t stop, please!”

“Let’s switch positions.”

She nodded obediently and I sat down.

“Sit on my cock.”

She quickly got up but took her time sitting on my dick, gradually taking the entire length inside of her. The warmness slowly enveloped my cock and I breathed out heavily. She let out a long moan as she took all of me inside of her. I began thrusting up to fuck her. She began to whine about how good my cock was and I made a mental note that she really loves this position. I firmly took a fistful of her hair and leaned her head back, leaving love bites on her neck that began to turn patches of her skin red and purple. I was marking her as mine.

Y/N could hardly speak. Besides moaning, she said my name over and over again, sprinkled with pleases and mores, and yelling out curse words. I loved how submissive she became. The more I pleasured her, the more she let me do whatever I wanted to her. All the trouble she put me through was worth it. I licked my index and middle finger and used my spit as lube to rub her clit. Her moans turned into wails and she buried her face in my shoulder.

“It’s too good, Suku.. I’m close..”

I composed myself to speak normally to her.

“Yeah? Are you going to cum on my cock?”

The filthy words I spoke to her forced her to orgasm. She cried out for me and wrapped her arms around my neck. She leaned her head back and her face in pleasure made me want to cum right at this second. I continued thrusting in her while rubbing her clit, not giving her a break even though she had just climaxed. She whimpered, feeling overstimulated.

“Just a little more, Y/N.”

I kissed her deeply and held her shaking body, slowly and almost romantically fucking her.

“Where do you want my cum?”

Her eyes went wide. She thought for a few seconds. Her already flushed face went even redder.

“What is it, princess? You can tell me anything.”

I was about to lose it. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t get the words out. She was a bit too occupied with the pleasure I was giving her. I tapped her cheek a few times to bring her back down to earth. I spoke with a bit of a harsher tone.

“Spit it out, brat.”

She was gathering up courage to tell me where she wanted it. A pressure was building up in her chest, but then she just shouted it out.

“I want your cum inside of me! Please, Suku! Please!”

Her needy whines pulled the rug from under me. I growled as I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly as my cock twitched, coating her walls with my cum. My breathing was labored and my body spazzed out a bit. Trying to catch my breath, we stayed in this position for a while. I held her and pet the back of her head. She’s too good.

“So you can be a good girl. I just have to tame the little brat first.”

“Hmph.”

She pouted at first but then she smiled shyly and stole a quick kiss from me. She stood up and my cum leaked out of her cunt and started running down the inside of her thighs. I wiped some off with my fingers and I stood up and put them into her mouth. She happily licked it up and closed her eyes as if she had tasted something delectable. I towered over her and I held her closely to me, her face buried in my chest. I pulled away a bit and took hold of her chin to tilt it towards me.

“Did you like that, princess?”

Her next words were spoken with a snicker.

“It was okay.”

I smiled at her menacingly.

“Don’t lie to me, darling. I hope you know this is only the beginning. You’re mine now.”

MIGRATING TO A NEW BLOG @baji-san

[pockydays]

unravel me

⤷ characters: tsukishima x gn!reader

⤷ synopsis: in which you notice tsukishima struggling to peel the tape off his fingers during study hall. what you didn’t notice, however, was how much he had the ability to find his way into every aspect of your life, until it was too late.

⤷ word count: 6.3k (longest fic to date woohoo!)

⤷ contains: fluff, slight angst, acquaintances to friends to lovers (?), mild language, my (insanely) wordy writing

⤷ a/n: i’m not even lying this took me weeks to write and it’s my baby :] most of the dialogue in this is probably hot shit but if you enjoyed please leave a like/reblog :3: mwah mwah ily all thank you for being patient with my slow ass <3 and thank you to my dear friend abby for beta reading the first chunk of this story, if you read this ily <3

You've always considered yourself as someone who wasn't especially generous. But you weren’t incredibly selfish, either. You were in some sort of grey area, too indifferent to care about what society says about people who aren't willing to go so far as to sell their souls to the devil for the common good. But you weren't heartless, either. You cared, usually out of mutual convenience. Isn't that what everyone does? Ninety-nine percent of the time, helping others (undeniably) involves genuinely good intentions, but they coexist with selfish motives as well. Then what about that one percent?

That one percent, in fact, came to you in the most inconspicuous of times: during mid-day study hall.

You found yourself going through the motions of your everyday routine: walking into the classroom, saying hi to your friend in the third row, putting your bag on the desk, pulling out your chair, sitting down, taking out your notebook and pencils, and waiting for approximately thirty-nine seconds until a (supposedly attractive, or at least according to whispers among your female classmates, which was bold of them to assume that he even liked girls in that way — you weren’t one to burst their bubbles) tall blond guy with glasses walked through the door, and greet him with a nonchalant "hey" and a wave.

And after that, if he responded with a slightly snarkier tone than usual, you knew he was having an especially bad day (more likely than not, it was because of the volleyball teammates he often complained about). But as for the real reason why, your guess was as good as anybody else's. He probably had piss in his Cheerios every morning and his trousers in a twist until the end of time for all you knew.

But today was slightly different than usual. For one, a full minute had already passed after you took out your pencils and yesterday’s chemistry notes, and there was still no sign of him. For some unknown reason, you couldn't stop the worry gnawing its way into your conscience. You rested your chin in one hand and drummed your fingers on the desk with the other, trying not to think about your classmate with a sharp tongue and a glare that could kill. Of course, trying to not think about something is a form of thinking about it, so that didn’t exactly work out.

The bell suddenly rang, jolting you out of your thoughts as well as your seat. Tsukishima Kei was now officially late, according to the school rules. Thankfully, your study hall advisor was lenient and understanding enough to not mark anybody late if they arrived within a reasonable time as to not tarnish their transcript, but you knew Tsukishima well enough to know that he wouldn’t care about a single unsavory comment that would only have the slightest potential to alarm admissions officers in those money-hungry institutions.

That was one thing you admired about your classmate. His ability to judge what things to put his effort into and selectively choose what he could get away with doing half-assed was unparalleled. As far as you could tell, volleyball was something he didn’t deem as worthy to put his all into. You weren’t usually wrong in such judgements about people, but then again, you’d only been right, let’s say, a total of three out of three times. You weren’t sure if it was considered a really good or really bad track record, so you’d always kept those sort of assumptions to yourself.

“Not going to say hi to me today? That’s awfully rude of you,” a voice said, out of the blue. You tense, wondering who had the audacity to call you rude.

“What?” you asked incredulously before you could realize where the voice came from. “Oh, it’s you,” you said, recognizing his inhumanly tall frame and the pair of white headphones around his neck. I should’ve guessed; of course only he’s brash enough to say something like that. 

You rested your chin in your hands again, the tension in your body visibly dissipating. You were glad that it was just Tsukishima and not some other person, because they would be a pain in the ass to deal with. Plus, he was just about the only person you allowed to speak without a filter; one, because it’s fun verbally sparring with him, and two, it makes his stunned silence after you counter with an especially witty phrase all the more satisfying.

This time, though, he sat down at the desk to your left without a word. Usually, he would never pass up the chance to have another round of firing tasteful insults at you. Today was indeed slightly different than usual. 

As he clicked the top of his mechanical pencil, you couldn’t help but notice a flash of white one his hands out of the corner of your eye. Did he always have that on his hands or was I just horribly unobservant before?

Leaning over to his seat at a dangerous angle, you asked, “Hey, what’s up with your fingers? You have leprosy or something?” in hopes of lightening his supposedly gloomy mood.

“Shut up,” he muttered irritably. “If I had leprosy, my fingers would’ve fallen off by now and I would’ve put one in your lunch as a keepsake,” he added. Shifting away from you in his chair, he tried as much as possible to make his (in your opinion, unconventionally lanky) body as far away as possible from your general vicinity.

“Okay, okay, geez! At least tell me, because now I’m curious and it’s all your fault.”

“If I tell you, will you stop bothering me?” he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Maaybee...?” you replied slowly, trying to find an answer when a simple “yes” or “no” didn’t suffice.

“If you’re not going to stop bothering me, then I don’t have a reason to tell you, so no,” he frowned, crossing his arms self-righteously.

“Alright then, keep your secrets, mister. I don’t care whether you tell me or not.” Which wasn’t completely the truth, since some tiny part of your conscience thought that wrestling the answer from him was for the better. “But just know that I’ll continue to be my annoying self, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, you turned your attention back to your chemistry notes.

A few silent minutes passed before you leaned back over to his desk on the left.

“Hey mister, do you have some pencil lead? I think I ran out,” you whispered to Tsukishima.

He heaved what you thought was the biggest sigh in the universe before responding, “Point-five or point-seven?”

“Tsukishima, you wound me! I thought you knew that I write exclusively in point-five!” you exclaimed with a hand over your chest, feigning offense. 

He rolled his eyes, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him count out three pieces of lead. Three, that’s generous, you think to yourself as you suppress a small smile.

“Thanks, mister,” you whispered as you plucked the delicate sticks of graphite from his fingers. Taking a quick glance at his hands, you noticed that his fingers were wrapped in some sort of adhesive tape. Before Tsukishima could catch you looking for too long and make some snarky remark about how absolutely positively beautiful his hands were for you to be staring, you abruptly turn back to your notes and refill your (actually already lead-filled) pencil. If he wouldn’t answer your question, it wouldn’t hurt to take things into your own hands and figure it out for yourself, right? 

You looked back to the notebook in front of you, but with your curiousity still unsatiated, you couldn’t help the thoughts bouncing off the walls of your mind, competing for your undivided attention.

Ask him about it! a voice yelled.

Mind your own business, you creepy fuck! another (particularly foul-mouthed) one screamed.

At this point, you’d probably read the first line of your notebook about thirty times without comprehending a single thing, so you decided to give up and resort to banging your head lightly on your desk.

Apparently, 'lightly’ was an understatement, because a voice on your left hissed, “What’s your problem?!”

Oops.

“Nothing,” you replied softly with your head still on the desk.

