#i tried applying to other places that would lead to careers and they didn’t even interview me i got rejected then bam… promotion

[hotgurl]

i got promoted by the way but my training will be a few months

[whoiskt]

2022 draws to a close... it is time now... the questions...

1: What did you do in 2022 that you’d never done before?

WENT TO THE OCEAN!!! BABEY WE FINALLY MADE IT!

Also wrote a TV pilot script which has altered the course of my future in ways that are yet to be determined....

I did some other things, of course, but nothing as big as those. Like, I went to the renaissance faire, and tried hot pot, poisoned myself with mold. Just a tastes of some firsts.

2: Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I made... so many. It was too much. 

Read 10 books--- Yeah, I technically have started and failed to complete many books. This does include Dracula -_- I’m so bad at finishing things. I’m trying to finish one before New Years.

Go to an event I wouldn’t normally attend--- I mean, I did go to the ren faire... so I want to count this.

Run a mile in less than 12 minutes outdoors--- I didn’t try lmao once it was warm enough to run outdoors I had completely forgotten.

Apply for at least 4 jobs a week----

I was trying to film a second a day too and that ended in... February. 

Yeah, anyways, I don’t know. I got to be more reasonable.

3: Did anyone close to you give birth?

Nay! Least you count all the girlies at work.

4: Did anyone close to you die?

Nay!

5: What countries did you visit?

I’m still working on that ok?

6: What would you like to have in 2023 that you lacked in 2022?

Watch as KT chooses “career” for the fourth year in a row... Honestly, no. I’m going to say a feeling of community. That’s what I really want.

7: What dates from 2022 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

I will probably forget everything. I still remember the queen died on the 8th of September. I don’t know why I remember that but I doubt it will last.

8: What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Writing the script. I mean, it has changed a bit, and will continue to, but it was a big step in this journey I’m on. And as you know, I rarely finish things I start, so this was a big deal. Even if it never sees the light of day.

I read it to my family at Christmas and my oldest bro-in-law told me to keep making it because he likes it.... HUGE compliment coming from him.

I have also written the outlines for several other episodes for this not-real TV show of mine. I think I’m up to 5 outlines, in addition to the script. So, yeah. Even if it never gets to TV I might make it into a webcomic. Like, I'll make a pact that if I haven't gotten it made by the time I'm 30, I'll start making it into a webcomic instead.

Plus, I’ve been working a lot on my portfolio. I need to finish that up in January and then I’ll be applying for grad school! Scary but exciting. 

9: What was your biggest failure?

My biggest failure of the year was probably whenever I applied and interviewed for that broadcasting job. I was really bummed that I didn’t get the job because of the following reasons:

1) It was “the perfect” job for me, I was perfectly qualified and it was in the perfect place, as close as I could get to my “dream job” without leaving the state.

2) There was three (3!) openings. The odds should have been in my favor

3) I knew someone who was already working there. Just embarrassing to me like, ok, so he knows I didn’t get the position. We went to school together our resumes were VERY similar ya know? How did I not get it?

But my biggest failure did lead me to self-reflect. The job search the last few years has been so hard. Getting this rejection was a very big “I can’t do this anymore” moment, so I was thinking, what has brought me satisfaction in all this? The answer was the TV show I write in my notes app.

And because I believe in that enough, I guess I’m going to go do that now instead. Either way, it’s been really fucking nice since then to have just completely given up on the job search. Just so nice.

10: Did you suffer illness or injury?

Yes, first I was sick... idk some time in Spring. Then I drank mold and became poisoned that way, so that was fun. And this last week I’ve had a stomach bug so wooo! I look forward to being well again.

11: What was the best thing you bought?

I bought the new tablet. It is really nice. But it would really only be useable thanks to Will, letting me borrow his computer all the time these days. 

12: Whose behavior merited celebration?

I respect all my friends for their behavior and growth or dealing with challenges. It was tough ages 18-24 dealing with losing friends, but now the people I choose to surround myself never worry me, or shock me, or even come close to disgusting me. That’s not something I could have said when I was younger (sadly). But now all my friends are super solid and I am proud to know them.

13: Whose behavior made you appalled?

I don’t know... sometimes my coworkers do stuff but I wouldn’t call it outright appalling? At worst it’s petty drama or bootlicking. But I’m very good at leaving things at work so I don’t care.

14: Where did most of your money go?

They keep increasing the gd rent grrrrr

15: What did you get really, really, really excited about?

The ocean and the beach and the accompanying aura was really cool. I was so excited in general for summer and warm weather, which I think I’m just thinking about because I want it really bad right now. 

Chainsaw Man anime! It’s been great showing it to Will, now he knows who tf I’m talking about.

16: What song will always remind you of 2022?

I really don’t listen to pop songs anymore but on our drive to the east coast we discovered Brick + Motar which has become a staple in our home, so pretty much all their songs.

17: Compared to this time last year, are you: (a) happier or sadder? (b) thinner or fatter? Richer or poorer?

I’m probably in all ways about the same. This is what I talk about when I say all the last few years have been a blur because things really don’t get better or worse they just stay the same.

18: What do you wish you’d done more of?

Focusing on finishing things I started. Running theme here, I know, lmao

19: What do you wish you’d done less of?

Play stupid little games on my phone. I seriously get addicted to these things.

20: How did you spend Christmas?

Went home. It was really brief this year. I'll make sure my visit next year is an extended stay.

21: Did you fall in love in 2022?

Never stopped.

22: What was your favorite TV program?

Some things I enjoyed this year: Severance, What We Do in the Shadows, Arcane, Chainsaw Man, Spy x Family, Jojo Part 6, Bee and Puppycat: Lazy in Space, Fringe, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Gravity Falls, and many docs.

23: Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Nah.

24: What was the best book you read?

I have been and should be finished reading “The Song of Achilles” soon. I enjoy it because before I played Hades, and as a former greek mythology kid, I hadn’t heard of Patroclus, and I enjoy learning more about him..

25: What was your greatest musical discovery?

I did a lot of musical discovery this year. Like, more than usual, probably not a lot compared to most people. First off, I discovered Of Montreal (not from Montreal sus) TV on the Radio, and of course my Spotify top song of the year: “Heart It Races” by Architecture in Helsinki (I have yet to listen to a single other song of theirs because I just know nothing can top this).

Will discovered Brick + Mortar, and Fish in a Birdcage, which I have coveted.

I have also enjoyed That Handsome Devil and Spoon. Although there is more diving to do with them.

26: What did you want and get?

New drawing tablet. 

27: What did you want and not get?

New laptop. My tastes are just too expensive and so I ended up using the money for other things.

28: What was your favorite film of this year?

EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE!

29: What one thing that made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Writing things for myself and then reading them off to Will. Oh, yeah, my TV show has a fan! Just greenlight me baby!

30: How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2022?

Visions from higher powers. But mostly I don’t wear pants at home. I’m not wearing pants as I write this.

31: What kept you sane?

Socializing. Going outside. Going for walks. Music. My notes app.

32: Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I don’t care about celebrities but I do care about Aki Hayakawa.

33: What political issue stirred you the most?

I lost rights this year so..... oof.

34: Who did you miss?

My kitty cat. 

35: Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2022.

I learned not to compromise on quality of life? Life is filled with dreams. You gotta follow the string of satisfaction. 

It’s easy to get caught up in a stream of “well I have to do this, and then that, and then I’ll be happy.” Which is pretty much how I have lived my life up to this point. I went to college because I thought it was a step to happiness. I wasn’t happy while doing it. I should have done something else, I think. It was unhappy times. 

Like, I don’t really like my job, it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life, or even a year more, but it’s something I can do now, while pursuing other things that DO satisfy me... and THAT’S the satisfaction I have in my life. Before, it was just a step while I waited for something better. But I realize that’s not a good way to live life.

36: Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

[fractallogic]

So let’s be absolutely crystal fucking clear

In the three years since I moved here—with a lease that specifies for some goddamn stupid reason that tenants are in charge of landscaping—these neighbors have bitched about my lawn CONSTANTLY. Mostly to my actual neighbor who I like. Only recently to me because after three goddamn years we’ve had enough.

