#i like how they come to an agreement but there's a third book lmao

[tenrose]

I finished the Dark Forest and I honestly don't think this trilogy is gonna end well...

[babybluebex]

rememories | tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: the lee family trashed your betting room, including your most prized possessions, and tommy does everything in his power to soothe you and right the wrongs that the rival gang caused. pairing: tommy shelby (peaky blinders) x fem!reader tags: s1!tommy, tommy being a sweetheart, your daughter's name is thomasine (thanks @lost-in-sokovia for that one), no real warnings for this other than like angst? brief emotional distress? idk author's note: it's come to this lol. i'll be fixing my cillian masterlist later and reblogging it, so y'all can read all of my old tommy fics (and a few other cillian characters lmao) but i hope you enjoy this one!

The backroom was in total disrepair. Chairs were tipped over, things were thrown from tables, coins scattered everywhere and marks of bludgeonings on the walls. The poor little room was merely a shell of itself, its personality and life battered away. You could still hear your husband’s jaded laughter as he made fun of John for wanting to marry Lizzie Stark, but mere minutes ago now seemed like a lifetime away.

Scudboat sat as Arthur poured him whisky, and he explained how the Lees, “the whole lot of ‘em”, came in and destroyed the betting backroom. He was ambushed, he said, or he would have done a better job defending it. You held Tommy’s hands as fear made your own shake, and your husband sighed. “Find what can be salvaged,” he said, narrowly missing John’s angry fit as he kicked a box over. “Anything is better than nothing.”

“This is terrible,” you sniffled, and Tommy extracted his handkerchief for you. It was one that you had bought for him right after you had gotten married and just before he went to war, and you were always amazed that the silky cloth made it as far as it did. You dabbed at your eyes, scowling at your dark makeup that came off, and your heart beat fiercely against your ribcage for a moment. “The children. Was Finn here for this, Scudboat? Or Thomasine?”

“Nah,” he said. “Finn was off in town; Thomasine ain’t come home from school yet.”

“Oh, Tommy, they can’t see the house like this!” you whimpered and clutched your husband’s arm. “It’ll upset Thomasine too much. I’ll fetch her from school and keep her away from the house for a while until this is mostly fixed.”

Tommy nodded wordlessly in agreement, and he began to take off his cap, but he quickly stopped. He was fixated on something on the floor at his feet, and you looked down to match his gaze, only to be greeted with the big leather book that held your most prized possessions: your photographs. You kept the album in the betting room because it was always filled with people, witnesses in case something happened, and, really, who would want to ruin Tommy Shelby’s wife’s photographs?

Your knees crunched on glass as you lowered yourself to the album, and you took it in your shaking hands. The dark green leather was stained black with spilled ink and oil, obscuring your gold-foiled name on the spine, and you opened the book with a creak of the old pages. You didn’t want to have to assess the damage, but the first page already had you weeping pathetically again. The first photograph, the first one ever taken of you and Tommy, sitting and laughing together as Ada tried out her new camera, years and years ago at fifteen and thirteen. It was gone. The page was yellowed all around where the photograph should be, but the picture itself was gone. You wanted to throw the book across the room and scream; you weren’t concerned with material things, many girls from Small Heath were the same way, but those photographs were your pride and joy. The next page was a formal picture taken of Tommy wearing his Army uniform, his lanky seventeen-year-old build a little too small for the uniform that he would grow into. The corner of the photograph was torn but, thankfully, mostly intact.

The third page made you press the book to your chest. Your wedding photographs. You and Tommy had gotten married quickly, two days before he had to go to France, and, in your haste, you hadn’t been able to afford much. You could only afford a single copy of each photograph: one of you in your Sunday best that was your wedding dress, one of Tommy in his uniform, and one of you together. All three photographs were torn to shreds, settled in the spine of the book, waiting for you to find them. Those wedding photographs were the most important thing in the world to you, and now they were gone. Not even pasting glue could fix it. “Tom!” you sobbed, pressing the back of your wrist to your mouth. “O-Our wedding photographs! Th-They’re all ripped up!”

Your husband’s attention went from Scudboat to you, and he walked over to you and knelt down next to you. He took the small bits of photographs in his fingers, examining them intently, and he sighed heavily. “Fuck, love,” he whispered, and your sobs grew heavy. If Tommy was resigned to fate, then there was no chance of them being fixed. “I’m sorry.”

“We-We don’t have any extras, do we?” you stuttered. Your mouth felt dry as your fingers tried to match the ripped edges of photographs up, but they were too far gone. “Tom, d-do we have any others? Th-These aren’t the only ones we have, right?”

Tommy sat down next to you and put an arm around you, and he watched you frantically sob for just a second more before he used his strength to pull you into his chest. The photo album fell out of your hands, and you clutched your husband as you wailed in sorrow. Your wedding photos were gone.

“Mummy?” you heard a little voice call from the doorway, and you turned to see your wee daughter, Miss Thomasine Sophia Shelby, standing at the door. She was holding her school books in her arms, the pink ribbon in her hair coming loose. Thomasine was born just after Tommy come home from France, five years ago, and she looked like a Shelby, dark hair and bright eyes, but she had her father’s smile. “Mummy, why’re you crying?”

You sniffled and wiped at your eyes, not caring that you streaked your makeup to hell and back, and you mumbled, “People came into the house, did us over. I-I’m just sad, that’s all.” You didn’t want to worry your daughter with the real reason why you were so upset, because, truly, you felt silly for being so distraught at fucking photographs. It felt ridiculous for you, as a grown woman, a mother, to be crying over photographs.

Thomasine ran to you and sat her small body in your lap, and she wrapped her small arms around you. “Don’t be sad,” Thomasine told you, and you laughed humorlessly. “It’s okay, Mummy.”

You sniffled and soothed your hand down Thomasine’s hair— the ends of her long hair were turning a little ginger, just the same as her father’s tended to do in the sun— and you kissed her forehead. “Thank you, love,” you whispered. “Hug your father, he’s sad too.”

Thomasine crawled out of your lap and into Tommy’s, and Thomasine started to suck her thumb as Tommy stood up and settled his daughter firmly on his hip. He offered you a hand to stand up, and you sniffled as you gathered the soiled photo album up in your grip and stood up on your own. “If you find any of ‘em,” Tommy called to the room, and he gestured to the album in your arms. “Bring ‘em to her, don’t waste time. Yeah?”

You hardly slept that night. After securing the house and making sure that there wasn’t any other part of it that the Lees had touched, you had tried to go about your life normally, but it was difficult to pretend like you didn’t know that, at any time, rivals could enter your home and slaughter every last one of you. You put Thomasine to bed after dinner, and your girl fell asleep quickly, but you yourself were awake for hours. Tommy had taken your photo album and put it away in his wardrobe; “If you keep it, you’ll fret over it forever.” He was right, of course, because, when the sun came up, you had tugged it out and was trying to sort through the scraps of photographs on your bedroom floor. The room was cold and part of you wished that you could be in bed, holding your husband close, but you needed to do it for yourself. You had managed to salvage a single photograph by the time Tommy was blinking himself awake, and you sniffled as you beckoned him over. “Tommy, look!” you exclaimed. “I-It’s Thomasine!”

“Jesus, woman,” Tommy sighed groggily. “Have you been at this all night?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “Her baby picture, look!”

Tommy reached down for you and he took your hand, and he helped you stand up, his hands going to hold your cheeks. “I know you’re having a hard time with this,” he whispered. “But obsessing over it is only going to make it worse. They’re as good as gone, darling.”

“B-But—” you sniffled, and Tommy shook his head.

“You have to let it go,” He told you firmly. “Come back to bed, you don’t have to be awake for hours.”

“Oh, Tommy,” you sighed, shuffling back up to bed. Your joints hurt from sitting on the floor practically all night, and your vision watered up as you watched Tommy gather up the album and photograph scraps and set them back in his wardrobe. “What am I going to do? All of my favorite memories are lost.”

“You still have the memories in your head, love,” Tommy told you, sitting next to you. You leaned into him and pressed your cheek to his warm chest, and you sniffled as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I just…” you mumbled. “Our wedding pictures is the thing I’m most upset about. We were so young, and that was before everything went to shit, and we were so happy…”

“We’re still happy,” Tommy assured you. “We’re happier now, because we have Thomasine. We’re a complete family now.”

“You know what I mean,” you said. “We were poor kids, and-and looking at those pictures gave me hope that you��d come home when you were in France. They were my lifeline for a long time, and to have them ruined like this…”

Tommy’s lips formed into a thin line, and he rubbed your back comfortingly as you finally laid down and tried to settle into sleep. Your sleep was thin, hardly even deep enough to call proper sleep, but you finally woke up and got out of bed when you heard shouting down in the bottom of the house. You were used to that, but you still felt like you ought to make sure everything was alright, so you pulled yourself from bed and went about groggily getting ready for the day, slipping on a dress and spraying on perfume before descending the stairs.

The noise seemed to be coming from the back room, the ruined betting room, and you carefully pushed back the plush curtains and opened the doors to see a sight. Your eyes first landed on your husband, dressed in his old uniform. It certainly looked too small for him, tugging a little at his chest, but you clenched your teeth together at the sight. How long has it been since you saw him in the pea-soup-green uniform? Five years, at least. “Tommy,” you said softly. You couldn’t help yourself from stepping closer to him as his head snapped to look at you, and his hard gaze softened in the way it always did when he saw you. He never subjected you to his steely gaze, and, whenever you saw it, it always reminded you of what a feared man he was.

“Fuck, love, what’re you doing down here?” Tommy asked. “You’re supposed to be asleep still.”

“Heard shouting,” you said softly. The other men were bustling around the room as you smoothed your hands up Tommy’s chest, and your eyes went all watery again. “This isn’t happening, please, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked. “Talk to me, darling, what’s the matter?”

“How long have you known?” you asked, sniffling. “Leaving us like this, how could you?”

“What?”

“The uniform, Tommy!” you cried. “You’re being called to the war again, why else would you have this shit on?”

Tommy grabbed your cheeks and kissed your forehead, and he angled your head to the side. Arthur stood there, behind a massive camera, angled at a blank space on the wall, and your breath caught in your throat. “What is this?” you asked.

“I’m not being called back,” Tommy explained. “I got to thinking about our wedding pictures, and I went to see the photographer who made them. He said the film was too old and that they couldn’t make you new copies, so the next best thing was to retake them.”

“Oh?” you asked. You sniffled and wiped your nose, and you gently reached out to touch the camera. “We… We’re retaking our wedding pictures?”

“With a few adjustments,” Tommy said. “Back then, I couldn’t afford to even get you so much as a bouquet, but now… Well, I took your measurements to a dress shop, and even though the dress was pre-made and only adjusted to you…”

“Tommy?” you whimpered.

“I got you a wedding dress, love,” Tommy told you. “Better than the flour-bag Sunday best that you had on.”

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, and you sobbed once before flying to your husband and crushing him in a hug. “Oh, Tommy!” you cried. “Thank you! Can I see it?”

“Pol’s got it in the kitchen,” Tommy told you. “Go put it on, why don’t you let me see it?”

The dress was beautiful. Eggshell-colored silk that fell below your knees with long sleeves and deep neckline, very fashionable and pretty, and it fit you like a glove as Polly helped you into it. She primped you a little, fixing your hair and patting red rouge onto your lips, and she upturned a vase next to the stove and handed you the bouquet of wildflowers that Thomasine had picked a few days earlier. You felt timid and almost nervous as Polly escorted you back to the betting room, and you cleared your throat once you passed the threshold, afraid that, if you spoke, your voice would give up on you.

Tommy looked to you in an instant, and he gave you a small smile as he stepped towards you. “Aren’t you a sight?” he said in his rumbling timbre, putting his hands on your hips, and he kissed your lips for a moment before he added, “Thomasine might get a brother before the day’s over, if you keep looking that beautiful.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggled, and he steered you in front of the camera as you smoothed down your dress. You were suddenly nervous, and you clutched Tommy’s hand as Arthur cranked the camera, preparing it to go off. “Tom?”

“M’right here, pet,” Tommy said, squeezing your hand. “Just smile; everything will be fine.”

By the time night fell, you had a whole slew of new film, new pictures to replace the ruined ones. Recreations of your wedding pictures, an updated picture of a smiling Thomasine, even one of Tommy kissing you when the camera went off on accident. Thomasine was tangled in your skirts then, gazing up at her daddy, and you looked at the film as you sat by the fire that night, smiling and admiring it. That was your favorite memory; you, your husband, and your daughter, smiling, laughing, loving. It was perfect.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

#6

Warning: none.

Summary: A group of supervillains having a meeting, during which an interesting argument arises.

Oof, been focusing on the requests a bunch and needed a break lmao. I've had this one in mind for quite a while now, so I'm happy to finally write it.