Tsukishima sighed in exasperation. “Well, now I’m curious and it’s all your fault,” he scoffed, using your own words from earlier.

Now it was your turn to sigh. Stubborn person number one meets equally stubborn person number two: one of life’s most aggravating experiences. 

“C’mon, let me see your hands,” you demanded, your own hand outstretched. You’ll say ‘no’ no matter what I ask.

“No.” Tsukishima pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and turned away.

Point proven.

You had always considered yourself to be somewhat generous when circumstances permitted, yes. But being yourself around others was something you considered yourself to be quite good at, as well.

Sometimes you imagined what it would be like if people’s hearts had metaphorical layers of thread surrounding them, winding, twisting, wrapping, and sometimes tangling around and around the ugliest, scariest, or most precious parts of themselves. The people you met would either unravel a bit of your heart, even if just a little bit, or they would cause you to wind the threads of your heartstrings even more tightly. 

You had strings that were (sometimes laughably) effortless to unwind, but once someone got to the last layer of thread, they refused to unravel any further. In other words, you weren’t afraid to be ninety-nine percent yourself around everybody. But that one percent? You’d keep it safely tucked away behind the impenetrable fortress of that last previous layer of thread — for both the good of yourself and everyone else.

Sometimes, you also wondered what the threads wrapping around Tsukishima’s heart was like. Not because you particularly had more of an interest in him than your other classmates, but because he was a sort of enigma to you. You had countless questions: How hard is it to unravel those threads? and What lies beyond those tightly wound strings? and What did he have to hide that is so unsightly? et cetera, et cetera. He was a puzzle you wanted to piece together, although you weren’t sure what the finished product would look like, or if there even was a finished product. 

You had a lot more questions about Tsukishima than you did answers.

You must’ve been deep in thought for a while, because it took an utterance of some rather coarse language to bring you back to reality.

“Fuck,” Tsukishima muttered, fiddling with the tape covering his fingers. It was evident, after about ten seconds of observing him, that he was getting nowhere. At this point, you were presented with two choices: to help him or to leave him to wallow in his own frustration and suffer. Admittedly, the latter option seemed rather entertaining, but for some unknown reason, you opted for the former.

“Here, let me help,” you said, hand extending in front of you as an offer. “You obviously aren’t getting anywhere, so let me put you out of your misery.”

“You better get it all off then,” he grumbled, outstretching his arm, letting it limply dangle in front of your face. Huh, I didn’t expect him to actually agree so easily.

You gently took his hand, and starting with his pinky finger, you worked your nails under the end of the tape. As the tape unraveled further, you couldn’t help but notice how elegant his hands were. They were long and slender in ways that yours weren’t — the magnum opus of all things relating to hands. If God played favorites, he certainly did when it came to Tsukishima’s hands. Geez, knock it off, you cringed inwardly. You’re literally worshipping his hands at this point.

“So, uh, why are your fingers covered in tape?” You hoped to break the awkward silence between the two of you, and asking him questions that he probably wouldn’t answer (especially to plebeians like you) seemed like the last resort.

“Volleyball practice,” he responded simply. 

Oh. I didn’t expect an actual response.

“This morning? You guys sometimes have practice early in the day, right?”

“Last evening,” he corrected.

“You had these on your hands for that long?! I see you’re finally getting serious about volleyball, my dude, but you have to be able to ask other people for help." People other than me, but if I’m your last resort, then I’d be happily obliged to help.

Tsukishima scowled, which, thankfully, you missed, busy undoing the tape around his fingers. At least you didn’t criticize him for being hypocritical regarding his attitude about volleyball, which was relieving. 

There was a substantial (and slightly awkward) pause as you peeled the white adhesive strip of cloth off of his fingers, working slowly enough so that it wouldn’t hurt, or so you hoped.

“There we go!” you exclaimed proudly as the last of the tape fell away from his fingers. He wiggled them experimentally, not unlike a newly hatched butterfly would flap its fresh new pair of wings. 

“Thanks,” he responded curtly. 

As if on cue, the bell rang, marking the end of study hall. It was time for chemistry class.

Over the course of your next class, your mind with occupied with thoughts that weren’t even remotely related to chemistry. You almost had a close call with the teacher when he called on you to answer a question, but thankfully, your friend sitting next to you whispered the answer in your ear — though not before giving you a quizzical look. You were too embarrassed to say that you were actually thinking about why the hell you actually agreed to help the guy sitting the next seat over whom you should have absolutely nothing to do with.

I did not just touch his hands no no no — I did not just hold hands with Tsukishima Kei — It wasn’t really of my own volition and he looked like he really needed help and I was feeling generous and it conveniently benefited the both of us, right? He got to finally be free from his misery and I— I got to touch his hands—

Your thoughts spiraled out of control as you buried your face in your hands, and perhaps some of the threads around your heart unraveled themselves that day.

Thus, after that day, your everyday routine changed in more ways than one. You would into the classroom, say hi to your friend in the third row, put your bag on the desk, pull out your chair, sit down, take out your notebook and pencils, and wait for approximately thirty-nine seconds until a tall blond guy with glasses walked through the door, and greet him with a nonchalant "hey" and a wave. If he still had tape around his fingers (which was quite often), you’d ask him if he needed help; he’d say yes, and you would spend the next however many minutes undoing the adhesive strips of cloth.

Today was no different. You carefully eased the tape away from Tsukishima’s fingers. When you got to the base of his ring finger, he hissed in pain. The skin there was red and raw as if it had been recently injured. Not as if, it had been.

“Sorry,” you whispered, wincing as if you were the one in pain. “How’d you get hurt?” This time, you were genuinely concerned for him, which was rare for anyone, especially him.

“The one time I put some more effort into volleyball as if it were actually worth something, it comes back to bite me,” he muttered, gritting his teeth.

You looked up from his hand. 

“What?”

“I said, somehow I always give the things that I swear off from my life a second chance, it never, ever, works out,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you can’t get better out of sheer will? You’re bound to slip and fall on your butt at least a few times. Or a lot,” you responded. 

“Nobody told me that falling would hurt this much, though,” he replied. He looked off to the side, too embarrassed to meet your gaze.

“It’ll get better, trust me. You just have to get back off your ass and stand up.”

You left the conversation at that and continued undoing the tape on his other hand. 

I want to kiss his hands like I’m greeting the crown prince of a foreign kingdom, you thought, lips twitching, fighting back a small smile.

Oh my God, stop it! you mentally slapped yourself. You had to restrain yourself from actually slapping yourself in the face. Meanwhile, the uniform you wore began to feel a bit too warm — it was quite convenient that Tsukishima couldn’t see your face at that moment.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Tsukishima's thoughts weren’t nearly as calm as his cool and collected exterior. 

After all, what was he supposed to do when he could feel your breath fanning on his hands (could he tell you were desperately trying to keep them steady?) and your meticulous fingers on his?

I must be going crazy, he thought.

He imagines holding your hand, and not because of that dumb finger tape-

He shook his head, as if to dislodge the idea from his memory. No, I’m definitely going crazy.

“So, do you like him or something?” your best friend asked out of the blue during a sleepover, the both of you laying in the darkness on your sleeping bags.

“Who?” you asked, though you had an idea of who she was referring to. 

“Tsukishima. That guy who sits to your left during study hall.”

“No, why would I like him? I mean, how can you even tell if you like someone or not. It’s not like there’s a radar that detects crushes and blasts ‘OH MY GOD YOU’RE HOPELESSLY IN LOVE’ on speaker,“ you replied dryly.

“Do you feel different around him?” she asked.

“As in the cliché symptoms of love that you read in romance novels? Like you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest and you have to clutch your shirt like it’s gonna pop out onto the floor if you don’t? If that’s what you’re asking, then no.”

“I mean that could be a sign, but you don’t have to feel like that to like someone. I mean in the way that you’re willing to show them who you really are, including all the ugly parts of yourself that you wouldn’t show to other people.”

Of course not! you thought to yourself. There’s no way I would fall in love with someone that I argue with for fun, right? 

“Why do you always complain about those tryhards on your volleyball team? You can always quit, you know,” you asked after Tsukishima was in a particularly bad mood about something, presumably about volleyball (as it usually was). As per your daily schedule, you were unraveling his finger tape during study hall once again.

“Don’t they know that the more effort they put into something, the more it’ll hurt when they find out everything they believe in is a lie?” he asked.

You paused. Oh, it was an a genuine question, you realized. And he wants a genuine answer.

“Such as?” you asked, your mouth acting quicker than your mind. I probably shouldn’t have pried deeper into something that’s obviously his business.

He went ahead and responded anyway, but not before taking a deep breath.

“When I was little,” he began, “I looked up to my older brother a lot. I really respected him, you know? He was my idol; he was perfect and infallible in every way. He played volleyball in junior high, so it was only natural that I played the same sport he did. And he continued playing throughout high school, or so I thought.”

“Or so you thought?” you repeated.

“He lied to me.” With those four words, you heard years and years of resentment and bitterness through his shaking voice, barely above a whisper. 

“To be honest, I should’ve expected it,” he continued, laughing humorlessly at himself. “I was too enamored to realize that when he was trying to stop me from watching his games, he was also trying to stop me from finding out that he was a liar. He wasn’t even a starting player. Instead he was on the bench, cheering for the team he was supposedly on.”

As those words left his mouth, you realized how little you understood Tsukishima. No, it was honestly ridiculous how you could consider yourself his friend when all you did was unwind strips of tape from his fingers for a mere few minutes every day.

Despite that, you held his hands a little tighter.

“If you don’t mind, I had a similar experience in junior high as well. This girl that I was really close friends with apparently had a huge circle of friends outside of school, and she would tell me and my other friends about all the rich guy friends she had and how well they treated her and shit. But I found out years later that they were probably all made up so that she could have something to tell us. So that she could keep us in her friend group. I realized they were fake.”

You let go of his hands, your arms limp at the memory.

“And how are you two right now?” Tsukishima asked. “Your relationship, I mean.”