In those three years, I have

Tried to create a brand-new social circle for the second time since moving across the country twice, mostly failing

Had not one, not two, but THREE jobs because academia is fucking collapsing (and therefore applied to jobs almost constantly from about October 2021-October 2023), so that third job was also a complete change of career trajectory

Performed the duties of those jobs extremely well by any objective metric

Cared for my estranged, dying mother

Orchestrated a funeral, cleaned the house, and figured out some fucking semblance of a will, while also navigating family tensions and drama I didn’t even fucking know existed in addition to my own Feelings about a mother who was borderline abusive to me and is the root cause of the first fucking bout of suicidal thoughts I had

Lived literally half the goddamn world away from my husband, who I married in July 2021, moved with him here in august 2021, and then bade him farewell in mid-august 2021

Navigated the US immigration system to sponsor him for a green card

and now am both re-acclimating him to the US AND trying to live with him for the first time

Planned for contingencies when I was unemployed for several months, including having to pack up and move home and the mental health spiral I would be put into by living with my trump-supporting father and his gf in yet another place I have no other social connections

Navigated the latter part of a global pandemic

Written a textbook and several papers, and consulted on other projects because I am the leading expert on a niche but popular topic

Presented research at national and international conferences

Struggled with moderate to severe depression, moderate anxiety, and OCD

Did NOT give into suicidal ideation

Wrestled with a lot of body dysmorphia that was also aggravated by FUCKING EVERYONE AROUND ME, both neighbors and doctors, going “oh… you?? go to the gym??? you… ENJOY going to the gym??? you cook healthy meals??? you’re a yoga teacher??? but you don’t look like you do???”

And these goddamn people have the absolute GALL to tell me that it’s because I MOWED MY LAWN that they got an offer on their house, and it’s MY fault their property values are low???

How DARE you.

I wonder why the fuck the state of this dumbass lawn hasn’t been my top priority while I’ve been living in this miserable fucking place

Fuck you and your house. How dare you.

[mysticalrambling]

Coming Home (C.E)

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fanfiction Masterlist)

Summary: dad!Chris Evans. Chris comes home to his twins fighting and he scolds them. But he also takes care of their wounds with you and then you all go out to eat ice cream and have a family day.

Warnings: None. Minimum angst but fluff all the way.

._._._._.

"Where are the kids?" Your husband came and sat right next to you on the couch. It was a shock to him when he didn't see his two little munchkins clinging to his legs the moment he entered the house. It has been kind of their routine from the moment they could walk on their little two legs.

“They are busy playing in their play room. Why are you not happy about it?” You knew that after a full day of shooting, coming home to two energetic kids was tiring and stressful. So you were shocked when he wasn’t glad to have a moment of peace by himself.

“Well, they are a part of my routine now. It feels weird not having them jumping around me.” The three year olds have always been more attached to Chris than you. Initially, you were a little jealous that the twins focused all their attention on your husband but now you were glad. Having a piece of quiet while he handled the children was pretty awesome.

You both had pretty successful careers and when the twins came into your lives, you both decided that you would handle it all together. In the start, each one of your married girlfriend told you that you had to quit your job as the marketing head because being a mom was a full time job. You were scared and when you shared your concerns with Chris, he consoled you and told you that you would both do it all. Having successful careers while being good parents.

“Just spend sometime with me while Emma and Jason are distracted.” Pouring him a glass of wine, you leaned in to him with your head on his shoulder.

“That is a good way to spend my evening. How was your day, sweetheart?”

“It was hell. My boss gave me a project to complete with a bizarre timeline and when I couldn’t complete it on time. He just took it all out on me in front of my colleague.” Today was humiliating for you and you couldn’t wait to get home, drink a nice glass of wine and relax. “Hated it, babe. How about you?

“Well, my co star couldn’t get her part right so we had to do the same scene five times. We are behind on shooting now and I have to get up early tomorrow morning so that we can catch up to the schedule.” Sighing, he took a long sip of the red liquid and felt his muscles relaxing.

There was a moment of silence that enveloped the room and you just basked in it. “A crappy day for us both.”

“Indeed. Let’s do something exciting then.” He kissed you and just when things were about to get heated, a piercing scream interrupted the moment.

“What-What is happening?” He was still in a haze and couldn’t properly interpret anything.

“It looks like your kids are fighting again.”

“Are you going to handle them?”

“Oh no!” Laughing at his incredulous request, you picked up your glass again. “You wanted to spend time with them so go on.”

Chris got up from the couch and went upstairs. Emma and Jason love each other to death but they have been fighting from the womb. Emma is the stubborn one and while, Jason backs out most of the time. Sometimes, he retaliates and it turns real bad, real fast. They were pretty hot headed, just like you.

“What is happening here?” The dad mode was fully in place when he saw his little girl sitting on the floor with hands pressed to a bloody forehead and his little boy trying to console her.

“She pushed me and then I pushed her. Not my fault. But she hurt, daddy.” The panic in Jason’s eyes was evident.

“(Y/N)! Come here, right now!” You scrambled to your feet as soon as Chris’s voice boomed across the living room. “You never hurt your sister, Jason. This is not alright.” The stern voice was new for Chris but the situation required it.

“But, daddy-”

“No excuses, Mister. Now, apologise to your sister and no toys for you for the whole week.” He got in to action with the first aid kit that he took out of their walk in closet. Emma was still crying her lungs out even when Chris tried to console her. She was not letting him touch the wound and was squirming uncontrollably in his lap.

“Daddy, why you always bla- blame me? Hate you.” Hiccuping, he stuttered on the big words and then stomped out of the room. You tried to stop your son but he just ran past you.

“What is- Oh my god!” The blood was now soaking up your little girl’s shirt and she still wouldn’t let Chris touch the wound.

The one thing that your kids inherited from your husband was the fear of blood and stitches. The small three year old knew that a boo boo that hurts really bad will lead to stitches. You knew how to handle all three of your babies in situation like these. Taking Emma from your husband, you hugged her lightly.

“Bubba, I need to look at your boo boo and then you can have the Elsa bandage.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” When she removed her chubby, little hand, you were relieved that the cut was not big or deep. A bandage would just do the trick. You softly hummed a tune in her ears while you applied an antiseptic to the wound and then the band aid. She had tears streaming down her face and she was sniffling quietly. Chris took her from you when you were done and gently rocked her in his arms. He always loved it when both your children seeked comfort in you. It reminded him of how lucky he was to have you. “Where did Jason go?”

“I scolded his regarding this and he threw a tantrum.” When Emma heard Jason’s name, she further curled herself into his chest.

“Give her to me.” Raising her face by holding her chin, you sternly asked her. “Tell me what happened, young lady?”

With a guilty tone, she told you both that she was the one who pushed Jason first. They were both playing with the doll house that Chris bought Emma as her third birthday present. Jason wanted to add his toy cars to the doll house but she won’t allow it. She pushed him first and he hit his wrist on the small coffee table but then he pushed her back. When she fell back, she hit her head on the side of the wooden house.

“You are going to apologise to him, Emma. I told you that this much anger is not alright, bubba.” Chris took her to the twin’s room that had two different themes running through it. Emma was never a fan of the color pink so she went with purple and Jason really loved yellow, so he got that. The room looked like a clown’s den but Chris was never the one to deny his children’s requests. They had his whole heart well, except you.

“Jace, Emma would like to say something to you.” Setting her on her feet, she went towards his elder brother by barely three minutes.

“I am sorry, Jacey. Never should have pushed you. Kiss your boo boo to make up?” He nodded gently when his sister climbed in to the body. Extending the bruised wrist, Emma held it in her hands and lightly pecked on it. Meanwhile, you got a numbing cream for Jason and you stopped in the doorway with Chris and watched their interaction. They were your and Chris’s two little bundle of joys and you both couldn’t get enough.