Enjoy!

~~~~

A small sigh escaped Supervillain as the two other supervillains sitting next to them continued to bicker. A few months ago, Second Supervillain had come to Third Supervillain with a proposition and a plan. Then, the two had come to Supervillain, saying they wished to join forces and take over the country.

Normally, Supervillain wouldn't have bothered to listen, but they happened to be awfully bored on that day, and so here they were now. The plan was surprisingly solid, so just to entertain themself, they decided to go along with it, even though they could easily take over the entire planet by themself if they so desired.

"Are you two quite done yet?" - the supervillain questioned, slipping some annoyance into their voice. Their eyes remained focused on the giant screen hanging on the wall before them, showing detailed information on Organization's top heroes.

The two supervillains instantly quietened and turned to them, followed by their respective right hands, who stood dutifully at their sides. Supervillain's own right hand was equally unimpressed as their lord and only spared the four a quick blank glance.

"What the hell are you two even arguing about this time?" - Supervillain asked, finally turning their attention to the other two masterminds, Right Hand silently copying them.

"Something very important, actually." - Second Supervillain answered, crossing their arms.

"Indeed!" - Third Supervillain added.

"And what might that be?" - the supervillain pressed, praying for it to be something worth their time. "Or at least something entertaining..."

"We're trying to figure out whose right hand is the most loyal!" - the third supervillain explained, and before Supervillain could insult the two for their stupidity, they continued, "I believe that Third Right Hand is the most loyal out of them all!"

"Ha! As if. Second Right Hand is clearly the winner here. They would do anything I ordered of them!" - Second Supervillain argued, stubbornly lifting their chin.

As the two slowly began to delve into another argument, Supervillain could only groan in irritation and rub at their temple as a headache threatened to assault their head.

A growl vibrated in their throat, and they were about to do something rash in their frustration, but Right Hand read them like an open book, swiftly leaned forward, and whispered in their ear, "My Lord..."

As the right hand quietly gave them an idea on how to solve this issue, a grin began to split the supervillain's face more and more with each of their words. Once Right Hand had finished, they straightened their posture, awaiting their master's next move.

Supervillain chuckled lightly, gave them an amused look, and then turned towards the other two once again, interrupting them, "Why don't we just test whose right hand is the most loyal, hmm?"

The two stopped their quarrel and focused on them again, Second Supervillain curiously asking, "And how do you propose we do that?"

"Simple, we order them to show us their loyalty."

"..."

Both of them were silent for a moment, exchanging glances. After a moment of uncertainty, they voiced their agreement. "Very well!"

"In that case, I shall start us off." - Second Supervillain said, turning their attention to their right hand. "Second Right Hand, show me your loyalty."

The second right hand stood there for a short moment, considering how to proceed. They then walked in front of their boss, bowed their back and head, one hand going to their heart as they responded, "My Lord, I am at your every back and call. Just tell me what you need, and I shall get it done."

A smile began to cross the second supervillain's face but was quickly wiped off. "Pfft, ha! That was nothing!" - Third Supervillain exclaimed, taunting the other criminal, making them snarl. "Just watch and learn!"

"Third Right Hand, show me your loyalty!" - they ordered, and their right hand immediately moved into action. Just like their counterpart, they moved in front of the third supervillain, except, rather than only bending their back, they kneeled down, head bowed and hand on their heart as they said, "My Lord, I shall follow your every order without question, and I shall stop at nothing to help you achieve your plans. I exist only to serve you."

The third supervillain grinned smugly at the second supervillain, who continued to glare at them in return. However, rather than start another fight, Second Supervillain turned their attention elsewhere. "Alright, Supervillain. Your turn."

The supervillain calmly turned to their right hand, locking eyes with them. They saw excitement momentarily flicker in Right Hand's eyes, which made them grin and order in delight, "Right Hand..."

"...show me your loyalty."

The right hand silently moved in front of Supervillain, and as they turned and faced them, a smile graced their lips. They caught the other four off guard as they fell to their knees, both hands gripping at their heart as they began, "Master."

"You are my world, my universe, my everything. Your word is law to me, the only law I could never dare break." - Right Hand continued. Their gaze filled with adoration, with obsession, as they gazed upon their lord.

Without a hint of hesitation, the right hand then moved into a full prostrate bow. As if the supervillain was their god, they lay their forehead against the cold hard floor, the palms of their hands flat against the ground. They showcased complete submission to Supervillain. "I am for you to command and use."

The other four criminals couldn't help but be taken aback, an odd dread growing larger and larger in their chests the longer they watched. Right Hand wasn't just showing loyalty. No, this- this was something else entirely... It...

It was absolute, unquestionable devotion.

"Good." - Supervillain purred gleefully, adoring the tense atmosphere in the room. Oh, Right Hand somehow always knows how to please them. "You may rise."

With the permission given, the right hand stood back up, and with a small gesture from their master, they returned to their side, the other supervillains also gesturing for their right hands to return to their positions.

From that point on, the meeting had gone by without issue. A newfound terror eating away at four of its participants.

[watevermelon]

Cheater!Akaashi x Reader

✧ Summary: (Continuation) Akaashi is still in love with you and begs for your forgiveness.

➳ A/N: It surprised me how many people wanted a part 2 to Akaashi’s initial cheating imagine, but here we are!!  Ask and you shall receive. People want good things for the reader and I agree -- that’s too bad this is what we got instead LMAO ➳  Masterlist ➳  Part One 

--------xXxXxXxXxXx--------

You could’ve gone the rest of your high school career without ever having to hear the word volleyball ever again. The only interest you had in it was from your ex-boyfriend and now any reminder just left a bitter pang in the pit of your stomach. 

Thankfully, Akaashi was not in your class and there actually were not any volleyball players in your homeroom. But that didn’t stop them from popping up in your peripherals or in some rumours around school. 

Some of the members of the volleyball team would shoot looks at you, whether out of pity or curiosity, you couldn't care less. You fostered your own relationships with the athletes individually - whether it was Haruki’s strange brand of humor, Sarukui’s constant references to memes, or Wataru’s lopsided smiles - you knew them. 

You shared, or rather suffered together, in a class with Konoha the year before. A bright first year with no friends yet, Konoha was a nice person and the first one of the entire volleyball team to actually speak to you. He was even the one to introduce you to both Akaashi and Bokuto.

Out of the bunch, Konoha was often a tag-along when it came to hangouts. Whether it was to the arcade or the movie theatres, you and your (ex)boyfriend were quick to include the others. And usually Bokuto and Konoha would come along as well. Looking back, now you felt like an idiot, Konoha was one thing, but Bokuto was always there.

Nonetheless, as a member of the volleyball team, you knew Konoha was close to Akaashi. And there was no doubt which side he would be taking, no matter the moral high-ground. 

There was too much history there and there would be no attempt on your part to salvage the friendships you had with the volleyball team. 

There was no doubt of the curiosity in everyone’s minds the moment you and Akaashi were broken-up and there was a new person he was holding hands with. It went from general confusion to malicious rumours. Akaashi was the silent boy next door, the person everyone thought to be the perfect boyfriend without a bad bone in his body.

Some said that he broke up with you because you were too mean, too boring, or he simply lost interest in your boring lifestyle.

If only other people knew what he had done to you and Bokuto.

You didn’t believe this was the hill you wanted to die on. And so you ignored the carefully whispers that followed you in the hallways. Your best friends urged you to clear your name - you were the wronged party so why must you be the one to continue suffering? But this was not something you wanted to bring up again, not something you wanted to think about and relive after how painful it was the first time.

But it seemed the volleyball Gods really hated you.

Konoha approached you one day, after class had just ended but before extracurricular clubs were about to start.

“Hi.” He stood beside your locker as you organized your things, “Can we talk?”

You nodded wordlessly, packing up your bookbag and following him out the door. He guided you toward the outside fountain by the athletic building, not many students passing by as they rushed home through the main entrance. A part of you worried that some of the other volleyball members would pass by as you sat there together, but then you realized that it was no longer your problem.

You were seated on the edge, silently watching his pensive expression before he finally turned to you.

“I feel like I owe you an apology.” He started.

“What, why?”

“I could’ve told you a year ago that something strange was happening between Akaashi and Bokuto.”

You felt a lump in your throat, not sure what to say.

He shook his head and turned away, “There was something there even before you two were dating. And so even when Akaashi asked you out, I bet you were surprised?’

You frowned, but agreed quietly with a nod of your head.

“We barely knew each other at the time.”

Konoha scoffed, you were unsure why exactly, but he continued, “Out of curiosity, why did you agree?”

You smiled back wistfully at the memory, remembering how you had excitedly texted your friends on how the Akaashi Keiji had asked you to be his girlfriend.

“It was so simple back then.” You explained, “He was the kind, pretty setter of the nationally-ranked volleyball team. It was shallow, based off of what little I heard about.”

“But you grew to love him.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed, “And look what that brought me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Haruki passed by, texting away on his phone, mind on something else before he spotted the two of you. He waved at Konoha first before his eyes landed on you, widening in obvious surprise before he shot you a genuinely wide smile.

“A lot of them miss you too.” Konoha explained.

“Well sorry, I tend to avoid anything regarding the volleyball team these days.”

“Don’t worry, as much as this sucks, we understand.”  Konoha frowned, clenching one of his hands into a fist in annoyance at the situation.

“But I do miss you guys too.” You added.

Konoha smiled, fondly remembering the last time you had all gone to the arcade, “Who could forget the time you beat Haruki at Dance Dance Revolution?” 

“He certainly did not.” You recalled, “He kept challenging me all the way up to mid-terms.” 

Konoha laughed, no one on the team was able to defeat the libero. And yet here you were, all smiles and confidence radiating off of you, bringing the third year to his knees. It made Konoha wonder if the last year could have been different. 

When Akaashi had approached you, Konoha had dutifully stood to the side. The setter was one of his closest friends and never had he approached anyone in the past. He was often busy with the team or Bokuto. And for Akaashi to have asked you, it meant he was serious. And so Konoha had stood to the side, his crush on you mollified if that meant you’d be happier with the setter your age.

If Konoha had the courage to ask you out instead, would you still be close to the volleyball team? Would you be celebrating an anniversary together rather than crying over some lecherous bastard he called a friend?

You sighed and turned to Konoha, registering his earlier words. “Why are you sorry?”

“What?”

“Why are you sorry about what happened with Akaashi?”

“Ah.” He raked an open palm through his hair. “Maybe I could have stopped you.”

“What?” You asked, a confused smile on your face.

“I introduced the two of you after all.” He explained.

“Shut up.” You said in a teasing tone, “No one could have stopped it. I was just dumb enough to fall for him.”

Konoha shot a small grin back at you, “Yeah, you were.”

Sighing loudly, you made sure you had all your stuff before standing. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.” Konoha held out a hand for you to shake, “I hope we can still be friends.”

It was odd, to feel the small blossom of something in the pit of your stomach. This was Konoha, your friend of two years at this point. This was nothing more than him trying his best to affirm your friendship, you reminded yourself.

“I hope so too.”

And, to his credit, he really did try. It was simple things - you had each other’s chat ID’s from your shared class together and, every once in a while, he would send you a meme or a small tidbit of information. You still had things in common, subjects ranging from the current shounen anime and TV shows you kept up with.

It was refreshing to talk to him. Your friends had your back, but the school’s curiosity was not easily satisfied with time. People were naturally nosy, eager to know the true reasons behind your failed relationship. Both you and Akaashi had yet to even address it and it only got worse with Bokuto’s increasing PDA.

Thankfully, no one was audacious enough to actually approach you about the situation. No one else was involved in your relationship and they had no right to actually point fingers.

That was until someone had the audacity to come up to you during the free period, most of everyone on campus enjoying their lunches.

You were sitting at your usual table, waiting for your friends to come from their respective classrooms when one of the more annoying third-years came up to you.

You recognized her as president of the Fukurodani Volleyball fanclub, this should be fun.

“I think you should apologize to Akaashi-san.”

You closed your book and looked up. The usual bustle of the lunchroom was dying down, many people silencing as they turned to the interaction. 

“What?”

“For wasting his time - he deserved so much better than you.” She bit out cruelly, the other girls behind her nodding in agreement. “And we all think it’s high time you beg for forgiveness.”

You stood up, pure annoyance rolling off of you. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh? I don’t?” She challenged, “Why would Akaashi date you of all people? And now that the two of you are broken-up he’s been sadder than I’ve ever seen him! This is your fault!”

You slapped your book down and raised your chin, “If that’s what you honestly think then you’re as ignorant as you are a meddling piece of shit.” 

The murmurs that followed were obvious, people listening in to your harsh response.

She raised her hand as if to slap you, obviously offended at being called out to the entire lunchroom. “Why I outta --”

But the offending hand never came.

“Leave her alone.”

You could recognize your ex-boyfriend’s voice anywhere. Turning, you saw Bokuto enter your field of vision and grasp at her wrist in a tight hold, held high above your head. Akaashi was standing on the other side in front of you, an arm-outstretched as if to protect you from the group of girls.

“She didn’t do anything wrong.” Akaashi stated clearly, his gaze was unwavering from the girl, but you were sure that the entire room was now listening in. “It was me.”

She stuttered, attempting to save face, “Akaashi-san, surely that’s not true.”

He turned to her, his blank expression now marginally colder. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

The mean third-year visibility recoiled, turning to you and apologizing under her breath. Bokuto swung her arm away, his glare enough to scare away the rest of the group, but the room was still obviously silent. Bokuto scanned the rest of the room with his tough stare, many people turning away and vainly attempting to restart their conversations. 

Akaashi turned to you, an unsure expression on his face. There were words on the tip of his tongue, you were sure, since he looked as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say.

“I’m not going to say thanks.” You decided to start for him.

“I know.”

You wanted to turn away from him again, no words left for you to say or even scream at him through your anger. This was more than just some ex, you genuinely loved Akaashi and thought he was going to be your future. And from the way he acted, it seemed like the setter wanted that as well.

“There’s something I want to say.” Akaashi stated before you could flee.

“Maybe not here.” Bokuto tugged at your elbow, motioning to the nearest hallway with his chin. 

You followed Akaashi wordlessly, Bokuto behind you to make sure you didn’t just run away. You sure that there were more than a few dozen pairs of eyes sticking to the backs of your strange trio.

Akaashi led you to a corner, no one to spy on your conversation unless they hung outside the building from the window. He moved to gently grasp your forearms, but you pushed him off before he could get a firm hold on you. 

He frowned, but looked at you intently. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” You stated back plainly, “I can’t forgive you.”

Akaashi hesitated, a dejected look on his face. “I know.”

Every bone in your body was screaming at you to walk away, to stop looking at his despondent pout and not fall for his sad look. You remembered the first time you fell in love with his smile - how easy he would flash that beaming expression at you. How Akaashi would tell you how much he loved you and it filled your heart until it overflowed.

And now all of those memories were worth nothing.

Screw being a bigger man, your heart had a thousand things it wanted to say.

“I really loved you, you know.” You pushed at his shoulder, “And now I can’t look at you without feeling like I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I was so in love with you I thought this would be it.” You felt your heart crying, but urged the motion down. “Why kiss me and tell me you love me when you had someone else on your mind the entire time?!”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Akaashi looked just as anguished, trying to reach out to you with shy hands on your shoulders. “Please just listen to me.”

But you shoved him away this time, “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I love you.” 

His blue eyes bore right into your own, determined and sure of his previous statement. Looking over his shoulder, Bokuto was standing to the side, his gaze stuck on you as well. How the hell was this normal?

“What?”

Akaashi paused, hands coming up to hold you but stopping short again when he realized that was the last thing you needed. “I’m in love with both of you.”

You huffed and took a step back, what could you possibly say to that? There was a sudden flurry of emotions just whirring around your mind -  a rush of elation at being loved, immediately squashed down by the annoyed at Akaashi’s selfishness.

You turned to Bokuto, “You believe this?”

The wing-spiker frowned, but affirmed it in a loud voice. “Yes.”

“No.” You started back quickly, shaking your head. “I refuse to be part of this.”

“It’s true.” Akaashi pushed, moving toward you with an ernst expression on.

“I don’t care if it’s true or not.” You moved away again, but this time Akaashi did not let you evade him. Putting firm hands on your shoulders, he pulled you against his chest. “Stop.”

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, but I can’t.” Akaashi continued, “I love you and it hurts me so much that I hurt you in the process.”

You struggled against his hold until he let go. “How could I listen to you be so selfish?” 

“I know.”

“Don’t involve me in this.” You motioned at the both of them in a wide circle. 

“(F/N).” Akaashi stressed, eager to get you to see his side, but you wanted nothing to do with him or Bokuto. He broke your heart enough, there was no way you were willing to entertain him back in your life.

“What don’t you understand about leaving me alone?” You raised your voice, annoyed that Akaashi was asking anything of you after treating you so cruelly.

“Please let me explain.” Akaashi kept repeating.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing that Akaashi could say that would ever make you think about introducing him back into your life. He was terrible for lying to you for months, maybe even as long as a year, but you didn’t want to exactly ask the length of his infidelity. He was a terrible boyfriend and an even worse person - you were ready to raise hands at both boys if they didn’t let you go this instant.

Bokuto blocked your path this time, “(L/N), come on we just -- “

“What’s going on here?” A gentle hand fell on your shoulder, pushing Bokuto aside as a new person entered your conversation.

Konoha stood tall behind you, his sudden appearance quelling your rising anger. If not, you were sure that you were going to throw hands with the volleyball boys. Bokuto would probably fight you off, but slapping Akaashi would feel cathartic in a way.

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Bokuto tried to wave away the other wing spiker. “We’re just talking.”

“(F/N), please. Let me explain it all to you.” Akaashi stressed, moving a step in your direction, to which Konoha challenged when he tilted his head upward. 

“Right, just talking.” Konoha murmured in disbelief before turning to you. “And how do you feel?”

“I’ve had enough of this conversation.”

Both Akaashi and Bokuto exclaimed your name in contrasting tones, but you hardened your expression before turning away from them. Konoha still had a hand on your shoulder as you walked back to the lunchroom.

Your friends were already at your table, some of them standing around pacing while others were angrily chewing into their food. A chorus of your name followed as the two of you neared the table, some of them getting up from their seats to give you a comforting hug.

“(F/N)!” Your best friend was quick to rush you, crushing you between her arms. “We heard that Akaashi and Bokuto basically ushered you away.”

“The whole lunchroom was basically watching that door.” Another stated, pointing to the one you just came from.

Your best friend put her hands on your shoulder, steading your attention back to her. “Please tell me you remembered that men ain’t shit.”

Konoha laughed as he put a mocking hand of offense over his heart.

“Yeah, yeah.” You assured her, “I’m not about to make the same mistake again.”

“Good.” She confirmed, before turning to Konoha. “Okay, only Konoha has rights.”

“Thanks.” He stated back half-heartedly, guiding you back to your lunch and taking the seat beside you.

“When people told us they took you away, we weren’t sure what to do. Go after you? Call you to give you an out? We didn’t even know how long you had been gone for!” She explained, “Thankfully Konoha here came to the rescue.”

You turned to the wing-spiker, smiling as you did so. “He really did, thank you.”

He reflected a similar expression back at you, holding your gaze before springing away to take out his own lunch out of his bag.

“I take it back, the volleyball team has no rights with the exception of Konoha.” One of your friends joked.

As for you, you could not help but think back to the fond expression Konoha just shot you. It was so quick, and yet so genuine, you felt it pierce your heart so suddenly just to rip away from you when he turned away. But not in a bad way, per se.

If anything, this was a nice feeling, for a lack of a better term, to have again. You were not totally healed, still angry at both Akaashi and Bokuto for being complete fuckheads. But a part of you was still alive, happy to see Konoha as your friend and just maybe… maybe something else.

Akaashi and Bokuto returned back to the lunchroom silently, having left their stuff at their now fully occupied table. Bokuto didn’t bother to even turn in your direction, but Akaashi shot you a devastatingly sad frown as he passed. 

A part of you wanted to comfort it, to leap out at the man who loved you for the past year. But you were thankfully steadied back to reality when Konoha put a gentle hand on your own. Akaashi’s gaze fell to the contact, making him stop entirely in his tracks. It was only when Bokuto grabbed his hand did the setter continue walking, but the shock on his face was palpable.

No matter, Akaashi was the last thing you wanted on your mind right now.

You upturned your hand and squeezed Konoha’s smiling at the third-year before turning back to your lunch.

The situation was far from resolved, you still had another two years at this drama-infested school and Akaashi seemed keen on explaining something to you. You were far from completely healed and it seemed the student body would not let this drama go unnoticed.

But you were getting there.

Little by little, you were re-learning to smile and laugh more. Places on campus were no longer bitter memories, but quiet lessons for you to remember. You had your loving best-friends and suddenly, the kind Konoha, at your side.

You had no worries about the rest of the school year, you would get through this with a head held high.

--------xXxXxXxXxXx--------

A/N: TBH for myself i could see this going both ways; reader saying nah OR reader entering a poly relationship. idk - i’ll write it if someone wants to see that ending but otherwise here we are :):

➳  Masterlist

[machinegunbun]

Did we ever get the freaky colson fic? Asking for a friend

Yenno what? I’ve been practically starving yall so i think you earned it. Ask (for a friend) and you shall receive. Buckle up kiddos, this ones a doozy.

TW?: Like? everything. everything is a problem here lmao. Just weird. H/A stands for haunted attraction, i had one in mind but it felt disrespectful to mention.

I present to you... The Freaky Fic ™

                                                           ~*~*~

You knew this interviewer had a history of asking personal questions, which meant when you came on you were completely expecting to be asked something or other in regards to you and Colsons sex life, but asking about the freakiest sex you’ve ever had still felt a little forward. You weren’t thirty minutes into what would be an hour-and-forty-three-minute podcast and he was already pulling out what you originally thought to the big guns. Your eyes met Colsons as you silently tried to decide whether or not you should avoid the question.

“I already know what it would be, I'm just not sure we should say.”

“It’s that bad?” The interviewer asks

“Well, it’s more that everyone is gonna say its white people shit. Cause it is.” You took a moment to think about the statement “It wasn’t incest though! Obviously. Just a little weird.”

“What was it?” Colson asked, mind reeling through your personal kama sutra for anything that would stand out as the freakiest. Colson and you were definitely not vanilla, but that was the problem, wasn’t it? When you’ve done so much weird stuff, it’s hard to rank which would be the weirdest.

“The [H/a].” You say, watching as a flash of recognition falls over his face

“Seriously? That’s the worst thing you could think of? Cause I can think of, like, five worse than that, just off the top of my head.”

 “I mean, it’s definitely not the freakiest, but it’s a good story without it being super embarrassing or personal.” Colson nods in agreement, mumbling a small “Right”

“Yeah, go ahead. You can tell it.” He says, turning to face you in his spinny chair.

“Okay, so, I’m very superstitious and, like, paranoid right? I mean, I literally will not sleep in a room that has a mirror facing me. It doesn’t even have to be facing me, it could be facing the wall opposite me, but it has to be covered. I don’t even really trust it when it’s covered, honestly, I prefer it to be face down to the floor. Because mirrors are supposed to be portals to the after life, or whatever, and I remember hearing that if one is facing you while you sleep it’s easier for ghosts to manipulate you. It’s not that I necessarily believe that, or that I think if I slept with a mirror facing me that I’d die or something, but that I respect it. However, I think when places are advertised as haunted they usually aren’t. I mean you see these youtubers go to these places and film all these videos and it’s just- That’s not how hauntings usually are. Ghosts have an ability, to an extent, to manipulate your emotion. Have you ever heard of someone suddenly being overwhelmed by an emotion because they believe a loved one is near? It’s more like that, it’s very spiritual. Being haunted, coming from someone who ghosts seem to love, is nine times out of ten nothing like what Hollywood portrays it to be. It’s not to say that I think every one of these youtubers is lying, I think some of them definitely are, or that they were scared and when you’re scared it’s easy to blow little noises out of the water, but mostly I think it has to do with the places themself.”

Your story was cut off by the interviewer asking a question, 

“Hold on, you aren’t about to make a joke about freaky also meaning spooky, right?”  The interviewer asks

“I mean, you could totally make that joke, but it’s definitely a little kinky. I’m just giving some background.”

“Okay, continue.”

“Where was I? Oh, yes. I think when you go somewhere that is advertised as haunted they are selling you an experience. If you went to the [H/a] and nothing happened, some people would be disappointed by that and would want their money back, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“I think some of these places have audio recordings and mechanised doors, things that they can use to manipulate every room and give you a good scare. This is all theory, by the way, so don’t sue us.”

“You really think it's more plausible that they have a whole control room to scare people and that none of the workers have ever squealed than believe that these places are just… haunted?” The interviewer asked

“I don’t know. Maybe, if they only allowed people with a certain seniority and made them sign an NDA? And if the ones who control it get to give their coworkers a little scare so they come online and say they’ve had their own experiences? Yeah, I think it makes sense, and it's making them money, so why would they stop?”

“Okay, I guess.” He nodded along, entertaining the idea

“But, I also believe that if you talk to ghosts or call on them they will show up, so it’s kinda” you made a scale motion with your hands before continuing.

“Anyway, I went on board with this in mind. We were in our room, cuddled up on the bed and-” you took a moment to recall that night “I don’t remember if we were waiting for something to happen, or if it already had and we were waiting for something else. Anyway, we must’ve gotten bored, because we started making out.”

The crappy old hotel sheets shifted under you as your lips met Colsons, his warm hand reaching over to rest on your lower back. The kiss quickly became heated, your mouths smashing into one another, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip while his hand pulled you closer, your own reaching down to rub his growing bulge.

A short, fast knock came from the wall, breaking both the kiss and the silence.

“Oh, do you like that?” You ask, continuing to massage him through his loose sweatpants. Colson originally thought you had been referring to him, but quickly caught onto the fact that you were addressing the ‘ghost’. 

“Hm, what about this?” You continued, kissing your way down his body, pulling his pants down when you got to them and sliding his tip between your lips. A barely audible creak erupted from the room beside you, the bathroom sink had turned on, a small stream of water pouring aimlessly down into the sink. 

“Does that make you wet?” You ask, sucking one of his balls into your mouth as you stroke him. Colson found the whole act to be a bit odd, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself, so he let you continue. As fucked up as it was, the idea of a third party watching as the two of you were doing your thing was really getting you going. It wouldn’t have been a big deal to some, other than the fact that the supposed third party was a ghost.

“Do you like watching us fuck?” You slid your mouth down the length of his prick, hollowing out your cheeks before coming back up to continue “Tell me what you want me to do to him next.” You offer up, glancing up at Colson who looked equal parts freaked out and turned on.

“You’re crazy. God that’s hot.” He said, throwing his head back while you let out a small laugh. A book slides from the coffee table across the room, falling to the floor and landing on its spine, flipping open to a random page. You weren’t entirely sure what that implied, but the only thing that came to mind was him fucking you on that table. You took a moment to ponder it before deciding if you tried it would break and that you didn’t wanna bother paying the place for a new one.

You began kissing your way back up his body instead, admiring his tattoos as you go. Your lips landed back on his, reaching down to slide the tip of his prick through your folds, gathering your arousal. Stopping the kiss for a moment, you opened your mouth to take a breath. Colson took this opportunity to spit in your mouth, connecting your lips again soon after.

“Think the ghost liked that?” He said, reaching down to grab his hard dick from your hand, teasing your hole. You shrugged, leaning back into the kiss, moving your hips along with his movements. 

After a minute or two of teasing, you swore you felt the bed begin to shake. It started off slow and small, almost as if Colson was shaking under you and it was transferring to the bed, before slowly building to a much more noticeable rumble.

“Oh, I think it wants us to shake the bed.” You say, a smirk playing on your lips, a gasp falling past them as you felt colson slip inside you. You happily obliged, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. You didn’t realise how badly you needed this, you couldn’t help the moans slipping past your lips as you fucked each other as hard as you could manage, trying your best to make sure the bed shook. You were looking down at Colson when suddenly his face disappeared, replaced by impenetrable darkness.

“What the fuck.” The interviewer mentioned, more amused than judgemental “I can't believe you’re telling me this. I can’t believe this isn’t the freakiest shit you’ve ever done.”

“Well, the ghost thing was kind of a joke. I mean, it happened, but it was more about the fact that someone was obviously watching us, or the concept of that.”

“Right, right. You guys like an audience, I see.”

“While it was dark though, I swear I felt a hand slide up the side of my thigh, I know it wasn’t Colsons cause I could-” You cut yourself off “I’m not gonna say how, but I felt both of his hands on me.” 

“Oh shit, forreal? You never told me that part.” Colson said, you gave a small nod in his direction before continuing.

 “But then the lights came back on.”

The lights had only been off for about a minute, small sounds of things moving barely audible over the sounds you two had been making, Colson flipping you over in the dark, pounding away at your hips. When they flicked back on, the room was messy, your eyes scanned the room, falling on the complimentary ouija that sat on the table first. It had fallen out of its box, the lid on the floor next to it. Next, you realized the closet had slid open, it had one of those bendy doors that made it so when you slid it open it bent out towards you, they were called bifold closet doors, if you remembered correctly. 

It was slid halfway open to reveal the empty closet behind it, the only thing adorning the shelf being a couple lone close hangers. As you watched, one looked as if it were smacked off and fell to the floor.

“It wasn’t hot anymore at that point. I didn’t see anything, I think it was my paranoia-- remember when you were a little kid laying in bed and you were like, there is a person crouching beside my bed right now and if I look over the edge at them they will have no more incentive not to kill me?” A silent understanding “It was like that, I don't know how but I know what they look like and I was fully convinced that person was crouching next to us on the bed and if I looked over there I would see him. Because the bed was on the wall, and it’s a big bed, a queen I believe, and colson and I are laying with our head at the foot of it, there was plenty of room to the side of us cause we weren’t exactly in the middle. “Wait, you said that you believed the hauntings were mechanical, so do you think this was a ghost, or a worker?”

“I think it may have been the lady at the front desk, because when we came out she asked us if we were having a good day. I don't know. I don’t think I’ve ever been turned off so fast, I mean at first the idea of a ghost or a worker watching us have sex was hot, but the thought of that… thing being there with us-- That wasn’t hot. We just, kinda, silently put our clothes on and walked out to the lobby. We went back later and got our stuff and checked out early. All I know is it was a dumb fucking idea.”

The day after the interview was released twitter was filled with variations of “If Mgk and his girlfriend wanted an audience they could’ve just asked me.” 

Guess you should’ve expected that one.

[ddullahan]

Here's a prompt I've been thinking about writing but never will Ruby finds that whenever she checks out a book from the library its been checked out before by a W.Schnee as well. Like every book she chooses. So she's suuuper curious as to what type of person she is. She thinks theyre really similar because they have the same tastes in books.And they meet and she finds out that Weiss is nothing like her at all.And cute shit happens? Idk I didn't think this through 😂

BRUH WHAT THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE I went ham on this lmao thank you so much for the prompt idea!! I picture Ruby and Weiss in their twenties in this as a PSA lol ---------- The library was solemn that afternoon. Ruby wandered the stacks, breathing in the paper and leather from the shelves around her. The tips of her fingers skimmed the spines, silver eyes drifting over with no real clarity behind them. She pulled a book free from the shelf with the title The Beast of Vale, automatically flipping it open and skimming the inside cover. Someone sneezed with the force of a gunshot in the distance and Ruby nearly dropped the book, a flustered apology whispered out of sight. She recovered with a soft giggle, tucking it under her arm. Arching up onto her toes to glance at the other covers, there was a second sneeze and another hasty apology. Ruby bit her lip to stifle another laugh, pulling a second book free, Dust Below Dawn, and set to reading the inside cover. She pinched that to her side too, reaching for a third book - and a third sneeze rocketed through the quiet library. She heard a soft swear nearby and shuffled her books into her hands, curiosity pricking at her skin. She slunk to the end of the aisle, poking her head around the corner. “Bless y-” She choked off mid-sentence, her eyes widening. The woman seated amongst the thick red leather couches was far too pretty to be real. Stark white hair draped over her shoulders in silk waves, braided at the temples and leaving the rest to fall loose. White bangs framed her brow, partially covering a thick pale scar over her left eye. Most of her face was covered by a pale blue handkerchief furiously rubbing at her nose, but Ruby could still catch the gem blue eyes squinted against the pressure. They matched the dark and light blues of her three piece suit and matching heels. She had a sleek looking laptop on the coffee table in front of her, a lipstick stained coffee cup set beside it. Accompanying the laptop were several blue-bound books stacked as far away from her as possible, without the threat of them falling off the small table. The woman sniffed daintily, catching Ruby’s movement and hastily folding her handkerchief back into her inside pocket. “Oh -” “Oh um -” Ruby stammered at the same time, nearly jumping out of her skin as those blue eyes focused completely on her. “Did I -” “Bless you!” Ruby blurted out in a panic. The woman paused, blinking at her. “...Thank you..?” “You’re pretty - Welcome!” Ruby squeaked, her heart pounding so hard she was sure she could feel it through the books clutched to her chest. “You’re pretty welcome. Yep.”    An almost invisible smile pitched the corners of the woman’s eyes, amusement coloring her tone. “Pretty welcome. That’s a new one.” Ruby flushed red to the tips of her ears, a clumsy little laugh bursting from her, unchecked. “Well I’m uh, a new one. New-new person, I mean. We’ve never met before. So I’m new. To you.” The working percentage of her brain immediately wished to crawl into a hole and never come out again. Thankfully, her flustering seemed to amuse the woman further, prompting a light, stuttering laugh from her red lips. Ruby was surprised with herself, amazed she was still standing beyond the force of that smile. “You are.” The woman said evenly. Ruby immediately wished she’d worn something nicer to the library, as the weight of those blue eyes skimmed over her attire. Big black boots and black rose stockings lead up to a simple short black dress cinched at the waist and deep red cardigan thrown haphazardly over her shoulders, the tattered ends reaching down to her ankles. The soft red sleeves were pushed up her forearms, black bracelets around her wrists and a simple black choker wrapped around her throat. She didn’t bother with make-up that day, and she bemoaned it silently. “S-so um.” She shifted awkwardly, the woman’s eyes snapped up to hers immediately, the words sticking in her throat. She swallowed and tried again, clutching her books tighter for sanity. “A-are you um. Okay? Those were some pretty powerful sneezes.” The woman’s spine stiffened a little, crossing her legs at the knee. Her hands folded over on her lap. One of her heels drifted a little loose, cruxed at the ball of her foot. She had the presence of someone three times her actual size and Ruby could only watch the transformation in awe. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern. It seems I’m mildly allergic to the dust in these books. And not the useful kind.” Her lips pursed in the semblance of a frown. “Oh, that’s tragic.” Ruby flushed back up her eyes. “I-I mean, not tragic tragic. Just, um. It sucks you can’t smell the paper without sneezing.” “Yes I...thought the same.” She tilted her head, a few strands of her hair curling over the sharp line of her shoulder. Ruby wondered absently if meeting someone gorgeous was supposed to feel like dying. “Have you read those books before?” “These?” Ruby looked down at the books in her hands like she’d forgotten they were there. Honestly it was hard to remember anything now that she could breathe. “Uh no, not yet. I was planning to check them out though.” “Dust Below Dawn is enjoyable, as long as you don’t mind egregious prose and flowery alliterations.” The woman hummed, her spine relaxing as she reached for her coffee cup. Ruby tried not to stare too hard as her pale throat bobbed with a sip. “Wow, words.” Ruby murmured under her breath, shell-shocked that she’d missed her entire sentence. “Alternatively,” The woman continued, either ignoring or missing Ruby’s lack of attention, “The Beast of Vale is a masterwork. The author spent a dangerous amount of months near Mount Glenn just researching the properties of the city and grimm surrounding.” Ruby snapped out of her daze, glancing down at her copy of The Beast of Vale in wonder. Her feet were moving before she even realised it, cardigan sweeping out in a flutter behind her as she dropped into the opposing red couch. She leaned over the books now relocated to her lap, leaning forward eagerly. “Wow so you’ve read both of these before?” It was only after a beat of silence that Ruby realised how pink the other woman’s cheeks were, how wide her eyes had grown. “I- well yes. I wouldn’t know anything about them if I had no interest.” “Do you research the authors of all the books you read?” Ruby asked curiously. “Only the ones I care deeply for. I like knowing the process involved.” “That’s super neat!” The woman blinked like she’d just been blindsided. “Thank you?” “On a scale of one through ten, what would you rate Dust Below Dawn?” Ruby bulldozed on through the conversation, gaining confidence now. “Six.” The woman replied, almost startled by her own quick response. “The Beast of Vale?” “Nine.” “Okay okay, how about - are these books yours too?” Ruby prodded the small stack closest to her, careful not to jostle the stained coffee cup. “They are.” “Have you read them already?” “...Yes.” The woman’s flush crawled higher on her cheeks, her sharp scar imperious amongst the pink. “Okay,” Ruby flipped the top book over, skimming the title. “What would you rate - oh hey, I’ve read this one! What would you rate Atlas Knights?” “Ugh, two.” The woman wrinkled her nose. “I read it faster because I wanted it over with. The main character was unbelievably whiny.” “I dunno, I was under the impression she had a hard time expressing herself.” Ruby hummed, flipping the cover over to the library checkout slip.  She found her name, R. Rose, and another below hers, W. Schnee. A bit of recognition itched at the back of her mind. The woman scoffed. “Well what rating would you give it?” Ruby’s attention switched on a dime. “Mm… probably a five.” Ruby frowned. “The world was cool. But if the main character had a hard time expressing herself, the author also didn’t give her a chance to be better. It’s like, she’s saved by her knight, but still a brat. The other characters all know she’s a brat, but none of them talk to her about it. She isn’t given a chance to be a person, she’s just given a flaw and stuck with it for the entire story.” The woman hummed in reticent agreement, reaching for her coffee again. Ruby pointedly didn’t watch this time, sliding the book aside to look at the one underneath. She made a little curious hum under her breath. “I’ve read this one too. What did you think about Song of Ice and Rust?” “Probably rated a seven or eight. I enjoyed the twist immensely.” Ruby looked up at her with a bright grin, heart thundering uncomfortably in her throat. “It was so good, wasn’t it!?” She received a small but genuine smile for her enthusiasm. It made her feel like she could fly to the rafters. “The dragon really sold it for me, I wasn’t expecting it to be the ancient king.” “Gods I read that and almost screamed - it was like three in the morning though so I had to contain myself.” “That must have been hard for you.” The woman said with false sympathy, though her smile remained curled. “Hey! I’ll have you know Miss -” Ruby glanced on the inside of the cover, finding again her name and the same W. Schnee underneath. “Schnee, I’m perfectly capable of containing myself.” “This conversation has proved otherwise.” She replied smoothly, though a bit of stiffness had returned to her spine. Her gaze seemed to be searching for something, but Ruby wasn’t really sure what it was she wanted. Shrugging it off, she moved on to the last book on the table, a small frown gracing her face. “Man this is so weird, I’ve literally read all of these.” Ruby said, tilting her head curiously. “We must have similar tastes in literature.” “We must…” Ruby squinted at the inside of the cover, spotting the same W. Schnee below her name. Something itched at the back of her mind again. She dropped the cover closed, swinging open Dust Till Dawn’s cover. There was the same simple cursive of W. Schnee. “Have you read The Nevermore’s Quarry?” Ruby asked, suddenly, looking up at her. She knew full well that book wasn’t anywhere near their little table. The woman blinked, leaning forward curiously. “Yes, I have. How did you-?” “The Harbinger Sons?” Ruby asked, silver eyes widening. “...Yes?” The woman looked equally as mystified. Her eyes drifted above Ruby’s head in thought. “Have you read Of Bones and Evil?” “Yes,” Ruby breathed, her grin growing wider by the second. “Fortune’s Fallacy?” Ruby just nodded, her entire body lighting up with a different kind of energy. “What in the world…” The woman murmured. “I think you might be my library soulmate.” Ruby said. She had no idea someone could turn so red in such a short time, admiring the flush under the woman’s scar. Ruby was almost entertained, watching as she sputtered in the cutest kind of fluster. “Y-you can’t just say that to someone!” She stammered. Ruby’s confidence came roaring to life. She pouted. “So that means I can’t ask you out either?” “I- what.” Blue eyes blinked rapidly, the very picture of an error message written in human form. “I thought your name looked familiar. I’ve been reading the same books as you for almost a year straight.” Ruby tried not to show how much her palms were sweating, nerves shuffling in cold versus the warm wake of her momentary confidence. Predictably, her mouth started running without her permission.“I think we have a lot in common and I’d like to get to know you and maybe possibly talk more about books when I don’t look like a scrub. You’re like, other-worldly gorgeous and you’re so far out of my league but my sister says I can’t write anything off without trying it first and I figured I’d try it out y’know, benefit of the doubt and holy moly I’ve been talking for way too long-” “You only know my name from the books we’ve read?” The woman spoke it more like a statement, almost like she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Um. I mean I’d like to know your first name. But, yeah.” Ruby gave in and brushed her palms down the front of her skirt, fingers starting to shake with adrenaline. “Weiss.” She replied absently. “Weiss Schnee.” Ruby’s lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Ruby Rose.” Weiss gave her a once over, the astonishment fading into something entirely different. Her gaze carried a weight to it that had Ruby’s palms sweating double time, her twitchy fingers immediately fiddling with her red cardigan. “...Alright.” Weiss gave a slow, smooth smile. Ruby almost passed out. “Wh- really?” “Do you have a pen on you?” “I- yes!” Ruby all but evacuated the library ten minutes later, a number written on the back of her hand next to a clear, red lipstick stain. She nearly ran into a pole, but she knew it’d be ten thousand percent worth it. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Yang’s face.

[mypersonmyg]

Couples Costume | JJK

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg

wc: 1.3k

warnings: mentions of blood, fake blood,  spooky times, 

summary: it’s halloween and jeongguk is ready for a spooky time (ig, idk)

a/n: happy halloween peeps, i literally just wrote this in the last hour and i wrote it with the Collar Full couple in mind, but it can be read as just a random little drabble. while i’m here i guess i can also say that november is drabble month so expect this everyday or don’t whateves...also might have a header later but i don’t have time now lmao

also also this is unedited so have fun :-)

“I still think you should’ve gone with the bunny,” You emphasize with a sweet kiss to grimaced cheeks, Jeongguk still grumbling about a stray drop of red dye fallen against a distasteful tongue. “Then  you wouldn’t even have to worry about the fake blood.”

Your boyfriend’s disagreement is paired with the dab of a blood stained tissue touching up the precipice of similarly stained cheeks. You seem to realize simultaneously that your lips had just fallen against those cheeks, never much thought into such simple displays of affection.

“A bunny? The carrots were a one time thing, plus that’s so juvenile.” Your eyes meet in reflection, your tongue poking through pursed lips in disagreement. “It’s Halloween, not Easter.”

Your own costume begs the application of red stain, Jeongguk insistent that you play victim in his thorough depiction of Halloween horror. It was upon deaf ears that he convince your conveniently absent roommate to play the part. It’s a couple’s costume and I’m not dating Taehyung, he had so brilliantly quipped.

“Just because it’s Halloween doesn’t mean you can’t be cute.” He turns, the raise of his brow a precursor to feigned dramatics.

“Are you telling me that I’m not cute?” In a mess of ruffled fabric his hand falls to a mangled chest, the sentiment doing little to stop the cross of your arms and the pout of your lips.

“Shut up, you know you’re cute.” Your hip lightly nudges his own, making room at the heavily covered counter. “But I’m gonna look like I got hit by a bus and that’s not cute.” 

Your hand wraps around a dye covered tube, the contents spurts and now you’re the one sporting a grimace, the image of cold goop against bare skin an unpleasant one. Your hesitance is visible, Jeongguk grabbing the tube with a chuckle. 

“You don’t have to wear it,” He shrugs, tossing the tube, hands coming to tug at his bloodied sleeves. “I personally think you’d look beautiful even after being hit head on in rush hour traffic, but I think you’ll look beautiful in anything so you don’t have to wear the costume if you don’t want to.”

You’re aware of the double meaning, Jeongguk’s persuasive nature never lost, but you’re also positive that he wouldn’t hold it against you if you walked right back into your bedroom and stripped yourself of the ripped clothing. Not a word more falls from his lips as you continue to watch the progression of his costume. It’s the brief knock at the door that draws the attention of both of you.

“You guys ready to go?” Taehyung pops a crown adorned head around the frame, curls freshly permed and tickling rosied cheeks. You’re positive he spent at least an hour on his hair alone, but offer no tease, still in the midst of an intense inner debate. Jeongguk turns to you, brows raised in question. 

“Give us like twenty minutes, I have to make myself look gross.” You relent, a hand tracing a brilliantly placed scar against Jeongguk’s chin. He’s unable to contain himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he presses a kiss sloppily to your forehead.

“Fine, but hurry please? I’m not getting any younger.” 

Jeongguk takes control, the swipes of brushes against sensitive skin gentle. You chuckle each time his lip falls between his teeth, the quick withdrawal a result of a taste still unacquired. He demands your back to the mirror, an artist not ready to unveil his timed masterpiece. His quick movements are steady, his wide eyes endearing in every sense as you watch him work. 

With a few final passes against the bridge of your nose he’s tossing the brush, hands landing gently against your hips.

“Ready?” He hypes, teeth on full display, your hands doing everything they can not to grab hold of his sugar cheeks. 

“As I’ll ever be,” You nod, eager to see what he was able to throw together in such a short time. He turns you, an immediate gasp befalling you in response. Not beautiful, but a masterpiece by any standards. 

Much like every aspect of his being, Jeongguk’s canvas was used to its full capacity. There were cuts, scars, and stitches galore. No inch of you is left untouched by your buzzing artist, every precise stroke of his hand turning you into something so gruesome yet eye catching in the best way. 