“Surprisingly, we’re still on good terms,” you said. “She still doesn’t know I found out. But despite her pretending to be someone else in front of us for all those years, I still don’t think she’s a bad person. I’m actually kinda glad she got the attention she wanted. But man, the past still hurts like a bitch,” you chuckled in an attempt to forget.

“I see,” he replied. With that, you picked up his hand once again, continuing to undo the tape around the rest of his fingers.

That day, both you and the once unyielding, stone-faced Tsukishima left the classroom knowing just a bit more about each other.

You didn’t know that day that Tsukishima had his first real conversation with his brother after ‘the incident’.

He didn’t know you gave that friend from junior high a call for the first time in two years.

And the threads around your hearts unwound themselves just a bit more.

“No, I don’t,” you finally responded after a long pause. “I don’t like him in that way. He’s just someone I can rant to about the shit that happened in junior high—”

“Say that again, but slower,” your friend interrupted.

“He’s someone that I can rant to about all the... stuff that happened in the past,” you repeated. Did she not hear me the first time?

“Exactly, that’s my point,” she responded. “You never talk about those things with anybody, and even when I bring it up, you just brush over it.”

The weight of what your friend was implying took far too long for your brain to register, but when it did—

“Oh shit, I think I might actually like Tsukishima.”

It was in the classroom of your mid-day study hall where Tsukishima Kei stole your heart bit by bit through the conversations you had with him while unraveling his finger tape; it was where you opened your heart and he opened his. 

“You and Tsukishima aren’t a thing, right?” a voice asked you out of the blue in the hallway after the dismissal bell rang.

“What?” you asked, turning your head to see who it was. You recognized her, although you struggled to put a name to her face. “You sit in the back of our study hall classroom, right? And to answer your question, no, we are not a thing.” 

Such questions were becoming all the more frequent these days, and you had the same two-letter answer to all of them (although you secretly hoped you could answer yes, but how Tsukishima felt about you was a whole different story).

“Yeah, I do. But are you sure you two aren’t dating? Like you could just be going out with him and not know it,” she answered.

You held back a snort that almost escaped your lips. 

“No, I’m sure we aren’t,” you said with a sigh, trying to keep your tone remotely cordial. “Besides, I’m not sure if he even considers me as a friend.”

“Oh, I’m sure he considers you as more than that,” she replied with a tone you couldn’t quite decipher. “Trust me.”

You barely knew her, so you couldn’t say how credible her statement was (though you desperately wanted it to be true). You glanced at the clock, itching to end the conversation.

“Alright, then. I’ll take your word for it. I have to get home now though, seeya.”

“Seeya around then,” she replied with a wave. Why does that sound strangely ominous?

“Bye,” you answered, too mentally drained from the conversations that began with the same question: ”Oh my God are you dating Tsukishima?” (Answer: no, no you weren’t). Nonetheless, you couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in your head that you haven’t seen the last of her just yet.

She appeared the very next day, in the same spot at the hallway after school ended. That’s... strange.

You decided to ignore how off-putting it was. Maybe it was her wide smile — so much so that you could see her dimples and her blinding white teeth. Or maybe it was the way she spoke, like she was trying to get something from you. Whatever it was, you didn’t have what she wanted.

“If you’re asking whether Tsukishima and I became a thing within the past twenty-four hours, then no,” you said in exasperation. She was now walking by your side with an odd spring in her step, a bit too close for comfort despite the empty hallway.

“No, that wasn’t my question,” she said with a chuckle. “You keep denying that Tsukishima doesn’t like you, but I think he does.”

You had to scoff at that.

“In what way?” 

“In that way,” she responded with a knowing glance. “You’re already in the talking stage with him! He never talks to anyone other than that one friend he has, so I’d say you’re off to a good start.”

“And that totally means that he’s in love with me.”

“Please, don’t lie to yourself. You’ve gotten farther than anybody has, even if they tried for their entire life. How did you do it?”

But I didn’t do anything, you thought. 

“I just talked to him about stuff,” you replied slowly. The look she gave you said go on, so you did. 

“I just talked to him about myself and deep stuff and shi— and such. I really didn’t do much, so I’m probably not the best person to ask. Why don’t you try and ask his friend Yamaguchi?”

“No, I think I’m good,” she said with an unreadable tone. “Well I gotta go, so see you tomorrow!”

“....Bye,” you replied halfheartedly. You tried to shake the unsettling feeling from your chest, but you couldn’t help thinking, What if he does like me back?

The volleyball made a resounding smack against the court behind the middle blocker instead of his hands. Tsukishima clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. Another ball that I couldn’t block?

“Hey, use your smartass head for once and pay attention!” Kageyama yelled across the court.

Tsukishima ignored his taunts. 

“Oh, the smart mouth finally doesn’t have any words left to say? Finally some peace and quiet,” Kageyama muttered. 

Practice continued for far too long, but the whistle finally blew, signaling everyone that it was time to go home. Finally, Tsukishima thought. I don’t have to listen to the King spew nonsense anymore.

He and Yamaguchi gathered their belongings and made their way out of the gym.

“Something’s on your mind,” Yamaguchi commented as they walked back home side by side.

“No there isn’t,” Tsukishima replied a bit too quickly to sound convincing.

“Right.”

A long silence ensued, the two of them kicking pebbles on the road and twiddling their thumbs in the cool night air. The buzz of the electric street lamps felt much too loud, feeding off the tension in the air. 

“How can you tell that you like someone?” Tsukishima was the first to break the silence, but it was the question, not the fact that he was the one that spoke first, that was more jarring.

“So I was right,” Yamaguchi responded after a slight pause. He fought back a small smile and added, “I thought something bad happened that I didn’t know about, but it turns out that you’re just in love.”

The taller one of the two sighed. 

“I’m asking you to tell me if I... like someone in that way, not for you to tell me that I am, Tadashi.”

“I can’t make a judgement if you don’t tell me anything. Tell me.” Yamaguchi lightly punched his friends arm.

“There’s this... classmate of mine. They asked if I needed help peeling off my finger tape during study hall and I said yes.”

“I figured as such.”

“What?” 

“You always come into first period with your fingers still wrapped but it’s gone by the time practice starts. I always wondered why but I never got around to asking you. But I’m even more surprised at the fact that you actually agreed.”

“Yeah, I surprise even myself sometimes,” Tsukishima deadpanned. “Especially the fact that it would become something that they would ask pretty much every day, and I would say yes every time. I just don’t know whether I have feelings for them in that way or not.”

“Well, do you look forward to talking to them everyday?” Yamaguchi asked.

Yes.

“Do you want them to know you for who you really are instead of what people think you are?”

Yes.

“Does your mind wander to them all the time?”

Yes.

“If you flipped a coin to decide whether you do like them or not, would your gut tell you the answer before you looked at whether it landed on head or tails?” 

Yes, Tsukishima answered silently, knowing he’d finally have to accept the truth: he was in love and there was nothing he could do about it.

One thing you didn’t know about having a crush on someone was that you suddenly realize how often they appear in your life. You knew where you’d cross paths with him in the hallway before and after school, where his locker was, and worst of all, every goddamn love song reminded you of him. 

Even all the little mannerisms people had circled back to him: your friend would push her glasses up her nose the same way he did. Your mother would furrow her eyebrows like him when he was thinking about a particularly annoying math problem. Your English teacher would spin a pen between his fingers, just like him (although you had to admit that you preferred watching the latter do so; his hands were prettier). 

Maybe this was just some twisted manifestation of the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon, but your brain couldn’t recall enough content from psychology class to be sure. Either way, you were going insane.

That is, until one rather unremarkable day; there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything came and went according to schedule — the same time spent with Tsukishima during study hall and the same boring class lectures. But as soon as the dismissal bell rang, you were surprised to find that the girl who would pester you in the hallway asking about you and Tsukishima’s relationship status (you still didn’t know her name) as if anything had changed (which it had not, of course). 

Apparently, her presence had already become routine enough for you to notice her absence. 

It was a welcome change, though; it wasn’t like you wanted her to be around. No, you absolutely didn’t need her nosy questions. So you just shrugged it off and made your way to the school’s exit like you normally did.

But a very familiar voice from a nearby classroom made your ears perk up — coincidentally, from your study hall classroom. You peered into the room from the doorway.

“Um, I think I like you, Tsukishima! I’ve felt this way for a long time and I just had to tell you!” The same boisterous girl who only had one topic of conversation with you (Tsukishima, of course) now had her hands coyly clasped behind her back, in all likelihood holding something meant for him.

As soon as you heard those words leave her mouth, the world around you seemingly ground to a halt — and so did you. As if your body stopped functioning for a moment, your heart stopped and your brain took much too long to process what she said. 

What did it matter anyway? You didn’t take your chance and look where that got you.

You turned on your heel and half-walked half-ran outside the school.

The second thing you didn’t realize about having a crush on someone, you realized as you laid in the darkness in the middle of the night, is that it physically hurts. Someone might as well have put your heart in a jar of acid and screwed the lid shut — no matter how hard you tried, it still hurt. And hurt it did.

You felt a stray tear slide down your cheek, and you angrily punched your pillow. You didn’t even have the emotional capacity to be angry at the girl who confessed to him. It was too obvious that she liked him, from the way she would stand a bit straighter when you mentioned Tsukishima’s name to the way she seemed a bit too satisfied when you said that you weren’t dating him. Were you too much of an idiot to notice? 

But most importantly, you were angry at yourself. Why were you crying over someone who you knew wouldn’t like you in the way that you liked him? Maybe you were too much of an idiot to not think things through; you’d just assumed that your feelings for him were so intense that he had to like you back. In retrospect, that was a stupid idea. But then again, in retrospect, you were the idiot all along.

It was in the classroom of your mid-day study hall where Tsukishima Kei stole your heart. It was in the same classroom where you got your heart broken for the first time.

The most annoying thing about the universe was that it was ruthlessly, unrelentingly cruel. The earth kept spinning even if your world stopped mid-orbit, too traumatized by loss to continue. 