“I am sorry that I yelled at you, baby. You two will not have your toys for a week. But who wants ice cream right now?” They both jumped at the mention of their favorite treat.

Chris had a way with the children. He completed all their wishes from eating ice cream as dinner or buying the most expensive toys for them. Making them happy was his primary job and he fulfilled it with great joy. However, he knew when to step up. He knew when to tell them no because he didn’t want his children to be some spoiled brats. He knew how to mediate and that was one of the many thing that you loved about him.

“I will get your jackets while daddy will help you with your shoes.” Going downstairs, you placed Dodger’s food in his bowl because you were going to be out for sometime. Chris always turns a simple outing to a full blown family day. A walk in the park, dinner at a high end restaurant and then shopping at the mall.

“Let’s go.” He buckled both the kids in their respective booster seats and made sure that they both had their preferred stuff toys. God knows, if they didn’t have them on their car ride.

The ice cream place on the fifth avenue was your favorite because it was where Chris took you on your first date. Both the children went for chocolate ice creams and Chris cleaned them up after they were done anything. It was so wholesome to watch him perform his dad duties.

“Then Oliver tried to eat dirt and the teacher gave him a time out.” You never understood why your son was friends with that boy because all he ever cared about was dirt.

“That’s why I hate boys. They are dirty.”

“That’s right, bubba. They are all dirty and disgusting. You stay away from all of them.” Gently nudging him with your shoulders, you playfully scoffed at him. He was sometimes very protective of his children.

“Ollie said girls also have icky germs.”

“Yes. You also stay away from them.” Chris was full on laughing at the situation right now because both the kids were in some serious thoughts.

“Okay dadda.” They both started skipping on the side walk and already started bickering about who was their dad’s favorite. He took you in his arms and kissed you on the forehead.

“Thank you for all this, babe. I love you.” He was truly thankful for you and for everything that you brought in his life.

“I love you too. Now let’s buckle them in before they start pushing each other again.”

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: Dad Chris Evans is a dream so I wanted to write a little blurb related to this idea. Hope you guys enjoyed it. You guys can send in requests but I will get to them a little bit later because I am focusing on my drafts right now. Tell me if you guys want to be added to the tag list.

Taglist: @justile

Like, comment and reblog.

[caveiratimida]

Whole Lot Of Shakin' Going On

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Carole Bradshaw/Nick "Goose" Bradshaw, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Characters: Nick "Goose" Bradshaw, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Carole Bradshaw Additional Tags: Couple goals, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, First Meetings, Pre-Canon, Rock and Roll, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell is a Little Shit, True Love

Summary: It was exactly then when Nick Bradshaw wasn’t looking for anything that someone somewhere decided he should meet a challenge to question everything he thought he knew about love. It was exactly when Carole Sheridan crashed into the tall man that the Rock n' Roll music came alive. Notes: I love Goose and Carole, to the point where I also made a playlist that inspired this fic. A major inspiration is also @boasamishippershipper’s amazing fic of don’t need money, don’t take fame which I highly recommend!! P.S I am not from the states and had to guess. I don't know about the rest of the community but I see Goose being from Tennessee and Carole from Virginia so if you have a helpful state idea, better dialogue comment or a sounder surname suggestion for Carole I am open to ideas! I suggest watching this Blue Suede Shoes cover when Goose does (it is exactly how I imagine he would do it). There are songs referenced here I will reveal them in the tags for all the easter egg aficionados >:) This fic can also be found on Ao3

____________________________________

When Susie Lou stepped all over Nick “Goose” Bradshaw’s heart as she dumped him for some other Joe, he really thought that was it for him. Susie had been his longest. The way she ended it, ignoring his surprised calls from the other side of the street when he saw her clinging to a new man’s arm only to say goodbye with a mocking “See You Later, Alligator” was a whole new level of hurt he had ever experienced. Even Bill Haley himself would be nursing a bruised heart and ego. Heck, he and Lou hadn’t even liked the same music, that should have been the first warning sign it wouldn’t end well for him.

No, Goose would never be able to balance a career in the Navy and a girl of his own at the same time. That was it, he refused to fool himself anymore with something stable. It was either the Navy or just plain gravy. Of course, Pete didn’t agree as he patted him on the back for support in his trying times (”Come on, Nick, she ain’t worth any more of your time. There is someone out there who will actually like your honking laughter.” ). Then again, Nick wasn’t very reassured by that reasoning and felt that his best friend, that Maverick, didn’t really understand given his own aversion to long-term commitments. Bradshaw was a hopeless romantic, he couldn’t help it.

Still, despite his heartbreak, life did indeed go on with new classes, new piloting manoeuvres and new bars to try out at night. Yet, no matter how much he tried. No matter how much of that alcohol bravery he tried to get, Goose just couldn’t do it, he couldn’t start a conversation that lead nowhere emotionally safe with the opposite gender. How Mav did it with anyone, he couldn’t understand. At least as time went by, Nick began to worry less about who was around and more about the opportunity to get to play the piano. He couldn’t even recall the name of the place they were in now and where Mav was but that was okay, there was a piano and that had been his steadfast companion for the past hour. He laid his soul bare on those ivory keys and blasted out a spirited performance of Blue Suede Shoes. His Momma had been right, music was God’s greatest gift and helped remedy almost anything. It would never leave him or ask him to be something he was not.

It was exactly then when Nick Bradshaw wasn’t looking for anything other than flying that someone somewhere decided he should meet a challenge to question everything he thought he knew about love and loving. A rowdy lady in a loose-fitted yellow dress with the unruliest hair he had ever seen literally fell and crashed into him mid-song. Life is funny that way, and when Goose’s gaze caught hers and saw how blue her eyes were the only thought his brain could come up with was Good Golly Miss Molly.

That was it. He was done for.

Meanwhile, Carole Sheridan’s own thoughts that had been preoccupied with getting the heck out of the joint and finding her friend Mary also came to a grinding halt. But more due to mortification than fancy. Oh, if her Pa knew what she had done and saw her now there would be hell. It wasn’t her fault really! It wasn’t the original plan at all.

Sure it started off well, agreeing to meet up with Mary at the bar for a catch-up. As expected, Mary was huffin’ and puffin’ about the latest stupid thing her man David had done. Carole listened wholeheartedly, ignoring her desire to move closer to the live music and yet, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. She was starting to feel the words of Connie Francis in Stupid Cupid a bit too much. Carole was tired of finding half-commitments. Mary looked like she was about to ask her about the frown on her face when suddenly there were a pair of less-than-desired fellows ruining their perfectly good girls-only evening.

What else could Carole do when they didn’t take the polite “I am flattered but not interested.”, “No, thank you, really.” and, “I said no.” for an answer? She wasn’t going to just stand there as the closest reached out to grab Mary’s arm, no sir. It was a perfectly normal reaction to throw her drink at the sleazy culprit’s face and use the moment of shock to step on his accomplice’s nearest foot as hard as she could before yanking Mary Ann by her shoulders and running into the crowdiest side of the bar. Just to be extra sure, she ordered Mary to go hide in the ladies’ room. Her plan was simple, keep the dogs focused on her, tire them out as she avoided them through the crowd and then meet up with Mary. And it worked until she walked herself into a corner and the both of them crept closer and closer. So what else could she do than try and weasel out through the space between the piano live act and the crowd? Perhaps thinking longer about an alternative would have been the right answer. Maybe this is also why she couldn’t find a long-term man because she didn’t seem to think things through long enough.

“Oh Gosh, I am so sorry!”, were the first words out of her mouth as she tried to scramble off the stranger’s lap. Without the lively music, the crowd was mostly stunned in silence, watching the scene unfold. A somewhat small dark-haired man was pushing through and only stopped when he was an arms-length away from the piano player. Speaking of the piano. She didn’t seem to have ruined the instrument or injured herself with the crash but oh her favourite dress got ripped! Now both Ma and Pa were going to rip her a new one.