“So?” his chin rests against the slope of your shoulder, nose nudging at the shell of your ear as both of your eyes focus on the image before you. You turn to him, muscles stretched so eagerly that they pull at drying paint.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He pulls away, hands quickly cupping darkened ears. You nearly coo, the infatuation of long withheld affection never failing to grip you with his every movement. “Don’t be shy now you dork! I love it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Your hand falls into his own to drag from the tiny bathroom back toward his own. You spot his camera easily, perched atop his desk, the lens already eagerly staring you down from the doorway. “I think this is one for the books.”

His agreement is immediate, hands brushing against his chest so as to clear the risk of smudge. He positions you in front of the window, light easily filtering in, the backdrop filled with leaves fluttering against the autumn wind. He takes a few shots, camera poised for a few more when you hold a halting hand.

“We have to take some together!”

“But I’m-” He points at the camera with a shrug. “I’ll get some of you and Taehyung.” 

“It’s a couple’s costume, remember?” You flip his earlier words, a coy smile stretching your scar stained cheeks. “And Taehyung and I aren’t a couple.” 

“I swear, you’ll be the death of me.”

“Actually, love, I think you’re the death of me,”  His eyes roll with dramatic flair, his body moving to find his tripod. He digs it from the depths of an overflowing closet, contents readily unknown, and makes quick work of assembly. He sets the camera, timed for a few rapid shots.

You attempt intimidations, face pulling into an image of terror. Jeongguk follows your lead, the two of you spilling over in laughter by the third frame. Your surprised by the sudden tild of your chin followed by contented warmth, Jeongguk’s lips easily pulling you into heated comfort. 

You continue to fold in, flashes of the camera long forgotten in your lustful haze. It’s the deep clearing of an impatient Taehyung that pulls you apart. 

“Oh, how cute. Now can we go before I make that blood on your face real?” 

“Did you just threaten to kill me?” Your response is half filled with humor, though Taehyung scoffs in return. 

“I would never! I was talking to Jeongguk,” He clarifies, gesturing to your unperturbed counterpart, his hands still embracing you. “I will not, however, take responsibility for what may or may not happen to you in the process.” 

“You jerk!”

“Hey, I’m just saying, if he’s gonna hold on to you like that there may well be crossfire.” He doesn’t wait for response, turning on his heels, the trail of his costume left in his wake. “If you two aren’t in the car in the next ninety seconds the only people who are gonna see those sick costumes are us three.” 

“The nerve,” You step away from Jeongguk, his hand eager to find your own once more.

“I guess it’s a good thing you look hot mangled, baby, because I’m never letting go.” 

“Aw,” You spew in exaggeration.

“That’s disgusting, I’m definitely leaving you just because I had to witness that.” You don’t hide your laughter at your friend’s antics, but you hold on to the warm feeling in your chest as Jeongguk holds you close. They may have been said with the intent of lighthearted banter, but you have no doubt that they’re true all the same.

[florenceandthemachine]

cutting down the family tree

@buckleydiazs​ said:

High school au where Buck’s the sad lonely kid with the shit family and Eddie’s the popular captain of the wrestling team who makes it his personal mission to make Buck an honorary Diaz and convince him that he deserves nice things I am just saying

WOW this got a lot longer than I thought, so I abandoned the ask and put everything all up in here. Only barely edited, SORRY LMAO.

8.5k, Buddie HS AU. underage-ish if you squint I guess? tw for abuse.

--

Buck was good at going unseen.

It was a defense mechanism—his parent’s couldn’t get upset with what they didn’t realize was there—and it had only amped up once Maddie graduated. Once she went off to college, Buck had no reason to be a distraction anymore, to try and pull attention off of anyone; so he just got better at it. He could pick things up and set them down without a sound. He constantly walked on the balls of his feet. He even kept his breathing even, slow and low, whenever he wasn’t alone.

At home, Buck had gotten really good at—nay, he had perfected—the art of becoming invisible. So it only made sense that it translated to his school life, as well. 

He got good grades—straight A’s—but only high enough to keep his grades at a 4.0, not high enough to earn Valedictorian, no AP classes, no crying over tests. Enough to ensure he would have opportunities after high school, but not enough to bring any student or teacher attention his way. 

He worked out every day, and had for years, years of defending himself or defending Maddie meant he had to be in the best shape he could be in—but while his body was packed with lean muscle and quick reflexes, he drowned himself in clothes that were a size too big, making him look smaller, unassuming. He kept his posture slouched whenever he wasn’t standing to take a few inches off of his height, to the point that he could get lost in a crowd while you were still looking at him.

He didn’t participate in after school activities. He didn’t run for school president. He didn’t have a flashy car, a high status girlfriend, he didn’t show any interests that might make him friends or enemies.

Buck was invisible to absolutely everyone.

Well... everyone except Eddie Diaz.

Eddie Diaz, who was a senior, like Buck was, but was new to Pennsylvania, moving over the summer — who was 18, a year older than Buck, because he was held back in the third grade for fighting — Eddie Diaz, who had joined the wrestling team and made captain in an embarrassingly short amount of time (well, embarrassing for the rest of the team). 

Why did Buck know all of this?

Because this was also Eddie Diaz, who, on the first day of Senior Year, locked on to Buck with laser-like focus, ignored all of Buck’s defenses, and apparently decided to take him on as a new friend pet project. 

And much to Buck’s annoyance, he just couldn’t. Shake. Eddie. Off.

He definitely tried. He changed his walkways, he changed the bathrooms he used, he changed where he parked, he did everything except change his schedule—and Eddie was still there, keeping up mostly one sided conversations. The only time he had to himself any more was his free period, the time he spent in the school weight room, and never before had be been so thankful for that regular moment of peace.

Buck finally hit his limit one lunch period, spent huddling in the library, when Eddie sat down across from him. "Eddie, isn’t there someone who actually wants to have lunch with you? Some of your friends, or teammates, or someone who isn’t me?” Buck had asked, barely looking up from the text book he had been reading—he wasn’t a fan of the ‘mean’ route, but he was at his wits end. When Eddie paused, Buck actually felt hope rise up in his chest, that he would be alone again. 

But Eddie had just leaned forward, made eye contact, and said “Nope.” with the biggest, shit eating grin Buck had ever seen.

Fine. It was less than a year. Buck could handle Eddie being around him for less than a year. 

--

Buck could not handle less than a year. 

Because Eddie, Eddie was nice. To him. To Buck, who had never said more than ten words to any other student since the day he started high school. Eddie was nice to him, and it was going to kill him.

It was going to kill Buck because he found himself wanting to be nice back. 

Not that Buck was a mean person, because he wasn’t, but niceness was followed by friendship, and friendship was followed by attachment, and that was simply unacceptable as far as Buck was concerned. 

... not that he hadn’t wondered, of course. He had always wondered what it would be like, to be able to hang out with friends, to have people come over to his house for his birthday, to have more contacts in his cell phone than the front desk of the gym near his house, his parents, and Maddie. 

He had wondered, sure, but he had never missed it. He had never craved it. He knew it was more important for him to be on his own, at least for the time being—an attachment would make it that much harder to get as far from the east coast as possible when time came for college, and that was unacceptable. 

But...

As he pulled in the parking lot, to a familiar spot near the back of the school, and saw Eddie waiting there for him so they could walk in to class together... 

Alright, so he wanted it. So sue him. 

“Buckaroo!” 

Well, that was a good way to make him want it a little less, at least.

“Eddie, I’ve told you,” Buck said with an exasperated sigh, locking his car behind him. “It’s just Buck.”

(Eddie had called him Evan once. Just once. Once the blind panic had subsided, Buck had put a stop to that, real quick.)

“And I’ve told you,” Eddie said in a sing-song voice, “it’s a nickname. Nicknames are what friends do, remember?”

“Your words, not mine.” 

Friends. Is that what they were? He rolled his eyes and shouldered his bag instead of thinking about it too deeply, but he couldn’t deny the spike of anxiety that rippled through him as Eddie started to ramble, falling back into the easy habit of talking for the both of them. He didn’t want friends. He just wanted to get out. 

“...and so I told him...”

Besides, it wasn’t like Eddie actually considered him a friend. They had barely spoken—well, Buck had barely spoken anyway. There was no way in hell that Eddie actually cared about him, right? He had to have some secondary motive.

"and after that, she...”

But that was frustrating in and of itself. Buck had been so sure that Eddie was up to something, or had some ulterior motive, or but damn it if Buck hadn’t been able to determine what it was. None of Eddie’s little douchebaggy wrestling friends had approached them, Eddie hadn’t even tried to get Buck out of his comfort zone yet, he hadn't done anything, and somehow, that was even more frustrating.

“...just because Ms. Syzmaski’s a wrinkled old bitch.”

Buck let out a laugh, in spite of himself, as Eddie rambled on, shaking his head. Ms. Syzmaski wasn’t that bad, and—oh. 

He covered his mouth as soon as he realized what he had done. He didn’t think he had laughed at all since Maddie left, and to have one pulled out of him so suddenly was a little surprising, to say the least—but as he turned to Eddie, beet red, he could tell that he wasn’t the only one surprised. 

The look that Eddie was giving him, however, was the closest thing to “starry eyed” that Buck had ever seen.

“I, uh, I have to get to class. Bye Eddie.” Buck blurted as he turned and booked it down the hall, not quiet quick enough to miss the smile and the incredibly soft “Bye, Buck” that followed him.

--

Things only got worse as more time went on.

Better?

No, worse. Definitely worse. 

Because Eddie could make him laugh, and the more time he spent with him, and the more he actually listened, the more likely those moments were. He was nice, too nice, on the rare occasion that Buck actually had lunch in the lunch room instead of hiding in a stairwell or the library, Eddie said goodbye to his friends and joined him kind of nice. The kind of nice that worked its way past Buck’s defenses, instead of breaking them down.

The kind of nice that made Buck actually want to open up, which, as he would never forget, was a dangerous kind of nice.

It was also, as he learned too late, the kind of nice that made him fucking cave in way too easily to Eddie’s whining. 

“Come on, Buck,” he had begged. “I’m going to be failing Chemistry if I don’t get a B on the midterm, and if I fail chemistry, I get booted from the team. You have to help me.”

And like a sap, Buck had sighed in agreement, giving up a Friday night doing nothing to help the intellectually infirm (“Hey!”).

Wincing as he touched up the concealer on his cheek, Buck dragged his backpack out of the passengers seat of his car, giving an appreciative look up to the small, ranch style house that spread out before him. It probably said a lot about his own expectations if he already felt more comfortable in front of a row of little ranch houses than he would in front of his own house, but… well, that was just it. His house was a big, gaudy house in a neighborhood full of big, gaudy houses. But everything about where he was now—the sound of a dog barking, the smell of someone cooking on the grill, the fact that you didn’t need to ask anyone to buzz you in to a front yard—screamed home.

He didn’t think anything could spoil how light he felt—and that was certainly proven true as Eddie opened the door before Buck even had a chance to knock. 

“Hey Buck, thanks again, you… uh, wow. You look, uh, great.”

It was a small surprise, but a nice one. He had ditched his regular, baggy, hiding-in-plain-sight clothes for a simple pair of jeans and a polo shirt, casual but comfortable, and he tried to ignore the smile tugging at his lips even as his face heated up. 

“I mean, it’s nothing special, it’s just jeans and a—“

“Eddie! Bring your friend inside and close the door!”

It didn’t matter how he had tried to prepare himself, there was something about a parent yelling that would probably always cause Buck to tense up, and tense up he did. If Eddie noticed, he didn’t say anything, thankfully, just hooked his elbow in Buck’ as he yelled right back. “His name is Buck, Mama, I told you that!”

He tried to get his heart to calm down as he felt Eddie tug him to the doorway, his free hand clinging to his backpack strap for dear life, bracing himself as he walked into… 

…something that could not have been more polar opposite of his own life if it tried. 

Eddie’s house was smaller, sure, but it was homey in a way that Buck had only imagined or seen in Hallmark movies. He was all smiles as Eddie introduced him to both of his parents (he knew how important first impressions were, had had that beaten in to him from a very young age), but he found that it wasn’t fake—he was genuinely glad to be there. Even if it still threw him for a loop when Eddie’s mother had insisted on being called Helena, had shoved a tray of snacks into Eddie’s arms, and sent them to Eddie’s room to study. 

“Go on, we’ll let you know when dinner is ready. Get your studying done.”

“Thanks, Mama.”

“And leave the door open!”

“Mama!”

Buck was only mildly placated by the fact that Eddie was blushing as brightly as he was. 

Any concerns that Eddie wouldn’t be taking this seriously, or was just looking for a reason to hang out and fuck around, were quickly put to rest as Eddie pulled out his chemistry book. It was comforting to know that Eddie was just as serious about his grades as he acted, and it made things a lot easier—when Buck didn’t have to spend half of his time telling Eddie to pay attention or to focus, as he had feared, things moved at a pace he hadn’t anticipated. 

Eddie was incredibly smart. That much was obvious from the get go. Chemistry just didn’t click with him, but that was easy enough to rectify—he just had to help Eddie see things from a different angle, to focus more on the process than the end result, and “seriously Eddie, would it kill you to take a legible note for once in your life?” 

Buck had set to work on transcribing some of Eddie’s rushed notes into a legible format while Eddie continued to work on a few practice problems, and before Buck knew it several hours had gone by and they were both being called down for dinner, and… look, Buck had a live in cook for most of his life, but damn if Helena’s enchiladas didn’t blow them out of the water. 

He found himself drawn into the family dynamics easily—Eddie had introduced him to his sister, Sophia, explaining that Adriana was out for the night, and they talked, bickered, poked fun, everything that Buck had figured was out of his reach for the longest time. He spoke when he was asked questions, and let himself engage in a few conversations, but more than anything, he just sat and ate and soaked up the delicious atmosphere.

Was this what a family really felt like? He didn’t think he had ever felt like this at home, even before Maddie had graduated, even before his father had started drinking. He felt something white hot burn in his chest as the night dragged on—not jealousy, or envy, something more dangerous, want. It seemed like a cruel joke, that someone so close to him got to have it all, while he had… nothing, but as he looked over at Eddie, his head thrown back in laughter at one of his mothers jokes until Sophia flicked a piece of corn into his open mouth and he sputtered, he wouldn’t wish the reverse on even his worst enemy.  

--

The good part about Pennsylvania was that it didn’t matter what time of the year it was, it was usually cold. Cold meant long sleeves and sweaters to cover the arms, and long pants to cover the legs, especially as the sticky feeling of Summer turned to foggy breaths and dew, and Buck could breathe a little easier. 

Just a little easier, though, because when you were tugging your hoodie down over your head to cover a black eye, you couldn’t relax. Not really. 

He was usually so careful. He was usually so good about covering his bruises (hell, he was usually good at getting bruises anywhere other than his face), but the last time he had touched himself up, he had forgotten to cap the concealer and the entire tube had run dry. He was sloppy. He had been reckless and stupid and sloppy and now he was paying the price; because as confident as he would have been a semester ago about getting through the day with a shiner and no one noticing, the day now included Eddie. 

He didn’t know if he could avoid Eddie for an entire day. What was worse, he didn’t know if he wanted to.

The day had started off pretty well. He took the train to school instead of driving so Eddie wouldn’t see his car. He was barely on time to each and every class to avoid Eddie in the halls. He ignored every text that came in—though he did allow himself a grin when Eddie sent him a picture message of his Chemistry test, a big 91 circled on the front of it. He even managed to find a new place to eat his lunch, one he was sure that Eddie wouldn’t know about. 

And then everything had gone to shit. 

He had finished his History midterm early, turned it in with his head down, and walked out of the classroom. His next period was his free one, so he decided to head to the gym early, taking a quick stop in the locker room to change into a baggy, long sleeved shirt, chucking his hoodie and his backpack in a locker before getting to the gym. There was only one other person in the room, back turned to Buck as he walked in—it was as good as it could get, and he sent a silent prayer up to anyone who was listening in thanks.

It was going to be a cardio day, Buck could tell—his right wrist was a little sore, and his shoulder too, and while thankfully neither of them felt dislocated it definitely wouldn’t be a good idea to try to lift weights. He could feel the tension bleed out of his shoulders as he started to stretch out his hips and legs, nearly ignoring the telltale buzz he felt at the base of his skull until it was too late. 

“Buck! There you are!” 

Buck bolted upright at the same moment as a hand clapped onto his shoulder, squeezing in the friendly way Buck had become so accustomed to—but now, instead of a familiar warmth in his stomach, it sent a bolt of pain through his body. He sucked in a gasp and jerked his body away from the pain, fists halfway up as he turned around, his body sagging when he saw Eddie standing opposite to him.

Eddie, who he had been avoiding all day, who’s multiple messages he had left on read, who now looked like he was face to face with a ghost. If he could imagine how he looked right now, he might have laughed—black eye, slumped shoulder, pale, panicked face. It was probably hilarious, even if Eddie didn’t seem to think so.

“Buck?”

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Buck, what... what happened to you? Is this why you’ve been avoiding me all day?”

The biting comment was on the tip of Buck’s tongue, to tell Eddie to fuck off, to get lost, but Eddie sounded so small and scared he couldn’t bring himself to snap. Instead, he offered a weak smile, shrugging his good shoulder. “Nothing I can’t handle. You should see the other guy, right?”

It probably was in poor taste to go for a joke, and Eddie’s dark expression only confirmed that fact, but what was Buck supposed to say? ‘Hey, no worries, my mom broke a picture frame so it was either let her get the shit beat out of her or take the heat?’ Yeah, no.

Suddenly, his face was in Eddie’s hands, and oh wow that was nice, and he had to work to keep from sighing as Eddie’s fingers went feather light over his skin.

“Buck, this wasn’t just a little love tap.” Hah, no, there was no love in it at all. “You know, I could teach you how to block a few hits. Some self defense.”

Buck laughed, humorlessly, shaking his head. “No, that’s okay. Not a lot of good there, I don’t think.” he shrugged, shaking his head, even as Eddie opened his mouth to protest.

“But I can—” 

“Stop. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Buck, I am serious. I’m really worried about you, have been all day.”

Buck had to swallow at that, his heart sinking, and he looked down as he weighed his options. Neither were good. But if one kept Eddie from worrying...

“...fine. On one condition.” Buck said, his voice a little thick as he looked back up to Eddie, who... well, he looked like he would do anything Buck asked at that moment, and wasn’t that an interesting swarm of butterflies in his stomach?

“You stop asking about how I got them.”

Eddie’s face did a funny kind of flip flop, but eventually, he nodded. “Fine. First lesson starts now.”

Buck sighed again as he thumbed the hem of his shirt, debating for only a moment before he pulled it off. The tank top he was wearing beneath didn’t hide a whole lot, but he figured Eddie had already seen one bruise, and had promised not to ask about the rest, so he didn’t think much could come from getting rid of the heavy, hot garment.

What would come of it, apparently, was Eddie gaping at him, eyes nearly bugging out of his head. Buck felt a sense of shame pool in his stomach, ready to put the shirt back on in another second—he didn’t think the bruises were so bad, but maybe—

“Buck, you’re—you’re ripped.” 

What?

“How are you not on the wrestling team with me? Or the lacrosse team, or football, or... something?”

Buck blinked for a moment before he felt blood rush to his face. Oh. Oh. Eddie wasn’t staring because he was disgusted, or horrified, but because he apparently... liked what he saw. From a sportsman perspective. That had to be it. Right. He cleared his throat, willing the pink to die down on his cheeks. “Eddie, are you gonna teach me or what?”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up, wide as dinner plates, voice an active higher as he spoke. “Right!” He cleared his throat, shaking his head as he stepped closer to Buck. “Okay, so, if someone is going to come at you from the front, if they try and throw a punch, you just move the outside of your arm to knock the arm back, and—good.” 

Buck didn’t even wait for Eddie to finish speaking, as soon as the hand was up he batted it away with perhaps a bit more force than needed, a thoroughly unimpressed look on his face. 

“Okay, but then you need to follow through with a hit when they’re open. See—” 

Eddie moved to throw a punch again, slow and painfully obvious, and Buck followed his instructions, pushing it away, and then... not doing anything. Eddie scowled, raising his hand again, and just like before, Buck knocked it away with the inside of his fore arm, trying to focus on the best point to hit to knock the hand away.

“Buck, you have to follow through. Blocking is great but you have to use the opening to hit back.”

Punch- block. Punch- block. Punch- block. Eddie started picking up the tempo, moving around Buck, 

“I’m not hitting back, Eddie.”

Yeah, right. Buck hit back, and he’d probably get beaten beyond recognition. Pass.

“I can see that, but you have to. If someone is going to try and hurt you, you have to strike whenever you’re open. One good hit and you can run like hell.”

Punch- block. Punch- block. Where exactly was he supposed to run to? The living room? The kitchen?

“No.”

Eddie gave a quicker shot—still weak, but Buck ducked, pushing the hand away from him. This was actually proving to be pretty useful.

“Look, I get not wanting to hit someone, but you just need to daze them if you’re going to get away.”

“Eddie, I don’t hit back. That’s now how this works.”

“Well why the fuck not—” 

“Because it doesn’t fucking matter!” Buck yelled, his tone taking himself by surprise, as did the heat that suddenly burned through his face. “It doesn’t matter if I land a hit or not, it doesn’t matter if I get hurt, as long as he doesn’t hurt anyone else!” 

“He?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and dark, and Buck almost swallowed his tongue when he realized what he had said. 

“Buck, who did this to you?”

“I have to get to class.”

It was too much. Buck swallowed as he turned around, abandoning his belongings in the locker room as he fled through the gym doors. He didn’t have to run far—thankfully he had his phone and wallet with him, which meant he had a train ticket—and only when he managed to throw himself between the closing doors of the Thorndale line did he manage to breathe again. 

He pulled his phone out when the train took off, shooting a quick message to Maddie, asking her to call him out for the rest of his day.

Then he turned off his phone, put his head in his hands, and started to cry.

--

When Buck came to school the next day, he had his concealer on, and as far as he was concerned, the day before had never happened. He parked in his regular area, locked the doors, and tried not to sigh too heavily when he saw Eddie waiting from him. 

He didn’t have it in him for a fight, but Eddie had both his hands up, and that was enough to keep Buck from running again. 

For now.

“Look, Buck, I won’t ask details, but.... just tell me, are you okay?” Eddie asked, his voice slow and unsure, and Buck felt a frown creeping over his face in spite of himself. 

He tilted his head as he looked Eddie over, brow furrowed. “You really care about me.” A statement, not a question, but Eddie nodded all the same. “Why?”

If the question caught Eddie off guard, he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked away, seemingly chewing over his words as he tried to answer. 

"Because you’re worth being cared about, Buck.”

Buck hummed as he considered the answer, acting like it didn’t just rock him to his very core, and sighed as he opened his arms and pulled Eddie into a hug—Eddie seemed surprised, but pleased, and Buck didn’t have to wait long before Eddie was hugging him back, so gently and mindful of Buck’s body that he thought he might start crying again.

“So, it’s not just these rugged good looks?” he mumbled into Eddie’s hair, and Eddie groaned, shaking his head. 

“Buck, please.”

“My charming personality?”

“Buck, please.”

--

Somehow, nothing changed, and everything did. 

Eddie didn’t bring up the bruises anymore, possibly because they weren’t visible anymore, but he held himself differently around Buck—instead of grand claps on the back, he tugged at Buck’s elbow, instead of a teasing elbow to the ribs, it was a playful shoulder bump—all, Buck knew, things that Eddie could do without risking aggravating an unseen injury.

Any doubt in his mind that Eddie knew what was going on was dashed almost immediately, when Eddie intentionally steered the conversation in their little friend group (which was mostly the wrestling team, who had decided beyond all reason that Buck was okay) away from family matters. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together, and Buck was sure it was at least a little obvious when you got to know him where the bruises came from, but that was why Buck had been so hesitant to get to know anyone in the first place.

What was new, though, was the hand holding. It started off as Buck being led around, but then Eddie never really let go of his hand. Buck didn’t mind it, even though he felt he should—he was more or less dying for any physical contact that didn’t hurt, an itch he didn’t even know he needed scratched until Eddie showed up. But it was still... weird.

It wasn’t until later on, as Thanksgiving break loomed around the corner, when Eddie let his hand trail over his shoulders while dropping a burrito and chips from the Qdoba off campus did Buck start connecting dots. 

Eddie was always a touchy feely guy, and it had only increased as of late.

Eddie had blushed when Buck took off his shirt—and for good reasons, apparently. 

And now, Eddie was treating him to lunch. 

They were all fine things on their own, but once was an accident, twice a coincidence, and three times, a pattern.

He swallowed his bite of burrito—the perfect order, even though he was sure Eddie had only asked him what he liked once, weeks ago—and derailed whatever train of thought Eddie had going in one fell swoop.

“...but if you look at the—” 

“Eddie, are we dating?”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. A denial, maybe? Or another blush and topic change?

What he wasn’t expecting was for Eddie to nod his head, his smile a little wider, and then just continue on. 

“Anyway, as I was saying—” 

“No, hang on. We’re dating? This is like, a lunch date? You bought me lunch, because we’re on a lunch date?”

Eddie’s smile was so soft that Buck instantly felt at ease, even though he knew he was probably asking the dumbest questions of all time. “Yeah Buck, this is a lunch date. I didn’t want you to freak about it, but I knew you’d come to the conclusion eventually.”

Buck hummed as he reached over, stealing one of Eddie’s chips, chewing it thoughtfully before he rose his brow. “Well, this is a pretty nice first date, then.”

He tried not to be offended when Eddie snorted, raising his brow as he met the challenge. 

“Buck, this is at least our second or third date. Our last date was me bringing you home to meet my parents.” Eddie said with a smirk, but Buck frowned, shaking his head. 

“Wait, Eddie, that was forever ago. What was our first date then?” Buck asked, confusion written all over his face. 

Eddie actually blushed—okay, Buck was officially never getting tired of seeing that—as he looked up, humming in a way that was probably meant to be nonchalant but definitely wasn’t. “Oh, uh, well I consider our first date to be the first lunch we had. Um, the one where I made the joke about Ms. Syzmaski’s wrinkly old ass?”

Buck was honestly lucky he had swallowed before Eddie spoke, because that would have been a spittake for sure. “What the fuck about that joke made you think of that as a date?” 

Eddie was pink again and Buck had to physically bite his tongue not to goad him about it, but he was steadily getting redder as Buck waited. Finally, Eddie threw up his arms, sighing in defeat as he buried his head in his hands. 

“It was... it was the first time I made you laugh, okay? That’s why it was so nice.”

Oh, that was cute. Fuck, that was so cute. Buck could actually feel his resolve start to give way, which was unacceptable on more than one level, and he took a breath as he steadied himself. “I’m not staying.”

Eddie look like he had been punched. “What?”

“I mean it. I’m not staying. As soon as I graduate I’m getting out of this state, hell, this time zone if I can.”

“Buck—“

“I mean it, Eddie, I can’t—can’t stay here. And I like, you, I really like you, but if you’re staying in state, you have to know that I won’t. Not for anything, so if that’s a dealbreaker for you, you should just…”

His lungs ran out of his air as he forgot to breathe, but it was probably for the best, Eddie taking the moment to jump in before Buck could continue freaking out. “Buck, what makes you think I’m staying?”

Buck swallowed, his thoughts completely derailed. “What? You just moved here, why would you be leaving again?”

“The only reason we’re here this year is for my dads work. He has a year long contract, then we’d probably be moving back to Texas, but even then, who knows? No offense, but I have zero urge to stay in this snooty, Ivy-League bullshit state.”

Buck spoke slowly as his brain tried to catch up with what Eddie had said, brow wrinkling in a way that Eddie was definitely going to remember to call cute later on. “So… you’re not planning on staying. And you don’t care if I leave either.”

“No, Jesus. All I want is for you to be happy.”

It probably said a lot about how much that simple statement shocked him, but at this point in his life, he wasn’t sure anything would sit as “normal” for a long time. 

“Oh. Well, then, care to explain how we’ve apparently gone on three dates and you haven’t kissed me yet?”

Eddie lit up like a Christmas tree as he scooted forward on the bench, his eyes bright. “Are you sure you’re okay with it? I didn’t want to scare you off or anything—“

“Eddie, if you don’t kiss me right now, I swear I’ll—“

He didn’t get to finish his threat—which was mildly annoying—but the warm pressure of Eddie’s lips against his own drowned out any other objection he thought he may have.

He was almost late to class, his lips bruised in a way he absolutely loved, and he regretted absolutely nothing.

--

The day before they were due back in school from Winter Break, Buck had been planning on spending the entire day in bed, recuperating from the incessant display of familial togetherness that the holidays usually had brought. Eddie had been his one saving grace—near constant phone calls, texts, and snapchats had been the only thing keeping Buck’s temper low enough to avoid a few new bruises.

And, if the sight of Eddie wearing the simple leather corded necklace that Buck had gotten him for Christmas made his heart beat a little faster whenever he saw it, that was between him and God.

The past three months had been… alarmingly good, if Buck was being honest. If his home life had taught him anything, it was that the other shoe always dropped—so as much as he loved spending time with Eddie, as much as he loved their kisses, and rare dates, and holding hands in the hallway, as much as he honestly, truly thought he could see a life beyond high school with him, he was constantly, constantly waiting for that other shoe to drop. 

Which was why, when Eddie called him at one o’clock on a Sunday, Buck let it ring a few times before he gathered himself to answer the phone.

“Hey, are you busy tonight? I want you to come over and meet everyone.” 

“What do you mean, meet everyone? I’m pretty sure all of your family knows me by now.” That much was definitely true—Buck had been spending more time at Eddies than his own whenever he could help it, and while there was always someone out on an errand or at work or doing something else, he had participated in enough dinners, family calls, and video chats that he knew more of Eddie’s family than he did his own. “What, you have another set of siblings you’re hiding away from me?”

Eddie’s resounding laugh was a little too loud, a little too tense, just enough to spike Buck’s curiosity without making him fear the worst. He agreed easily after that, asking if he needed to bring anything, and made plans for a few hours later.

When he pulled up to Eddie’s house, though, it was almost unrecognizable. There were streamers tossed through the tree in the front yard, balloons tied to nearly every horizontal surface Eddie could see, and there were enough cars parked out front that Buck had to squeeze in behind a truck and a fire hydrant (and hope that he wouldn’t get a ticket). 

As usual, Eddie met him at the door (Buck had teased him once about waiting by the window, and when Eddie blushed and didn’t deny it, Buck had gone in to full hysterical laughter), the obvious nerves he was displaying not enough to dissuade Buck from punching him in the shoulder. “Eddie, what the fuck! Is this a party? You told me not to bring anything, I could have—“

“Oh whatever, I’ll sign your name on my card, calm down.” Eddie said, like he wasn’t the bundle of nerves himself, leaning forward to press a kiss to Buck’s lips (which he accepted, of course, he wasn’t a monster even if he was annoyed). He easily succumbed to the whirlwind of introductions—aunties and uncles and people who were clearly of the Diaz family, and damn, Eddie wasn’t kidding when he told Buck he wanted him to meet everyone. Eddie’s nerves started to hitch back up as they made their way to the backyard, and Buck was about to call him out on whatever it was that was going on when Eddie beat him to the punch.

“Alright, you ready to meet the man of the hour?”

“Only if you’re ready for me to.” Buck said with a hum, smiling as Eddie’s face did some impressive expressive gymnastics. “Eddie, you’re wound like a damn spring. If you don’t want me to meet this person, or any of these people, I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, yeah?” He said, bringing his other hand up to link with Eddie’s as well.

Eddie, to his credit, looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off of his chest, and he beamed as he leaned in to kiss Buck agin. “God, you’re perfect. Have I ever told you that? Well, probably not enough, but it will have to wait, because…” Eddie pushed through the back door and towed Buck along with him, where a circle of chairs were set up around a table stacked high with drinks, snacks, party games, and in the middle of it all— 

“…because here’s the birthday boy!”

—was a high chair, fully equipped with a tray table, a soppy cup, and a baby. 

A baby. 

Buck felt every nerve, every tense minute, every rational thought melt in his body and turn into a warm puddle of goo at the very core of his soul, and his face must have reflected that fact because Buck was vaguely aware of two of Eddie’s sisters laughing at him, but who cared there was a baby and it was the most adorable, pudgy, perfect baby Buck had ever seen. 

The baby quickly let out a high pitched squeal as his attention landed on Eddie, smacking his hands against the table in front of him, and Buck could not be held accountable for the noise that he made when Eddie swooped forward and undid the tray, pulling him out of the high chair easily, tucking him into an arm like he was a seasoned pro.

“Buck, this is Chris.”

And now Eddie was walking toward him with the baby, the baby who’s name was Chris, and Buck only waited for the barest hint of a confirmation from Eddie before he moved closer, cooing toward the excited little bean in Eddie’s arms. 

“Today is Chris’ first birthday.”

Which, that made sense, he was still so small and pudgy but still so energetic, and Buck nodded along with the rapid fire babbling as he squeezed Chris’ little foot playfully, feeling more proud of anything at the peal of laughter Chris let out at that.

“Chris is my son.”

Well, that made sense, Chris had the same complexion as Buck did, and he was just as quick to smile, and even though his hair was lighter in color it was still thick and wavy, and—

Wait. 

His brain caught up with his ears and yanked him out of his baby haze as he looked back up to Eddie, and oh, yeah, there was that nervousness that Buck had felt radiating off of him all afternoon. It seemed to echo around the yard, where there was conversation and laughter just a moment ago, everyone seemed quieter now, hushed, or maybe that was just the rushing in Buck’s ears. Things started fitting into place as Buck thought about it—how he had met all of Eddie’s immediate family, but not at the same time, probably because someone had probably taken Chris out whenever Buck came over. How Eddie so obviously loved his family, but still got a little awkward talking about them at times. Why Eddie had only rarely badgered him about going out after school, because he was spending most of the time himself with his son.

“This is your baby.”

“Yes.”

Oh. 

“You’re his father.”

“Yeah.”

Oh.

“Eddie, he’s beautiful.” 

Eddie sagged like a puppet with its strings cut, the tension bleeding out of his body, and the smile he shot to Buck was more open and honest than he had ever seen before. He could feel a collective sigh breathed around him as the voices picked back up, apparently approving of Buck’s reaction. “He really is, isn’t he? When he was born last year, his mom wanted to give him up, but… I couldn’t even imagine that. My parents stepped up and really helped me out, we took him home, and it was just… perfect. Like it was meant to be.”

Buck looked up with a smile as Eddie spoke, utterly entrapped in how soft he looked as he held his son, his voice low and slow as to not startle the curious kid safe in his arms. “When my dad took a contract up here, I thought it would be the perfect chance to start over, you know? I wouldn’t give Chris up for anything, but I could tell teachers were going easier on me, boosting my grades, and I didn’t know if it was pity or… whatever. This was the chance for me to prove I could do it. You, uh, you’re the only one outside of my family who even knows.” Eddie said, and Buck had to physically bite his tongue to prevent himself from gushing.

“He’s perfect, Eds. You’re perfect. I’m… I’m really honored you told me.” Buck said easily, leaning forward for another kiss, mindful of the giggling body between them. “But if you think I’m going to let you forget that you told me not to bring anything to your baby sons first birthday, you have another thing coming, I can’t believe you didn’t let me get a gift or something—no, seriously!“

Eddie let out a groan as he leaned forward into Buck’s bickering, the sudden lull in the party long since forgotten as the night carried on.

--

The other shoe always dropped, though, and Buck 100% blamed himself for not seeing it coming. Hell, he 100% blamed himself for letting it happen. He had become complacent, he had let his guard down, Eddie had wormed his way into Buck’s heart and showed him how good things could be, and Buck had dared to believe him. 

Buck had had hope, as stupid as it was, and now, here he was, standing at Eddie’s door, knocking at the wooden frame, begging, pleading for him to open the door—he didn’t realize how much he loved Eddie always meeting him at the threshold until it didn’t happen, until he wasn’t sure if Eddie was going to open the door at all, until he didn’t know what else he could do.

As it was, Eddie wasn’t the one who opened the door. It was Helena, who he had just spent the day with, and the sound she had made when Buck came into view was unholy. 

The day had started off so well, too—Eddie and Buck had both been accepted to Texas A&M (while Buck’s pre-acceptance letter had come almost a month ago, he still waited until Eddie received his to even open the envelope), and Eddie’s parents had been so thrilled with him—with both of them—that they had insisted on treating everyone to breakfast before cheering Eddie on at what was likely the last wrestling match of the season (because as great as Eddie was, the team as a whole sucked). 

Helena had forced him into a “Team Diaz” shirt, and Buck looked at himself probably a little too long in the mirror, tracing the name over his chest—if anyone noticed, no one said anything, though the smile on Helena’s face told Buck all he needed to know. Eddie, on the other hand, had absolutely lit up when he saw them all in the stands, his gaze lingering a little too long on the word Diaz splayed across Buck’s chest, and the look he gave Buck when they locked eyes again was nothing short of sinful (Buck was glad that he had been put on Chris duty—holding a baby was probably the only way he was able to distract himself from the sight of Eddie in spandex).

So, it didn’t come to a huge surprise when Helena opened the door and let out a sound that would have pushed him over the edge, had Buck not already been crying. 

Well… halfway crying. He was only really tearing up in one eye, the other was too swollen to do anything more than squint. 

His front was covered in blood, the “Team Diaz” stained red, his lip split and swollen and his cheek covered in bruises. It was probably for the best that his left eye was swollen shut, because blood was leaking around it from a split in his eyebrow, so he probably wouldn’t have been able to see anyway. Beyond the lip and the eye, though, the biggest concern was his nose—he didn’t think it was broken, but it was still sluggishly bleeding, and it just wouldn’t stop. 

Helena pulled him into the house and immediately started barking orders (“Adriana, bring Christopher to the nursery and put him in his playpen. Sophia, tell Edmundo to get home right now, his Buck has been hurt. Ramon, give me the first aid kit.”), steering Buck easily to the back yard as the rest of the family scurried around.

By the time Eddie got home, Buck had been mostly cleaned up—or, at least, his nose had stopped bleeding long enough to mop up most of the blood on his face, and Helena had taped the gash on his brow closed with butterfly bandages, and had a cold compress pressed against his face. Eddie looked wild, his eyes wide and face unforgiving as he kneeled next to Buck, and if Buck had any tears left in his body he probably would have started crying again as Eddie cupped the uninjured side of his face. 

Buck knew that Eddie was trying to find words, but he also knew there were a hundred wrong things to say at that moment, so he took the step for both of them.

“My dad found out about us.” There was no sense in sugar coating it, no sense in leaving the bandaid on too long, he just had to rip it off so they could move on. “Apparently he didn’t much like the idea of his son not carrying on the family name, he… didn’t take it well.” 

Eddie let out a sound that could only be described as someone breaking, and Buck blindly reached for his hand, feeling something burn through his chest, deciding then and there that he wouldn’t let another ounce of his father hurt Eddie the way it had hurt him. “But you were right. One block, one hit, all I needed to get away.” His tone had soured into something dark and sticky, good eye burning as he remembered Eddie’s little self defense lesson, all those months ago. He could tell the moment that Eddie’s mind reached the same conclusion, and he scrambled to look at Buck’s hands—there were some bruising around his right knuckles, but that was it. 

One punch, that was all he needed. 

One punch, and just like that, he had left everything behind—his phone, his car, his father bleeding from what Buck could only hope was a broken nose, coughing and sputtering on the entryway floor. The only thing he had on him was his wallet and his hoodie, and even the latter was tossed into the trashcan as he got off the train, too thoroughly wet with blood to be of any good at keeping him warm.

Instinctively, he had gotten off the train and trusted his feet to take him somewhere he knew he would be safe. He had finally realized that that place would never be with his family, would never be his house. His house would never be his home.

“Eddie…” Buck started, his voice thick with emotion. “Eddie, I… I don’t want to go back. I never want to see them, ever again. I’ll call up Maddie, I’ll… I’ll do something, but I can’t go back there, ever.”

Eddie looked like his heart was breaking; but before he could open his mouth and tell Buck off for considering going anywhere else, Helena spoke again.

“You will do no such thing.”

Her voice soft but hard as steel, leaving no room for argument, and Buck looked at her with pleading eyes (well, eye) as she shook her head. 

“You will not be going back there. I have half a mind to drive over there right now and—no. I will do everything I can to make sure you never have to see them again.”

Buck could feel himself sag in relief, a breath he didn’t know he had been holding coming out ragged and raw, even as Helena continued.

“And Buck, I don’t know Maddie, and I’m sure she would be happy to help you out however she could, but. I would never let another Diaz out onto the street. Never in my life.” She said, and Buck had to swallow when he realized who she was talking about. 

They considered him a Diaz?

“So if you would really be happier, or safer, we can get in the car and I’ll bring you to your sister tonight, but it’s just a few months until you and Edmundo leave for college anyway, and—“

“Please stay. Please. God, Buck, please, at least stay with us until you heal up a little. Please.” Eddie had apparently had enough of his mothers talking in circles, his voice shaking as he spoke, and Buck’s shock must have shown on his face because Eddie looked like he was going to start crying again.

They really considered him a Diaz.

He wanted to question it, to object, to do anything to prevent himself from being in their hair, but just like it was the first time they had lunch together, Eddie had worked his way too far past Buck’s defenses, and apparently, he had brought his whole family with him.

Buck barely had to nod before Eddie had him wrapped up in his arms, tight, and Buck returned the favor easily, seamlessly, his head buried in Eddie’s neck like he belonged there. 

The thought resonated as Helena went back inside, letting the two of them have their moment; though, just a moment, announcing that it would be a lovely night to have dinner outside on the patio. It bounced around his head as Eddie kissed his cheek when they passed each other with plates and glasses, setting the table beneath the string lights in the yard, the spot on his cheek tingling long after the contact had broken. It took root when Buck found himself laughing, sitting easier in his own skin than he had ever done before as Eddie tried to justify whatever foolish thing he had done in Ramon’s story, failing miserably, his hand laced tightly with Buck’s beneath the table.

Maybe this was where he belonged.

For the first time in years, Buck saw something that was worth holding on for, that was worth keeping and protecting and letting grow.

For the first time, he had hope.

[magniloquent-raven]

for fluff: "one more chapter" or "there's enough room for both of us"

it’s been 84 years............ but here u go lmao tysm for the prompts!!!!!! i used both!

CW for some brief suicidal ideation, just in case. it’s v mild but pls be careful yall (i know, this fic was supposed to be fluffy 😅)

posted on ao3

------

Billy’s life had changed a lot in the past two years. 

So much that some days he barely recognizes himself in the mirror. The scars, the state of his hair—which he hasn’t cut since last summer and generally just throws back for convenience’ sake—the stubble he doesn’t bother with most days. Small things, in the grander scheme of what’s different about his life, but it adds up.

And it’s Friday night, he’s curled up at home, and perfectly content to be there. 

There’s a steaming mug of cider on the coffee table (a scratched-up old thing that Hop left him when he officially handed off ownership of his trailer to Billy), and wind rattling the windows, and Max is asleep in the next room. It’s...cozy. 

El stopped by earlier that afternoon, Max in tow, demanding Billy let them stay because Mike was being a dick or a DnD campaign was going on too long and El’s character died a while back so she was bored, or...something. Possibly Mike was being a dick about her character being dead. Max kept chiming in with her own two cents worth but it really just made the whole thing harder to follow.

But it didn’t really matter why they stopped by, they’re always coming up with reasons to invade his living room and eat all his food and nag him about teaching them how to do fancy braids. And Max usually wanders off to nap in his room when El starts asking Billy to read to her.

Which is what he’s doing now. 

Last month he read her Jane Eyre (her idea). A week ago they started The Hobbit. 

It’s been slow going, considering how often El interrupts to ask questions, and every time there’s a song they have the same argument about him not actually singing, but they’re making progress. 

He’s reading through the weird goblin song as monotone as possible just so he can laugh at El’s disgruntled scrunchy face, and putting up with her poking his thigh with her toes when he rolls his eyes at her, and honestly having the time of his fucking life, because, yeah, saying things have changed in the past two years is the understatement of the decade.

When he gets to the end of Over Hill and Under Hill and closes the book she gasps dramatically, sitting up and pulling the ugly orange throw blanket (gift from Mrs. Byers) she’d been snuggled up in tighter around her shoulders.

“Billy, no!” 

He drops the book in his lap and raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s the end of the chapter.”

“No.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

El frowns at him, her whole face going pinched. “But you can’t stop there.”

It’s moments like this that almost make Billy forget she can kill people with her brain. Moments when she just looks like a kid, all wrapped up in her favourite blanket and pouting. 

And it’s like she knows that’s his goddamn kryptonite. Because those moments also remind him that she deserves this. More than anyone he knows, she deserves all the childish crap she wants, and more. It won’t ever replace the childhood that was taken from her, but it’s a start.

So, needless to say, Billy has a hard time saying no to her.

He drops his head back against the cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling for a moment—pretending to contemplate, while she glowers at him—and sighs loudly. 

“One more chapter.” 

She beams.

They’re only a few pages into Riddles in the Dark when a car pulls up, and Billy doesn’t even have time to put the book down before the front door bursts open. 

“El! Will thought he—is that The Hobbit?” Dustin comes to an abrupt halt two paces into the room, blinking at the book in Billy’s hands. All his little friends nearly collide with his back, and there’s suddenly a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers huddled in Billy’s doorway. 

“Who cares,” Lucas scoffs, pushing him out of the way so he, Wheeler, and Will, can shuffle the rest of the way inside. “Get out of the way!”

Billy is still trying to figure out what the fuck’s even happening when Steve goddamn Harrington walks in behind his pack of brats. Because of course he was the one who drove them here. Him being a fine upstanding citizen and all that. With nothing better to do, apparently. (Not that Billy has room to judge anymore.)

Suddenly the bickering kids are mostly background noise. Billy always did have a hard time concentrating on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Especially when he’s looking like that, warm brown eyes lit up with interest, and the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside, his hair a mess from the wind, and locking eyes with him makes Billy’s heart pound. 

They’ve been on good terms these past few months and it’s a special kind of torture that Billy wouldn’t give up for the fucking world.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy the view for long because—

“—the Mind Flayer might be back!”

Billy stiffens. “What?” He glances at El. She’s sitting up straight now, her eyes dark, expression closed off. 

Mike sighs irritably. “Weren’t you listening? Will thinks he might have sensed the Mind Flayer, so we needed to make sure El’s okay.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Billy. “Because the stupid thing wants her dead, remember?”

“Wheeler,” Steve hisses, and smacks the kid’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Billy grits his teeth, cold fingers trailing down his spine. “I remember.” 

The room is silent for several agonizing seconds, the kids all exchanging glances. Until Billy’s bedroom door opens and Max shuffles out, rubbing her eyes. 

“What’s everyone doing here?” 

~~

They’d all been hanging out at Steve’s when Will had a bad feeling. The same kind of prickling bone-deep chill he’d gotten two summers ago. Needless to say, ignoring it until people started dying didn’t seem like the way to go this time, hence the home invasion.

Which had been Steve’s idea, apparently. Or. His initial reaction had been to blurt out does this mean Billy’s possessed again, and it had spiraled from there. To Mike freaking out about El not being safe because she was here, to Lucas reminding him that Billy had only gotten the better of her when she didn’t have powers, to Dustin yelling about checking in with her either way because she might have The Facts. 

And so they’d broken a couple traffic laws to get here.

Billy suspects Steve feels guilty about suggesting he might be possessed, because he got very awkward when it was brought up. And he stepped in several times when Wheeler and Sinclair’s interrogation got a little too intense (there were threats of hot pokers involved).