This was the brutal irony that you came to realize in the classroom where it all began and ended, supposedly. The very next morning, you had to pick your sorry self out of bed after however many hours of sleep you were able to get and go to school. And now half the school day had gone by — it was study hall time once again. 

“Are you gonna help me get this off my fingers or not?” The voice that you wanted so desperately to get out of your mind after months of replaying in your head plagued you once again. Indeed, the universe was cruel.

“No,” you replied meekly with your head on the desk. “It’s been long enough for you to know how to do it yourself by now.”

“I insist.”

You hesitated. A second passed, then two.

“Fine.”

Ever since you realized your feelings for the other boy with a cold stare and an even icier glare, you couldn’t help but be hyper aware of yourself, and today was no different.

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. Could he? (It wasn’t that obvious, was it?)

You could feel yourself getting warmer by the second. Could he tell? (You were too busy looking at his hands; so let’s hope not.)

You knew that your heart was tugging you in his direction, urging you to do something. Was his doing the same? (You scoffed at yourself — you went over this last night and came to the conclusion that no, there was no way he could ever like you back.)

But maybe you wanted to be wrong this time. Being proven wrong wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed, but you would rather take the pessimistic point of view in this circumstance so you wouldn’t get hurt. And yet you still got your heart broken. 

That didn’t stop your erratic heartbeat and staggered breaths whenever your fingers brushed over his, though. While slowly unwinding the tape down his fingers, you wondered how many threads he unwound from your heart for it to hurt so much when it broke. Too many for your emotions to be left undamaged by something like this, you reckoned. Not that it was his fault, of course. It was your own for becoming so naïve and vulnerable.

But, the universe was full of irony. While you had your head down, too embarrassed and dejected to say anything else, Tsukishima was thanking whatever gods existed that you couldn’t see how flustered he was. 

Turns out, even people with hearts of stone can fall prey to the symptoms of falling in love. With a million thoughts collectively running through your minds, he was the first to blurt out:

“I think I’m in love.”

You let go of his hands, the loose end of the tape still dangling. There were too many questions raised at the utterance of a single sentence: With whom? When? How? Why?

Before you could organize your thoughts and form a coherent sentence — as if he could read your mind and peer into your soul — Tsukishima answered:

“With you.”

And as soon as the last two words fell from his lips, the last of the threads surrounding your worn, beaten hearts unraveled themselves, and fell away.

[sunshine-on-my-mind]

New Venture

this is for @nakedrogers​ esme’s 2k writing challenge. (Congratulations on 2K!!!!)

one-shot (sfw)

pairing: Frank Adler x Reader

AU: Bookstore owner AU

Prompts: 13. “i told you not to read that.” ; 23. “i wish you did.”

Words: 1591

Warnings: no warnings as such. FLUFF!!!! Well Frank Adler being super cute is a warning in itself.

a/n: this is my first ever fic so hope you all like this, do reblog if you enjoy reading this. I chose Frank Adler for my first work because i love him so much.

i do not own the characters Frank and Mary. not my GIF.

PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY WORK OR POST IT ANYWHERE.

“I told you not to read that”, this was followed by Mary’s deep sigh. “Frank please just a little more”. Oh well, it’s the same old situation, Mary wants to read more books on mathematics but Frank thinks it’s enough for one day, she has been doing so since they opened the bookstore this morning. This is a new venture for both Frank and Mary, it has been a year since they opened a little bookstore. They were looking for a fresh start, and it was actually Mary who came up with the idea of a bookstore. Frank had a huge smile and that was a nod to this new venture. “That’s enough for today Mary, come help me” the bookstore was not so busy at this moment. Mary huffs, “why? Do you need help with calculating the money?” Frank won’t ever admit but he admires how snarky and sassy Mary can be at times, that kid is awesome. Frank decides it’s better to not reply and focuses on arranging the bookshelves.

The door chimes stating the arrival of people. Mary greets them. “Welcome!” The two women enter the bookstore. “Hey sweetie, do you know where the thriller section is?” Mary scrunches her nose a little, then points them towards the correct direction. Frank has arranged the bookshelves by now and he moves towards his little desk near the cash register. He sees that one of those women is eagerly going through the books in the thriller section and the other one, seems a little lost, seems out of her element. Should he go help her out? Ask her what she is looking for? He doesn’t want to be pushy but he wants to be helpful. While he is still making the decision Mary swoops in and asks

“Hi, what are you looking for?” The woman gives her a bright warm smile, a smile that will make others smile, just like Frank has smile on his face right now. “I’m just looking around, I’m basically accompanying my friend, thank you for asking, I- um I’m not much of a reader,” the woman said scratching her head a little, the little girl still looking at her, there is a sudden glint of joy in her eyes. “Well what about academic books? Do you like Math? We have quite a variety of books.” The woman is in awe of this child, she is not sure how to say that Math is definitely not her strongest area. She tries to formulate an answer when Frank approaches them. “Hey Mary why don’t you go help out the other customer, she looks quite engrossed in her search, maybe she could use some help? Go on.” Mary excuses herself, mentions where the books on academia are kept and proceeds to help the other customer. The woman doesn’t fail to notice that the little girl has quite a captivating and charming personality, her eyes seem to sparkle. Frank notices how this woman seems to be in awe of Mary, also how she is fidgeting a little with her purse. “So, not a reader?” she turns towards him. He is taller than her, and what magnificent blue eyes, one can really get lost in them, probably she got lost in them too because she is trying to fetch an answer but words don’t come out. “Not much into talking as well I guess?” She is broken out of her haze and almost babbles “um no, oh no I am sorry, yeah I am not much of a reader but I talk, I can talk a lot at times actually.” she smiles. That warm smile again. Frank smiles back, and then there is a minute of silence but it’s not awkward, it’s the good kind of silence where you are enjoying the moment.

“What about fiction or maybe non-fiction? Poetry, short stories? Do you like comics?” she laughs at this, he is really trying. “Well I have read a few comics and short stories. I mean I have tried to read books but I haven’t been able to finish most of them, wow definitely not a conversation one should have with a bookstore owner but yeah I guess I haven’t been able to connect with books, or maybe I am just dumb.” she shrugs a little. “Hey that’s alright, I too am not a huge bookworm but I do enjoy reading when I get time. But we all have our own interests.” she wants to say something but maybe she shouldn’t, what if he thinks it’s stupid? She doesn’t want to embarrass herself. He understands she wants to say something and nods his head as if to encourage her to go on. “Alright so there is something that I enjoy reading a lot. I love reading Fan fiction. It’s like I am already connected to the characters and thus reading more about them, exploring different storylines, the whole concept of ‘What if?’ intrigues me.” She realizes she doesn’t say this out loud often, she tries to read his expressions, well he is smiling and not in a mocking way so she continues. “You know there are so many talented Fanfic writers out there, some of the stories are extremely beautiful. So yeah as you said, we all have our own interests.” Frank is charmed by her, right now she has joy in her eyes, he hasn’t come across someone before who has shared this interest of reading fan fiction, she seems passionate about this, and it’s charming and beautiful. Yes she is beautiful. “That seems super interesting.” he hopes to see that warm smile again and there it is. He smiles back. “Well I am glad you think so, not many people do. It’s not that I tell many people about this interest of mine, still. By the way that girl, um Mary? she seems so amazing, not to sound corny but ‘there is something about Mary’, she is so charming!” he chuckles “Well I see what you did there, and yeah she is amazing, she is my niece and we both recently started this new venture of a bookstore, it was her idea”. Well a good idea indeed.

“Oh look at me where are my manners? Hi! I am Frank” Before she could say her name Mary calls out for Frank. The other customer has selected her books and she is waiting by the cash register to buy them. “Well I guess it’s time to go.” She seems sad, why? She is not someone who can talk with strangers but she was enjoying this conversation. She gets so awkward while talking to someone she doesn’t know but this was different, he made her feel comfortable, she liked talking to him, she wants to talk more, why couldn’t her friend take some more time? They move towards the cash register, “Oh I am Y/n” he repeats her name, wanted to see how it feels. Once done packing the books, her friend pays him the money. It’s time to go. Frank think about something quickly, say something, it seems like now or never. Come on they are about to leave, “Hey!” Frank runs towards them, “If you are looking for any particular book, you can call us to check the availability, or we can try to get it for you if not available. Here, take this card it has the store’s number and um- my number” he looks at Y/n with hopeful eyes. Is he trying to give her his number? He kinda seems out of her league, is there a chance he enjoyed talking to her too? Y/n gets this sudden surge of confidence, which is unusual for her, and decides to ask directly. “Are you trying to give me your number?” Frank is flustered, he is trying to come up with something when she says “I wish you did” and it’s accompanied with that beautiful warm smile. Frank cannot hold back the huge smile that forms automatically on his face. “I was, I uh- liked talking to you, and would like to know you more.” Well now they aren’t the only people smiling, the other two have smiles on their faces too due to this interaction, though there smiles are more like cheeky smirks. Y/n takes out her phone, saves his number and texts him standing right there. He checks his phone “Y/n: I would like to know you more too, looking forward to it” He nods signaling the chain of texts that will be exchanged soon. Y/n and her friend open the door to go out when Mary excitedly says “Come again!” Frank sees her smile once again, the one that he will be seeing a lot very soon. “I will.” Y/n says and her friend laughs, she waves and they wave back and with this they leave. Mary is looking at Frank who is still looking at the door. “See Frank, I told you, a bookstore will be a great new venture” she smirks.

[jj-5656]

The Fight

With; Newt (TMR)

A/N: Kind of a long one guys. Thank you again for all the love. I appreciate every like, reblog, and comment. Enjoy!

Warnings: mention of suicidal thoughts/attempt, anxiety, minor panic attack, Minho being an ass (I promise it’s not all depressing and sappy there is a good amount of angst/fluff ofc)

“Bugger off Newt, I want to be left alone.” The boy trails behind as you stomp over to the forest, figuring collecting fertilizer would be better than having to tolerate the pestering blonde any longer.

“Don’t you want someone to keep you company?”