“Great! Just great!”, she tried to wriggle out with the most composure possible but her reputation was sinking by the minute the longer she stayed tangled with this stranger. Handsome or not, it wasn’t good-looking for her.

“…”

She turned to face her poor victim and he seemed uninjured too, just very stiff and quiet as he gawked at her. His adam’s apple bopped up and down as he tried to gulp down a reaction. Carole thought he looked a little bit like a shocked bird with his big brown expressive eyes and mouth open like that.

“Ahem, a little help please!!”, her cheeks were beginning to flush in embarrassment when it was clear she wouldn’t be able to do it alone.

“Of course, Ma’am! Sorry!”, her commanding tone seemed to snap the man out of his trance and within seconds he was putting his big and rough hands under her arms to help her up. Nick gave her a nervous but big smile.

Carole thought he looked kind.

“That was quite the landing you did. I am All Shook Up from it”, Goose is sure that somewhere from behind him he can hear Pete trying to muffle a laugh at his attempt at easing the situation using Elvis but he didn’t care. Especially when it seemed to do the trick and the lady who was now safely detangled rewarded him with a bright smile of her own.

”Thankfully, I had a big Teddy Bear to fall on.”

Guess his Momma had been right about another thing too: when true love found you it would pack a punch.

”Well…Pilot Nick Bradshaw ready and willing for the next crash, Ma’am”, he gave her an exaggerated salute and reached out to shake her hand. He didn’t push or force her to take it.

He just waited. Carole began to think that maybe the turn of events hadn’t been so bad after all. Maybe she didn’t need to tone down anything about herself, not if she had a diamond in the rough of a man just by barrelling into him.

”You can call me Carole. Or Reet Petite.”

Were Goose not overcome by his heartbeat hammering in his chest due to being so close to someone so stunning, he would have noticed that two angry-looking individuals heading their way and Maverick pulling up his arm sleeves getting ready to show some fists. But he wasn't able to. Not when he had a feeling that this woman was about to rock his world.

[iamdeku]

Strictly Business: ProHero!Deku x Reader

Pro hero!Izuku meeting his new personal assistant who is nervous and had previous terrible experiences with Proheros who treated her like a tool. (Reader is female) 

This was a really fun request to do! I loved the idea for this and definitely got a little carried away with the word count, haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault. Bad bosses. I did not proofread.

You had been nervous when you had started working for the #1 hero. You had worked hard to get here, but it had been a long road, and it hadn’t always been fun. In fact, up until now it had been terrible. When you walked into Deku’s office, you were seriously thinking about undoing years of work and changing your career path entirely.

Your dream had been to work with heroes. Not be harassed by them.

You first job had also been your first mistake. You should have known better than to work with the Fresh-Picked hero, Grape Juice, but you were new to the industry and no one had warned you off. So you became a personal assistant to your sleaziest boss to date.

Mineta had done his best to ruin your life. He sexually harassed you at ever turn, abused his power, kept you after hours and made you do ridiculous things. When you finally gathered the courage to quit, you never looked back.

When you were looking for your next job, you decided it was better to go with an established hero, one who had been in the game a long time. Endeavor, as the former #1 hero, seemed like a solid, safe choice. You were so wrong.

You worked for Endeavor for years, unwilling to quit the paycheck, but the experience was awful. Endeavor was arrogant, with a terrible temper and a hefty helping of sexism. By the time you were in a financially stable enough place to quit that job, you had lost all faith in the heroes around you.

So now, starting your first day working for Deku, you were prepared for the worst. You were sure you were about to be introduced to some fresh torture, but you were ready for whatever he would level at you. Heroes could sink no lower in your eyes.

So naturally, you were surprised on your first day when he seemed…nice. Sweet even.

You knocked on his office door, a combination of dread and resignation swirling in your stomach. You expected a wait, but he answered it almost immediately.

“Hi! You’re my new personal assistant, right? It’s so nice to meet you. I’m sorry I wasn’t at your interview. I meant to be there but there was a crisis downtown I got called in for. I hope you got the gift basket I sent to your house to apologize. I really am so sorry, it’s terrible policy not to have met you before now.”

You had gotten that gift basket, actually, but you hadn’t thought he was aware of it. You definitely hadn’t thought it was his idea, but from the sounds of his speech it definitely had been. You blinked at him a couple of times, trying to gather your wits after that rapid speech.

“Yes,” you said. “I’m your new personal assistant. It’s very nice to meet you. What can I do for you today sir?”

He seemed confused, as though he hadn’t expected a personal assistant to be ready to work. That couldn’t be right though. He was an experienced pro.

“Didn’t they tell you when you got here? I thought we could start with lunch together, so I can get to know you since I missed your interview. I’m sorry, I should have sent you an email.”

Your heart sank at his words, all of your hopes for his kindness to be genuine crashing with it. So, it was to be the hopelessly flirtatious boss who thought you existed to fulfill his fantasies again. You had seen that before.

“I’m really not sure that would be wise, sir. I like to maintain a strict level of professionalism,” you said, making your refusal as polite as you could.

He blinked, as though it hadn’t even occurred to him that might not be professional.

“Oh. I suppose you have a point. Well, why don’t we eat here while we work then? I can ask you a few of the questions I didn’t get to for your interview while you settle in.”

You sighed internally. There was really no way you could politely turn that down, so you forced your face into a smile.

“That sounds like it could work well.”

You were pleasantly surprised when your lunch actually went well. Deku never made a move on you, other than his request for you to call him Izuku, which seemed to apply to all the employees. It could have just been a ploy to get you to let your guard down, but all the same, you wanted to believe he really was this kind.

You two worked together in his office the whole day, and you became familiar with his schedule. He never did anything to make you uncomfortable, and as the day wore on you decided cautious optimism was the way to go. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 You smiled fondly at the memory, chopping carrots on the counter. Across the room from you, the man you had come to know well was pacing, mumbling frantically as he analyzed some old battle playing on his TV.

“Izuku, you’re going to throw off my cooking with all that racket, and then we’ll have nothing to eat.” You laughed lightly.

He nearly jumped 10 feet in the air. “Sorry, sorry! I guess I just got a little lost in thought. Although I guess I wasn’t the only one lost. I asked you about my schedule earlier and you didn’t seem to hear me at all.”

You blushed in shame. “Sorry.”

Izuku shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to me all the time. Obviously. What were you thinking about?”

“I was just remembering my first day working for you and how terrified I was.”

It seemed silly to you now, but back then you never could have predicted you would be best friends with your boss, let alone cooking dinner for him while working unofficial overtime as a passion project. You never thought that working for Izuku would be what you always wanted.

“Why were you terrified? Just because I’m #1? You’d worked with famous heroes before. I’m no one special.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

“You are special. You were the first hero I’d worked with who didn’t make me miserable. Every boss I had before you either sexually harassed me, overworked me or was just plain unpleasant. Usually all of those. I had given up on heroes before I met you,” you confessed casually.

Izuku blanched at you.

“What?” The word was breathless, barely audible.

“Yeah. I thought you knew my work history. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but anyone with any experience working with heroes will tell you Endeavor is not a super cuddly guy.”

“I…had no idea.” You looked up and found, to your surprise, that Izuku’s eyes were swimming with tears. “I never knew you were treated like that. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay. I have you now.” You froze at your misstep.

He would probably never notice it, but you had. It really hadn’t been your intention to fall in love with your boss, but he had been so sweet and kind to you that it had happened naturally. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the energy he had for the things he loved, his strength and dedication had all lead you here.

“I’m not going to let anything like that happen to you again. Or anyone. I’ll make sure your past employers get investigated.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

There was silence in Izuku’s house as you stared down at the carrot you had been cutting. In an effort to lighten the mood, you tried to make another joke.

“You know, that first day when you invited me to lunch, I thought you were hitting on me.” You laughed a little bit at the absurdity of it. “I know now that you would never do that, obviously.”

You heard the crash when Izuku dropped the mug of tea he had been holding. Before you could move, he was scrambling to pick it up, cheeks bright red and flaming.