It should have felt condescending—Billy’s a grown-ass adult, he doesn’t need someone defending him from lanky teenagers—but he can’t help feeling a little warm when it’s Steve coming to his defense. 

The discussion overall is a mess. El doesn’t have any answers, Billy hasn’t felt anything odd lately, and the lack of anything to go on beyond Will having a momentary freakout is putting everyone on edge. 

Max, who squished herself onto the couch between Billy and El, cuts through the cyclical arguing after the third dramatic eye-roll from Mike. “Guys, can you cool it for a second. We’re getting nowhere.” Her protest is punctuated by a yawn, which makes El giggle. 

“She’s right,” Steve sighs, mussing with his hair absentmindedly. “Billy and El are fine, everyone’s fine, we should all get some sleep.”

“Dude, are you sure you’re good to drive?” Dustin asks, squinting appraisingly at Steve. It’s a fair question, it’s late and Steve looks like he’s about to keel over, but Billy’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“Who said anything about driving?” Max snorts, glancing at Billy. 

Damnit Max.

“Is there even space for everyone here? This place is tiny.”

“Fuck you, Wheeler, not all of us can live in goddamn mansions.”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, bristling with indignation, but Will interjects, stuttering a little in his haste, “I, um, I’d feel a little safer if everyone, you know, stayed in one place? At least for tonight?”

And that pretty much settles it. 

Once everyone mumbles their (in some cases reluctant) agreement, El crows “Sleepover!” and drags Max off to find spare blankets, leaving Billy sitting on the couch alone and wondering where the hell Steve is gonna sleep. For...no particular reason...other than…

Well.

It’s not like Mike was wrong, the trailer wasn’t built to house six teenagers and two twenty-somethings. Most of them are going to end up squished on the living room floor, and Max and El already called dibs on the couch, and...well, unless Steve wants to crash in the fucking kitchen there really isn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Billy’s room. He doesn’t even have a goddamn tub the guy could curl up in. 

And just because he’s wanted Steve Harrington in his bed since minute one, doesn’t mean he wants it right now. Not like this. 

Because like this he has to deal with Max’s side-eye, and El’s knowing look (the girl has been in his head, she literally knows everything about him), and Will’s weird wide-eyed interest, and worst of all, Steve not doing this because he wants to. 

In fact, judging by the way he blanches when Max suggests it, Billy’s room is the last place he’d like to be. Which is not really something Billy ever really wanted hard proof of, thanks. 

He’s dealt with enough in his life, he didn’t need to know exactly how repulsive Steve finds the idea of sleeping in the same room as him. 

“You’re welcome to sleep in your goddamn car if my floor isn’t good enough for you, Harrington,” he bites out, probably harsher than was warranted. 

Steve blinks at him, mouth falling open, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh my god, it’s too cold to sleep outside, Billy,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being such a dick.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Figure your shit out, I’m going to bed.” 

The silence he leaves behind is tense and awkward. 

He’s been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, moping and berating himself, for about ten minutes when the door creaks open.

“Hey, uh,” Steve’s voice is soft, uncertain, and Billy feels like even more of an asshole for snapping at him. “I’m just...gonna...crash on the floor. Um. Good night.”

This is punishment isn’t it. For being such a douche for so long. Now he gets to try and fall asleep knowing Steve fucking Harrington is laying nearby, sleepy and warm and out of reach. He listens to Steve shuffle around, getting situated, laying out blankets and trying to find a soft bit of carpet to lay on. Has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Like offering up his bed. Or poking fun at how much Steve sighs when he’s getting comfortable (Because it’s dumb, not cute. Definitely not cute.).

It’s unclear how long they lay there in the dark, Billy watching moonlight cast the outlines of skeletal trees across the wall, listening to Steve’s quiet breathing to remind himself he’s not alone. That the shadows are just shadows and there’s no reason to be tense and sweating and—

Billy’s pretty sure it’s been long enough that Steve should be asleep, considering how tired he looked, so he tosses his blanket off and swipes the pack of cigarettes off his bedside table, hoping to god the floor doesn’t creak when he pads across the room. There’s no noise coming from the other room, so either the kids are asleep too or a miracle has occurred and they’re all just being really quiet. 

He slips out the side door, and takes a breath. The lake is too still, despite the wind. No self-respecting body of water doesn’t have waves. But it’s pretty enough, he supposes. Enough to make for a decent view while he smokes a cigarette.

Takes a couple tries to light up. His hands aren’t what they used to be, especially in the cold. Holding off a thirty-foot meat puppet bare-handed does that to a person, tears shit up that doesn’t heal right afterwards.

He’s about halfway through his cig when Steve joins him. Billy’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of footsteps, and he doesn’t relax at all when he realizes who it is. 

“Hey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Billy watches Steve lean against the porch railing beside him. He takes another drag before he looks over properly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Billy raises his eyebrows. Gestures with his cigarette and turns away again. “No shit.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores it. Stares out at the water and flicks cigarette ash over the railing. The wind picks up again and cuts through his thin shirt. Should’ve grabbed a fucking sweater. Not because the cold bothers him at all, but...well, because it doesn’t anymore.

He shivers when a completely-unrelated-to-the-weather chill runs down his spine.

“Soo…” Steve fidgets, and trails off awkwardly, his nonchalance painfully fake.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, and he raises his cigarette to his lips, a flimsy excuse to hide his smile. 

“Did, uh. Did El choose the book, or…?”

He chokes on a mouthful of smoke. Doc Owens did tell him he shouldn’t have taken up smoking again. Though he was probably more concerned about Billy’s scarred lungs and than Steve Harrington-related hazards. 

Coughing definitely does hurt a lot more than it used to though. 

He flinches when Steve touches his shoulder, pats it, rubs a little—trying to help with the coughing, presumably—making Billy’s heart trip over itself. 

Once he’s no longer wheezing he wipes his eyes, and waves off Steve’s apologies, hoping the embarrassed flush on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light. 

Steve’s hand stays where it is.

For several quiet moments Billy waits for him to withdraw but he doesn’t, and Billy finally meets his eyes. Which was probably a mistake. His heart skips again. He’s still not used to Steve looking at him like that. Soft and wide-eyed and concerned and…

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Billy used to dream about getting this close without needing pretense, without having to pretend, getting to bask in the warmth coming off him and feel his breath on his skin and see something other than indifference—or worse, the hatred that came later—looking back at him. What he has now is...not quite what he wants. It lights him up but leaves him wanting. 

Another gust of wind makes a mess of Steve’s hair, locks falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions, and Billy itches. Clenches his fist to stop himself from fixing it.

“Her dweeby little friends kept talking about it, and she couldn’t get through it herself. So...” Billy trails off, scratching his cheek and glancing away. “I may have had a copy laying around.”

Steve’s hand finally leaves its perch on his shoulder—both a disappointment and a relief—to brush the stray locks of hair out of his face. He grins at Billy, whole face lit up and stupidly pretty even as his fingers get stuck in tangles. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “My mom used to read it to me.” 

It’s easier to talk about her now. Mostly with El, who’s still the only person who knows the full story, but, well, he’s pretty sure at least Max and Steve have guessed the bits they weren’t told. Or, hell, maybe El told everyone everything during those months he was out of commission and everyone thought he was dead, and no one’s brought it up to his face because it would be awkward as hell. 

In any case, Steve’s expression softens. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So, you and her were pretty close, huh?”

If asked Billy would have blamed the sudden sting of tears in his eyes on the wind. “I guess.” A pause. “Not enough for her to take me when she left,” he mumbles, chewing his thumbnail and frowning out at the lake.

His cigarette hangs between two fingers in his other hand. 

“Billy…”

“Don’t. I’ve heard every condolence in the book, okay. It’s...it’s fine.”

For several long moments the only sounds are the dry rustle of leaves in the wind and Billy’s nail-biting. 

Then Steve slips his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugs gently. Too surprised to resist, Billy lets him. Lets his hand be pulled away from his face, thumb pressed to his pulsepoint, lets him hold on for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. And Billy stares at him the whole time, lips parted, shoulders tense, waiting to see what Steve will do next.

What he does next is smile a little sad, and tilt his head. “It’s a bad habit, you know. Biting your nails.” 

“I don’t have any other kind of habit.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s true.” 

Which is a weird thing to say, and a weird thing to get emotional over, and yet Billy kind of feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

He rubs at the knotted scar tissue that spiderwebs across his whole torso, and can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if Steve’s perception of him might be a little blinded by the one good thing he’s ever done. He’s tried to be better since then, atone a little, but Steve’s confidence in him still feels unearned.

And all the work he’s put into getting his shit together might all be for nothing anyways, if some fucking slime monster decides to crawl down his throat again. If Will’s right and that thing is back...for all he knows the thing has it out for him too, after the shit he pulled at Starcourt. He thought he’d end up dead, he wasn’t exactly worried about making himself a target in the long run. 

But now...

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, eyes falling shut for a moment before he grits out, “I can’t do it again.” Steve blinks at him, nonplussed. “This,” he taps his scars, “The fucking. Mind Flayer bullshit. I can’t.”

“You…” Steve folds his arms across his stomach, hands clutching his elbows. It’s a nervous tic that makes Billy ache. Always makes his heart clench, but tonight that gets lost in the black hole of anxiety already twisting up his insides  “You won’t have to, I—we’ll protect you. If we stick together—”

“It’s not a guarantee.”

“No, but—”

“We don’t know anything about this alien shit, for all we know I was never really free of it, and—I just—promise you won’t let it use me again,” Billy’s voice breaks, and he clenches his jaw to try and hold it all back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the crushing weight of existential panic pressing in. 

Steve’s eyes widen, “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. Crash another car into me. Let your ex shoot me in the fucking head. I don’t care how, I need you to stop me.” He needs to understand, Billy’s eyes bore into him, willing him to understand.

But he shakes his head, face twisted up with horror, “I don’t think I can do that.”

Billy takes a step towards him, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Steve.” He blinks back tears. “Please.” 

“Don’t—” Steve looks away, curling in on himself, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, ask you to perform a public fucking service?” Billy spits, eyes stinging, face burning. He regrets the words once they’re spoken, but there’s no taking them back now. He’s talked with Owens about this sort of shit and he thought he was past it. 

Apparently not.

He deflates. Like a slap in the face, it stops him dead, turns his agonizing back inward where it fucking belongs. Wiping his eyes, he sighs. 

It’s too late to stop the puppy-dog eyes Steve’s giving him now though. The unreserved sadness in the way he’s looking at Billy is so overwhelming it’s almost palpable. “Is that really how you feel?”

Is it? He’s not sure anymore. It was for a long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember feeling any other kind of way until El reminded him. But now…

He shrugs. “It’s...complicated. I—ah, shit!” His hand jerks, and the cigarette he’d been holding falls to the ground. That never used to hurt so fucking much. “Damn thing burnt me.” 

He sucks on the stinging knuckle, waiting for the pain to subside, tasting salt and ash, and looks back up at Steve.

They lock eyes.

Steve’s expression has closed off, his gaze still heavy, but with something else, sliding down Billy’s face with an intensity Billy’s not quite sure what to make of. He’s struck dumb by the attention (not something he usually has a problem handling), lips still wrapped around his finger but his mouth has gone slack.

It feels like a static shock, one crackling jolt of a moment, something sharp lancing through him, and then it’s over. Steve’s blinking, glancing away. Billy’s hand falls to his side. It would be like it never happened except he still feels charged, pent up, heart full to bursting and stomach in knots. 

Billy sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just...go back to bed.”

Wording, Billy. Wording. His cheeks warm a little, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he turns and heads back inside.

He practically throws himself into his bed, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets around him, back turned to Steve. Sleep seems like a pipe dream at this point, but doing anything other than pretending to get some rest would involve talking to and/or looking at Steve, so. Not an option. 

But after he listens to Steve settle back into his little pile of blankets, the minutes crawl by, and Billy gets twitchy. Wants so badly to move, toss and turn and fidget, and say something, but doesn’t know where to start and doesn’t want to draw Steve’s attention, and—

God, this is so fucking stupid.

Billy rolls over. “Steve.”

“Yeah?” 

The room is silent for a beat. He shuffles around a little and the sheets rustle loudly in the quiet.  

“Would you get up here,” he says suddenly, all at once, demanding, scarcely believing what the fuck is coming out of his mouth. 

“...What?” Steve sounds a little breathless and it makes Billy’s stomach clench.

“Just...there’s enough room for both of us, alright.” Jesus christ. 

The lump of Steve and blankets on the floor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, for what seems like an eternity, and Billy’s about to brush it off, turn it into a joke, take it back, something, when—

“Okay.”

Oh.

What?

Oh god, he’s getting up. This is happening. Billy stares at his silhouette, the tense line of his shoulders, his awkward gait, and wonders why he’s agreeing to this if he’s so goddamn uncomfortable. 

Guess the floor is officially less comfortable than being in bed with Billy. Joy.

But then he’s sliding under the covers and Billy forgets to be bitter because his brain is mostly static at this point. White noise and his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the deafening creak of boxspring groaning under unexpected weight.

And Steve’s doing that thing again, sighing, little hums as he wiggles around getting himself situated, and Billy is dying. He thought he was being punished before, but now he’s sure, because this is ridiculous. No grown man should be that adorable. 

By the time he’s gotten himself comfy Billy is about ready to combust. 

It doesn’t help that he’s decided to lay down extremely close and facing Billy. It’s so intimate it hurts.

“Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” He tries to make it sound more casual than it is. Like it’s a choice and not the sad fact that he’s too fucking anxious to relax. 

Seems he’s not the only one though, Steve keeps fidgeting, his face doing something weird Billy can’t quite see in the gloom. But he doesn’t have to see to recognize Steve’s tics.

“Spit it out,” Billy sighs.

“What did you mean. When you said it’s complicated?” Steve asks softly.

Ah.

“You really wanna get into this?” He sure doesn’t, but Steve nods and Billy’s fucking weak when it comes to giving Steve what he wants. “I meant that...I...used to feel like that. All the time. It was fucking relentless.” He thinks about rolling onto his back so he won’t have to look at Steve for this, but finds himself stuck, drawn in by the faint starlight reflected in Steve’s eyes. “But nowadays I’ve got...shit to hang on for, I guess. Doesn’t make it all go away, but it makes it easier.”

“Oh.” Steve wriggles a little closer, his hand landing in the space between their pillows. Right next to Billy’s hand. Close enough that he can feel him there, but not quite touching.

He doesn’t say anything else, which Billy’s grateful for. He’s got Doc Owens for the big speeches about how life is worth living, and it’s grating enough getting them from someone who’s literal job is to say that kind of shit. 

It helps. It does. But he can only handle so much.

Speaking of which.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says quietly. He’s keeping his hand too still for it to come across as casual, trembling with the effort. If he moved his pinky just a little they’d be touching, and he’s painfully aware of this fact.

“What for?”

“Earlier, when I...I was asking for a lot.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts, the blankets rustling as he shuffles around, but as much as he fidgets, his hand stays where it is. “Billy...I don’t want you to have to go through that again, but…”

Billy, on an impulse—with a feeling somewhat akin to stepping off a ledge without a parachute—hooks his pinky over Steve’s. In the dark he hears a soft intake of breath, can just barely make out the way Steve’s mouth falls open, moonlight casting shadows when his tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

“I know. It wasn’t fair to—”

“No, no,” Steve flips his palm upward and laces their fingers together, squeezing Billy’s hand. “It’s not that. You have every right to be scared, and...look, this whole thing is batshit crazy, none of us know how to deal with it.” 

Billy runs his thumb along the length of Steve’s index finger, marvelling at the contact, and the way his pulse flutters when the gesture is returned. It takes him a second to find his voice, “True, but you’ve never asked me to mercy kill you.”

Steve exhales, the ghost of a laugh, and it warms the back of Billy’s hand. He shivers, his whole arm tingling. “Billy, I haven’t gone through half the shit you have.” A pause. “I want to help. Anything you need, just...not that.” 

Anything. It catches in Billy’s throat, stops his heart for just a second, reminds him that they’re inches apart, in bed together. For the second time tonight he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum, and he goes rigid, relaxing only minutely when Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Careful, pretty boy. Saying shit like that might give a guy ideas,” he murmurs, gaze searching, wandering Steve’s face, the shadows cast by the soft fall of hair across his forehead.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pulls their clasped hands to his chest. His heart is racing, but his voice is steady, “Well, have enough ideas with no follow-through and a guy might think you’re all talk.”

Billy’s breath catches. The world stops. “You...you don’t want me to follow through.” 

The reality of the situation hits him like a train. Flirting is one thing, he’s always had a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Steve, but this is something he’d only ever regretted letting himself imagine because he knew he’d never have it. And now that it’s within reach...

“See, the thing is…” Steve slides a little closer. His knee brushes Billy’s thigh. “I really, really do.”

“I—” his voice breaks, mouth dry, throat closing up as he tries to swallow past the lump making it hard to breathe. 

“Billy,” Steve whispers, a hot puff of air against Billy’s lips. “Please.”

Fuck.

He surges forward—hard enough that their teeth click together—and his mouth muffles Steve’s gasp. The hand not cradled against Steve’s chest comes up to touch his cheek, fingertips caressing his jaw, coaxing him closer, sliding back to thread into his hair. 

Steve’s lips are plush and warm against his, curved into a smile that leaves Billy tingling, dizzy and drunk on sensations. The way his mouth tastes, the softness of his skin under Billy’s scarred palm, the way his heart twists when Steve reaches out to touch his chest.

He pulls back, and rests his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes stay shut and he just breathes. Soaks up the moment. 

“God,” Steve sighs, nuzzling their noses together. “Always knew you’d be good at that.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks quietly, fiddling with the stray locks of hair behind Steve’s ear. He’s feeling...raw. Vulnerable. It’s a fragile state of being, one wrong word away from breaking. Or a few right words away from fucking bliss, but that never seems to be how it goes for him. 

“Yeah, even when we didn’t like each other I wondered. Annoyed the hell outta me.”

“Steve…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I always liked you.”  If his heart wasn’t already racing, it sure would be now. He braces himself for the worst.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a pause. Steve’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt. “Oh.” He presses a chaste kiss to Billy’s lips, lingering, before chuckling lightly. “That explains a lot actually.”

Billy’s cheeks burn. Yeah, he supposes it would. “You’re not...freaked out?” he ventures, hesitant. 

“Mm, nope.” He reaches up, brushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face. “Definitely okay with this.”

I love you.

The thought doesn’t shock him but the desire to say it out loud does. The way it lodges itself in his throat and sticks. He hasn’t said it to anyone—hasn’t wanted to say it to anyone—since his mother left. The precedent is intimidating, but…

Steve smells like honey and clean air, laying in bed with Billy, warm and pliant next to him tracing patterns in Billy’s scars, his gaze is fond, his smile is soft, and...and Billy’s in love.

He swallows. Pushes it down for now. 

He kisses Steve again. Slower. A gentle press of mouths, and another. Takes his time deepening it, teasing with his tongue. He waits for Steve to pull away, to decide that this thing is one thing too far, but it never happens. Steve lets him escalate, and gives as good as he gets. 

They’re both breathless and flushed and Billy’s riding high on the bubbling warmth in his chest, lightheaded from it. He slides his leg over Steve’s, straddling his thigh, pressing down, seeking friction. 

He shifts, rocking forward a little, and Steve moans, low and deep right in Billy’s ear.

They both freeze. Steve’s breath coming in ragged little bursts against the side of Billy’s face. 

“Pretty boy, as much as I’d love to hear more of that, no one else in the house does.”

“Jesus christ.”

“No need to bring him into it.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs and buries his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

“Aw, I get you all riled up, baby?” 

Steve slides a hand down, down, and palms Billy’s cock, drawing a short gasp from him. “Yes.”

They stay entangled the rest of the night, dozing in and out of consciousness, Steve pressing the occasional sleepy kiss to Billy’s collarbone. And...Billy’s not sure what will happen after tonight, but he knows it’ll be easier to deal with if he gets to keep this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t have the heart to ask, not yet, but for the first time in a while, he has hope.

[muwur]

If requests are open.. Suga x reader -3rd year student- where friends to pining where reader is a exchange student mid year -parent’s job- and reader is new to the school, can barely communicate Japanese and is too shy to meet new people.. reader is welcomed as a co-manager for vb club and all the other boys adopt her has their sister. She tutors them in their English lesson too.. also how would Suga help her open up from her shyness..

request: sugawara x fem! reader who is a shy exchange student!

another beginning.

✩ one-shot ✩ for sugawara bb

❧ fem reader

✎ 4.9k words

a/n: FINALLY GOT THIS BBY DONE, ty for being patient requester <3 i hope its ok, lmk if u would like smth different!

also curious but do yall listen to music when you write or read? i dnt always but when i DO i listen to some boppy music so i can shake mah ass (unles im depresso AHAHA) LMAO rec me some pls--

send me asks--

current listen: juicy by doja cat, gasolina by daddy yankee, 11 PM by maluma

A pencil dangled between two of your fingers, gently swinging back and forth as you tapped the eraser’s tip against your chin in thought. Looking over Hinata’s shoulder at the worksheet laying on the table, you extended your hand and made a neat scrawl on the page. “That’s good translating, Hinata! However,” you dragged your pencil across the surface, marking a line and arrow to point at a space near the beginning of his sentence, “keep in mind that although gerunds look like verbs, they act as nouns. So, this word should go here.”

Yachi, who was seated to your right, nodded in agreement. “I looked through his notes doodles, and it looked like they were going over gerunds in class!”

With narrowed eyes, Hinata scanned the page, muttering the sentence underneath his breath. Suddenly, his hazel eyes lit up in understanding and his lips morphed into a round “O.” “Ohhhh, that make a lot more sense! Thanks, (y/n), you’re a big help, especially in English! Also, look, guys!”

He rummaged through his cluttered backpack and fished out a slightly wrinkled sheet of paper with a red “14/50” marked on the top right corner. Holding it up proudly, he declared, “I got a better score than last time! By nine points!”

“That’s still an F,” Tsukishima pointed out, eyes glued to the pages of the book he was reading. Yamaguchi and Kageyama tried to stifle their snickers.

“Y-You’re not even looking!” Hinata defended. The ginger was met with a shrug. “I don’t need to see the score to know you failed.”

Before any fighting could break out, however, the door swung open, revealing the remaining third-years. Bags of snacks in their arms, the four of them stepped in. “We’re back! Your parent/guardian let us in, (y/n),” Sugawara announced, setting his bag down on the table. The rest followed suit and set the goodies down. Rummaging through one of the bags, Daichi pulled out a meat bun.

“Hinata, here’s your meat bun,” he said, handing the snack to the excited first-year, who had long-forgotten Tsukishima’s snide remark about his lack of intellectual aptitude. Kiyoko offered Kageyama his milk, the slight brush of their hands being enough to stir Noya and Tanaka into an envious craze. Asahi tried to settle them down, nervously reminding them that they needed to act respectful in your home, especially after your family had agreed to let you all study there. You stifled a giggle as Sugawara and Daichi joined in, scolding their underclassmen for their poor behavior and threatening them with a time-out.

With an exasperated sigh, Sugawara took a seat next to you on the mat. “Ah, I can’t help but worry about how Ennoshita’s going to handle both of them on his own.”

Giving a sidelong glance to the second-year, who was now forcing Noya and Tanaka to complete timed practice problems, your lips formed a small smile. “Looks like he does a pretty good job at it, though.”

Sugawara let out an amused huff. “Guess I’m worried over nothing. Oh, also,” he dug into the plastic bag in front of him, taking out your favorite snack and offering it to you. “Here you go.”

(can u tell from my stories yet that fav snacks aka actions are my love language--)

“Oh, thank you, Suga, I didn’t even ask for this…” you flashed him a grateful smile and took the package from his hands, suppressing the blush that threatened to overcome your cheeks as your fingertips brushed. He gave a sheepish smile and glanced to the side in response, giving the back of his neck an anxious rub.

“Ah, it’s the least I could do to thank you for letting us all come over to study. It’s really helpful. I appreciate it, (y/n).”

“It’s not much, really. I’m more than glad to help you all (read: Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, and Noya) out with English and offer my place. Having everyone together makes it easier. They need to pass these exams so you all get to play.”

Your offer to help the team with their studies may have seemed a simple gesture as both their friend and co-manager. On the inside, however, you really were more than happy to have everyone over for whatever reason. It left you with a feeling of awe. The last thing you would’ve expected 3 months ago was to be sitting in your new home in Japan, surrounded by a group of people who accepted you despite your poor Japanese and late appearance to Karasuno. Just 4 months ago, after you learned about your parent/guardian’s job transfer to Japan, you were left feeling an array of mixed feelings:

Anxiety – a whole new country? With a language you could barely even speak or understand? How was that going to work? Could you even make friends at school? God knows how long it took you to make the friends you have now.

Disappointment – you were looking forward to graduating high school with the friends you’ve made throughout the past few years. Having to say goodbye would be difficult, and you’d miss them.

Yet, you felt a sliver of hopefulness – new experiences were waiting for you. You had the opportunity to lead a new life in a foreign place. It filled you both with fear and exhilaration.

On the night before your first day at Karasuno, you could barely sleep after spending hours religiously practicing how to introduce yourself in Japanese. Having to introduce yourself to the class and speaking with your new classmates was inevitable, after all. And so the next day, you found yourself standing in front of the classroom, trying to suppress the nervous shudder that threatened to rack your body and ignore the prickles of sweat on your palms. Despite how much you mentally recited your introduction that morning, your current situation left your mind blank, unable to conjure any words. Fueled by the awkward silence, the numerous gazes focused on you, and the growing pit of anxiety in your stomach, what came out was a quiet, jumbled form of what you intended to say.

“Hello, (y/n) (l/n). I’m (insert your original country name here). I can’t Japanese, but I hope friends. Everyone, nice to meet,” you bowed, both in respect and so that you could hide your face, which was red from embarrassment. You knew you messed up, but you pretended otherwise, hoping that nobody would point out your mistake.

You straightened up after a few moments of silence, registering the confused looks of your new classmates and feeling another stab of shame. In response to your introduction, the teacher raised her eyebrows and blinked in confusion. Then her eyes warmed, and she offered you a smile as she spoke up. “Class, this is (l/n) (y/n). She recently moved here from (insert OG country here). She’s still learning Japanese; however, her English is perfect, so I’m sure you can all learn something from each other. Please make her feel welcome. Your seat is over there, (l/n).”

Shoulders sagging, you made your way to your desk, avoiding eye contact despite the pairs of eyes that followed you to your seat. Focusing on the lecture was a struggle. Not only could you barely understand anything the teacher was saying; worries about how the rest of the day would go also flooded your mind. This was only the morning; how could you navigate your way through the halls? Ask for directions? Would you meet people? Where would you eat lunch? How could you survive?

The remainder of the classes went by gruesomely slow. Too embarrassed from your slip this morning and too shy to meet new people despite wanting to make a friend, you successfully dodged conversation with any of your classmates. You were relieved that finally lunch came by, yet that presented another problem. You weren’t sure where to go, but you were sure that you were going to eat by yourself.

After a few minutes of walking around the hallways, you settled for eating lunch in the classroom. At least it meant you didn’t have to rush to class after the bell rang. Taking a seat, you pulled out your boxed lunch and set it out in front of you. Painfully aware of how alone you must have looked, you pretended to look really interested in your meal (am i the only one or--). You poked it, broke it into pieces, then brought each sliver to your mouth and chewed slowly. If only your family had switched your phone plans earlier, then you could at least spend time scrolling the internet or lament to your friends back home about how your day was going.

Still “engrossed” in your meal, you failed to notice a figure standing in front of your desk. Only after you saw a hand situate itself on the edge of your desk did you look up.

You met the chestnut eyes of a boy. He bore a warm smile that made a small crinkle in his eyes and beauty mark. Strands of grey hair draped naturally in front of his eyes and framed the sides of his face. Despite your unease, his soft features helped to calm your racing heart and mind. He seemed a friendly person; after all, he was able to approach you.

“Hey, you’re (l/n), right? I’m Sugawara Koushi, but you can call me Suga. I’m in your class,” he introduced in pretty darn good English.

‘Man, that means he heard me this morning…’ you thought miserably. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel some relief. Perhaps you hadn’t given others or yourself much of a chance before jumping to the conclusion that you were incapable of meeting new people.

Clearing your throat, you shyly extended a hand to him in greeting. “Yes, I’m (y/n) (l/n). Call me (y/n). It’s nice to meet you, Suga,” you replied hesitantly, finally using the correct words in Japanese that you had been practicing the previous night.

Shaking your hand, his eyes widened in pleasant surprise. “Your Japanese sounds pretty good! You just moved, so you’re still learning, right? How about I help you improve that while you help me with English?”

You were about to nod eagerly in appreciation when you both overheard some snickering across the room. Two boys and a girl sat together, whispering quite loudly and sneaking oh-so-inconspicuous glances over at your desk. Taking notice that they were caught staring, they presumed to loudly munch on their meals and talk about the weather.

Suga only shot them annoyed glare and shook his head before turning his attention back to you. “Sorry, those are my… Friends.” The strain in his voice after saying that last word made you question if they really were on friendly terms.

After that day, you found yourself spending every lunch period with Suga and his other third-year friends Daichi, Asahi, and Shimizu. You initially felt unsure of how to talk to them, but after Sugawara’s efforts to include you in his circle and some reassuring words about being yourself and not letting a small, temporary language barrier hold you back from making friends, you earned a bit of confidence. While you spoke a hybrid of English and Japanese with them, you eventually managed to pick up a lot of Japanese from talking everyday, and after these few months of constant exposure, you were able to hold decent conversations. Additionally, the extra help you sought from the teaching staff allowed you to be able to keep up in class, and your instructors were understanding enough to give you some leniency on your assignments during this adjustment period.

Hanging around your new friends often, it was only a matter of time before you were introduced to the rest of Karasuno’s boys’ volleyball team. It occurred one lunch period three weeks after you first arrived, when Asahi suggested that you join some club activities. You were discouraged, however, considering that it was already halfway through the year, you didn’t know enough Japanese yet to converse with just anyone, and you were a tad shy, which made joining clubs a bit difficult. At that moment, your new friends all made eye contact with each other, then looked at you.

“Why not join our volleyball club?” Suga asked. “Shimizu could always use the help. She’s our only student manager.”

Shimizu nodded in agreement, her blue gaze soft. “Your help would be really appreciated. There’s a lot to this job, so having someone to split the work with would be relieving. You can also help me look for someone to take my place when we graduate.”

Later that day you found yourself in the gym being blocked by Sugawara, who was protecting you from two crazed boys whose collars were held back by Daichi. A ginger-haired boy looked at you with curiosity, excitedly introducing himself as Hinata and pointing out the names of the other members on the court (“This is ‘Bakageyama’ and that guy’s ‘Four-eyed Jerk Face’—").

Upon their release (which was granted only after they promised to behave), Tanaka and Noya dashed over to you, tears in their eyes as they held your hands and expressed their gratitude for your presence. “Oh, (y/n), you kind soul, helping Shimizu with the managerial work. Better yet, now we have two cute girls to support us, this is amazing!”

And that’s how you found yourself sitting with your new friends in your living room and feeling grateful for their vibrant personalities, kindness, and acceptance. You couldn’t have asked for a better batch of friends to end your year with. Though, you were most grateful to Sugawara. If not for him, the last several months of your highschool experience may have gone by miserably, with nothing special to note and no new friends to celebrate with. His gentle, understanding nature had done nothing but support you and make you feel welcome. He helped introduce you to a new, comfortable life you had trouble imagining before your arrival to Japan. He dispelled your doubts and fears, instilling in you a newfound confidence in your abilities. It certainly helped that the team was just as supportive and patient with you.

You could recount the events of the past few months that brought warmth to your heart. These people were growing on you, making you feel like you could be yourself more each day. Daichi provided you a sense of security and leadership. Asahi was empathetic, quick to detect your feelings of uneasiness and asking you if you were okay. Shimizu made sure to make you feel welcome as a friend and fellow manager, even inviting you to a café over the weekend to brainstorm ideas on recruiting a replacement (who you both later discovered to be Yachi) and try out some desserts. Tanaka and Noya tried to teach you all the Japanese curse words they knew, initially lying to you about their meanings so they could see the rest of the team’s reactions when you would blurt things out in the middle of practice (Let’s just say that Daichi, Suga, Ennoshita, and Tsukki knew whose fault this was, and Asahi was real shook hearing a string of curse words from your mouth while you sat there, no ill intent emanating from you whatsoever). Ennoshita gave you a comforting, easygoing presence. Tsukki was… Tsukki (LOL). But he could carry on a conversation, often genuinely interested whenever you talked about the culture back in (other country). And you knew he was soft. Hinata was a burst of energy, and you found his bickering with Tsukishima and Kageyama silly and quite precious. You often stayed with Yachi to toss balls to Kageyama late at night, much to his appreciation. Yachi and Yamaguchi were some of the biggest sweethearts on the team, and all you could think about was needing to protect them.

There was definitely something different in your interactions with Sugawara, though. You found yourself closest to him out of everyone. It may have been because he was the first you talked to, or maybe it was because he was one of the most easygoing people you’ve ever met. That, and you found yourself wanting to get closer to him. You wanted to know more about him.

Sugawara chuckled in response. “I suppose you’re right. We wouldn’t have made it this far without everyone,” he said softly, a tinge of fondness showing in his brown eyes. He proceeded to take out his schoolwork and pen, resting his chin in his palm as he read the words across the page of his assignment. Occasionally, you glanced over at him, admiring the way his eyebrows knit together in concentration, and how his hair brushed his cheeks whenever his head shifted in its position. How the grey tips of lashes kissed his bottom eyelids with each flutter of his chocolate hues. You even took a mental note that his lips, currently pursed in thought, were rather smooth and full in appearance.

A rogue thought about how those lips would feel against your own flitted across your mind. It brought a small pang to your chest, and you had to mentally slap yourself back into reality. You noticed these new feelings were starting to become more prevalent the longer you hung around Sugawara. You consulted your friends back home about it, and in their excitement, they insisted you had a crush on this guy (and demanded photos). Heart palpitations, heat-flooded cheeks, covert glances, and a desire for closeness in all aspects possible? All symptoms of infatuation, your personal love doctors concluded. You recalled when these signs first appeared about a month ago, after he offered to walk you home when practice had gone late into the night. Initially you declined, not wanting him to go out of his way when it was already dark outside. However, after seeing the soft look in his eyes as he declared he wanted to ensure you got home safely and that he didn’t mind the walk, your heart couldn’t help but give in and agree.

It was a tranquil night, accompanied only by the sound of crickets chirping and a cool, whispy breeze. About 15 minutes after having left campus, you were both seated on an aged bench at a small park, snacking on recent convenience store purchases to satisfy your growling stomachs. A comfortable silence settled in the air. The nightly surroundings were illuminated by the gentle glow of several nearby lampposts and stars that burned lightyears away.

Your gaze followed the tracks of a small bug crawling across the sidewalk in front of your feet. It skittered soundlessly against the pavement, eventually disappearing in the security of a bush. A gentle sigh took hold of your attention, and your eyes flickered over to your friend, who was peering up at the star-dusted evening sky.

“Do you know what you’re doing after graduation?” he asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.

You shook your head. “No clue, to be honest. You?”

He pursed his lips and took a sidelong glance at you before focusing back upwards. “Well, I’ve always wanted to be a teacher…”

“Seems fitting. Your Japanese lessons have been really helpful,” you pointed out, smiling.

The tips of his lips curved upwards as well. “Really? I’m glad. You’ve improved a lot, too. You’re a quick learner.”

“Heh, well I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Another comfortable silence fell upon you two before he spoke again. “I was thinking about how to keep in touch with everyone after we left, and how it’s a shame we’re leaving so soon after you arrived. I would’ve liked to know you better, too, but there’s only a few months left...”

His genuine words left a rosy tinge on your cheeks. As you were thinking of a response, you looked down, noticing how close your hand lay next to his. Heartrate quickening, you stammered, “Y-Yeah, I wish we had more time, too.. T-To hang around each other, I mean. But graduation doesn’t have to mean goodbye, right?”

“That’s true... You always know just what to say, you know that, (y/n)?” he turned his gaze on you and held out an extended pinky. “Promise to talk to me after graduating, then?”

You rolled your eyes playfully and huffed in amusement. Taking your own pinky and intertwining it with his, you nodded. “So long as you keep your end of the promise, too.”

“Of course.”

Sugawara’s voice brought you out of your momentary flashback. “(Y/n)? Can I ask you a question?”

Blinking your previous thoughts away and calming the warmth on your cheeks, you responded, “What’s up?”

He slid his assignment closer to you, pointing at a section he was having trouble with. “Here. I’m not sure if I’m doing this correctly..”

You leaned in, scooching towards him and closing in on the gap between you. Focused on the homework, you failed to notice how the brush of your shoulders made Sugawara’s body stiffen slightly. With your proximity, your scent easily wafted to his nose, and he could observe the closer details of your appearance. The hair tucked behind your ear exposed your cheekbone, looking soft to the touch. Your determined hues scanned the page, and he could visualize your thinking through your small, occasional self-nods. You looked cute and comfortable in the casual hoodie you wore, bringing him a strange, mixed sense of bashfulness and ease. His mind wandered, trying to envision how you would look if you wore any of his jackets, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of your sweet voice and scribbles against paper.

“It sounds great, Suga! I just made a note there on how you can fix it; otherwise, it should be okay,” you gave him a reassuring smile as you slid his work back to him. You, however, didn’t shift back to your original position and instead stayed seated mere inches from the boy. Not that he minded, but…

“O-Oh, alright, thanks!”

It made concentrating during the rest of the study session a little difficult.

Occasionally you did get up, helping mostly the first and second years with some of their English assignments. His eyes would secretly (but c’mon, everyone but Hinata and Kageyama could tell) follow your figure, admiring the way you looked as you interacted happily with the others and did whatever you could to assist them. Yet you always returned to the same spot, near Suga. Close enough that everyone else on the team took notice (if they haven’t already), relayed the information via mental telephone, and secretly agreed to depart a bit earlier than they had anticipated.

“Oh, you guys are leaving already?” you asked everyone as they were packing up their belongings.

They all nodded in response, offering up their reasons for leaving earlier than the original time you set, which ranged from, “My parents wanted me home for dinner” to “My sister’s wasted and locked out of the house, nobody’s home—” (u good der Saeko)

Standing at your doorway, you waved to your friends, sending them off with a “I’ll see you at school!” as they waved back and filed out of your home. Looking over to Suga, who was still standing beside you, you wondered, “Oh, you’re staying?”

“Oh, yeah! I was surprised to see everyone leave so soon, but I was planning to head home in another hour. B-But I can go now if you need me to..!” he answered a bit shakily, waving around his hands in small, bashful gestures.

You shook your head and you waved your hand dismissively. “It’s okay, you’re more than welcome to stay for however long you need to.”

Settled back in the common area, you both tried to resume your schoolwork, but to no avail. Groaning, you leaned back, using your arms to support you from behind. “I’m tired of workingggggg.”

He sighed in agreement, resting an elbow on the table and propping up his head in a closed fist. “Same. Do you want to do something else?”

“Hmm..” you pondered aloud. “Do you want to see my room?”

Shrugging and responding with a “why not?”, you both stood up, leaving the common area to go to your room. You opened the door and stepped inside, Suga closely trailing behind you.

“Welcome to my room. Make yourself cozy,” you insisted as you sat on your bed and pat the spot next to you. He took your offer, taking a seat beside you and looking around your bedroom in curiosity.

“Something about this place really seems like you, (y/n).”

You raised an eyebrow at his comment. “Is it the messy pile of clothes in that basket or the neat desk I cleaned up this morning?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I suppose you could say those are part of it. I just meant there’s a lot to you that you should feel comfortable sharing with others. People are complex and there’s so many sides to a person we discover along the way. I remember how timid you were in our first weeks of knowing each other, and now you’re getting along great with everyone and work hard to improve everyday. You were able to overcome a stressful repeat of entering highschool, but this time in another country, and adapted just fine! Your kindness and determination is admirable.”

Twiddling with your fingers, you felt a sheepish grin form on your face. “Aha, you’re too kind, Suga. You know I couldn’t have made these friends or adjust so well without your help. I was too worried about talking to anyone until you came up to me, so… Thank you.”

You risked a glance towards the boy, finding his chocolate gaze already set on you. If none of your interactions in the past month had set your heart ablaze, then certainly this moment would take the cake. Sugawara’s eyes flickered downwards briefly in a moment of hesitance, then locked again onto yours with a hint of an undetectable emotion lurking behind those irises.  Neither of you could bring up any words to say. The only sounds present were the soft hums of your breathing and the low creak of your bed as you found yourselves shifting your weight in order to inch closer to one another.

His mind flooded with a cacophony of emotions, from crippling nervousness to an allure for risk-taking. He could barely come to terms with the current situation and what might happen. Maybe he was overthinking it. Surely being this close face-to-face with someone who you just happen to like doesn’t automatically mean they like you back and want to kiss you just as much. Perhaps you were just leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder; after all, you did seem tired from the events of today. Or, you were scooting close for a better look at his face so you could point out, “hey, you got a little something on your face.” Perhaps a crumb from the cracker he had earlier?

But when he took note of the way your eyes fluttered shut, eyelashes caressing the tops of your dusted cheeks, his doubts began to waver. Maybe this was the chance he’s been seeking out lately. Once Daichi deciphered Sugawara’s affections for you, eventually the whole team found out and began to silently root for him. Thankfully, despite their blatant attempts to help him out, you hadn’t noticed a thing. It made him wonder whether you were oblivious, or just didn’t like him, or both. However, in this moment, when it appeared as though maybe you returned his feelings, he felt he should—as Tanaka would say—shoot his shot.

A sudden knock on the door sent you both jumping 5 feet away from each other. Frazzled and wide-eyed, you choked out a weak, “H-Hello?” in response to the interruption. The door opened, revealing your parent/guardian, who peeked inside.

“Dinner’s ready. Would you like to stay and have it with us?” they were asking Suga.

Heart still racing from the fear that gripped it, he blinked in surprise. He piped out a polite no thank you, reasoning that he didn’t want to intrude.

“Nonsense, we’re happy to have you. Come soon.”

They closed the door and left, leaving you two in an awkward silence that was soon interrupted by the sound of your cough. “We should, uh, get going…”

Standing up, you reached for the door with Suga in tow. The tension in the air remained between the two of you throughout dinner. Nevertheless, Sugawara was able to leave a good impression on your family by being a good conversationalist, even earning a few laughs from your parent/guardian. It made your heart swell at how natural it was for him to be able to get along with others.

After dinner ended and he packed his things, you stepped outside with him to send him off, closing the door behind you. He was about to salute you with a “thanks for having me over” when you gave him a peck on the cheek so sudden that he didn’t have time to react before you were already making your way back into your house.

“Thanks for coming, Suga! I’ll see you at school! Let me know when you get home!” you exclaimed animatedly, shutting the door quickly to hide your embarrassment from your sudden actions. You leaned your back against it, instantly regretting what you did with tightly shut eyes. ‘Oh gawd how am I gonna face him at school tomorrow dhefjkg.’

But on the other side of the door, Suga stood dumbfounded, hovering a hand over the area your lips had touch. Though highly embarrassed, he felt a rush of elation pass over him like a humongous wave that never stopped crashing against the shores.

He was starting to really think it was a good idea to introduce himself to the cute new girl in class. Nice one, Suga.

[despairofthefuture]

She may be looking for Sonia Nevermind, the Ultimate Princess, or Gundham Tanaka, the Ultimate Breeder. They're both into dark occult stuff. They're also in the same class as Chiaki and Ryota. I think they're pretty close friends, so if you find one you'll probably find the other not far off.

"Princess!?" Hiro repeats, his eyes widening. "There's a princess at this school!?"

"As amazingly cool as that is-" Leon says, trying to bring them back on topic. "-this Gundham dude....Why would a...breeder know about occult bullshit?"

"The same reason a princess would?" Hiro mutters under his breath.

Chihiro furrows his brow in thought, the small boy looking very worried. "W-well, Mukuro did say it had nothing to do with his talent." He reminds them. "So perhaps it's a hobby of his?"

"Well, regardless, this is all we have to go on, and you guys havent been wrong yet!" Leon says determinedly, flashing the spirits a grin. "Since Mukuro specifically said 'he', we should check up on this Gundham weirdo first. So hurry the hell up, Hiro! Look up this Gundham guy!"

The clairvoyant nods and does as he was told, looking up a picture of Gundham Tanaka. When he finds one he stares at it in surprise. "This...this guy works with animals?" He asks, stunned.

Leon looks over his friend's shoulder and raises a brow. "Damn. Yeah, he looks more like an Ultimate Clairvoyant than you do! He obviously seems to be embracing the occult for a start!"

This earns the ghost a glare, but Hiro quickly shakes his head and returns his phone to his pocket. "Well, whatever. We know what he looks like, so let's go to his dorm."

As he begins making his way there, Chihiro frowns. "You know, the fact that Mukuro knows about this Gundham means she and Junko must have been studying him, or at the very least his class." He points out. "Which would make sense considering how much of her plan revolves around 77-B." His face saddens. "Poor guys. It's bad enough Junko put us, her classmates and friends through something like a killing game, but to basically torture a whole other class?"

"Its sick." Leon agrees, his eyes narrowed angrily. "She's sick."

Hiro simply nods in response, a frown on his face as he walks. Suddenly, he freezes in place. "Wait, what about Hajime?!" He asks. "I was supposed to meet up with him and-"

"That can wait a minute!" Leon interrupts him. "If we dont hurry and stop Mukuro, who the hell knows what could happen!"

Hiro nods in understanding, breaking out into a sprint towards the dorms, causing a brown haired boy in a Reserve Course uniform to look up and give him an annoyed look as he passed.