“Am I still speaking English? Leave me be.” It’s been a long day, and a part of you is still getting used to the harsh, mundane work days of the glade since you’re arrival a few months ago. It’s been a lot of pressure, but surprisingly you’ve managed to hold it together. It’s impressive too, you’ve managed to adapt better to your new life better than any other glader had. Perhaps that was why the boy was so drawn to you.

It’s not like he had wanted to be. In fact, Newt would have been more than happy treating you like any other glader. But it just so happened the one and only girl in the glade just had to be a natural track-hoe, so there was no avoiding her. Not her smooth skin, glistening eyes, or her infectious laugh-

“Hello? Would you quit it, shank? It’s like you want to get me jacked.”

“Maybe I just like seeing you all riled up.” You can feel the smirk playing on his stupidly Cherry-red lips as he teases you, quickening his pace so he can grab the straggling branches of the thick forest out of your way. Your stomach flips at his words, but it’s quickly filled with hot anger as the nervousness fades. He won’t quit flirting, and despite your quit wit you’re finding it harder to snap back at him when he says things like that. He doesn’t even mean it

“You’re infuriating!”

“And you’re gorgeous.” The words slip past his tongue before he can catch him, and your footsteps stutter over a stray twig amongst the brush on the ground. You almost trip, but the glader behind you is quick to catch your forearm. It’s silent, and you’re darting your head around just fast enough to catch the stunned look on his face, informing you he hadn’t meant to voice the compliment aloud. Your eyes narrow, trying your best to ignore the longing temptation within you begging to kiss away the stupid blush in his cheeks.

“You know, instead of searching the forest for fertilizer, I should just pick up all the klunk that comes out of your mouth.” The harsh words come without much thought, but you don’t completely regret saying them. If he was actually interested, he wouldn’t be so keen on making you annoyed every minute of every day.

His eyebrows narrow, but if your snarky comment provoked any thought he doesn’t voice it.

“Shuck, sorry then newbie. I’ll slim it.”

“Listen, I was a newbie four greenies ago! So you can stop calling me that.” You spin on your heel to face him, standing your ground when he stops short in order to not run you over. When you meet eyes, he gives a kind smile, studying your features intently. Almost as if you were in a daze, you do the same. Relishing in the sounds of the nature around you and the warm sun beaming through the tree tops, perfectly illuminating the lightest streaks in the taller boy’s hair. You hadn’t notice before, but there are small puddles of gold in his deep brown eyes, speckled about in his irises and disappearing when he tilts his head to the side in feigned curiosity. He licks his lips before letting his accented voice break the silence.

“What’s up with you?”

“What? Nothing.”

“You’ve got that look about you.”

“What look?”

“That look.”

“I don’t have a look.”

“Well, I’m looking at you right now, and you have a look.”

“What look?!” He grins at your suddenly aggravated persistence, holding back a laugh when you let out a dramatic groan and start to tread deeper into the woods. 

Later that night, you’re making conversation with Frypan as you help with the dishes. He’s good company, and most times mundane chores like cleaning up after other gladers seem to fly by when he’s around. You let out a sigh when a familiar hand reaches out to help you take out one of the heavier pots from the drying rack. 

“Didn’t know you were a cook, greenie.”

“Maybe I;’m just trying to avoid you.”

“Impossible, you’d miss me too much.” 

“What do you want, shank.”

“What, I can’t help out too?”

Just then, you’re pulled away by the forearm with a strong yank. Releasing yourself from Mihno’s grip and rubbing the excess suds off of your hands quickly.

“What the hell?”

“Listen, you want him to quit being a shank towards you right?”

“Of course I do Minho, but-“

“Then flirt with me.”

“Wh-what?”

“Flirt with me, squeeze my arm and laugh like I just said something really funny.”

“You’re already saying something funny. You must be jacked.” You attempt to blow your friend off and walk away, but he pulls you toward him again.

“Just humor me for a minute, yeah? Let’s see how riled up this shank gets.”

“Minho, he’s not going to get mad. He lives to annoy me, he’ll be happy to see you’re joining in on the fun!”

“Y/n, you’re not seriously this dense? The poor shank likes you, he’s just got no idea how to show it. The playful banter you two have, although it’s cute, is starting to get old. So, because I’m an amazing friend and wing-man, I’ll help you shanks out. Now squeeze my arm and laugh.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Don’t believe me?” His challenging smirk is enough for you to give in, determined to prove the raven haired boy wrong. Setting aside your irritated mood, you adjust your hunched stance before giving Minho your most charming smile. Muttering idly and pressing his bicep with a dramatic laugh. He shoots you a glare when you pinch with a little too much passion, but a smirk stays on his face nonetheless. He moves just a bit closer to you, eyes darting across the glade and smile widening.

“See she-bean? He’s practically fuming.” The boy does all he can to contain his laughter, pulling himself together when you offer a subtle glance to the blonde across the glade. He’s leaning against the now empty sink with his arms crossed. Looking too angry to even begin to make his death glare towards Minho any less obvious. Admittedly, you don’t think you’ve seen Newt ever look so flustered. When you lock eyes, his lips remain tightly pressed together. Not long after does he turn back around to continue attending to the dishes. All whilst muttering something under his breath and shaking his head.

“Don’t get so cocky, you’re blushing too you shank.” You swat Mihno’s hand pinching your cheek, genuinely laughing when he nudges you out of the homestead hut.

“I’ll probably be banished by sundown for that.”

“You think he’s really that upset about it? I mean, I know we’re good friends and all but I never expected Newt to see me like that.”

“It’s a good thing I’m one of the only shanks around here with a brain.”

“Y/n, mind if I talk to you for a bit?” Alby approached the pair of you with a soft expression, his gentle nature filling you with a bit of concern. You nod hesitantly, feeling as though every damn glader needed to pull you from one conversation to the next tonight. You follow Alby closely as he leads you back into the homestead, sitting on one of the hammocks and motioning for you to do the same. There’s a contemplative silence before the head glader speaks, only taking him a few moments to gather his thoughts before meeting your eyes.

“I gotta be honest greenie, I’m a bit worried about you.”

“Why me?” Your eyebrows narrow in confusion, and the older boy’s worried tone makes your heart sink.

“Most of the newbies are jacked the first couple weeks. You know, lashing out one minute and crying like a baby the next. But you’ve been quite, collected. That leaves a lot of room for me to be concerned.”

“Alby, you’re upset that I’m not...Upset?”

“I’m upset that you remind me of myself. I was a lot like you, I kept everything in when I first got here. I was reserved, and I kept everything bottled up inside. And I’m no therapist, but that quickly tore me apart. I understand being a girl might...Complicate things, seeing as some of these shanks expect you to be weaker. You don’t have to prove yourself greenie, at least not in that way.” You take a minute to consider his words, chewing on the inside of your cheek in thought. He studies you for a moment, seemingly thinking about his next words with caution. “I don’t mean to jack you up, just think about it.” He finishes carefully, nudging your shoulder with his own before exiting the hut. Giving you a tight lipped smile and curt nod before disappearing from view. Was that supposed to be a pep talk?

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

The past weeks had been confusing, terrifying, and downright unbelievable. That was clear, but didn’t you have no other choice than to accept what was going on? You still had millions of questions, and a certain ache in your heart that felt like it was pulling at you. But there wasn’t time to break down, not yet anyway. Is there even a right time? The conversation with Alby seemed to have made you worse off than before. You shuffle for the hundredth time in your hammock, letting out an exasperated sigh at the restless situation.

Despite your efforts, sleep never comes. For the past week, you’ve been exhausted just about everyday. Today had been no different, except when you try to relax, anxiety crawls in the air around you. Suddenly, the warm night air is absolutely suffocating. It’s too much pressure, too much unknown for you to handle it any longer. When your pounding heartbeat begins to drown out the cicadas and other sounds of the glade, you can only think of one thing. Alby was right

Stumbling out of your hammock, you start making your way out of the hut. It doesn’t matter where, you just need to escape. Even when you’re outside, there’s still not enough room. The four walls that once felt like a barrier between you and the horrors of the ominous maze, now feel like a cage. Trapping you inside and shrinking impossibly smaller until they eventually crush you.

Without thinking, you begin to sprint over to the west wall, pounding at the menacing stone and letting out a chocked sob. All at once, every emotion you’d suppressed since your first day in the glade releases from you. It’s nauseating, and you grip your stomach in an attempt to latch onto some sense of stability.

Who put you here? Why was everyone so indifferent to their lives here, and why had you eventually become the same way?

There’s been this ache, some rotting substance in your core that’s been emanating within you since you first woke up in the box. A horrible, indescribable hollowness that is the result of the loss of what must have been your life before the maze. Suddenly, you miss your mom. Or maybe a woman who resembled one. It’s mortifying, to know you must have parents somewhere out there. But you can’t remember them, can only feel the ugliest parts of you that aren’t whole without them. Your vision blurs, and there’s an awful white noise that drowns out any and all sounds of reality surrounding you. Completely immersed in your own thoughts, even the ground beneath you feels as though it’s been meticulously sculpted by whatever monsters put you here. It’s impossible to breath, feeling as though every beat of your heart, every blink of an eye is in the control of the creators. So caught up in your own panic, you don’t sense the boy calling your name behind you.

You attempt to squirm out of his strong grip, his stature never showing how strong he truly is from his long hours in the gardens. It’s no use to keep pulling away when his back hits the stone wall of the glade, using his strong grip to hold your hands against your chest as he slides you both to the floor. Weaker leg giving out from the sheer strength needed to restrain you. Newt’s not sure if he’s helping or making your panicked state even worse, but he’s reassured when you begin to calm. Erratic cries faltering into small whimpers as your head uncontrollably jerks at each sharp intake of air your body forces you to take. You can feel his heart beat rapidly against your back, informing you just how scared he is despite his stoic nature on the outside. You try to release from his grip once again, instincts telling you there’s too much to worry about to calm down. The blonde pulls you closer to him once more, hushing your cries and leaning his chin atop of your head. The world feels authentic again, and you silently think out a plethora of thank you’s to the boy for immersing you back into reality. Doing your best to cease your cries and gain control of your breathing, you grip onto the fabric of his long sleeve sleeping shirt with a terror-induced strength. It’s all too much

“Just breathe y/n, breathe with me.” He mutters softly, chest filling with pride when you mimic his dramatic intakes of air.