“I-Oh, this is terribly awkward.” Izuku mumbled, no doubt thinking you couldn’t hear him.

“Wait. Were you flirting with me?” You asked, breathless.

“No! I mean…not…not then,” he stammered.

“Are you-” You stopped, taking a moment to gather your courage as Izuku stood, effectively giving up on the shards of pottery at his feet. “Are you flirting with me now?”

He stiffened, looking deeply uncomfortable as he met your gaze.

“Yes. I mean, not intentionally! It’s just that I have feelings with you, but I would never act on them. I would never want to make you uncomfortable and if you feel like you need to resign now because of that, I understand. I would be happy to recommend you to any of the other pro-heroes I know, and I can assure you they would make excellent bosses.”

You crossed the room to stand in front of him, taking one of his awkwardly flailing hands in your own.

“I think I am going to have to resign, unfortunately.” You watched his face fall before quickly correcting yourself. “It seems like it would be inappropriate to date my boss. I have feelings for you too, Izuku.”

Rising up on your tiptoes, you dared to kiss his cheek, hot from his blush and scattered with freckles.

“You do?”

The question is quiet, but you hear it clearly with his breath in your ear, faces still close from where you haven’t dared to move. You pull back now, surveying his awestruck face.

“Yes. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I guess it was sort of inevitable that I would fall for you.”

You smiled, biting your lip and staring down at your feet. Izuku’s warm, calloused hand reached up to your cheek, pulling your gaze up to his.

“So does this mean you want to be with me?”

The words seemed too good to be true, striking somewhere deep in your chest and knocking you breathless. Yes. Please, yes, let it be true.

“I would like that very much. If you would, I mean.”

Izuku nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! That was never my intention with this, but after getting to know you, I really do like you. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but I think you’re beautiful and clever and funny and I would love to take you out on a date, if that’s something you would want.”

You smiled, leaning gently into the palm of his hand that cupped your face, bringing your own hand up to twine your fingers together.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

Izuku laughed softly, and you could hear the emotion in the sound.

“You know, I was so lonely before you. I was really just hoping for a friend when I hired you. I thought maybe we would get along okay and I could have someone to keep me company. I was crushed when you said you liked to keep it professional, but I vowed to myself I would honor your wishes.”

“Yeah. We both did a great job of keeping it professional.” You gestured to your surroundings, snickering to yourself.

“I seem to recall you inviting me into your home first,” he teased.

“Hey! I was having a home decorating crisis! I could not build that shelf myself.”

“Or, as it turns out, with my help.”

You snorted at the memory of your backwards shelf, which you had eventually decided to just make do with. As it turned out, Izuku was terrible at building furniture. He was great at making you happy though.

“Well, it all turned out for the best.”

“It sure did. But I think we can both agree that you’re the one who’s not professional here.”

You rolled your eyes, rising up on your tiptoes.

“How’s this for professional?” You breathed.

Izuku seemed like he might ask questions, but before he could, you kissed him gently. When you pulled away, you were both smiling. Your hands had moved to wrap around his neck, and his hand had fallen to your waist.

“I think I’m really starting to like professionalism.”

[thewhiteroseofvermilion]

Moving Forward

Hello everyone. It’s been a long time since I’ve last spoken to you all, and an even longer time since I’ve last updated this story. Over the months and years, my absence has saddened, frustrated, and even angered many of you. Despite my own valid feelings of how—to put it bluntly—I don’t owe any of you anything as this is something I do for free and in my own free time, I still recognize how it must feel for you all to see something you enjoy so much slowly lose momentum and eventually grind to a halt. Furthermore, my habit of making enthusiastic yet empty statements in between didn’t help either. 

As such, a proper and honest explanation is due, as anything less would be unkind. This will be lengthy, but please bear with me. 

For the past four years, it’s been increasingly difficult to find the time, energy, and motivation for me to properly sit down and write. Seemingly gone are the early days of this story’s life when I was able to publish a new chapter every month or so, or even every two weeks when I was at the top of my game in terms of activeness. Even though I had an immense workload due to being a double major in college, leading me to adopt the best work ethic I’ve ever had, I still led a sheltered lifestyle where I didn’t have to worry about the many looming, inevitable adult responsibilities that were ahead of me.

Those tranquil years of course came to an end when I graduated, and I soon felt immense pressure to shift my attention to finding work, living independently, and working on things that would further my career. While I received support as an aspiring writer from the majority of my family, those being my mother and sister, the both of them commented more frequently as time passed by that my “fanfiction” wasn’t something that I should be spending so much time on anymore. After all, it’s not like I could sell the work as my own, and the fact that despite fanfiction absolutely being a valid artform, it wasn’t something that the world of professional employers cared about. 

Nonetheless, when I did eventually find work as a film freelancer, I still tried to persevere and write on the side. My goal back then was to work in film in order to sustain my pursuit in writing. Film was something I went to school for, greatly enjoyed, and even saw a possible future career for myself in, but it was the writing aspect of it that I was truly after, that being primarily screenwriting. 

After two years of living at home, I felt the need to try and live independently as I outgrew my tiny room and my mom started dating a man that I didn’t particularly like. I knew it wasn’t financially smart of me to do so when my mom allowed me to live with her rent-free. But at the time I thought that it would help me to become more mature and productive, as I would have to force myself to work in order to put a roof over my head and food on the table—as opposed to living a sheltered life at home where everything was taken care of for me. Essentially, I was longing for the lifestyle I had in college, thinking that once I returned to it, I would be able to reacquire that once incredible work ethic I had. 

So, I became roommates with a friend from college and together we rented a townhouse together. Rent wasn’t terribly expensive, but it wasn’t cheap either. Regardless, I was able to make ends meet. My greatest challenge however, was to live up to my family’s spoken and unspoken expectations. On one hand, my mother was sweet and understanding, naturally giving me her full support. My father, on the other, always thought that it’d be better for me to pursue something safer and more lucrative, and to not risk being a starving artist. But the one I had to prove myself the most to was my older sister, who was wildly more successful than I was—financially and professionally. My pay compared to hers was like a drop in a bucket, and I felt both indirect and direct pressure from her to be more “professional” like her. Therefore, I threw myself into my work, which is when things slowly began to go downhill. 

As a film freelancer, my work hours usually averaged between 10-12 hours a day, and with my work taking me all over my home state of Maryland and even into neighboring Washington DC and Virginia, my commute time to and from work ranged anywhere from an additional 1-3 hours. It became incredibly common for me to wake up for work anywhere between 3-6 AM and not get home until 8-10 PM. 

Unbeknownst to me at the time, I slowly slipped into a routine where when I did have the “time” to write, I had zero energy or motivation as my work was so taxing. I reached the point where I had to drink two energy drinks with 300mg of caffeine to get myself to and from work. I saw less and less of my roommate and friends. I spent an alarming amount of money and gained weight from ordering take-out so often because I hadn’t the energy to cook for myself when I got home late from work. There would even be days when I fell into what felt like comas, sleeping up to two days straight at one point. My physical, mental, and emotional health was in serious decline. And yet I didn’t see it that way, as I had become obsessed with trying to prove to my family, my sister in particular, that I wasn’t a failure and that my pursuit of writing wasn’t a hopeless one.

During the first month of COVID-19′s outbreak last year, I finally had a much-needed vacation. This was undoubtedly the best time for me to have returned to writing—but I didn’t. At this point, so much time had passed since my last proper writing session that the few times I did try to write, I found myself completely unable to write anything. I was so out of practice and so out of touch with what I had written. This honestly frightened me, and I soon began to doubt if I could ever be able continue the story with the same quality that so many readers fell in love with. Regrettably, I fled from this revelation long enough for a full month to pass by, and I soon found myself busy with yet another distraction: unemployment. 