~~~

Hiro was thankfully able to find Gundham's room with relative ease. As he stands in front of the Ultimate Breeder's door, he hesitates.

"Dude, what's the hold up?" Leon asks impatiently.

Hiro frowns and begins picking at his skin. "Its just...the energy surrounding this room...its...really heavy and...dark..." He mutters.

Leon groans and rolls his eyes. "Oh for the love of-Hurry the hell up!" He snaps.

Hiro sighs and nods, reaching a hand up and knocking on the door.

A quiet exchange of voices could be heard along with some shuffling until the door is opened.

"Who dares disturb the Overlord of-"

The boy behind the door stops when he sees Hiro. The two lock eyes, and a wave of energy courses through the clairvoyant.

The extravagantly dressed man before Hiro stares at him for a moment more before he smirks. "Heh. I had thought the dark lady and myself were the only ones dabbling in the forbidden arts, but I can sense they run through your veins as well."

Hiro blinks in surprise at the guy's strange speech patterns. "Uh...i-if by 'forbidden arts' you mean fortune telling, then yeah!" Hiro finally responds, forcing a smile onto his face. "My names Yasuhiro Hagakure. I'm the Ultimate Clairvoyant!"

The other man lets out an impressed hum. "Clairvoncy, hm? Then have your visions sent you to my side for the aid of my dark powers?!" He suddenly poses in a strange way, and Hiro blinks in confusion.

"Uh...y-yeah. More or less. Youre... Gundham Tanaka, right?" He asks, scratching his head as he begins to regret coming here.

Gundham's smirk widens as he nods. "My reputation of course precedes me. Indeed, that is my name! GUNDHAM TANAKA!" The...eccentric fellow bellows out his name, cause Chihiro to flinch slightly.

Leon rolls his eyes. "Dear Lord this guy is gonna be annoying." He mutters.

Hiro gives a subtle nod in agreement before forcing the smile onto his face again. "Well, great! Do you, uh, mind if I come in, Gundham?'

Gundham shakes his head and steps to the side. "But of course not! A fellow user of the dark arts is always welcome in my abode!" He declares. "Although my Third Eye has failed me, for I did not forsee your visit." The breeder suddenly blushes, catching Hiro even more off guard as the man attempts to hide the flush by raising his scarf over his face. "I currently have...company over. The dark princess, Sonia Nevermind. But do not fear! I am training her to be my apprentice, so you need not hold your tongue with anything you must tell me!" He declares with finality as he turns with a flourish and walks into his room.

Hiro stands still for a moment longer, sharing an unsure look with Leon and Chihiro, before following the breeder into his room and closing the door behind him.

The dark atmosphere Hiro had felt from outside the door was tripled the moment he took a step inside, and he shivered. Gundham's room was dark, light blotting curtains hung at the windows that allowed the only light inside the room to be the many lit candles that were scattered around. There was a bookcase against one of the walls, and on it several heavy looking leather cased books.

"Well I guess we found the right guy." Leon mutters.

Hiro nods in agreement as he continues scanning the environment. His gaze stops at something that seemed out of place. A brightly colored hamster cage where four happy looking hamster were currently rested inside.

"Well, he is the Ultimate Breeder." Hiro thinks to himself. "I guess it would be more weird if there wasnt anything animal related here."