The ringing subsides, and the white clouding your vision finally clears when your heart begins to slow. Eventually, Newt releases your arms. And in an instant, you clutch onto his hand in fear the crippling panic will return. Rip you away from everything you’ve come to know in only seconds.

“You’re alright now love, just breathe.” He soothes again, not even flinching at your harsh grip on him. The minute you had left your hammock, something within him beckoned him to follow. You’d been off the past couple of days, and somehow the boy knew you couldn’t be alone. His eyes well with tears, you having reminded him so much of himself his first year in the glade. He wonders what you would have done if he hadn’t caught you in time, and what lengths you would have gone to if the pain never stopped and the maze walls opened. He wills away the thought with a shake of his head, reminding himself that you’re still here, and in dire need of a friend.

“I miss my mom.” You stutter out eventually, soft lips trembling and pulled into a pitiful pout. “I don’t remember her of course, but it’s like I can feel her. I feel everything and nothing at the same time, you know? There’s so much death here, it’s been hard to find something to live for. How am I supposed to do this, how are we supposed to survive this? I mean...This has gotta be some sort of sick joke, nobody could be this shucking cruel right?” You let out a pathetic scoff, still shaking uncontrollably in his arms.

“Listen to me y/n, I’ve been where you are. We all have, and I can promise you there is so much more than that feeling. You have to believe me.” You shake your head, refusing to accept his empty promises. He sighs before continuing, trying to gather his thoughts in preparation to confess what he’s kept secret from almost all other gladers until now. “A couple weeks into my first year here, I couldn’t shake the same feeling you’re describing. That dark, ominous part that sits inside of all of us here. The unknown, the memories begging to re-enter your mind. I hated it, I hated this place, and I hated myself.” You lift your head from his shoulder at that, wanting to study his contemplative expression as he carries on. “Eventually, I couldn’t take it. So I ran out into the maze....And I did what I assume you’ve been thinking about the past couple of days. And I can assure you, nothing you do to yourself with get rid of that pain. That’s why we survive, we persevere, we fight. It might have taken a shattered leg and permanent limp for me to realize, but I know now the only way to beat that feeling is to escape this shucking place. What comes next doesn’t matter, we have to show whatever slintheads put us here that they won’t ever win. Do you understand?” His expression becomes stern, willing each word to bore into your mind as a permanent oath. Stunning brown eyes boring into yours as if they’ll cement each syllable into your mind. You nod, unsure of how to respond.

“You have to promise me.” He mutters softly, eyes welling with tears at your empty expression. “Please love, promise me you’ll fight.” He’s holding your head in his hands now, silently willing the overwhelming demons your facing to escape that beautiful mind.

“P-promise. I promise.” You reassure weakly, overcome with love for the boy under you. Instantly, you encase him in a tight embrace. Heart swelling even more when he plants a soft kiss to your temple.

“Good that.” He breathes gently, pulling you impossibly closer to his heart. Just to hold you for a little while longer. You have to fight, and you’ll do it together.

Tagging: @8avery8 @jenny33996

[iztopher]

gee i wonder what questions i should ask from the ask meme you just reblogged. oh i know. how about: All Of Them

(jk just do the ones you want but i am VERY curious and would love to hear your thoughts)

EHEHE it is always my pleasure! this took me a hot sec for Several Reasons, one of them being i ... got distracted by writing fanfic...

i've already answered some here and here, but here's the remainder:

Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Actually, not that I can think of. That sounds fun tho

Do you have a beta reader?

Usually! I enlist various different friends depending on fic haha. Sometimes though I just wing it

Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it.

I actually forgot to include this answer in my last one where I was prompted it, so: I feel like my writing is... very me? I've shared excerpts of my work before and friends have been like of Course you wrote that Iz and it makes me feel good. I'd also like to think it's direct/easy to understand while still being interesting, but, well, I'm biased on that regard LOL.

First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

okay actually genuinely I love them. the most appealing part of characters kissing to me is figuring out Why they want to smash their mouths together and first kiss fics are some of the most dedicated to distilling that question to its essence and building the scene/fic around it. SUPER fun!

Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

yes, pretty much always! lately i've been repeating Middle Distance Runner by Sea Wolf (I fall back on this one a lot, I like listening to it for introspective scenes) and That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil.

What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

mostly microsoft word, sometimes google docs (if I'm writing on the go), and, when I'm particularly stuck or just getting started, directly in AO3

Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

sooooo many. even more of them are "shelved" / liable to come back from the dead one day, though.

Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

yes! Most people, lol.

Do you drink and write?

LMAO NO i tried this once but alcohol literally only makes me sleepy so i cannot do anything creative if i've been drinking.

Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

I have, in the past, attempted the spicy stuffs, but I've never posted it LMAO. I did, however, use to pass them around for friends on Google Docs, which means I do have a most popular NSFW fic. i wrote it in high school. it was way more comedy than smut. the fake official name was "there's a first time for everything" but nobody has ever called it anything other than HJAU, which stands for. well. hand job alternative universe. don't worry about it!

Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

either early morning (coffee time), mid/late afternoon (coffee time again), or once it's dark out.

How do you feel about comments and feedback?

I LOVE them.

What's a trope you will never write?

okay I make enough snarky comments about writing tropes I don't like into something that I do, or criticizes the aspects I don't like of them, where it's hard for me to say "never". but probably soulmate AUs - people do interesting stuff with them, but I don't trust myself to be one of those people.

Would you ever open commissions?

nahhh, my writing is too... selective for that LMAO. also it's more fun for me for it to be a hobby i don't make money from. i want to take more requests, though! once i finish my first set.

What's your most popular fic?

by kudos, Freckles!

Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

I do not, but am I allowed to recommend someone else's holiday inspired fic in response to this? because I adore The Annual Pendragon-Johnson Hannuchristmas Double Holiday Banquet and Bash series by Ishti.

Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

I've never posted a multichap where this would be relevant before, but it would be super cool if that did happen when/if I post more plot-y fic.

How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

oh my god i LOVE them. I've gotten one piece of fanart directly based on one of my fics and it was lovely.

How many fics do you have?

currently on AO3, 14!

Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

mix of both, really depends on the fic. if I'm feeling cocky and think I can knock it out in a sitting or two, seat of my pants, if not, outline.

What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

write what you want to read, and for an intended audience of you and like, 1-5 cool people you know will read it. other people may read it too, and if they do, that Rules, but it's so much easier to embrace fanfic as a labor of love if your primary focus is on you and your friends having fun.

Who's your comfort character?

I don't really use this term ever LOL. I definitely explore like... vent-y stuff most often through ... galahad ... though.

Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

no character was picked for this :P

Who is your favorite character to write?

Te'ijal and Galahad tied.

Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

currently posted online? none! however, uh, I'm working on something right now that I can't decide if I want to post specifically because the answer to this question would immediately become the fic in question.

What leads you to consider a fic a success?

did my friends like it :) bonus points for if people point out in comments parts I was especially proud of when writing. OR: if I go back and read it in a few months, does it make me feel the way I wanted it to make a reader feel.

Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

oh boy no jhdskgjsdf

How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

SOBS. I have no idea because I'm a horrible multitasker who will work on 20 fics at once. lately, though, since I've started sitting down and focusing on one fic at a time, it tends to be in the 2 days to 2 weeks range.

What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

romance is like pulling teeth for me, which is unfortunate because there's so many ships in Aveyond I feel the "SOMEBODY'S gotta do it" emotion about

How do you feel about criticism?

from friends I appreciate it, and I appreciate it from anyone when WIPs are sent. but I am very glad to have never received unasked for criticism from a stranger on a finished fic lol

Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

i love making "implied/referenced (character/ship)" jokes

How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

I LOVE it, omg, questions about my fics are super welcome and in fact would make my day! (that's part of why I love doing these memes)

[make-me-imagine]

Red Roses: “I Love You” - Natasha Romanoff Ending

Valentines Special: Day Nine

Day One: Morning Glories  //  Day Two: Blue Salvias Day Three: Sunflowers  //  Day Four: Pink Camellias  Day Five: Yellow Tulips   // Day Six: Violets Day Seven: Lisianthus  //  Day Eight: Daffodils (Post with rest of the character endings)

Plot: It’s finally Valentines Day, the day the reader will finally learn who it is that had been leaving them flowers and notes expressing their secret feelings.

Notes: Thank you again @trashywritestrash​​ for helping me hash out this ending!! ❤️ And thank you to the anon who gave me the funny idea of the roof-clinging flower delivery. <3

 Pairing: Gen!Neutral Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Triggers: Brief mention of alcohol/drinking; but I wrote it so the readers “favorite drink” could be anything.        

Words: 1,396

Requested Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney​​, @thebookbakery​​, @fablesrose​​, @kitkatd7​​, @thefallenbibliophilequote​​, @beksib​​, @destynelseclipsa​​, @criminaly-supernatural​​, @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet, @belloangelus​​, @snarky--starky​​, @saintbootlegloras​​, @wecallhimbrowneyess​​, @empath-bunny​​, @okkulta​​, @katinthemoon,  @ravennight41​​, @youcancallme-rae , @radhumandragonclam, @unfortunateidiotinadilemma, @past3l-w1ngs​​ ,  @goinggoinggonzo​​, @mxxnmocha​​, @username23345​​, @theofficialzivadavid​​, @justejuste727​​, @normanijauregui​​, @euphouriaszn2​​, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all (still couldn’t tag, sorry), @messhup​

February 14th

You continued to breath out steadily as you tried to keep your pace, Steve and Bucky half way around to meeting you already, and Sam in pace next to you as you ran around the large monument again. “Damn super-soldier bullshit” Sam muttered breathlessly as you laughed at his joke, trying not to lose step. 

Listening carefully and peaking behind you, you smiled “You’re right, it is bullshit. Maybe we should stop.” you said with an air of amusement as you glanced at Sam. 