I was out of work for about 4.5 months, from the middle of March to the beginning of August. During this time, I had to rely on state unemployment, which earned me great scorn from my older sister. Our relationship had always been uneven since we were kids, but it was becoming increasingly toxic as of late since our college years. I felt so ashamed to tell her how much money I made in a year from my job as a film freelancer, and how I barely managed to move to a better position after four years of work. Riddled with guilt and disappointment in myself, when work became readily available again in August, I frantically threw myself back in harder than ever before. In the past where I had turned down the occasional job to give myself some time to relax or in order to make it to a social outing with friends, I now accepted every job thrown my way, only declining those that would make me double-book myself. I earned a lot of money during those months as a result, and I was so happy to finally distance myself from the stigma of being “unemployed.” However, I once again failed to see that I was yet again sliding back into the lifestyle that had been slowly poisoning me for the past two years. 

After essentially working non-stop from August to March, my body, mind, and soul soon returned right back to the brink of collapse. It wasn’t until then at my lowest point when I finally realized how I initially went from working to sustain myself in order to write, to not writing at all and only working to sustain myself to work even more. It was truly scary to see myself fall victim to a brutal cycle of unfulfilling work that could have trapped me for years to come if I hadn’t broken free first. That’s when I realized that my lifestyle was personally unsustainable, and that something had to change. 

Henceforth, I’ve made the difficult decisions to both transition out of film freelancing and to soon return home to live with my father. At the end of April, the homeowner of the townhouse my roommate and I had been living in for close to three years gave us our 30-days-notice to vacate, as they no longer wished to rent but to sell the property. As my roommate had been planning on finding a place of his own with his girlfriend for quite some time, we split amicably at the end of last month in May and I’ve since moved into a temporary apartment with a friend who has traveled back to Maryland for seasonal work. 

Regarding the change in my career, I’ve been looking into applying for writing positions for something that I’ve grown to enjoy over the past few years, which is to write reviews for media such as film, anime, and videogames. This of course is not what I truly want to do in life, but I think that because it actually involves writing, it would be both good practice in terms of practicing my writing and experience in terms of resume-building. Furthermore, a stable “9-5″ job as such would be good for me, I think, as it would introduce some desperately needed structure back into my life. Being a freelancer was definitely fun as I had the power to choose my own schedule, but it unfortunately fostered a lot of laziness and procrastination when I wasn’t completely burnt out. 

I’ve shared with you all this information, a great deal of it being very personal, in the hopes that it helps you better understand who I am as a person and what I’ve been going through these past four years. 

I understand that my word may be difficult to trust due to my history, but I sincerely wish to let you all know from the bottom of my heart that I do plan on continuing writing The White Rose of Vermilion until it’s completed. My fears and insecurities may have alienated me from that promise, but not once did I ever entertain the idea of fully dropping the story. And I promise you, I never will. It most likely will not further my career in any way, bring any revenue in, and will continue to consume a great deal of my precious free time—yet I still choose to pursue continuing it because I can’t see a future where I don’t finish it.

It is after all my most cherished project; the reason that I was able to truly find my calling as an aspiring writer, its success also ultimately being the proof to my mother that I had some skill as a budding writer, who then gave me her full blessings to pursue it as a career. But most important of all is that it’s the reason why I was able to experience first-hand one of the most important and beautiful discoveries in my entire life. That being the incredible phenomenon of how art is like a beacon—its bright light is powerful enough to reach out and inspire others to create art of their own. From Monty Oum to Nancy Phetchareune to myself, I was blessed enough to see readers create wonderful fanart to show me or tell me in a review that reading my story had inspired them to create something of their own.

I am officially leaving behind my prolonged hiatus and returning to working on The White Rose of Vermilion. While I am extremely hesitant to even estimate when the next chapter will be published, please know that I am genuinely trying to leave behind my habits of old and returning to a more consistent schedule. 

The White Rose of Vermilion will return in:

Arc II, Chapter Twenty-Seven: Stranger in the Night

[ukulelecal]

Bloom - Part One

The story of flowers.

Pairing: Poet!Luke Hemmings x Female!OC

Warnings: angst!!!! implied smut. perhaps a swear or two. mostly angst

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: can yall believe that this video sent me so feral that i wrote this whole lil mini series in like five days?? i'm not surprised tbh. ANYWAY omg i really am excited for y'all to read this!!! i hope you love it!!! i would love your feedback, and please please remember that reblogs mean the absolute world to creators!

series masterlist

masterlist // posted on ao3

Devon would never forget the first poem Luke wrote for her.

He was a blushing mess as he handed her the folded piece of paper, insisting she read it later because he didn’t want to see her reaction. He had a lip ring then, blond hair spiked up and a wardrobe full of band t-shirts and black skinny jeans. He certainly didn’t look like how anyone would imagine a poet, but one look at his work would tell anyone that he had the mind for the craft.

Luke’s way with words was unmatched. Devon always called it a superpower; the way he was able to capture readers with words strung together so beautifully and paint a picture in the brain. He made people feel something. He had a gift, no doubt.

All of his poems were breathtaking, and he wrote many for her. The first would always be her favorite.

It was called The Orchids. The poem compared a woman to a field of orchids, delicate and lush. It was simple but sweet. Devon vividly remembered the rush of giddiness she felt as she read it, knowing it was written just for her. She remembered calling Luke after reading it over and over again, gushing about how much she loved it. He explained to her later that he chose orchids because the color of the shirt she was wearing the day they met reminded him of them.

They were only freshmen in college then. First time away from home, getting their first taste of real independence. Of adulthood. They met in a seminar class that every first year student had to take. One that everyone else hated but Luke and Devon loved, just because they got to see each other. A couple of coffee dates lead to The Orchids, which lead to a loving relationship and many, many more poems.

College was just about to come to an end now. Graduation was coming up fast, and that brought the simultaneously exciting and dreadful question: what next?

The future was something that used to delight Luke and Devon. Countless nights, they talked about marriage, a house, a dog, children. Luke would be a renowned poet, Devon a respected social worker. They had it all planned out. Even if their white picket fence dreams fell through, they would be happy so long as they had each other.

With graduation creeping closer and closer, Devon wasn’t so sure about their plans.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want it anymore. She still loved Luke with all of her heart. She wanted everything they had talked about, a future with him. Some deeper thinking into her career led her heart elsewhere.

It came out at dinner one evening, sat at the table of Devon and Luke’s shared apartment that they had moved into junior year.

“I’ve been thinking about going to grad school,” she blurted out. She twisted her spaghetti on her fork to distract herself. His face lit up, but Devon didn’t quite share his excitement. She knew this was something she wanted, but she was about to make a huge sacrifice that she had been trying to convince herself that she was ready for.

“Yeah? That’s great, Dev!” Luke cheered. “Here?”

The proud smile on his face quickly dropped when he saw the look of dread on hers. Graduate school was certainly a good thing, but if she wasn’t thrilled, Luke knew there must be a catch.

“Not here?” Devon shook her head. “Then where?”

The name of the school that she mumbled under her breath made Luke’s heart sink. It was far away. Very far.

“Oh.”

Luke wanted to kick himself for being disappointed. It was selfish, so selfish. He should have been proud that Devon wanted to further her education, and he was. He couldn’t fathom trying to take that away from her, but the thought of his girl being so far away was gut wrenching.

He wiped the frown off his face as quickly as it came. He reminded himself that he needed to be supportive, even if it hurt.

“That’s awesome, baby. I’m really proud of you.”

Devon knew he wasn’t lying when he said he was proud of her, but she could tell he wasn’t as excited as he was trying to seem.

“You don’t have to act happy about this, Lu,” she murmured, still pushing her pasta around. “I know what you’re thinking.”

He sighed and dropped his fork on his plate. Of course she saw through him. She always did. After four years of being together, Devon knew Luke better than anyone.

“I really am proud of you for doing this, honey. Don’t think that I’m not. It’s just…” he trailed off, unable to think of a way to put what he wanted to say without sounding selfish. “It’s so far away.”

Devon swallowed the lump in her throat. She was headstrong, and she knew that she needed to put her career and her own desires first. That didn’t mean it hurt any less to move so far away from the love of her life.