"Oh, Gundham! You have company!" A sweet, feminine voice speaks up, causing Yasuhiro to turn his head in its direction. He couldnt help but stare. There was a beautiful blonde girl, sat upon Gundham's bed.

"Indeed I do, dark mistress." Gundham confirms, coming to a stop in front of the hamster cage. He opens the lid and places some treats inside, the four critters skittering over to them and eating them hungrily. "He says his name is Yasuhiro." A grin spreads on his face as he turns from his four pets. "He is also a user of the arts."

The girl, who Hiro assumes to be Sonia Nevermind, gasps and clasps her hands together excitedly. "Really?!" She exclaims happily. "There is another one at the school?!"

"It indeed seems that way, Sonia." The breeder confirms, his gaze going to Hiro. "He says he is a clairvoyant, and that he received a vision that called him to me."

Sonia gasps and looks to Hiro as well. "Is that so? Then please! I insist you inform us of the details of your vision at once!"

For some reason Hiro felt extremely compelled to bow towards the upperclasswoman and the need to hurry with the explanation. He blinks and clears his throat, attempting to calm his nerves. "R-right. Well, it's a long...and, well, pretty unbelievable story if I'm being honest." He sighs before continuing. "But I swear to you, Buddha, Gandhi, Mother Earth or whatever deity you believe in its true.