Who smiled “You know what, you’re right. Let’s stop.” 

As both of you stopped quickly in place, you turned to face behind you, just in time to see Steve and Bucky’s eyes widen as they stumbled to a stop before slamming into the two of you, which they managed to do, barely. 

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s what you get for trying to humiliate us again.” Sam said with a laugh. Steve and Bucky sharing a look of mixed disdain and amusement as you chuckled. 

“I think we were done anyway” Steve said as he turned to walk towards where you set your water bottles. 

As you all sat underneath a large tree you checked your watch, the morning had been going by so slow. You wanted the evening to come quickly, but just as much, you wish it wouldn’t come at all. 

“You alright?” 

You looked up to see the three staring at you, you must have zoned out “Yeah, I’m fine.” you smiled at them, trying to play it off. When you turned to grab a granola bar out of your bag the three of them shared a mutual look of understanding. 

You were definitely not fine. The anxiety and curiosity that had built up over the last week was killing you. You were glad it was almost over, yet terrified at what that would bring in itself. The more you thought about each of the other’s and the possibility that it might be them who has been leaving you the flowers and notes, the more you didn’t want it to be any of them. Well, that was a lie. There was only one, you really wanted it to be. And unfortunately, they seemed to be the least likely. 

- - - 

Your thoughts proceeded to run wild as you continued on throughout your day, only occasionally being able to distract yourself with work. And the anxiety had built up once again as you got dressed about an hour before the party. You paced restlessly around your room as you fiddled with your hands. 

Finally growing tired of circling around the room, you decided to leave, maybe you would head down a bit early, distract yourself with some of the others who would probably already be down there anyway. 

This was proven incorrect, as you entered into the bar area, seeing only Natasha behind the bar as she made herself a drink. You hesitated as you looked around, was there really no on else down here yet?

“Hey” Natasha greeted, earning your attention again as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Hey” you replied walking into the room “I thought the others would be down here already.” you commented as you sat on a bar-stool. 

“Me too actually, but, at least I’m not alone now” she said while smiling at you “Drink?”

"Sure.” you said as she immediately started getting you your favorite drink. 

“You alright? You’ve seen a bit off all day.” she commented as she slid you your drink and leaned on the counter watching you. 

Taking a sip you eyed her, wondering how much you should tell her. You had already figured it wasn’t her. Even though she was the one you wanted it to be. So, you figured it wouldn’t hurt anymore than it already does if you told her. 

“I...I’m, supposed to find out who’s been leaving the notes and flowers today. Which I’m sure you already figured by now.” She gestured her head as you continued “But I...I’m just not sure, what to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“The notes, and everything they’re so....genuine and beautiful, and I just don’t know if I deserve someone like that. I mean, what if I can’t see myself loving them? What if I don’t deserve that kind of devotion?”

Natasha looked down at her hands before taking a breath “You do deserve it Y/n.”

You let out an amused scoff “You’re just saying that because your my friend” you said with a bit of doubt and disappointment in your voice.

“No, that’s not why I’m saying it.”

“Then why?” 

“Because...” she reached out and placed her hand on top of yours “Because of  your grace, and elegance, your compassion, kindness and bravery. There is no way they could not absolutely adore every fiber of your being.”

You stared at her as you recognized the words, the words that had been typed out on third note that you had received. Words that you repeated to no one. Your heart began beating rapidly again as you remained speechless as a small smile formed on her face. “How- I never read you any of the notes.”

“No, you didn’t.” she straightened up before reaching for something underneath the counter “The whole, notes and flowers thing were a bit cheesy, especially for me, but...” she pulled out red rose from below the counter “I couldn’t help myself. I’ve always wanted to try some big grand gesture of admission.”

Staring at the rose as she leaned back on the counter taking your hand in hers as she placed the rose between your fingers and looked back at you “All these years being as close as we are...I guess it was inevitable.”

Finally getting a hold of yourself again you cracked a smile “Yeah, it really was wasn’t it. And...you knew didn’t you? That I felt the same?”

She gestured her head and smiled “At first I thought I was just imagining it, but...Clint knocked some sense into me and made me realize that I wasn’t, and that you did, actually feel the same way.”

You closed your hand around hers, as you continued to smile at her “It was pretty damn bold of you to deliver those flowers to me in the gym yourself.”

“Yeah, well. I wanted to see your reaction myself.” 

“Who else knew? I mean besides Clint?” 

“No one else.” 

“Then...who delivered the camellias?”

She laughed “Well, I did.” you gave her a look of confusion as she continued “I thought I was being quiet enough, but I should have known better, so when I heard you coming to the door I put my assassin skills to the test.” she said with a sense of amusement.

“But...I looked everywhere?” she shook her head and you thought to yourself for a moment “I looked everywhere...except up. Please tell me you were not clinging to the roof above me?”

“Luckily the halls aren’t too wide.”

“Wh- Nat, oh my God” you started giggling at the thought as you facepalmed “I can’t believe you actually did that.”

She laughed as well “The things we do for love.”

You stared at her, still smiling in amusement “You were wrong Nat, I don’t deserve you.”

She leaned further over the bar as she stared into your eyes “After everything I’ve done, trying to make things right with SHIELD and the Avengers. You have been the only constant happiness in my life. I think I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. ”

“Agree to disagree” you countered as you grinned at each other, as both of your eyes began flicking to the others lips before you both leaned forward meeting in a kiss you had both been dreaming of.

As you pulled away, you heard voices approaching from the hall, recognizing it as the others. She glanced to the door and then back at you as you asked “Do you think they’d be surprised?” 

“Probably not. But who cares either way.” she smiled, making you grin.

The others were in fact surprised, but happily so. Especially Clint, who, for the rest of the night, told the others about how painstakingly he had been trying to get you two to confess your feelings for one another for years now. While Tony insisted that he had known the whole time and had been debating setting you two up secretly. 

xx xx xx xx xx

I struggled with how to end this, as I did with the others too, but this one especially. 

Anyways, if you liked this, please consider reblogging it and checking out the other endings :)

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Derailed (Director’s Cut)

Elle Greenaway x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~1520

Warnings: Discussion of Spencer’s sex life, or lack thereof. Discussion of virginity as a social construct. Some suggestive dialogue, some snarky banter, and some sweetness to wash it down. It’s sexy, but also totally platonic, and it fades to black before anything actually happens.  

A/N: You cannot convince me that this isn’t how Spencer lost his v-card.  

For the “deleted scene” square on my @cmbingo​ card, written script-style and all. Picks up right where Derailed left off. 

(I almost named this Railed. Then I almost named it Deflowered. So many tempting puns.) 

[Around dusk. Hotch is driving an SUV. Morgan is in front, Elle and Spencer in back.]

Hotch: Elle, your interview has been rescheduled for tomorrow… and this time I’m driving you. 

Elle: I can live with that. 

Hotch: Local PD asked Gideon to consult on a case, and they wanted advice on media strategy, so he took JJ. The rest of us aren’t needed, so I got us checked into a motel. 

Morgan: Lemme get this straight. We have an actual night off… and we’re spending it in B.F.E., West Texas? 

Elle: They have bars in West Texas, right? 

Spencer: We just passed one. 

Elle: Then you won’t see me complaining. Drinks? Reid? 

Spencer: Are you buying?

Elle: Hell yes I am. C’mon, Morgan, you gonna come celebrate the fact that I didn’t die today? 

Morgan: When you put it that way, I don’t have much of a choice, do I? [They pull up in front of the motel and start piling out of the car.] Showers first, though. 

Elle: We can head out in like an hour. How about you, boss? 

Hotch: While I’m very glad nobody died, I am not passing up the opportunity to sleep for more than four consecutive hours. I don’t care what you do as long as I don’t get a call in the middle of the night. 

— 

[Inside a bar. Spencer and Elle are sitting at a high top, with a collection of empty glasses in front of them. Both of them are tipsy, not totally drunk but sort of giggly and loose-limbed. Spencer is using a penny to show Elle how he hid the microchip earlier. Nearby, the bartender is handing Morgan three fresh drinks, but he’s distracted, talking to a pretty woman, as he takes them.] 

[Morgan brings their drinks over to the table and sets two of them down.]

Morgan: So —

Elle: We lost you, huh? [To Spencer] Told you so. 

Morgan: How ‘bout you, pretty boy? She’s got friends. 

Elle: Oh, come on, you really gonna make me drink alone? 

Spencer: Yeah, no thanks. 

Morgan: Suit yourself. Don’t wait up. 

[Elle rolls her eyes as he walks away. Then she turns back to Spencer, who’s playing with the penny again.] 

Elle: You know I’m joking, right? I’m almost ready to head back to the motel, anyway. You should go have some fun. 

Spencer: I’m about ready to call it a night too. And honestly, that doesn’t really seem like fun for me.

[Elle watches him for a second, thinking.]

Elle: The flirting? Or the flirting with girls? 

Spencer: Hmm? 

Elle: I shouldn’t have assumed, sorry… are you even interested in women?” 

Spencer: Theoretically, yes? But more to the point, women are rarely interested in me. I’m not… like that. [He gestures at Morgan, who’s showing his new friend how to hold a pool cue, saying something in her ear as she giggles.]

Elle: It’s about confidence, Doc. Gotta be a little cocky. Not too cocky, but — 

Spencer: I don’t know how to be cocky. 

Elle: Like hell you don’t. Remember earlier? When I said you probably saved my life, and —

Spencer: — I said I totally saved your life. I remember. 

Elle: That. Cocky. It works for you.  

Spencer: I did save your life, though. That’s a statement of fact, objectively speaking. Of course I’m confident when it comes to stating a fact.

[Spencer flips the penny between his fingers a few times, then makes it disappear and pulls it out from behind her ear.] 

Elle: There’s something to get cocky about. You’re good with your hands, doctor.

[Spencer gets flustered and drops the penny, laughing at himself.] 

Spencer: That’s different. 

Elle: How so? 