“I know, bubs,” she whispered. “But this is something I really want for myself. For my future.”

“Oh, honey, I know,” Luke sighed, not wanting her to feel bad. “I want you to do this. But the distance...I know it’s selfish of me-”

“It’s not selfish, Luke,” she interrupted, shaking her head softly. “It’s not easy for me either. But this school has the best graduate program for social work. Besides, I haven’t finished my application yet and I’m applying to some other places too. I might not even get in.”

Perhaps the most selfish thing of all was that a tiny part of him hoped she wouldn’t get in. It would break her heart if she didn’t, but maybe she wouldn’t be so far. Luke hated himself for the thought even crossing his mind for a split second.

Devon could see how this was affecting him. She understood; she knew he was planning on proposing shortly after graduation, though they were in no hurry to actually get married until they both had secure jobs. Moving hundreds of miles away for two years undoubtedly threw a wrench in the plans.

She had gone back and forth for a while as she searched for grad schools. As much as she wanted to stay close, her future career was something that she valued greatly. Devon was a first generation college student, and she wanted nothing more than to make her family proud. However, Luke was important too. The distance wouldn’t be easy, but she tried to be optimistic. She could only hope that he would want to try too.

“Don’t think like that, Dev,” Luke mumbled. He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. His desire for Devon to succeed and his desire to keep her close were battling each other, and it only frustrated him.

He thought about his words for a few moments, but couldn’t find the right thing to say.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Devon gave a silent nod. She needed to let him feel this out, and honestly, she needed to do the same. Thinking about it was one thing, but actually telling Luke was another. She had been stressing over it for a while, and now that it was finally out, her and Luke had to actually deal with it together.

The couple finished their dinner in silence, the only sounds to be heard being the slight scraping of forks against plates and the occasional sighs.

Devon couldn’t help but feel guilty. Over the years, she had conditioned herself to put her own aspirations first. She had sacrificed a lot for others in her lifetime, but many people had made sacrifices for her as well. She felt she had found a balance between taking care of herself and taking care of the people around her. She knew that moving away for a while for her own benefit would have an effect on her relationship, but she didn’t feel as if she had to choose one or the other. If Luke was willing to try to make things work, then so was she.

Luke took his last bite of spaghetti and stood up from the table. He silently made his way to the sink to wash his plate before turning back to Devon.

“I’m going to write for a bit, okay?” He mumbled, slowly making his way towards the spare bedroom that doubled as his workspace. No doubt a poem was going to come out of everything he was feeling at the moment. Devon nodded and her brown eyes watched as Luke turned on his heel to walk away.

“Luke?” She called out before he got too far. He turned around with a hum of acknowledgement. “I love you.”

Despite the anxiety and dread he was feeling, he smiled.

He walked back over to where Devon still sat at the table. With her face cradled lovingly in his hands, he bent down to press a soft yet meaningful kiss to her lips. The kiss said that even if things were uncertain, this wasn’t over.

“I love you too.”

…

Devon’s breath caught in her throat when an email from her top choice grad school came through.

She had poured over her personal statement and fretted over her interview. No matter how much everyone assured her, she couldn’t help the anxiety that ate her away.

With a deep breath, she opened the email.

Accepted with a scholarship.

“Luke! Bubs, I got in! I got in!”

She ran into the spare bedroom where Luke was hunched over one of his many poetry notebooks. His head whipped up at his girlfriend’s yells, his brain taking a moment to process her words after being in the writing zone.

For a moment, neither of them were thinking about the distance. All that mattered was Devon’s amazing achievement.

Luke stood up to meet her. Devon practically tackled him in a hug and he easily held her close.

“Congratulations, honey,” he mumbled into her hair. “Fuck, I’m so proud of you.”

He held her for a few minutes, neither of them able to wipe the smiles off their faces. This meant a lot to Devon, and Luke knew it. He knew from the moment he met her that she was going to do great things in life. She was motivated, intelligent, passionate. Anyone could see it. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

Luke pulled away in favor of cupping her cheeks in his hands. Devon flushed under his adoring gaze, eyes falling downwards.

“You’re incredible, Devon Murphy.”

She kissed him as a form of thanks, melting into each other’s touch. Their eyes met when they pulled away, bright blue and warm brown. Devon wasn’t the wordsmith that Luke was, but she didn’t have to be. Her eyes and her actions told him and everyone else everything that they needed to know. Devon was in love with him, and Luke, her.

Even with Luke’s way with words, Devon could read his eyes too. They were just as expressive as his poetry. As they gazed at each other, she could see the flash of sorrow as his mind travelled elsewhere. She didn’t need to ask to know what he was thinking about.

“Luke…” she whispered with a softened gaze. The guilt was returning, although she knew she had nothing to feel guilty about. She had always struggled with her determination to put herself first. It wasn’t Luke’s fault either, however; his feelings about her leaving were completely valid.

“No. None of that right now,” he stated, shaking his head. “This is a huge accomplishment, Dev. We’re not going to be sad tonight.”

A grin tugged at the corner of Devon’s lips as Luke pulled away, grabbing his phone from the desk and sticking it in his pocket. He placed a hand on the small of her back and led her to the door of the bedroom.

“I think you deserve a celebratory dinner, honey, yeah?” He offered, handing trailing to the side to hold her waist. She chuckled and leaned into him.

“You could throw in a frozen pizza and I’d be happy, bubs.”

“Hell no,” he scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous suggestion in the world. “You just got into grad school! I’m taking you out for dinner. If you want pizza, we can get pizza, but not a frozen one.”

Devon couldn’t help but throw her arms around him again, burying her face into his chest. He tilted his head down to press a kiss to the top of her head. She knew this wasn’t easy, and she was beyond grateful that he was being supportive.

“Thank you, bubs. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey. So are we getting pizza, or do you want to go somewhere else? It’s up to you.”

“Pizza sounds good. Can we go to the place with the good garlic knots?”

Luke laughed as he slipped on his shoes.

“Of course we can.”

Devon slipped on her own shoes and grabbed her denim jacket from the hook by the door before the couple made their way downstairs. Luke’s beat up Prius came into view as they stepped into the parking lot. Devon had named the car Bertha; she was old and a little rusty, but she got the job done.

Luke drove to the small pizzeria not far from their apartment complex. Once inside, they were seated quickly and ordered garlic knots and a pizza to share.

“We haven’t talked much about your writing lately,” Devon said once the waitress walked away. “What have you been working on?”

Luke shrugged and sipped his water.

“Not much. I haven’t really gotten anything good out.”

Truthfully, he had written a lot of poems about Devon leaving. He wasn’t going to tell her that at their celebratory dinner, though.

“In a slump?” She queried sincerely.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Maybe next weekend we can go out, go to the park. You always get inspired there.”

Luke grinned and reached across the table for her hand.

“I’d love that, Dev.”

The rest of dinner flew by, conversation getting lost in buttery garlic knots and savory pizza. Luke offered dessert, but Devon was too full to even think about it. A sly joke about having her for dessert at home had the giggling couple paying the check and driving home at record speed where Luke certainly made good on his promise.

Devon and Luke laid in bed that night where whispered I love you’s and gentle kisses put them to sleep. Not a negative thought in either of their minds. They were content, but the future still loomed menacingly ahead.

…

The apartment was once a place of solace. It was a place where Luke and Devon could get away from the stress of college life and simply be together. It was safe and comforting. A place they knew they were always welcome.

As time went on, the apartment slowly shifted from a place of joy to a place of dread.

Graduation day was coming up, and both Devon and Luke knew what that meant.

They busied themselves with assignments and exams, Devon simultaneously preparing herself for grad school. She didn’t say much about it to Luke; whenever it came up, the tension between them only got stronger. It led to them bickering about other things to avoid the conversation.

Before they knew it, graduation had come and passed. Devon and Luke officially had their bachelor’s degrees, Luke in creative writing and Devon in social work. The days leading up to it were a good distraction, celebrations with friends and family taking their minds off the move. But it was over. Devon needed to get to her new city soon to set up her new apartment and get her bearings before school started. It was time to face the music.