It started when my classmate Junko Enoshima came to me, asking me to read her future...."

~~~

"...and then Mukuro mentioned someone else with knowledge of...occult stuff." Hiro finishes explaining, holding back the urge to explain his distaste for the occult. "And the spirits mentioned it could be one of you two." He looks between Sonia and Gundham, both of which look extremely surprised. "And since Mukuro said 'he' we went to your room first." He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. "So...yeah. We wanted to make sure Mukuro's ghost...future ghost...didnt come here and find something she could use."

Gundham stares at the clairvoyant for a while, seemingly at a loss for words. Finally he clears his throat. "Well...that certainly is...quite the ordeal." The breeder recovers quickly, a grin forming on his face as he poses. "However you are in luck! I am quite skilled in this department, and while I cannot see your apparitions-" He walks over to his bookshelf and shifts through the many books before letting out a soft 'ah ha!' and pulling out a rather large one. He flips through it before placing his finger on a page. He then begins muttering something, which causes Hiro to frown and shift uncomfortably.

Gundham's eyes close, and a soft wind suddenly blows through the room, despite there being no open window. When he opens his eyes, he meets Hiro's eyes. They then shift over to Leon and Chihiro, his grin turning to a smirk.

"Ah ha! Hello there, fiends!" He looks over to see the shimmering outlines of the unknown spirits. "And to you as well."

Hiro's eyes widen in surprise. "You...you can see them?!"

"Of course!" Gundham boasts, slamming the book shut with one hand. "Did you believe these tombs were for show?!"

Hiro holds his tongue.

"Now I can be of more help to you and your miss-" He stops, his gaze slowly moving over to his bookshelf. He narrows his eyes. "....I assume this is the fiendish ghoul you mentioned."

Hiro blinks before following his gaze. His eyes widen further. There, looking through the books, was Mukuro's ghost.

Gundham Tanaka can now hear you! He is open for questions!

A/N: I hope things arent getting too crazy lol. I promise everything has a purpose! Supernatural stuff is canon in Danganronpa, and its especially important in this AU, so please bare with me lmao

[illfoandillfie]

ok sorry but how many people do yall think rog has ever slept with cos i’m guessing four figures no lie

okay, i don’t normally respond to messages like this because, frankly, i dont really feel like its my place to speculate on roger’s sex life. Theres a difference between writing a fiction story with a character named after and inspired by him and discussing his actual personal life which i have no real knowledge about. What he gets up to in his free time is between him and the women he does it with. but i didn’t really feel able to ignore this one. please don’t take this as me telling you off or shutting you down or anything like that. If you want to speculate about roger’s body count thats up to you, go nuts with it. and i love when you guys message me and I don’t want to discourage you from feeling like you can talk to me or just send me your random thoughts or whatever about any subject. But I feel like I need to address why I disagree with this sentiment. Also so I can ask ya’ll to please stop asking me questions like this. 

So firstly, just to get this out of the way. 1000 is a lot. even 100 is a lot. I think if rog had slept with 1000+ people he’d have a least a few illegitimate kids and probably would have been checked into rehab for sex addiction (not to mention STIs and such because lbr people in the 70s specifically probs werent the most careful especially if drugs were involved). I mean even if we were going to say Rog got lucky with a different woman after every show we wouldn’t reach 1000. According to google, Queen played around 700 shows in their entire career. If we add shows played by The Cross thats only another 67 odd shows (according to wikipedia). 

now, i think there are 3 things that contribute to this idea of roger as especially promiscuous. 1. His attitude/demeanour/general way he sells himself. 2. the generally held conceptions about rock stars and rock star behaviour. and 3. what i’m going to call fandom dumbassery (but i mean that with a lot of love) 

So lets start with the man himself. Roger Taylor is loud and opinionated and not particularly humble. He knows he’s talented and attractive though for at least some time he was a little self-conscious about how feminine he looked. He’s always up for a laugh, likes to party and has admitted to enjoying his drink and his women. He’s had kids with two different women, who’s relationships “overlapped”, and is currently married to a third. At least that’s the perception we can gleam from his interviews, behind the scenes videos, and other public appearances. 

It’s easy to see how that image leads to accusations of being a womaniser and a cheater and basically a bit of a slut lmao. But here’s the thing. I think Roger, in part, markets himself that way. The thing is, if you look at his solo songs and the relationships he currently has with his kids and their mothers, and things other people have said about him/his relationships over the years, I think it’s fair to say he also has a bit of a romantic streak maybe? idk if thats the best way of describing it...he’s self confessed to not being a fan of marriage and the like but he’s not opposed to writing and singing love songs and seems to believe in ~love~ as a concept/power. He certainly cares deeply for those closest to him. Whether or not that translates to an agreement with monogamy I can’t say for certain. It’s hard to draw conclusions here because a lot of what we know of his personal life was fed to us through magazines and news paper gossip column articles and they were never looking for the truth, they were looking for scandal and sensationalism. 

For instance the whole thing with the overlapping relationships. I think most people who have read anything about roger and dom and debbie realise that it’s not as cut and dry as “he was cheating with debbie and left dom for her” even though that was the story being sold by the press at the time. The reality (or at least the version closer to reality since obviously no one outside of them and whoever they were closest with knows all the nitty gritty details) is that rog and dom had already split when they got married. it was a marriage of convenience to make sure her and the kids would be looked after financially etc even after he’d moved out. So while it looked to the public like he married one chick and 30 odd days later was spotted with another, there really wasn’t anything untoward happening.  I’m not saying he never had casual hookups or one night stands and i’m not saying he never cheated, but I do think some of it’s been exaggerated, whether by him to encourage the rock star perception or by newspaper/magazine articles.

Now, obviously, we have stories of rog, particularly in the late 60s and into the 70s, being with multiple women. There’s that bit in the Interview with a Queen “Groupie” (which is a fantastic read and i defs recommend checking it out if you havent already) where she talks about roger being a chick magnet and says that, at the time, it was pretty common to sleep about. But, she also says she didnt notice him doing it more or less than anyone else and seemed to mostly be with Jo (his girlfriend at the time). This is the same Jo that got a mention in the Queen in 3D book (”i think we all had the feeling that these two were together for life, but it was not to be”). Conversely, we have that quote (which i cannot find rn but i’ll link it when i do) about roger sometimes having one girl upstairs while another waited in the garage for them to be finished. I think it was about Rog in the mid-late 60s in Truro but whatever. Obviously he wasn’t anywhere near celibate and it’s likely was sleeping with people outside of his relationship(s). But one has to assume that as he got older those kinds of antics stopped happening, at least as frequently.

There is one potential story that I remember reading somewhere along the way about Roger cheating on Debbie while she was pregnant. But, take that with a grain of salt because I can’t find the article again and also I think it was from like The Sun or something equally as rubbish. The press was notoriously always printing mean shit about the boys and that might have been another thing they published to create scandal. Even so, if we assume it’s legit that is still only 1 story. Not to throw him under the bus but Brian is the one with multiple confirmed affairs, who literally wrote songs about it all. So why is Roger the one with sleazy reputation? 

This is where my second and third points come in. There is a pervasive idea about what it means to be a rock star. The whole trashing hotel rooms, sleeping with groupies, passing out drunk every night thing. And I’m sure that Queen was like that to an extent. I think it’s pretty common knowledge that all of them got up to shit on the road. Between innuendo laden interviews and songs, videos and accounts of their parties, stories CT has put online, and other stories like the one of Roger bringing out lines of coke as dessert when he was having dinner with motley crue. They definitely embraced the rock and roll lifestyle. And I think with Roger’s personality being what it is, it’s easy to link him to those traditional rock star tropes and say it was all true all the time. I also think Roger has done nothing to counter those beliefs. He’s been open about how he wanted to be a rock star since the minute he picked up a guitar, he’s labelled himself as a great lay in magazines, he’s joked about girls pulling their tits out over dinner in interviews (though he said he didnt take her home), he’s written songs like One Night Stand and Dirty Mind and Airheads which explicitly mention his preference for women and alcohol. I think it’s fair to say he’s kind of encouraged that view of himself. Whether it was just a side effect of being part of such a well known band and having such a boisterous demeanour/personality, or whether it was intentional as a version of promotion i don’t know. maybe a mix of them? I mean I’m sure it didn’t hurt sales and stuff. it’s the whole guys want to be him, girls want to be with him thing, right? Maybe that’s just me being cynical though lmao. 

Anyway, the fandom brain has taken all of that and compressed it into memes and jokes about rog being the band slut. Which i’m not complaining about, lord knows i’ve made the same jokes and reblogged the same posts and used those tropes in my fics. They’re funny and lend themselves to interesting fic concepts. Plus, i think roger is the sort of person who would probably laugh about most of it. But it’s an idea that keeps feeding into itself through fandom, perpetuating what is probably a misguided view of his personal life.

Again, I am sure he’s had his fair share of fun and I’m not trying to make out that he was always perfect or whatever, but I don’t think he’s been with as many women as the popular discourse would imply and I certainly don’t think he’s in the 4 digit numbers. 

[sendnotes]

books i read in april.

this is going to be my thing from now on. i'll compile a list of all the books i read in a month and share my thoughts on each one every end of the month.

just so you know, i'm a little forgetful, and i have a tendency to forget names, plots, and other details. i'm hoping that writing these will aid my memory in recalling how i felt about each novel.

you can also find me on goodreads

so, let’s begin, shall we?

101 essays that will change the way you think (wiest, brianna)

self-help book

this book got off to a good start! some of the essays written (or should i say a collection of articles originally published on the thoughtcatalog website) made me think and consider my outlook on life, love, and so on.

the title overstates the case though. when i think of an essay, i picture something more argumentative and philosophical. not to mention that the majority of the ideas in this book are redundant. it made it difficult to get through. nonetheless, i was able to get past it because there were so many fantastic concepts and topics discussed.

overall, it's an interesting & worthwhile read for those who enjoy thinking outside the box.i lost count of how many times this book gave me aha moments. i swear, most of the entries soothed my mind and provided a great pick-me-up when life seemed to be frustrating.

the midnight library (haig, matt)

science fiction, fantasy fiction, psychological fiction

regrets, self-remorse, what ifs, family approval, drugs, dreams, love, passion, hatred, death, afterlife, multiverses, quantum physics, and a plethora of possibilities packed into a 304-page book.

i'll be honest: this book is already on my list of favorites. i'm simply blown away by how well-crafted and diverse the entire story unfolded.

a sci-fi novel with a dash of fantasy and a smidgeon of philosophy. if that's your thing, you should give this book a shot.

the first few pages of the book gave me an impression and led me to surmise it was going to be a cheesy ass chick lit novel that i'd only read and find enjoyable in high school. i was completely off base. it proved to be very mature, full of lessons, but delivered in a fun and entertaining manner— exactly my cup of tea.

it reminded me of a disney pixar film called soul, in which the afterlife is depicted in vivid detail. they differ on so many levels, but they both imagine life after death for people who are unsure of their path, purpose, and passion.

every chapter served a significant concept, so this book is well-deserved of a 5-star rating!

norwegian wood (murakami, haruki)

fiction, romance novel, bildungsroman

as i read the book and neared the end, all i could think about was how this book became one of murakami's most popular and influential works.

murakami offers a sprawling glimpse into the lives of a group of severely damaged youths grappling with the realities of what emptiness entails. take what you will from it.

i know a lot of people like it, which is fine. but please keep in mind that this book hit me square in the gut. it alternated between making me angry, sad, annoyed, and disgusted almost constantly. there isn't much else.

this book should come with a warning: "this is not a good place to start if you're new to murakami's works. this is not a representative of murakami's brilliance."

fist and foremost, the characters in this book are all repulsive.

toru watanabe was a fuckboy and a softboy rolled into one. what could possibly be worse than that? he'd have as many casual sexual partners as he could while also buttering a girl up by appealing to her emotions and displaying a "sensitive" and "vulnerable" side.

this book was made even more depressing by the fact that each female character was needy, weak, dysfunctional, and dependent. since they're all the same, i'm not going to go over each of these female characters one by one. you already get the idea.

reiko ishida, imo, was one of the best rendered sections of the novel. most likely because she had a better grasp on her emotions and goals than the still seeking youths... until, *spoiler alert* she wanted to do it with toru as well. a big disappointment.

to summarize, this book is primarily concerned with two topics: sex and death.

hidden meanings are everywhere, but when you get to the core, that's all that remains.

the four agreements: a practical guide to personal freedom (ruiz, miguel)

self-help book

first agreement ⏤ be impeccable with your word

this essentially means that you should not spew gossip or use words to harm others. because words have tremendous power and can cause significant harm. you are not only negatively affecting others with your hateful and thoughtless words, but you are also hurting yourself. this is something with which i generally agree. how i see it, when people are unhappy with themselves, they turn to others to make themselves feel better. as a result, they gossip about others in order to divert attention away from themselves.

second agreement ⏤don't take anything personally

alright. sure. don't let what others say about you bother you. it has everything to do with them and nothing to do with you. well, i don't entirely agree, but i think it's a fantastic idea in general. however, achieving this goal will be extremely difficult. i believe it would take a lot of practice to reach this level of zen. plus, i honestly believe that other people's opinions still matter because they keep you in check. the best advice is to not be swayed by these opinions, but to consider why they were expressed in the first place. see what you can do to improve yourself from there. sure, it can be difficult to deal with; after all, no one likes being told they're wrong or whatnot. but it's not all bad news because you can sometimes use criticism and judgment to give you a competitive edge. i mean- don't you think hearing someone else's point of view is also an opportunity to learn and progress? ruiz should have stressed that it's not just about "not taking it personally because you know you're not that person," but also about not retaliating with an extreme knee-jerk reaction even if you believe you're being unfairly criticized.

third agreement ⏤ don't make assumptions

this is a real eye-opener for me. i've noticed that whenever i become enraged by someone's words, it's usually due to my tendency to assume. personally, i can't help but make assumptions. i don't know what other people's motivations are, and i can't help but draw conclusions based on the information i have. even if the other person had no intention of causing me harm, it's too late. the thought has become ingrained in my mind, and i never ask for clarification out of pride or fear of appearing overly sensitive.

fourth agreement ⏤ always do your best

this section did not seem particularly useful to me. i mean, aren't we all reminded of this all the time? this section is filled with sloppy writing, in my opinion. as if he badly wanted to finish the book and impulsively thought: "okay, fourth agreement: always do your best. that should suffice. lmao"

overall opinion: the third agreement was my favorite, but the rest were a no-go. don't get me wrong, i appreciated his ideas, but i've heard them all a hundred times before. basically, the book's sole takeaway is that we are all suffering in some way in our daily lives, and we are all dealing with different issues. regardless, we all need to be kinder and gentler to ourselves and others.

the song of achilles (miller, madeline)

romance novel, historical Fiction, war story

i'll keep it short and sweet:

i really wouldn't have had this book any other way. miller's writing is breathtaking, so rich and full of lovely detail. it's incredibly a unique concept to me that authors are rewriting such ancient history and stories to make them lgbt+!

some suggest it's tedious, but i disagree. it isn't slow; rather, it is just right.

'cause at the end of the day, it's not about war, tragedy, or heroes - it's a slow-burning, organic love tale between two young men and their inevitable connection.

it's sad, tender, and painful, but in the best way possible.

circe (miller, madeline)

novel, historical fiction, fantasy fiction

"greek mythology, but with a feminist twist"?! sign me the hell up! this piqued my interest... only to leave me feeling completely let down. seriously now. circe was described as a "badass empowered woman," which was the single most compelling selling point for me, and thus the most wrenching disappointment, i must say.

sure, it demonstrated the value of feminine power, but it also did represent how this power can be a force of good or evil.

not to mention the fact that circe fucked a married man or two in this book- i mean- how is that an ~empowered woman~?

let's be clear right off the bat: madeline miller's follow-up to the song of achilles is epic in scope but not necessarily in execution. to me, this read more like a tedious island tale. regardless of how many five-star reviews this book has received... i just don't think it's well-deserved. don't get me wrong here. miller is a fantastic author with a lush writing! istg- i'm blown away by how beautifully she wrote and carefully chose her words. even the most mundane phrases were written poetically. after-all, it’s greek mythology. but how did she manage to make circe seem so... bland?

[artificialqueens]

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 3 (Branjie) (and background everyone else) - Ortega

a/n: hey fam!! we are over halfway through the rewrite so hopefully soon i can get a brand brand new chapter out to u soon, in the meantime enjoy chapter 3 all over again and see if u can spot the differences lmao?? idk but i hope u enjoy anyway!!

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

28th September 2020

Vanessa has never been more excited in her life as she paces the rehearsal room, checks herself out for what is surely the millionth time in the mirrors and pulls a few strands of her dark hair out of her ponytail to frame her face. There’s a cameraman and a lighting person and a random producer set up in one corner too but Vanessa hardly acknowledges them, because it’s her first rehearsal with Brooke and in a moment she’s going to walk through those doors and they’ll get to start their journey together.

Saturday night had been a blur. They’d been rushed off to film their post-show reaction interview and Vanessa hardly remembers what she’d said. She supposes it couldn’t have been more incoherent than her immediate reaction. Or perhaps it had been. They’d swapped numbers excitedly, Vanessa’s heart dipping a little as Brooke insisted she couldn’t join for post-show drinks as she had to film early the next morning. With a pang of embarrassment, Vanessa remembers the text she’d sent to Brooke in the early hours of the morning as a result of Monique and Akeria’s shocking influence and way too much tequila:

V: iknow its 1am but im still so excited to be partnered wirg u and i cant wait for first rehearsal!!!!!!! x

It’s a miracle Brooke had still been up so her reply could come instantly and Vanessa didn’t have to wake up smelling of alcohol, kebab and regret the next day.

B: I’m excited too!! Have a good night, can’t wait for Monday x

It’s not like Vanessa has a crush- she’s just excited, as she keeps reminding herself, and Brooke is her first partner. It’s natural to look forward to seeing her as much as she is.

Vanessa inspects her reflection again, frowning and pulling out two more strands of hair from her ponytail to hang loose. She gives a cry of frustration as she realises she’s ruined it by pulling out way too much, so she bends over and hangs her head down between her knees to gather her hair up again.

She’s in this position when the door opens and she hears Brooke’s voice ringing into the echoey room.

“Good morning! Oh shit, am I interrupting something?“

Embarrassed, Vanessa flips her hair back and stands up straight, walking quickly over to Brooke as she dumps her gym bag at the door. “No, fuck, sorry, I was just fixing my hair! Hey!”

Brooke has her arms out ready to hug Vanessa and she accepts gladly. She smells all clean and of fabric softener. She probably uses in-wash scent boosters like an adult who has complete control of her life and more money than sense. They pull out of the hug and Vanessa fixes Brooke with a smile.

“So!” Vanessa starts, but there’s a noise from the other side of the room. One of the producers has stepped forward.

“Uh yeah, ladies, we can’t use that intro. We’re gonna have to film again.”

“How come?” Vanessa asked, realising too late that it’s because she was bent over with her hair hanging to the ground and that Brooke swore. The girls share a guilty laugh and Brooke retreats to the door. The good news is that they get to hug for a second time when they reshoot, and Vanessa gets another scent of Brooke’s detergent and the protected feeling of having the other girl’s strong arms around her.

“So, first rehearsal!” Vanessa chats cheerfully, leaning on the barre and tilting her head as she talks to Brooke. “How we feelin’?”

“Good! Excited. Ready. Positive adjectives,” Brooke says all at once, smiling at her. “How about you?”

“I’m happy. Kinda nervous, ‘cuz now I have to live up to your expectations.”

“And they are great expectations.”

Vanessa nods. “George Orwell style.”

Brooke pauses, fixing Vanessa with a funny look, then bursts out laughing. “Even Charles Dickens?”

Vanessa laughs, shrugging. “They both wrote books, I stay winning.”

She watches as Brooke doubles over clutching her stomach in hysteria, and feels a sense of pride at having made the girl laugh so much. Remembering the film crew in the corner, she smacks her hands together. “Right! For our first dance as a Strictly partnership, we are doin’ a…quickstep!”

Brooke raises her eyebrows and nods slowly. “Ballroom first, okay! I can do that. I guess I’m surprised we’re not doing Latin.”

Vanessa shrugs. “Ballroom ain’t my strong suit so I figured it’s better to get it out the way early while we got other, shittier girls we can hide behind.”

There’s a beat of silence as the two girls look at each other. They both speak at the same time. “…Farrah.”

“Reshoot!” the producer shouts over, Vanessa feeling herself roll her eyes like a teenager. Brooke snorts a laugh and Vanessa feels that little match spark up in her gut again. They reshoot, having the same conversation as before in so many words. It’s tricky remembering not to swear- Vanessa peppers fuck and shit into her daily language like she’s seasoning it, so it’s odd attempting to remove that from her vocabulary. She should probably be trying to give Brooke the impression of a mysterious and graceful woman who says gosh and darn but if she’s going to be working with her she’s going to be working with her, not a cookie-cutter picture perfect imitation.

“You wanna warm up?” Vanessa asks her, feeling a little bashful as Brooke rolls her neck slowly. She gives a small shake of her head as a long strip of her bare neck is exposed, her blonde ponytail falling over her shoulder. Vanessa feels like shaking her head herself, shaking all the thoughts that just entered her head out of it. Get a grip.

“Nah, I already did a bit before I came. We’ve got a gym at the flat, so it’s good for that kind of thing.”

Vanessa feels her eyebrows fly up her face. What kind of fancy-ass flat does she live in? “You wanna just do a bit of conditioning then? I saw you were good at it on the induction day, so you prolly don’t need to do much-”

“You had your eyes on me on induction day then?” Brooke interrupts, gives Vanessa a cheeky wink that makes her face hot. She thinks about making a jibe related to Brooke eyeing her up during squats, but she thinks it’s maybe a bit much. This is only the third time they’ve seen each other, after all. She doesn’t know why she’s acting like such a teenager.

“You wish, princess,” she sticks her tongue out. Brooke laughs and Vanessa joins her, trying not to think too much about where that princess appeared from out of nowhere.

Brooke shrugs in agreement and they do a bit of conditioning on the mats that are kept at the studio. They don’t really need to be doing too much- it’s a quickstep, it’s not exactly Cirque du Soleil- but Vanessa enjoys giving her muscles a proper stretch anyway. She doesn’t need to be the bendiest dancer in the world but she likes to feel as if her flexibility and strength are constantly improving. The film crew stay to catch some rehearsal shots but Vanessa feels as if it’s only her and Brooke in the room, their easy small-talk coming naturally as they stretch and chat over the chill R&B Vanessa’s stuck on in the background. Brooke’s been working that morning already, shooting for The Voice. They’ve moved filming to the morning so she can participate in the show. Vanessa says she hopes it’s not inconvenienced her too much and Brooke laughs and waves her apology away, saying it’s been her dream to get asked on the show ever since she rose to TV-presenter status.

Vanessa agrees, tells her about growing up watching the show with her Mom, how it inspired her when she began to compete all those years ago. She could get into other stuff, like the Summer when they couldn’t fly back to Puerto Rico because Vanessa had begged and pleaded with her Mom to spend the flight money on another term at dance school instead and it had caused a rift so huge it almost tore a hole in her family. But she doesn’t. As Vanessa reminds herself, it’s only their third meeting.

So why does she have to fight the compulsion to tell Brooke her damn life story?

Before Vanessa can blurt out any emotional moments from her upbringing (and she doesn’t exactly have a shortage of them), she slaps her thighs, stands up and rolls the mat away.

“Okay, let’s get started. Now obviously you’re good-”

“Oh, of course,” Brooke jokes. Vanessa’s heart gives a dip.

“- so I think we can maybe just start learning the full thing? If it’s too hard then we can just do some of the basics and go over lil’ techniques an’…stuff,” Vanessa clocks the cameras, changes the “shit” she was about to let out. “But the good news is we got two weeks to learn this one instead of one.”

“So there’s no excuse for it not to be perfect,” Brooke nods immediately. Vanessa freezes, taken aback. Brooke in turn looks almost as if she’s been caught out, and her face turns a little red. “Sorry. That probably seems way too keen, it’s just a fun dancing show-”

“Nah, keep that spirit. I’m a fan of that,” Vanessa smiles at her and Brooke, reassured, smiles back. The girl’s clearly a perfectionist. Vanessa adds that to her growing list of things she’s learning about her new partner. “Aight, I’m gonna show you how it’s gonna look. Lemme get my phone.”

Vanessa dashes over to her gym bag, scrambles about in it for a moment. She spent all of Sunday and stayed up all night finishing off the choreography with Crystal, who she’d also helped choreograph her first dance too, not that Crystal needed any help choreographing Latin. Or indeed ballroom. Or indeed any dance full stop. They’d brainstormed and drank gallons of water and chatted together excitedly the whole time. Being on the show with Crystal is nice because they practise their Spanish together so Vanessa doesn’t lose too much of it, and she understands what it’s like to be away from her huge extended family on days like Cinco di Mayo when the only real celebration of that in the UK is a display of Mexican party food in Tesco, and they moan together about the fact that neither of them have seen a single plantain on sale since arriving in the country. Finally finding her phone in her gym bag, Vanessa searches for the video she and Crystal took of the quickstep once it was all finished. Finding it, she plops down next to Brooke who’s sitting on the dusty floor and leaning against the mirrored wall. She hits play, holds her breath nervously and hopes Brooke will like what she’s come up with. Vanessa is relieved when a small smile grows on Brooke’s face.

“Are we actually doing it to Pon De Replay?”

“Damn right we are!” Vanessa replies proudly. She got her song request in early and the producers approved it on Sunday morning. She knows that she’s not as good at ballroom but she likes the fact that she can use songs she likes and twist the style to fit, making it more comfortable for her. The dance she’s created is clever, even if she does think so herself. First week is all about showcasing your celebrity and what they do, what kind of person they are, so Vanessa wants to give Brooke a challenge. The first half is a straightforward quickstep and the second is the same but everything mirrored and in reverse. There’s a silly bit at the start where Brooke’s going to pretend to be interviewing Vanessa to reflect her everyday career. It’s cheesy, but that’s Strictly.

The video comes to an end and Brooke is smiling from ear to ear. “Oh my God. I love it.”

“Ah! Amazing. I’m so glad,” Vanessa beams, happy and relieved all at once.

“I mean, it looks hard. But I didn’t think any of this would be easy.”

“It’ll get easier, though! Just needs practise. And remember, we’ve got two weeks!” Vanessa reminds her, standing up and shaking herself out. “So we’ve got ages. I mean. In between all the press and social media madness, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Brooke laughs, pushing herself up from the floor. “Right, come on then, teacher. What do we start with?”

Vanessa begins showing Brooke the routine, the complex and intricate little steps and hops of the quickstep taking Brooke a little bit of getting used to. But by lunchtime, they’ve gone through a little chunk of the dance already and they’ve run it without and with the music. Vanessa’s pleased with their progress and when they stop for their lunch break they’re both exhausted, sweaty, and smiling.

“You good?” Vanessa asks Brooke, who’s taking a long swig of her drink. Her eyes widen as she nods quickly.

“Yeah! Christ, it’s so tough. You’re a good teacher, though,” Brooke says, finally finishing her water. The praise makes Vanessa blush; she’s glad she’s already red from all the dancing so it doesn’t show as much.

“You’re doin’ great. Makin’ my job easy,” Vanessa smiles at her. She bites her lip before speaking again. “Hey, you wanna come have lunch with me?”

Brooke pulls a face and pouts. “Aw, that sounds amazing but I’ve got a meeting with my agent at quarter past. To make sure you’re not committing human rights violations against me or whatever.”

Vanessa snorts a laugh, tries not to look disappointed. They promise to meet back at the studio in half an hour, and Vanessa heads to the canteen where she knows some of the other girls will be having lunch too. The studios that a bunch of them have had the foresight to block-book are great and modern, and Vanessa feels bad for girls like Jan who’s having to rehearse in a draughty church hall near Jackie’s sleepy Hounslow suburb. Pushing open the double doors, she finds Phi Phi, Jaida, Monique, Crystal and Plastique already sitting at a table and eating lunch. Vanessa dashes over.

“Beep beep, hoes! Winner coming through,” she shouts over to them cheerfully, Monique laughing and rolling her eyes long-sufferingly as Jaida shakes her head at her.

“Take several seats, bitch.”

“One’s fine, thanks,” Vanessa flutters her lashes at her, causing the other girl to laugh.

“How did you even get in through the door with your head this big?” Monique scoffs, as Vanessa chucks her bag down and rakes through it for her lunch.

“Hey, you’d be crowin’ as well if you saw what my girl can do,” she points out, ignoring the way Monique’s eyebrows fly up her face at the my girl.

“It’s not about who’s got the best dancer from the start, it’s all about the potential,” Plastique shrugs at her. Vanessa gives a laugh.

“Aw, Scarlet’s got loads of that, right?” she jibes, the other girls laughing. Plastique rolls her eyes.

“We spent half an hour on a step-ball-change. Every object in the room slowly started to merge into implements with which I could kill both her and myself,” Plastique put her head in her hands. She’d ended up being partnered with the soap star and Monique, to her badly-suppressed delight, had been given singer Monet.

“At least she’s trying to work hard,” Phi Phi sighed, her face taking on a sour expression. “Willam is killing me. She keeps doing shit wrong and if I point it out she just makes a joke about it. And she keeps dashing next door to show shit to Courtney! What the hell is up with that? Courtney’s got Blair to worry about, she doesn’t need a damn goofball interrupting her rehearsal every two minutes to add to that.”

“Where is Courtney, anyway?” Vanessa asked, taking a big bite out of her chicken and rice. She knows Courtney shares their studios too and she’s notable by her absence.

Phi Phi pulls a face in response. “Let’s just say her and Blair have a lot of work to do.”

“Well, I can’t relate,” Monique smiles smugly. “Me an’ Monet have been doing amazing.”

“So’ve me and Gigi! She’s awesome,” Crystal pipes up excitedly. Vanessa swears she can see her pupils turn into little hearts as she speaks. “She’s so hardworking. We’ve done, like, half our dance already.”

“No you haven’t, stop lying,” Phi Phi nudges her under the table with her foot. Crystal rolls her eyes, resigned.

“Okay, not half, but maybe like a quarter. An eighth? A twelfth.”

The girls explode laughing and Vanessa actually has to wipe tears from her eyes. When she calms down, she asks Jaida how her rehearsals with Yvie are going so far.

“Alright, I guess. The girl’s really great, she’s got so much talent. But the bitch won’t stop filmin’ shit for her fuckin’ vlogs! I’d leap out the damn window but our room’s on the ground floor.”

Another roar flies up from the girls. It’s always funny to see how they all gel with their dance partners, and Vanessa has never got to experience it for herself until this year. She’s so happy she’s been paired with Brooke.

After the girls finish their lunch, Vanessa and Brooke continue to rehearse. The days pass like that easily with hours spent in hold, out of hold, stepping, hopping, watching Brooke tear her hands through her messy ponytail in frustration when she can’t immediately nail a particular move. Vanessa learns that Brooke’s hard on herself and, though she never snaps or yells, Vanessa knows it annoys her having to really properly work at the tricky bits. Truth be told, Vanessa gets annoyed at herself too. She curses herself whenever Brooke struggles with something, becomes convinced she should have made the dance a little easier for her. If Brooke doesn’t pick something up quickly Vanessa is irritated at her own teaching methods. She knows Brooke wants to be the best no matter how much she plays the competition off as simply a bit of fun, and she gets annoyed when it seems like she’s not doing enough to help her achieve that.

On the whole, though, Vanessa tries not to beat herself up too much. They do seem to be making really good progress in comparison to some of the other girls, and they’ve more or less learned the whole dance by the end of the first week. It bodes well for their next few weeks together, as they both know the two-week rehearsal process is a luxury that’s not going to be afforded to them for the rest of the series. Besides, next week is full of social media madness and promo filmings and they’ve got their It Takes Two interview with Cheryl on Friday. It’s going to be exhausting.

“It’s going to be exhausting,” Brooke smiles gently, contemplating the week ahead and rubbing her eyes at the end of their Saturday night rehearsal. It’s 10pm and probably far too late and Vanessa should’ve let Brooke get an early night but she got carried away polishing up little sections with her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept you so late tonight,” Vanessa laments, frowning. Brooke frowns back, her face full of concern.

“Don’t apologise! I’m willing to stay as long as it takes. However long you think I need,” Brooke gives a small laugh, and Vanessa concedes and joins her laughter. The thought hits her that they’ve not shared too much on social media yet. Some of the pairs are giving round-the-clock updates as if they’re News 24 (she doesn’t think Aja and Farrah have stopped going live on Instagram since they began rehearsing but that’s what you get with a reality TV star as a partner), and Vanessa feels a bit guilty. She knows she’s got fans- it never gets any less crazy to say but it’s true- and she knows they’re as excited about her Strictly journey as she is. So she takes her phone out of her bag and waves it a little at Brooke.

“Hey. I know it’s late, but we’ve been workin’ so hard we kinda forgot about all the fun shit. Wanna take a few post-rehearsal selfies for Insta?”

She pauses as Brooke lets out a small laugh, suddenly feels embarrassed. “You know. If that’s your sorta thing.”

“I’m a TV presenter, Vanessa, I’m not the Prime Minister. I’m allowed to have fun,” Brooke laughs, struts up to stand beside her and faces the mirrored wall. “Go on then, Naomi Campbell, start the damn photoshoot.”

Vanessa laughs and her heart gives a little flutter as Brooke locks her fingers and rests them on her shoulder, leaning down and resting her head on them. She pouts and in turn Vanessa throws up a peace sign and sticks her tongue out. She takes a burst of five photos that will all look identical but she knows she’ll be able to find a tiny, minute difference in them all. Brooke leans over her phone as she scrolls through the photos, and suddenly jabs a finger against her screen.

“That one. It’s cute.”

Vanessa obeys orders and puts it on her Instagram story along with a timestamp and a little gif of a teddy bear falling asleep.

“Now do a video!” Brooke bounces on her toes all excited, and Vanessa has to laugh at how much she’s getting into the swing of things. Vanessa points the camera at them both, begins recording.

“Hey guys, Vanjie here with my girl Brooke Lynn, so it is…” she forgets the time, appeals to Brooke. “10.05? 10.06?”

“Way-too-late-o’clock,” Brooke chimes in, pokes Vanessa’s face teasingly. Vanessa rolls her eyes.

“We’ll go with that. An’ we have just finished a run of our full dance, you’re gonna love it, I can’t wait to show off this girl, y’all are not ready.”

Vanessa feels her face grow ever-so-slightly flushed as Brooke turns to her and smiles. “Aww. That’s cute, thanks! Oh, can we tell them what the song is?”

Vanessa faces her and laughs. “No way! We gotta wait til Monday, that’s when they all get released.”

“Please?” Brooke actually pouts. It’s too adorable and her face is so close to Vanessa’s in her attempt to fit into frame that Vanessa could totally lean forward and give her the tiniest little kiss if she wanted.

She doesn’t want to. Why the fuck did that thought just appear in her head?

“No! They’ll find out on Monday. And the dance too! No special treatment.”

“Ugh. I’m so telling my agent, this is definitely illegal. Should’ve stayed on the damn One Show.”

Vanessa bursts out laughing at Brooke’s joke, shakes her head at the camera. “I have to work with this diva. Jeez. Well, see you guys later!”

“Yeah, see you all later! If she hasn’t murdered me by then.”

“If I haven’t murdered her by then. Bye, love ya!” Vanessa signs off and stops recording, posts the video to her story as Brooke laughs. “You’re a natural at all this social media shit. Right, go get some rest. See you Monday, girl.”

“See you Monday,” Brooke smiles. Vanessa doesn’t miss the way she sort of hovers, lingering with the smile still on her face before looking to the floor and then leaving the room. Vanessa wonders what she was thinking. It couldn’t have been that important.

Before Vanessa begins to pack up she checks Instagram to see the reaction to the stuff she’s just dropped. There’s a few replies- she always gets them on her stories from fans and she tries to reply to most of them. One in particular catches her eye- a reply to the video which is peppered with heart-eye emojis and simply reads:

OHMYGOSH!!!!! You guys are SO cute together!!!

Vanessa doesn’t realise how long she’s been smiling until she’s left the studio and walking to the tube.

They both have a day off on Sunday- they all do. It’s been a long first week and they’ve all earned it. Vanessa has an ice bath because she’s forgotten how intense it is to be rehearsing all day every day with just one other person. It reminds her of the show she did that Summer with-

Well. It doesn’t matter now.

What matters now is Brooke, and Vanessa spends most of the daytime on Sunday sitting on the small sofa that’s squashed under the ceiling beam in her tiny narrow flat, curled up under a blanket and trying to figure out how to text her. She wants to make that connection with her partner, she wants her and Brooke to be close friends and to be able to go for lunch and talk about anything together and have their own little jokes and stuff like that. Lots of the dancers have that kind of connection with their girls already- Crystal and Gigi are averaging around two silly selfies a day on social media, Vanessa can hear Monique and Monet’s laughter ricocheting off the walls and down the stairs from their rehearsal room, and there is already some are-they-aren’t-they media speculation in the form of Jan and Jackie, who were papped going to get bagels in a break between rehearsals with their pinkies interlocked and small smiles on their faces. Vanessa’s not jealous of them, whatever it is they have. She’d asked Crystal about them, because she’s closer with Jan, and Crystal had laughed it off and said they’re just friends and they’re getting on very well. Vanessa has reason to doubt her, mind you. She knows chemistry when she sees it.

Vanessa finally decides to shoot Brooke a message at around six at night. She’s making a cheat meal of mac and cheese with a bunch of chorizo through it, because she damn well deserves a carb and some dairy and some oily meat. It’s when she realises that she’s made enough for a small village that she takes her phone out, messages Brooke before she can overthink it.

V: i’ve just made way too much mac and cheese, u wanna have a rehearsal room floor picnic tomorrow? x

The moment it’s sent she regrets how outrageously fucking pathetic she sounds. That is until she gets a reply around two minutes later, one that makes her face hurt with a smile.

B: No chance you’re offloading your failed masterchef attempts onto me. How do I know it’s edible? x

Her reply is flirtatious. Vanessa tries to explain it away but she can’t, so she positions her phone in front of the huge earthenware tray she’s just taken out of the oven, the breadcrumbs giving a satisfying crackle as she sticks a serving spoon into it and takes a boomerang of the strings of cheese and billows of steam that emerge as she pulls the spoon out and a golden slice of the baked pasta with it. She sends it off to Brooke without any written reply and for a moment she forgets about any potential response as hunger overtakes her. She grabs a white bowl with a small crack down its side and piles the pasta high into it, sitting back on the couch and pulling the purple blanket over her knees as she scans the channels for something to keep her company as she eats. She settles on a rerun of some 90s gameshow and as it eventually finishes, so does her dinner. It’s only then that Vanessa remembers her phone, and as she dashes back across to the kitchen counter her heart gives a giant thump of joy as she sees four messages from Brooke.

B: Omg I take it all back, I will never doubt your cooking skills again x

B: Is that chorizo???????? I’m so hungry x

B: Are you mad at me because I said it wouldn’t be edible?? I’m sorry!!!!!! x

B: Please bring some for lunch tomorrow! I’ll get us a dessert, call it an apology x

Vanessa looks at the little “x” after each one. She’s blushing before she even knows it and it’s almost like Brooke has planted real little kisses on both her cheeks.

V: i’d say it’s a date but i’m not gonna give u the satisfaction x

A reply from Brooke doesn’t come but somehow it doesn’t bother her.

They have their picnic on the floor of the rehearsal room the next day, just as had been promised. Brooke makes ridiculous noises as she takes her first bite of the mac and cheese and Vanessa pokes fun at her for buying the cakes and not baking them (but Galaxy cake bars are delicious, so she doesn’t complain too much). They make a silly video for Instagram- “Hey guys! We’ve stopped for lunch and I brought a picnic!” “Hey, I made cakes!” “Bought cakes. Bought.” - and they’re almost too full to practise afterwards but they do, until late into the night, and the day after that and the day after that. They squeeze in their photoshoot for the title sequence and an interview for the Radio Times and the days pass in a busy blur. Vanessa’s smile grows wider with each rehearsal as they become better and better at the dance and on Thursday night they run it through with no mistakes at all, Vanessa so happy that she jumps into Brooke’ arms and squeals with delight and Brooke squeezes her tight and does the same. Before they know it it’s Friday, they’re the last It Takes Two interview of the week, and the first show is a little over twenty-four hours away.

“You nervous?” Vanessa whispers to Brooke as they watch Cheryl interviewing one of the past contestants they’ve invited on to give their insight. The sister show of Strictly isn’t watched by a huge number of people but it is watched by the hardcore fans, and Vanessa is anxious to make a good impression.

“A little. I’m used to conducting the interviews, not giving them,” Brooke frowns a bit, sweeps her blonde hair over her shoulder. She turned up to the studios in a smart blue suit and orange heels and Vanessa is amazed that she hasn’t dissolved into liquid form under Brooke’s gaze.

Brooke is so beautiful, and Vanessa wonders if she’ll ever stop thinking that to herself.

Vanessa drops a shy hand to her side and takes Brooke’s, lacing their fingers together and giving them a squeeze. They hold hands and press their bodies together and look into each other’s eyes all the time as part of the dance so it’s not weird, it’s almost routine. When Brooke smiles at her, reassured and at ease, Vanessa relaxes by at least ninety percent.

They’re soon called out while a pre-recorded VT of their rehearsal footage plays and they whisper an excited hey to Cheryl in all her fake-tanned, white-toothed glory, the very vision of an Essex girl-turned-professional. Vanessa’s been interviewed by Cheryl before, last year when she was on the bench and all she had to do were some silly challenges and goof around with the other pros. This is different.

Vanessa takes a quick breath in and holds it while she smiles maniacally at the camera and Cheryl does their introduction. “Alright, now, joining us for the last interview of the week- it’s Brooke and Vanessa!”

A cheer goes up from the production crew as they both wave to the camera, and it makes Vanessa’s smile turn more goofy than she’d intended it to be. She leans into Brooke’s side as she laughs and she notices that Brooke’s got an arm resting on the headboard on the sofa behind her.

“Now, Brooke, you’ve had a fortnight of rehearsals and had to work around your busy taping schedule- what’s that been like?” Cheryl asks, leaning forward with interest. Vanessa has always liked Cheryl, mainly because an interview with her feels like a chat with an old friend and she always genuinely seems interested in what someone has to say.

“Ugh, you know what? It’s been amazing,” Brooke smiles, and Vanessa’s heart lights up in affirmation. She turns to look at Brooke and she’s already smiling at her. “Obviously it’s been tiring at times, I think I’ve had a combined total of about 10 hours of sleep this week-”

Vanessa snorts, laughs at how dramatic Brooke’s being.

“-but I wouldn’t change it. I’ve learned so much, and V’s such a good teacher. I really struck it lucky with her.”

The production team let out an “aww”, and Vanessa tries to bite back a grin and fails. Brooke’s arm goes from the headboard to rest around her shoulders and Vanessa is scared to move in case she scares her away like a butterfly.

“Now speaking of- Vanessa,” Cheryl’s face breaks into a smile as she turns to her, and Vanessa’s stomach flutters a little with nerves. “You obviously felt you struck it lucky with Brooke too, let’s remind everyone of your reaction to getting paired with her.”

Vanessa lets out a wail of protest and buries her face in her hands as the clip of their pairing is played, and she can hear Brooke creasing with laughter beside her. Her embarrassment is rewarded with Brooke squeezing her shoulder in reassurance, and Vanessa supposes it’s sort of worth it. The clip comes to an end and, as Vanessa takes her hands away from her face, she knows she’s blushing hard.

“Now, you were…I think you were a bit happy?” Cheryl teases sarcastically. Vanessa playfully glares at her, and Brooke squeezes her shoulder again. “Are you still as overjoyed with having Brooke as a partner now you’ve started to rehearse with her?”

“Aw, I’m still as happy as I was on launch night. Honestly,” Vanessa smiles at Cheryl, turns and smiles at Brooke too because she can’t help it. “She just makes it so easy because- she doesn’t stop smiling, so rehearsals are fun, and she is just the hardest-working girl…that even a word? Hardest-working…most hardworking..I don’t know, but she’s it, you know?”

Her praise is rewarded by Brooke dropping her hand down to her waist, and Vanessa’s heart gives a judder. It’s not like she’s not used to Brooke’s hands on her, but the context is different, and it throws her off ever so slightly in the best possible way.

“I think what’s nice is- I’ve wanted to be on this show for so long and it’s V’s first year with a partner, so we’re kind of doing this whole journey together, and it’s special,” Brooke smiles, and Vanessa nods in agreement, as if the movement of her head will stop the blood rushing to her cheeks in a blush.

“It is nice! Because I suppose, Brooke, you ain’t gotta compare yourself to anyone because there’s not been any partners before you,” Cheryl adds with a shrug. Vanessa smiles at her words and nods, turns to Brooke as she speaks.

“Yeah. You’re my favourite.”

Brooke’s eyes have a twinkle in them as she smiles back at her. “Aw, thanks.”

The interaction is so quick that Cheryl’s already on to her next question before she can pick up on it. “Now, Vanessa, you chose a quickstep for week one, why was that?”

Vanessa sighs a little as she thinks about it. She doesn’t want to come across too cocky, come out with because my girl’s the best and I knew she could do it in her sleep with her eyes shut, so she instead tries to come across as humble as she can. “I think because- it’s a fast dance, and it’s good to go right in at the deep end on your first week. I can see Brooke Lynn’s potential, and I know what she’s capable of, so we just sort of went for it and she’s coped so well. She’s thrived.”

“Not survived, but thrived! I love it!,” Cheryl laughs along with her. “Now, this pairing, I have heard…through the grapevine…this is a bit of a linguistically challenged pairing, am I right?”

Vanessa blinks at her. “What’s that even mean?”

Brooke howls with laughter beside her and Cheryl does the same opposite, and Vanessa pouts. She doesn’t like to look dumb, and the wounded part of her wants to remind them both that she’s the only one out of the three of them that speaks more than one language, but she lets it drop when Brooke explains it to her softly. “Like…words and stuff.”