Spencer: I’m not going to take a girl home and show her my magic tricks, for starters. [He finishes his drink hurriedly.] Are you ready to go? I’m ready to go. 

Elle: You’re not getting out of this that easily. 

[They both slide off their stools and pull on jackets. Elle looks around for Morgan, but he’s way too focused on the girl to notice them. Spencer makes a face. They head for the door and start walking down the block.] 

Elle: Look, objectively speaking? You’ve got cheekbones that could cut glass and you’re a goddamn genius. You know more than me about… well, almost everything, and as annoying as that can be — [She rolls her eyes and sighs, annoyed by her own sincerity.] — it’s impressive. Not to get all schmoopy about it, but… you’re pretty awesome, Doc. 

Spencer: I know I’m awesome. This isn’t about my self-esteem. 

Elle: So what’s the problem? 

Spencer: A random girl in a bar isn’t interested in my IQ. And anyway, it’s not… I know how to talk to girls. But I’m not about to take one home. 

Elle: Why not? 

[Spencer sighs heavily, looking exasperated.] 

Spencer: You want to know why I’m confident in my ability to make pennies disappear? 

Elle: I mean… not really, but I’m guessing you have a point. 

Spencer: It’s because I’ve been practicing my whole life. I’ve mastered the skill because I’ve had years to do so. 

[Realization slowly dawns on Elle’s face.] 

Elle: You’re a virgin, aren’t you? 

Spencer: Virginity is a social construct based on inherently patriarchal values of purity and the commodification of the female body. [Elle looks sideways at him, raising an eyebrow.] Yes, I’m a virgin. 

Elle: So, is it about romance? You want the first time to be special? [Spencer shrugs.] Hate to break it to you, but most first times are funny at best. The sooner you get it out of the way, the sooner it can be an embarrassing story for Morgan to laugh at. 

Spencer: Yeah. Great. That’s exactly what I want. 

Elle: No, really, what are you hung up on? [They’ve arrived back at the motel. Elle starts opening her door, but pauses.] You want to come in for a minute? Finish this conversation over another drink? 

[Spencer shrugs and follows her inside. She starts pouring drinks from the minibar while he continues.] 

Spencer: I guess part of the problem is the… learning curve. If I get to that point with someone I already have feelings for, that’s a lot of pressure, you know? But it would feel disingenuous to just pick up a random girl at a bar. 

[Elle hands him a glass and they sit down.]

Elle: Disingenuous? 

Spencer: False advertising. [He gives her a self-deprecating frog face.] That doesn’t seem fair to her. 

Elle: You’re telling me you don’t want to pick up a girl in a bar because you’re a perfectionist?

Spencer: Well… yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it. I don’t like being bad at things! 

[Elle laughs and then stares at her glass for a moment, rolling it between her hands thoughtfully.]

Elle: Which means you need someone who knows what to expect. Someone who’s okay with… the learning curve. 

Spencer: I mean, I know the theory, but — 

Elle: That’s something you can’t really learn from a book. 

Spencer: Unfortunately. I need some practical experience. 

Elle: You need someone you trust. [Spencer nods.] Somebody you’re comfortable with, but not so emotionally involved with that you feel like you need to impress them. 

Spencer: I guess. Yeah. 

[Elle raises her eyebrows and waits for him to get it. It takes a minute. His first instinct is to laugh, then he realizes she’s serious.]

Spencer: Really?  

Elle: Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. 

Spencer: But… why? 

Elle: You saved my life. Seems like the least I can do. I owe you one. 

Spencer: I didn’t do that because I expected something in return! You’re my teammate, and my friend, and — 

Elle: Because you know more than me about almost everything else in the world, and for once I’d like to be the one showing off. 

Spencer: That’s not — 

Elle: Haven’t you been listening? You’ve got cheekbones that could cut glass, and — objectively speaking — you’re pretty awesome. Besides, you’re my friend, and — [She hesitates, looking down at her glass, and the next part sounds almost painfully honest.] — my first time wasn’t great. It wasn’t with someone I trusted. And I guess if I can make sure it’s not like that for somebody else… 

Spencer: Oh. [He smiles slightly, looking touched.] You really mean it? 

[Elle rolls her eyes.]

Elle: One night only, no strings attached, and if you ever mention it to anyone on the team I will kill you in your sleep, but yeah. I mean it. 

Spencer: Not a word. 

[Elle drains her glass and straddles him matter-of-factly. He looks very overwhelmed.]

Spencer: Did you know — 

[Elle puts a finger to his lips and shakes her head. He closes his mouth immediately, and she gives him an approving nod, teasing but also genuinely fond.]

Elle: You’re a fast learner, aren’t you? As long as you can follow directions and keep the statistics to yourself, I think we’re going to have some fun tonight. Now, shut up and kiss me. 

[Spencer smiles. Cut to black.]

.

Smutty follow-up is now HERE! 

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message! Feel free to send me an ask if you want to be tagged in future Criminal Minds fic. 

[drarryangels]

angst corner recs

Hello hello everyone. Long time no see. Here are some fics that I love under the angst tag in my bookmarks that I'd probably (totally) die for. I tried to include mostly fics that I don’t hear people talking a lot about, but there are some big titles in here as well. 

-

I'd Catch You by Caellie_E_and_Vaye_Rue_Y, G

...Five times Harry made a promise, and one time he had to fulfill it.

R/N: Royalty au! Friends to lovers! Angsty! Perfection. I got into some heeeavy royalty au obsession for like two days, and was blessed to discover this fic. Seriously, so good. Beware MCD.

Stone, Sky, and Sea by RurouniHime, M

...(In which the Wizarding Saviour wanders about Oop North, tries to escape his partner, and fails miserably.)

R/N: Um this specific writing style is literally everything I love and also everything I aspire to be. Plus, this fic is just... hard to explain but it's so.... nice. Nice writing, nice location. Heartbreaking, but also so sweet.

The Bucket List by GallaPlacidia, NR

Draco will die in six months if he can't get Harry Potter to fall in love with him. Since that's not going to happen, he might as well spend his last days working through his Bucket List....

R/N: I think everyone has read this by now. But if you haven't... seriously do. It's one of the Drarry Classics That Everyone Must Read.

I've Built My Dreams Around You by fwooshy, T

Harry loves Draco. But starting over is hard, even when you're in love.

R/N: Rip my heart out and bury it anyways.

the last time that you touched me by silvergalaxy, M

What do you do when your boyfriend refuses to admit that his snarky comments about your hair are just a cover up so that you don't find out how much he actually loves it?

Harry Potter has a plan.

It doesn't work out quite as hoped.

R/N: I have no idea how many times I've read this fic. Like so many. Sooo many.

Espresso Patronum by tasteofshapes, T

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

R/N: Coffeeshop plus enemies to friends to lovers plus potions plus pining and lots of feelings. I can tell you: you want to read it!

Quiet World by augustskies, G

The first time the silence is broken, it’s Harry, nudging Malfoy’s shoulder, pointing out a single firefly perched on the ledge between them.

“Look,” he whispers, forgetting about one hundred and sixty-seven words.

R/N: Such a beautiful fic in a unique world where people can only say a limited amount of words per day. Really puts how inexhaustible what we say is, and what things could be like if our mouths couldn't run on forever. I like how this fic puts it all together, and how it shows that there are things that can be shown without words and those things are equally as important as the things said in words.

if stars died of old age by LiviKate, NR

His mother had had six months after his father had died. But it was expected; they had prepared and were already rather distanced. Draco hadn’t been ready, and Merlin, he had been so in love. He knew he was counting down in weeks, not months.

R/N: Gives me you are the antidote for me vibes but a little bit shorter for all the darlings out there who need shorter fics.

Small Thing by tsauergrass, G

...Or more simply: Draco falling in love with Harry.

R/N: Okay god, but I love this fic. Literally any who knows me knows that I am head over heels for tsauergrass, and none of their works have ever let me down, and I must rec them and comment on them endlessly because I just... cannot imagine a world where my life didn't cross pass with theirs. And GOD WHAT A HORRIBLE THOUGHT (i can't imagine never reading anything of tsauergrass') JUST READ THIS PLS

Ship of Theseus by GallaPlacidia, T

When Harry gets amnesia and forgets he and Draco were ever married, he refuses treatment to remember.

R/N: One of my favorite fics ever, no exaggeration. Beautifully written, incredibly heartbreaking, and so tragically GOOD.

The Green Vial by eidheann, E

After months of seeing Harry Potter walk into his Apothecary disappointed and hopeless, Draco offers to carry the baby that Harry can't. Now he's just got to hide the fact that he's been half in love with Harry for years.

R/N: I know most people don’t really like mpreg, but I do so there. This is so sweet and precious with all the heartbreak and pining and trying for a baby and and and. 10/10 would read. 

Silverpoint by tackytiger, E

...Or: How Harry Potter Fell In Love (and Realised that Draco Malfoy Loved Him Back).

R/N: Tacky is a beautiful writer, and this fic is perfectly heartbreaking so. Yeah. 

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by firethesound, E

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

R/N: There were tears rolling down my neck pretty much the whole time I was reading this. It’s another one of the Drarry Classics I think, but please do proceed with caution because it is quite a bit heavier than the other fics on this rec list. The portrayal of grief is incredibly vivid, and while that is a beautiful and special thing about this fic, it’s also very hard to read about. Really wonderful, but take water breaks in between and breathe a little. 

Blackberry Jam by JulietsEmoPhase, E

10-year-old Harry and Draco are evacuated from London during the Blitz, and through a logistical error, end up sharing not only a home but a bed. Follow them as they grow up against the backdrop of the war, discovering who they really are and slowly falling in love.

WWII Muggle AU. Mild smut, warnings for some thoughts of self harm/suicide.

R/N: This was the first Drarry fic I read over like 7k and I remember thinking how freaking long it was when I read it for the first time (it’s about 36k). My oh my how the times have changed. And yet, this fic is still just as good as ever. 

-

Aaaand that’s the end of the list for now. I hope someone finds something on this list that they enjoy, and please feel welcome to leave additional recs in the comments/reblogs.