“Oh right! Yeah, so Brooke’s got lil words for all the steps we’re doin’.”

“It just helps me remember the timing!” Brooke laughs, her turn to feel embarrassed as she covers her face with her hands.

“Yeah, so we go, like…step, hop, beans-on-toast!” Vanessa explains. Cheryl’s looking at Brooke as if she has two heads.

“What is beans on toast?!” she exclaims. Brooke shakes her head, gives Vanessa a look of admonishment.

“It’s just a little phrase, and it goes with the timing of the steps of the dance, and it helps me remember them…I won’t do it on the night, you won’t hear me say it!” Brooke laughs. She’s got the slightest hint of a blush hitting her cheeks, and part of Vanessa feels warm with the fact that the stage lights are too bright to pick up on it and it’s like a secret only she knows.

“Well, Vanessa, there’s also a revelation I’ve heard today that I’m a little bit shocked by…” Cheryl begins, and Vanessa feels nervous, as if Cheryl’s about to rip the butterflies out of her stomach and show them to Brooke as some sort of proof of any embarrassing little feelings she’s got for her. “…you’re a Strictly pro that can’t actually say the name of one of the dance moves?”

“Oh my God,” Vanessa lets out a groan. She knows instantly what Cheryl is referring to, and Brooke’s hand is wrenched from its position on her waist as she claps her hands with mirth.

“Can you say it now?” Brooke teases, and Vanessa rolls her eyes at her.

“Girl, you know I can’t!” she whines, prepares herself to try and say the offending word. “Sash-ay?”

“No!” Brooke laughs, the twinkle in her eye almost blinding.

“Sash-ay?” Vanessa hears herself, and shakes her head. “No, wait, I already said it like that.”

“It’s not like a sachet of sauce,” Cheryl supplies unhelpfully. Vanessa raises her eyebrows at her. She tries again.

“Chassé,” she finally comes out with, and a roar of satisfaction erupts from the crew behind the cameras. She laughs as she protests her lack of pronunciation. “Leave me alone, I got two languages to try an’ speak in!”

“And you can’t say chassé in either of them,” Brooke teases, sticking her tongue out at her. Vanessa finds it hard to rip her eyes away from her partner as Cheryl speaks again.

“Well, you two, you’ve been a joy to have with us today, good luck for Saturday night-”

“Thank you!”

“- Brooke and Vanessa, everybody!”

A cheer goes up from the crew, and Vanessa can’t help but giggle at the silliness that was the end of their interview. As Cheryl introduces another section of the show, Vanessa feels Brooke slip her hand into her own, squeezing it once. Vanessa squeezes back, and Brooke meets her eyes in a calm smile. It’s Friday evening, they’re off to rehearse as soon as this is over, and then it will be Saturday and their first live show as a couple. Vanessa is the best kind of nervous, and she finds herself shutting her eyes for a second as if to check she’s not dreaming.

Another squeeze of her hand from Brooke Lynn brings her back to earth with a bump, but she doesn’t mind.

[ravenforce]

I’ll Never Love Again

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 8023

Warning/s: Long AF, angst + fluff = FLUNGST

A/N: Hey loves, sorry it took awhile. I had an uncontrollable word vomit, lmao. First, I think you can read this one as a stand-alone but I recommend reading See You In A Minute first if you haven’t. I’ve put the link above if you wish to read that one too. Second, thanks @subjectx17 for collaborating with me and giving me so many good ideas. You’re an awesome another mother for our child, LOL. Third, italicized texts are flashbacks. Fourth, I apologize for any error. Lastly, this is the longest imagine I’ve ever written, I hope you guys don’t get bored. Please send me your feedback, reactions, etc. On the comment section or my ask box. Would really love to hear from you guys! Enjoy. xx

Part One | Part Three | Alt. Ending: Part 3B1

Wish I could, I could’ve said goodbye I would’ve said what I wanted to Maybe even cried for you

If I knew it would be the last time I would’ve broke my heart in two Tryin’ to save you

Day 1 - April

After the funeral, Natasha decided to go back to your shared apartment in the city, against Tony’s advice. She wanted nothing more than not to be alone with her thoughts right now but she needed a space to be able to break down completely. That’s yet another sign for Natasha that you’re really gone, gone with you is her safe space. As a spy, she was trained that emotions are weakness, and showing them is deadly but you provided her a space to express it without judgment, only care and support. She knows she has the best team in the world, and no matter what they will be there for her but no one can make her feel utterly, completely safe than you.

She took a deep breath before pushing the apartment door open. She didn’t open the lights, the room is illuminated enough by the city outside. She leaned most of her weight against the door as she took in the details of the house. She is immediately assaulted by the memory of your first day living in it.

It was a bright and sunny spring day when you finally moved into the apartment. You and Natasha stood at the threshold as you both looked at your open layout apartment. The space is small compared to your shared room in the compound, the floors are old wood, the walls certainly needed repainting but the huge windows are glorious; it bathes the whole room with sunlight. Natasha eyed you curiously, wondering whether you regret moving out. You turned to look at her, and her doubts vanished the moment she saw the excitement in your eyes.

Before she can say anything, you pulled her in a hug and picked her up. “Y/N put me down,” she warned. When you put her down, you didn’t pull away from her. Instead, you looked her deep in her eyes and smiled.

“Sorry, I’m just really happy,” you said. “I mean there’s a lot to work with here but this is ours. Our home,” you continued before you’re kissing her. She kissed you back with the same passion that tells you she’s happy too.

True there were things that needed repair in the apartment but you both loved putting in the work. The first few days after you moved in was hectic, you and Natasha decided to repaint the whole apartment in malted milk shade and varnish the old wood floor to give its shine back. Both of you enjoyed shopping for furniture immensely, having the affinity to the same style made it easier. It took nearly a week before all the furniture - the long leather couch, center and side tables, the carpets, kitchen appliances, and most especially the softest queen size bed - was delivered. You two stood by the door to survey the new face of your apartment.

“Welcome home beautiful,” you said as you wrap your arms around her shoulder.

She didn’t even try to stop the tears that run down her face and the sobs that escaped her lips. The apartment reeks of you; every corner, every piece of furniture hold a memory of you. But without you in it, it’s just a structure because you were her home, you always have been. That night, she cried herself to sleep while clutching your pillow and dreamt of the day she first met you.

***

You just got back from a tech convention in Europe and was eager to see your best friend Tony. When you arrived at Stark Industries everyone smiles and greets you, except for the new girl sitting by Pepper's old desk, which means she's a new secretary. Your breath caught the moment she looked up at you. She has the most beautiful eyes, albeit she's glaring at you.

"I need to see Stark," you said smiling broadly at the new girl.

"Name," she said very seriously, your smile faltered.

"(Y/N)(L/N)," you answered confidently. She stopped and looked at her computer before she looked back at you and said, "you don't have an appointment."

You blinked up at her. You never needed an appointment to see Tony ever but this woman, Natalie Rushman (as her desk plate says) has the audacity to stop you. You just came from a long flight, you're jet-lagged and exhausted. You decided to try patience one more time.

"Okay, but I still need to see Stark," you said as calmly as you could.

"Sorry, I can book you an appointment for tomorrow if you like," she said smugly. You gaped at her. Your patience is wearing thin.

"No, I need to see him now," you said before turning on your heels and walking to Tony's door.

In an instant, Natalie was beside the door with fire in her eyes and deeper frown. You tried to move past her and grab the doorknob but she caught your wrist. You frowned at contact; as much as you find her unbelievably gorgeous, you don't like it when strangers touch you.

"Unhand me, Ms. Rushman," you whispered while looking at her beautiful hand.

"Or what?" she asked.

You looked up at her eyes in defiance, you tried to turn the knob but she forcibly twists your wrist, flips you on your back and pin you with her body on the floor. The sound of your body hitting the floor and your grunting made Pepper poke her head out. She's confused when she saw you on the floor.

"What's going on here?" She asked as she steps out of the room and Natalie got off you.

"Hey, P. Uhm, I just wanted to see Tony," you said as you give her a hug.

"Go on in, he's been waiting for you," Pepper said after Natalie released you. Natalie was still glaring at you when you looked at her before entering Tony's office. Natalie sighed when you closed the door.

"You threw Y/N on the floor," it was more a statement than a question. Natalie just looked at Pepper as she started cackling, it was infectious that she just had to smile.

"She's Tony's honorary little sister and best friend. She has level 10 clearance even before I did," Pepper informed Natalie. She just nodded her head partially in agreement, and partially to hide her blush.

Inside Tony's office, he berated you for being late. "I'm sorry but your new secretary is tenacious," you said as you sat on the chair in front of his desk.

"That never stopped you before," Tony remarked.

"Yeah, all your other secretaries all found me charming. This one seems immune," you said smiling.

"That's why I hired her," he sassed making you roll your eyes at him.

Don't wanna feel another touch Don't wanna start another fire Don't wanna know another kiss No other name falling off my lips

Day 2 - April

Natasha woke up with the early morning with the sun beating down her face. She blinked once, twice before she’s shutting her eyes again, unable to stand the sunlight. She rolled over and reached to your side of the bed, her heart constricted when she felt nothing but cold sheets. In an instant, her eyes started to water again. You rarely leave her in bed no matter how early you’re pulled out of sleep because you know how much she hates waking up with cold sheets, so you stay next to her and watch her beautiful face as she sleeps.

You woke up earlier than Natasha the day after you moved in. You watched her sleep peacefully next to you. Devoid of the weight of the world on her shoulder she looks younger, yet still devastatingly beautiful. Even in her sleep, Natasha has you wrapped around her exquisite and skillful fingers. You reached out to tuck an errant hair out of her face gently.

'I love you, Tasha," you whispered before you caught the first rays of sunlight peeking through the curtain.

You decided you wanted to do something special for her, so you slowly and gently rolled out of your bed to make her breakfast. You gathered all the ingredients and tools you need in the kitchen as quietly as you could so as not to disturb her sleep. You're making her pancakes and bacon, her favorite. You arranged the food in a tray with coffee, orange juice, and fresh fruits. When you turned around you were surprised to see her standing on the other side of the counter and scowling at you.

"Good morning, beautiful," you greeted with a smile but she didn't return it.

"What's wrong my love?" You asked when she just continued to look at you.

"You left me, the sheets got cold," she said with a pout on her face. You would have laughed at the silliness of it but that'll only make her mood worse. You walked around the counter and pulled her in a hug. You half expected her to push you away but she didn't.

"I'm sorry. I promise I won't ever leave you in our bed again," you said kissing her temple. She just squeezed you in response before she's reaching for a bacon strip.

She was pulled out of her miserable state when she heard someone knocking on the front door. She was inclined to ignore it but whoever was on the other side was persistent.

"Come on, Nat. It's me, open up," Tony's voice called out.

Natasha wiped the tears on her eyes and face before hauling herself out of bed. When she opened the door, Tony took one look at her before pushing his way inside. Only when Tony started unpacking various boxes of food on the counter did she actually noticed them. When Natasha joined him on the counter, he spun around and tugged her on a hug.

"I know it hurts but I promised her I'll look after you. So please, let's try to eat; Pepper and Morgan made these," Tony said against her hair.

Nat blinked away the tears that gathered in her eyes again to eat. They ate in relative silence, Tony tried to engaged her with talks of works, of Morgan, which she only listened to intently. After eating, Tony forced her to go shower while he makes tea so they can watch a movie after. When Nat walked back out on the living room in one of your hoodies, Tony is already on the couch with a steaming cup of tea from your favorite tea set and flipping through one of your photo album.

Nat sat down heavily beside him, and watch as he flips through the pages. Tony has a sad smile on his face. He was the brother you never had. He believed in your genius when everyone doubts, he provided you the agency to explore and create at Stark Industries, he guided and molded you to be the successful woman you were. He flipped another page in the album and runs his finger over a photo of you smiling with the team.

"If you know how it ends, would you prefer she never joins the team?" Tony said as he blindly looks at your photo. It’s been a recurring thought in his head; if he never recruited you, would you still be alive now?

"No," Nat said, her voice cracking. "If it means I never get to love her, no.”

Don't wanna give my heart away To another stranger Or let another day begin Won't even let the sunlight in No, I'll never love again I'll never love again, oh, oh, oh, oh

Day 31 - May

It has been a month since she lost you but Nat felt like it has been forever. She felt numb every day without you by her side but today she woke up determined to try and do something other than get up, binge watch mindless TV, and sleep. She showered, got dressed in her best shirt and your leather jacket, and head to SHIELD HQ. Signature poker face in place, she walked in and ignored the looks some agents gave her and went directly to the command center where Fury and Agent Hill is.

"Natasha," Agent Hill greeted in surprise. Fury turned towards her.

"I want to go back to work," Nat answered simply.

"Is that what you think is best?" Fury asked before turning back to the monitors displaying an on-going mission. The atmosphere in the room is thick and intense.

Natasha casts her eyes on the monitor and was brought back to the time she had to watch your first mission from HQ instead of being in the field with you.

One minute they're watching your first mission with Tony on the monitors at the compound, now the screen's are pitch black. She can hear Agent Hill trying to reach you and Tony but all that can be heard on the line was static. Natasha is growing agitated by the minute, she's waiting for Fury to order her to suit up but it didn't come.

"Director, shouldn't we be sending back up?" Steve asked.

"Stand down, Agent (Y/L/N) and Stark can handle themselves," Fury said before walking away.

It's been hours since they last had contact with your team. To hell with Fury, Natasha thought. All she can think about was finding you and get you home safely. It's been almost a year since she first met you at Stark Industries, and she couldn't admit to herself that she has fallen for you. If she's being honest, how could she not?

You're a genius just like Tony but low-key, you're funny, caring, and beautiful if not a little annoying sometimes. You seemed to have developed an affinity of pushing her buttons, and being a general pain in her ass. She wasn't really annoyed though, she just doesn't want you to know that you're stupid nerdy jokes gets through her. She doesn't want you to know that she's falling for you because that's against her training as an assassin. Love is for children after all.

After another hour, Nat couldn't take it anymore. She stood up abruptly and was walking towards the door when Steve caught her arm.

"Where are you going?" Steve asked without letting her go.

"I'm going to find them," Nat answered, her blood boiling by the minute.

"Fury said," Before Steve can finish, Nat cut her off.

"Fuck what Fury said! It's been hours, Steve! For all we know, (Y/N) could be hurt or worse, dying out there and needed our help!" she shouted. The Avengers bristled at Nat's rare and blatant display of emotion.

"Agent Romanoff, miss me?"

She turned around on the spot so fast, she had whiplash. Standing at the threshold of the command center is you with minor injuries and dirty titanium suit. You smiled cheekily at her; Nat lost it with that smile. She power walked towards you with a fire burning in her eyes. Before you can say anything else, she had her hand at the back of your neck and her lips against yours. You smiled at the kiss before you closed your eyes and kissed her back.

"Agent Romanoff," Nat heard Maria call her. She blinked once, twice to clear away the memory. When she looked at Maria, she saw the concern in her eyes.

"Take a few more weeks before going back to work, Natasha," Fury said without looking back from the monitors. Natasha wanted to argue but she didn't have the energy to do so. So she just nods, smiles at Maria before walking away.

Meanwhile, at Stark Industries; Tony walked in on your lab for the first time since. He walked around your very tidy lab, reminiscing all the nights both of you spent there inventing things, fixing things, sometimes even blowing up things. He was leafing through some of the papers you left on your table when he came across your last unfinished project.

He gasped when he realized what it is. Oh, Y/N you little genius, he thought.

He turned around the lab and found what he was looking for. He looks through the glass and the little vials you kept for your project. He looked through your notes again, he can finish it. He will finish this project for you, he will finish your legacy.

When we first met I never thought that I would fall I never thought that I'd find myself Lying in your arms And I want to pretend that it's not true Oh baby, that you're gone 'Cause my world keeps turning, and turning, and turning And I'm not moving on

Day 61 - June

Tony moved your lab next to his at the cabin, it has four glass walls that allow him to see through. Sometimes he finds himself staring at the adjacent door and waiting for you to walk in with your favorite cup of coffee, and nerdy sweaters. It's been a week since he made the discovery of your last project, with minor changes in your computation, FRIDAY deemed a 99% success rate should Nat decides she wants it. Pepper walked in at the lab with a cup of coffee, Tony accepted it with a smile. Pepper sat next to him while he looks at the vial cabinet.

"If this works, it'll be groundbreaking," Tony said as he blows over his coffee.

Pepper just nods, she knows your a genius just like Tony and she's seen you invent technologies with him before but this is a breakthrough in genetics. "You should call Nat," Pepper whispered.

"I should," he answered before pulling his phone out and dialing Nat's number. It took a couple of rings before Nat picked up.

"Stark, everything all right? Morgan all right?" she asked. It warms Tony's heart that Nat cares so much for his daughter. Pepper left a kiss on his forehead before leaving the lab to give them some privacy.

"Yes, she's peachy. I need you to come to the cabin though," Tony answered. Something about his tone makes Natasha worried.

"I'll be there in a few hours," Nat said before hanging up.

An hour after, Nat arrived at the cabin. She held off all her questions and just followed Tony out back where she knows Tony's lab is. She was surprised to see the lab expanded, but was floored when they walked inside; adjacent to Tony's lab is your lab, just like how she remembered it. Even your ridiculous sign - do not disturb, unless you're my girlfriend Natasha - was still up at your door.

"You should sit down for this," Tony said mentioning for your chair. Nat raised an eyebrow at him, her heartbeat is becoming erratic.

"What's happening Stark?" she asked as she sits on your working chair.

"I found Y/N's last project," Tony paused handing Nat your notebook. She opened it but none of it made sense to her, it's all notes and formulas.

"Y/N was developing a tech to help two women conceive without the need for a sperm donor," Tony said with a pause to let it sink it. Nat gasped as she remembered.

"Hey, how many children do you want to have?" You asked while spooning her in bed, after one particularly gruesome mission.

"Why would I want children? I already have you," Nat said before letting out a laugh.

"I'm serious," you whined while pouting over her shoulder and biting her gently. She turned lightly in your arms to look at you.

"Fine, just one. The two of you will be trouble together," she answered when she saw the serious look in your eyes. You beamed at her answer.

"You bet," you said before you're peppering her face with kisses. Nat squealed and squirmed against your arms but she couldn't move away, you have your arms secured around her midsection.

"She'll be beautiful just like a mini you," you continued as you settle down and cuddled her again. You have a goofy smile on your face as you imagine a little redhead running around your apartment, jumping on your bed on early Saturday mornings to beg you to go to the park.

"I bet she'll be a nerd like you," Natasha teased. You just laughed, there's a huge chance she would be, and you would love nothing more than to geek out with your daughter or show her your lab or go to science conventions together.

"I finished it," Tony's voice cut through the haze in Nat’s head. It took a couple of seconds before she actually processed what has been said.

"It didn't take long, Y/N basically had everything right. The only question now is if you want it," Tony continued. She wanted to say something but at that moment she was gripped and overwhelmed by pain and terror. Tony walked to where she's seated and he rubbed soothing patterns at Nat's back to calm her down.

"Breath, Nat," he said calmly. When her breathing came back to normal she looked at Tony.

"No pressure Nat, it's your decision."

"I'll do it," she confirmed after a heartbeat. Tony nodded and pulled her in a hug.

Don't wanna feel another touch Don't wanna start another fire Don't wanna know another kiss No other name falling off my lips Don't wanna give my heart away To another stranger Or let another day begin Won't even let the sunlight in No, I'll never love

Day 122 - August

After the fertilization process, Nat agreed with Pepper and Tony begging her to move in the cabin. Tony built her an extension, a complete duplicate structure of the cabin with the kitchen and the living room as the center and common room to both cabins. Nat left the apartment in the city intact but moved your valuables at the cabin. She liked living with the Starks, it keeps the loneliness at the minimum. Morgan helps her stir clear from dark thoughts by keeping her occupied on a daily basis.

It has been two months since the Starks helped Nat conceiving, and they just finished breakfast when she suddenly felt overwhelmingly nauseous. She wanted to go to the bathroom but it's a little too far, her vision is blurring, and the need to puke was incessant. She threw up violently at the kitchen sink, Pepper was behind her and holding her hair in an instant. Pepper caught Tony's eyes across the room.

"Daddy, is Auntie Nat okay?" Morgan inquired.

Tony smiled at her daughter. "Yes sweetheart, she probably just hates daddy's toasts," he joked.

Morgan bought it. "It's rather burnt daddy," Morgan answered before Tony walked to a cabinet. He the kit to Pepper.

When her heaving passed, Nat rinsed her mouth and drunk the pro-offered water from Pepper. Pepper smiled before she deposited the kit in front of her. She looked at it wearily, Pepper can see the fear in her eyes.

"Come on, I'll come with you," Pepper said. They went to the bathroom in Nat's room. It took a couple of minutes before she came back out with a dazed look on her face.

"It worked," she said as she looks at Pepper.

"Oh, Nat! Congratulations," Pepper said as she wrapped Natasha in a hug. Nat collapsed in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Pepper guided their bodies on the floor. She held Natasha as she cried buckets of tears.

"We're supposed to have this baby together but she's gone," Nat said between hiccups and tears. "Now, I'm having her on my own," she continued.

Pepper doesn't have the words to console her friend, nothing gets past the Black Widow's defenses but you did. Natasha gave you her heart, her trust and in return you showed the Black Widow that love is not a weakness but strength. You are her best friend, her partner, her family and she lost you while the world regained theirs. It was unfair and Nat tried so hard not to be angry and bitter but she is, even for a little bit. Pepper doesn't know how much time passed before Nat's tears subsided.

"It's so unfair, P. Y/N should be here, she deserves to be here," Nat whispered before she closed her eyes and fell asleep in Pepper's arms.

Tony came up and found them on the floor. He helped Pepper put Nat on her bed and tuck her in. Pepper sighed, she's never seen Nat this devastated. Tony kissed his wife before attending to the person who's knocking on their front door. When he got downstairs, Morgan already opened the door to a familiar face.

"Danvers," he greeted. Carol just smiled at him.

***

Two hours later, Nat woke up with dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Then she remembered what happened, she turned towards the side table and saw the PT with glaring double lines on it. She stood up and walked towards the balcony overlooking the growing willow tree outside. She smiled seeing a familiar blonde head standing in front it, hand carefully placed on the trunk of the tree. She walked down the stairs, crept silently outside, and watched Carol from a few feet away.

"Your crush can be seen from outer space, and Y/N still missed it," Nat teased. Carol chuckled, caressing the trunk of the tree before turning towards Nat. Nat smiled at the Captain before walking towards her and pulling her in a hug.

"Y/N only had eyes for you," Carol said but without bitterness.

Carol came as soon as he heard the tech works. Why? She doesn't really know why. They sat against the trunk of the tree, overlooking the lake.

"That's not true. Remember that stupid party Tony threw after the snap?" Nat asked.

"Yeah, a futile attempt to lift everyone's spirit," Carol said putting air quotes on the attempt. Nat let out a full unadulterated laugh. Carol smiled, this might as well be the first time Nat laughed for a while.

"Yeah, I got really jealous that night," Nat admitted after her bouts of laughter. Carol gaped at her.

After finding out that there's nothing they could to reverse the snap and killing Thanos, Tony decided to hold his usual party. It's marginally lowkey compared to any parties he ever threw, then again half of the population is gone and everyone is still adjusting. The team is dispersed in every corner of the room, talking quietly with each other. You on the other hand, simply sat on the bar, sipping your favorite bottle of beer and watching the crowd. The usual upbeat energy when the team gathers is now subdued.

You were lost in thought that you didn't hear someone coming up behind you until they cleared their throat to speak.

"Hey Y/N," Carol greeted you with a smile.

You turned around and pulled Carol in a long hug. "Hi, alien girl," you can't help but tease. You know she's not really an alien but you adored that nickname, and only you are allowed to call Carol that. You gave her a kiss on the cheek before pulling away but not entirely stepping away from her comfort zone while you started chatting.

From across the room, Natasha watched the two of you covertly. Something about the way Carol smiles, laugh, and look at you makes her skin crawl. She had to fight the urge to come up to the two of you and kiss you senseless in front of Carol. Various members of the team come up to you and Carol to chat, Nat just stayed back and watched. Then it clicked, Carol has a crush on you and you're oblivious.

It took a good two more hours from the moment she figured Carol's crush before everyone called it a night. Nat went to your shared room without you, you didn't really mind. You thought she might be sleepy, Nat really isn't the party kind of person. So when you entered the room and found her standing by the window. You tried chatting her up and telling her all about Carol's stories about space.

"If you're that interested, maybe you should be with her," Nat said before she can stop herself. That stopped you on your track to the closet.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked clearly confused.

"You deserve someone like Carol," Nat said, poker face in place. You gritted your teeth. You entered your room happy to see your friends, now you're confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"I see the way you look she looks at you. You deserve someone like Carol; strong, beautiful, and good," she answered. Putting emphasis on good.

You deflate when you realized what's happening. You walked up to her slowly as not to startle her. You cupped her face and waited for her to look at you. When she did, you smiled.

"Natalia Alianova Romanova, I want you," you assured her. "And I chose you, I'll choose you in a heartbeat, over and over again. No questions asked."

You leaned in to kiss her forehead, her nose, both her cheeks and her lips. She can't help but smile a little. She knows you're telling her the truth, she can read you best.

You pulled inches away from her lips. "Jealous is very unbecoming of the black widow," you said and she smacked your arms playfully. And just like that, the tension is gone and your Natasha is back.

"Nat," Carol whispered. She felt bad, she never wanted to get in the way of your relationship. She values your honor as much as she values hers to put you in a compromising situation. She still wants to apologize even for simply harboring feelings for you.

"It's okay, I don't blame you. Y/N is a beacon of light in my life, you'll have to be stupid not to love her," Nat said as she reaches for Carol's hand. She’s way past being jealous and insecure, in the end they both lost you anyway.

"I miss her, Nat. I can't imagine how much worst it is for you," Carol admitted.

"Yeah but we survived the war, we have to survive this too," Nat said looking back to the lake without letting go of Carol's hand.

"Maybe life is more than just surviving," Carol said. "Especially now," she squeezes Nat's hand. Nat smiled. Maybe Carol's right.

"Will you visit more often? I like having you here. Tony can still be annoying," Nat said before looking back at Carol.

Carol chuckled before nodding, "I'd love to."

I don't wanna know this feeling Unless it's you and me I don't wanna waste a moment, ooh And I don't wanna give somebody else the better part of me I would rather wait for you, ooh

Don't wanna feel another touch Don't wanna start another fire Don't wanna know another kiss Baby, unless they are your lips

Day 274 - January

At 5 months pregnant, Nat kept being active to prevent herself from getting too heavy and too dependent on anyone else. She and the baby are generally healthy but the Starks are pulling all the stops to care for Nat. Tony bans her from doing heavy lifting, revoked her access to the gym without supervision, and puts her on a strict 8-hour sleep routine. Pepper cooks her healthy meals, sometimes teach her to cook as well. Every day, she hikes for an hour around the perimeter of the estate with Morgan and Pepper as well.

Sometimes, members of the Avengers come by the cabin to visit for a couple of days to catch up and check on everyone's general wellness. In the earlier days of her pregnancy, she would sometimes drive to see Clint's family. She kept in touch with Laura but she hasn't visited them again since she got pregnant. Today, Pepper and Nat decided to make a trip to Clint's family home with Morgan. Tony agreed it'll be great for everyone especially Morgan to meet other children.

When Pepper pulled up in front of Clint's house, Laura was already at the front porch waiting. When she saw Nat exit the vehicle, she ran towards her and immediately enveloped her in a hug.

"You are the prettiest pregnant woman I have ever seen," Laura said when she pulled back. Pepper chuckled.

"I told her that too," Pepper said. Laura hugged her too, they met a few times in the past.

"And you must be?" Laura asked as she caught Morgan's eyes from behind Pepper's legs.

"Morgan Stark, please to meet you," she whispered before shaking Laura's proffered hand.

Laura smiled and hauled them inside the house. Morgan was delighted to meet other children, albeit older than her. Everyone adored her, she's smart, polite, and very charismatic. The three women busied themselves with lunch while the Barton kids show Morgan around. After a sumptuous lunch at the front yard, the Barton's deemed teaching Morgan archery is the best way to let the afternoon past; Pepper volunteered to supervise.

"Do you think they can see us where they are?" Nat asked as she watches the kids play. Laura's watching her.

It's been 9 months since you and Clint gave up your life to save the world but the pain and the hole both of you left never ceased aching. If there's anyone in the world who understands Nat's pain it is Laura, they both lost the most important person in their lives and is forced to carry on without them.

"I really don't know Nat. I hope so," Laura answered as she turns towards her children. "Y/N is proud of you, that I'm sure of."

Nat didn't want to cry, again and especially in public. But she's pregnant, emotional, and hormonal; she couldn't help it. She didn't even bother wiping the fat tears rolling down her cheeks, soaking the sweatshirt she's wearing - your Harvard sweatshirt.

"I'm scared Laura. What if I'm not fit to be a mother?" she whispered loud enough for Laura to hear. It's been a recurring notion in her head, her greatest fear. Building a family together was something you wanted together, without you by her side, she's not sure if she's strong enough to do it.

"Shh. You know that's not true. Y/N knows you'll be great," Laura said as she pulled Nat for a hug.

"What if I'm not fit to be a mother? I'm an ex-assassin for goodness sake," Nat asked as you lie together in your bed, your head nestled at the crook of her neck.

"Don't be silly. You'll be amazing," you slur. The lone finger she has on your naked back, and her steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're great with Morgan, and the Bartons," you answered.

"And if you can tolerate Tony and I, you can do anything," you continued.

You both laugh at that. It's true, you and Tony are worst than children. She kissed the top of your head. The moment you felt her lips against your hair, you lifted your head from her neck, which made her immediately catch your lips.

"I can do anything as long as I'm with you," Nat said after she released your lips.

"I'll always be with you," you swore it in your head. You will or you'll die trying.

"Besides, you're not raising this child alone. You know you'll always have us," Laura tried to console her one more time as she wiped the tears in Nat's face.

When it was time to go the Bartons’ crowded the car to say goodbye to Morgan and everyone.

"Auntie Nat, can we come to see you when the baby is out?" One of the Barton kids asked.

Nat smiled genuinely at her, "of course, I would love that." Nat poked her head out of the window to kiss the top of her head.

Don't wanna give my heart away To another stranger Don't let another day begin Won't let the sunlight in Oh, I'll never love again Never love again Never love again Oh, I'll never love again

Day 365 - April

Yesterday, Carol, Thor, Bucky, Bruce, and Peter arrived at the cabin to remember you. Nat was overwhelmed when she woke up from her afternoon nap to find the team huddled in the kitchen having some drinks. Peter immediately pulled Nat for a side hug when he saw her enter the room. Nat couldn’t help but share his usual enthusiasm, it has been a while since they’re all gathered together anyway. Peter visits often but recently, his visits are few and far between because of school and working alongside Tony.

Today is the first anniversary of your death. Nat woke up extra early to start her daily routine of drinking her coffee and talking to you on the tree earlier than usual. She tiptoed down the stairs as silent as she could in her pajamas and your favorite leather jacket. The house is as still as daybreak, everyone seems to still be asleep. The sun has barely peaked out of the horizon, the sky still a mix of blues and violets when she stepped out of the cabin.

“Good morning, moya lyubov’,” she greeted the growing willow tree, one hand clasped around your favorite mug and the other flat on the tree’s trunk.

Nat stepped even closer to the trunk and leaned her forehead against it. She smiled a little when she felt the tree’s sturdiness against her head. You’ve always felt that way for her - strong and sturdy. You were a presence that’s always there to ground her, protect her, support her, and catch her. There under the shade of the tree planted with your ashes, she felt like you never left her.

“I still miss you every day,” she whispered.

It may have been a year, yes but she does miss you and think of you every day. There’s not a waking moment in which she does not wish that you’re still there with her, experiencing the miracle you created for her. She wishes you’re there every morning in your bed, cuddling her and rubbing her swollen belly. She wishes you’re there to caring for her every time your daughter pulls a tantrum inside of her. She wishes you’re there every night, with your head on her chest and telling your daughter stories about being an Avenger or biology, technology, and space.

“I wish you’re here to see her soon,” she said as she pulls away from the trunk.

The sun has fully risen now, bathing the trees and the lake in soft warm light. Ever since you died, Nat felt like a part of her died with you too but ever since she got pregnant she felt like she officially started healing. She will forever be impaired in a way by your loss but not only did you leave her a part of you; you’ve given her a chance to be whole again too. In your daughter, she found a reason to start living again. In your daughter, she found her purpose once more.

***

Nat took a couple of minutes more just to enjoy the warmth of the morning sun, the cool breeze and the stillness of the morning before she literally heard to whole cabin waking. She touches the trunk one more time before she turned on her heel to go back inside. She hasn’t taken more than 5 steps when she suddenly felt something wet dripping down her leg. Oh shit, she thought. She wanted to move or call for help but she was frozen by surprise.

Thankfully, Tony just stepped out of the porch. When they lock eyes, Tony immediately knew something was wrong. They’ve gotten really close this past year, leaning on each other when bouts of loneliness and missing you hits. In the earlier days after you passed, they’ve spent countless nights in the apartment drinking, eating takeouts, and sharing stories about you. They’ve spent more time together when Nat moved into the cabin and started the fertilization process where Tony tells her stories about your childhood as a way to entertain Nat in the table.

“What’s wrong?” he asked the moment he was by Nat’s side. Nat only looked at her feet, Tony followed her gaze.

“Oh shit,” Tony said just in time when Pepper and Carol came out of the porch looking for them.

“What’s wrong?” Pepper asked.

“Nat’s water already broke,” Tony answered while she guides Nat back to the porch. She’s not even due for at least a week more.

“I’ll take the car out,” Pepper said immediately.

“I’ll fly her. It’ll be faster,” Carol suggested.

That broke Nat out of her trance, there’s no way Carol Danvers is flying her to the hospital. They will look ridiculous. She would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it if she’s not terrified that if she does your daughter would suddenly pop out of her. She was just about to protest when she heard Tony gave Carol the clear. Carol didn’t even change out of her pajamas before she’s carrying Nat in a bridal carry.

“We will be there as soon as we can,” Tony said before Carol’s flying away. Nat immediately felt the change in the temperature as Carol fly her over to the city hospital.

“I swear I will murder you after this, Captain,” she said through the sound of swooshing air but Carol just laughed when she heard her.

Carol created a crater in front of the hospital when she landed, almost took the door off its hinges as she entered the emergency room and demanded someone to attend to Natasha. Even in her pajamas and windswept hair, Carol still exudes power and leadership; just like Steve used to. She has the kind of power in her voice that can persuade anyone to follow her. Nat was impressed but she couldn’t focus on anything else other than the painful contractions. The doctors were quick to check on her.

“Nurse, prep an OR. She’s ready to deliver,” the attending pediatric surgeon said after they checked on Nat.

****

Inside the operating room, Nat is experiencing the most excruciating pain she has ever had to go through in her entire life. Pain even worse than any torture she ever had to endure as a KGB agent. She’s covered in sweat, and tears are flowing down her face as the doctor instructed her to push one more time. She wished you were there holding her hand and murmuring soft words of love and assurance in her ears. She felt like she’s being torn apart from the seam, and inside out when she barely made out the doctor was saying.

“Almost there, one more push and she’s out,” the doctor said. Nat took one deep breath and pushed as hard as she could.

“She’s out,” the doctor exclaimed. Nat smiled and fell back down the bed when she heard your daughter’s first cry.

“Would you like to hold your baby?” The nurse asked.

Nat only smiled and nodded before the nurse is handing her the most precious little girl in the world. Nat was floored when she got a good look at your baby’s face.

“Hi beautiful,” she greeted the little miracle in her arms. Nat couldn’t stop the fresh bout of tears that ran down her face.

“You look so much like her,” she whispered to your baby before the nurse needed to take her away. She leaned back down the bed as the full force of delivering a baby caught up to her. She fell asleep almost immediately.

Nat woke up to an empty pristine white room, it was so white she had to shield her eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room.

“Hey beautiful,” she heard someone say beside her. She knew that voice, she would recognize that voice anywhere in a heartbeat. When she turned she was struck by two things. First, she couldn’t believe her eyes. After a year without seeing your face, there you are smiling at her again. Second, she was terrified and confused. If she’s seeing you, does that mean she’s already dead too?

“No, you’re not dead, silly,” you said as if you could read her mind.

“What’s happening?” Nat asked as she laces your fingers together.

“I don’t have much time. I just want you to know that I’m so proud of you,” you said before Nat’s bursting into tears again.

“I miss you so much Y/N,” she said between sobs. You sat down next to her bed and pulled her in a hug.

“Shh, you’re okay. You’ll be okay,” you kissed the top of her head just like you used to, she sighed heavily. “I miss you too, Tasha. I love you so much. Both of you,” you said before leaning down to kiss her lips. Nat closed her eyes.

***

Nat blinked her eyes open to a view of a plain white hospital room. She discreetly wiped her eyes of the tears she carried over from the dream world. Logically, she knows you’re not going to walk in on the door with your daughter in your arms but for a moment she closed her eyes and relished the feeling of momentary happiness that dream gave her. She was pulled out of her daydreaming when Thor, Bucky, Bruce, Peter, and Tony walked in your room talking excitedly.

Pepper and Morgan, along with a nurse pushing a crib quickly followed the team inside her room. In an instant, Nat is smiling and the room quieted. Morgan climbed in Nat’s bed and immediately gave her a hug, Nat hugged her back.

“Auntie Nat, she’s so cute,” Morgan whispered excitedly in her ears. Nat smiled wider.

“Just like you darling,” she answered. Morgan beamed and settled to sit next to her.

Tony picked the little miracle carefully from the crib and rocked her gently. Tony smiled at Nat from the center of the room.

“Nat, she’s beautiful,” Tony said before walking towards the bed and depositing the little angel in Nat’s arms.

“She really is,” Nat said as she admired her daughter’s little sleeping face.

“Have you decided on a name?” Carol asked smiling.

“Asya,” Nat answered simply.

Bucky chuckled, which made everyone turn to him. He smiled at Natasha.“It means resurrection in Russian,” Bucky answered the silent question.

Nat smiled and nodded at him before turning back to Asya. Everyone understood the choice, it’s fitting. Not only is Asya born on the day you died, she’s also a spitting image of you.

“Asya Romanova-Y/L/N,” Tony enunciated slowly. “Welcome home.”

Tag: @subjectx17 @natthisback @5aftermidnight

[evening-blossoms]

So um. I'm a total idiot and forgot an entire day of my own challenge. I was gonna keep it that way since nobody had noticed but... that day was something I'd wanted to talk about for a while so...

Welcome to the very late and out-of-schedule day 10 of my SGE Challenge

Characters I would rewrite

Buckle down cause oooooh boy do I have shit to say - and because of this I'll be deviating from what I usually do and write a rant post instead! Given I don't want to make a way too long post, I'll simply go over a brief explanation of why they're in the list and what I'd change.

Kei of Foxwood (tw: drugging mention)

So this fucking asshole here apparently will get a redemption arc uh. I Actually already talked about this in this post I submitted but I will go over it again because it was kinda poorly worded imo (especially because it was written by sleep-deprived me at 3am)

Which is poorly driven given it starts with "Oh No! My beloved Rhian is dead, what shall be of me without my dear?". No. A good redemption arc should start with "Fuck I did something terrible and genuinly regret this and want to work on becoming a better person and fixing the mess I've made." Also, seems like Kei's form of redemption will be death and no, he should live with the consequences of what he's done.

Speaking of which - his redemption will also feel like an insult to the readers because seriously? He's way past redemption point for me now. He already was from QFG when he drugged Dot (which was something quite unecessary and Soman used an Extremely complicated and sensitive topic for the sake of shock value - but that's a whole new rabbit hole I'm not jumping into right now). And in ACOT he follows Rhian's orders which include attacking practically defenseless teenagers

So with that in mind, I'd either have Kei die the piece of shit he is or rewrite his arc from QFG in order to make a good redemption. First, erase that part with Dot and find another way to get to the keys. Again, it was an act that can be considered violence against women written down just for shock value. Given we do not have other scenes with Kei (except for the dungeons one), I'll leave it that for QFG.

In ACOT, start on his very first actual scene - the dinner scene. Have him hesitant on following Rhian's orders there, and perhaps hint it goes a bit deeper than hesitance. Then escalate it to him openly challenging Rhian's orders during that moment before the Blessing. The attack on SGE would be the first moment we see a greater act from him - maybe somehow going behind Rhian's back to stop that attack??? His last scene in the book is during the carriage ride with Sophie - when Kei tells her he's been going behind Rhian's back to stop the attacks he was able to, and knew he had to fix he'd made when he locked Tedros in the dungeons back in QFG. He agrees to help her somehow - but it goes terribly wrong when Japeth survives.

I myself still need to see a bit more how that could be well executed but that's the basic idea - have Kei's actions start from much earlier and have doing the right thing as motivation, not his love for Rhian - if anything, that should be a source of struggle.

Hort of Bloodbrook

This is can be either a rewrite of his own arc or a rewrite of the light he's written in.

He is a Nice Guy tm. Lets not try to pretend he isn't because he is.

He spends the entire first trilogy obssessing over Sophie, and acting entitled to her because he's a guy who's "genuine and truthful" or what so ever. Sure, Sophie might not be a perfect innocent girl and she did treat people who cared for her like shit at times, but that doesn't change the fact she never liked him. And even though she was wrong in parading him around like a "suitor" when trying to win Tedros' attention, she never again makes mention to liking Hort, or wanting to date him, or what so ever, and honestly, good for her! You should never date someone just because they have feelings for you.

Liking someone doesn't make you entitled to having them, and it doesn't make them obligated to like you back. And this what Hort can't understand. And not to mention he acts pretty sexist during the School Years:

"Every time he was free of rivals for Sophie’s attention, they always returned, more meddling than ever. Why couldn’t these toads mind their own business? Or die like Rafal did? True, he’d had Sophie to himself these past six months, but most of that was spent waiting out her I’m-an-Independent-Woman phase..." Quests for Glory, chapter 9: "Who Would Want a Hort?"

And also later during ACOT, in which he treats Nicola pretty badly

“Not bad enough, whatever it is,” Hort’s voice said, hijacking the demon. “He got us into this mess by fawning over Rhian like a lovedrunk girl.”

“Oh, so being a ‘girl’ is an insult now?” Nicola’s voice ripped, the demon suddenly looking animated in agreement. (A Crystal Of Time, chapter 5: Sophie's Choice)

There are other examples but I don't want to digress so this is how Hort is. I'd like to rewrite him into a person who had a immature crush on a girl and bent over backwards to get her attention - all of this a product of his own insecurity - but that grows out of it and in the process, also into a mature person who's confident in himself.

Also, in case someone doesn't understand: the problem isn't a crush. Having crushes is totally normal and ok, and so is not having them! The problem is when your crush over someone becomes nearly obssessive because of your immaturity and inner problems.

And as I was gonna talk about the light Hort's written in: all of this bullshit, and he's written as the nice underdog who we are supposed to root for. Soman keeps romanticizing him and that kind of behavior and that's terrible. So I'd either change Hort's behavior or write him in the light of what it truly is.

Rhian of Foxwood

Honestly? I liked him as a villain. I have no problem with him believing he was doing Good - in fact, I liked it! It's a good contrast to the previous villains, who knew they were Evil, wanted to be this way and took pride in it.

What I would change are just two things: one is that last kiss scene with Sophie during chapter 25 of ACOT, since it was absolute bullshit after all the shit he did to her which I don't feel the need to list - we all know it.

Second thing, I'd have made him a seer! Soman missed a huge potential when he made Rhian a Sader without giving him the seer abilities. That whole "Third Mysterious Pen" deal was unecessary, and it could be replaced by Rhian's visions.

And guys, come on - EVIL SEER IS A DOPE CONCEPT.

Nicola of Woods Beyond

Don't get me wrong, I love Nicola - and this is kind of why she's in this list, actually.

She's an amazing character - bookworm represent! She's also one of the few poc representation this book has, so I like it went to someone as amazing and smart as Nic. 

So for that I think Nicola should have been explored more. She's usually put as background character and only brought up when it's convenient - she's basically plot device. Which sucks because again, she's awesome. I'd have explored her ability to apply what she learns in stories to real-life issues a bit more, and paired her up with Agatha more times! Both are brilliant girls and I feel Agatha was at times dumbed down so Nicola could solve the problems, and honestly, I hate it when a character is dimmed so the other can shine.

So I'd have put them together - Agatha, experienced and quick-thinker, and Nicola, an extremely smart girl who doesn't really have half the experience Agatha has in the Woods. They both learn from each other - it's a deal of teacher (Agatha) learning from the student (Nicola). 

And allow me to push the Nicphie agenda here - I'd totally expand her relation with Sophie - explored their feelings going from mutual hatred to mutual respect to liking each other to very lesbian love. The Best enemies to lovers.

Also, SOMAN WHAT WAS THAT OF CAVING IN THE SCHOOL FOR EVIL AND SADER TELLING THE DEANS TO ACCEPT HER I DEMAND EXPLANATIONS

And lastly I'd remove the Hicola part super unecessary lmao

So that's it! I actually have some more to talk about but I didn't know how to word it properly and I don't want to make a super long post lmao. I might make a part two of this, but separate for the challenge!

I apologize for the disruption in schedule, I legit forgot day 10 lmao. I'll be doing Day 13 tomorrow so hopefully everything will go back to normal!