“Luke?” Devon mumbled as he came out of the spare bedroom. She had been waiting for him to finish so they could talk.

He sighed and sat down next to her on the couch, knowing exactly what this was about. They both had been dreading the conversation, but he knew just as well as her that they needed to discuss it before it was too late.

“Are you ready for this?” She whispered, glancing at him with sad eyes. He didn’t return her gaze.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to be away from you for this long, honey.”

Luke could feel his guard coming down. He wanted this for Devon, but he was struggling to keep his want for her to stay close suppressed.

“I don’t want you to think I’m not considering you in this,” she began, reaching for his hand in his lap. “Leaving won’t be easy for me either.”

“I know.”

He was too scared to say much else.

The couple was silent for a moment. They racked their brains for something to say that would make the situation easier on either of them.

“Maybe you could come with.”

Devon regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth.

Luke huffed and sent her a look.

“You know I can’t do that.”

She did know. If he could do that, he would have jumped on the opportunity immediately. Luke couldn’t afford to move. He was working on fulfilling his lifelong dream of releasing a poetry book. He was getting so close. Publishers were starting to take interest in him, and he nearly had enough money saved to cover the costs. It was difficult to save money when his part time job at a local bookstore didn’t pay much in the first place and he still needed to pay for school as well as his share of the rent and groceries, among other necessary things. Devon was a little luckier. Neither of their families had much to contribute, and she needed to pay for the same things as him, but her part time job paid better than his and she had money saved from when she managed to land a paid internship first semester. It was covering the costs of her move and grad school.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She watched him for another moment, trying to fight back the tears that were welling in her eyes.

“Please say something, Luke,” she whimpered. All she wanted was for him to affirm what she so desperately wanted; for them to be okay.

He finally looked at her, both sets of eyes red rimmed. Devon squeezed his hand.

“Do you really have to go, Dev?”

The break in his voice sent the first tear gliding down Devon’s cheek.

“You know how much this means to me, Lu. I really think we can make this work.”

“Can we? Can we really?” Luke’s tone turned frustrated. Devon’s mouth dropped open slightly. Did he not believe they could last?

“What are you saying?” She whispered, voice shaking.

He sighed and roughly stood up, dropping Devon’s hand in the process.

“We’ll never talk. We’ll both be so busy. You’ll have school, I’ll be working. And you know neither of us have the money to be visiting each other often. There will hardly be anything,” he rambled, pacing around the living room. Maybe his selfish side was coming out, but he felt he was just being realistic.

Luke always aimed for realism, particularly in his poetry. He wrote largely about real life experiences and channeled his emotions into beautiful, flowing rhymes. His best work came from personal connection.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but write about what he wished he had.

His idealistic poems were never about Devon; his relationship with her was practically perfect. But this was something that no idealistic poem could fix. No words could change what was happening to them.

“I’ll make time for you, Luke. Won’t you do the same?” She questioned, growing frustrated as well. She had wanted him to share her optimism, but clearly he didn’t. A part of her knew he was right, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“Of course I’ll make time. But will it be enough? No matter how much we try, will it be enough to keep what we have going? Look at what it’s doing to us now! You haven’t even left yet and we can barely keep it together.”

“Do you really have that little faith in us, Luke?” Her voice was calm, despite how she felt on the inside. She narrowed her eyes at him. “No one said it would be easy. But we’ve been together for four years. I believe in us.”

Luke took another breath, trying his best to keep his emotions and tears at bay.

“I want to believe in us, Devon. I really do.” He turned to look at her. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and it only made his heart ache more. “I still want a future with you. I want the house and the dog and the kids we’ve always talked about. But I have a bad feeling. We’ve never been away from each other for more than a few weeks. I just...the distance is going to break us.”

Luke’s own words cut him like a knife. As much as he wanted to believe they could last, his own insecurities caused him doubt. He wasn’t sure if he truly believed that or if he just wanted to save himself the heartbreak of being away from Devon for so long.  

Devon let his words sink in. Even if it did break them before she finished her degree, she was willing to try until they couldn’t anymore. Maybe he was right. Maybe the distance would break them eventually. But it hurt her that he didn’t have any faith at all. Still, she understood where he was coming from.

There was no winner in this situation.

She thought for a moment, and finally came to the conclusion that they were both thinking about.

“Fine.” She slowly stood up from the couch and looked him in the eye. They were both shattered. Hearts were breaking into a million pieces simultaneously. Devon put on the most stoic face she could muster with tears still leaking from her eyes. “We obviously want different things right now. I have school, you have your book, and clearly we can’t handle both at the same time. Maybe there shouldn’t be an us.”

Although he had essentially been the one to suggest it, her words felt like a punch in the gut.

This wasn’t what either of them wanted. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But the truth was becoming more and more apparent. They couldn’t do this. Not now.

However, Luke mimicked Devon’s actions and put on a blank face.

“Maybe there shouldn’t.”

They stared at each other for another few moments. Reality was setting in. This was the end of Luke and Devon. All of the coffee dates, the love poems, living off Ramen and questionable dining hall food together, walks in the park, kisses, I love you’s, the late night talks of the future, everything gone down the drain.

Devon shut herself in the bedroom before Luke could see her break.

…

The next month before Devon moved was painful. Her and Luke hardly said a word to each other. They ate their meals separately, not bothering to cook together like they used to or order food to share. They both spent time with friends before everyone went off to their new adult lives. When they weren’t out, Devon locked herself in the bedroom while Luke did the same in the spare. They hadn’t slept in the same bed since before their fight.

Devon spent a lot of free time packing. She went through all of her belongings, creating piles of things to keep, things to donate, and things to throw away.

She soon came across something that made all of her emotions about the breakup resurface.

It was the shoebox that she kept all of the poems Luke had written for her in. She kept every single one.

With a quivering lip, she opened the box and gazed at its contents. Piles of folded papers were neatly tucked inside, his declarations of love all written out in one place. They were her most prized possessions. She went back and reread them often, and the feeling of having someone love her like Luke did was the best feeling in the world.

Devon choked out a sob, burying her face into her hands in hopes that he wouldn’t hear her through the thin walls. The fact that he was right next door hurt her even more. The caring, gentle boy that made her swoon with his charming smile and romantic poetry. He made her fall in love with him all over again every day. He was everything, and she lost him.

She slowly read through each poem. Instead of joy and adoration, all she felt was anguish and heartache. She never thought she would feel this way about Luke.

When she got to the bottom, she pulled out the last poem, and her heart completely broke in her chest.

The Orchids.

Devon couldn’t keep her sobs at bay. She clutched the paper to her chest, every bit of pain coming out in tears.  

Luke could hear her through the wall.

His heart told him to run in and comfort her. His brain told him it would only make things worse for both of them.

He plugged his ears, trying to block out the dreadful sound. He was in just as much pain as her, but the sound of the love of his life’s sorrow only made his own worse.

Glancing down at the open notebook in front of him, he reread the poem he was writing, and soon he found himself joining Devon in tears.

It was called Wilted. Their relationship that had once been a beautiful flower, an orchid, lost its sunlight and its water, and now it had wilted. Dead, grey, dried up.

Luke dropped his pen and folded his arms on the desk, burying his head into them. He cried.

The broken couple, only separated by a thin wall, might as well have already been miles apart. They cried together, but there was no sense of unity between them. Their pain was past what any poem could portray.

[cafeinthemoon]

Tobirama with a s/o who’s a surgeon (Modern!AU)

This request was made by @mirkoishot (thank you!!) and I decided to do it as an one shot. Since I’ll be doing other request that involves the Founders with a s/o who’s exhausted from work, I’m going to keep this one short and simple, and besides I’ve been missing my Tobirama x reader works, so here it is!

Fandom: Naruto | Tobirama Senju

Word count: 1123

Warnings: Stress, mental exhaustion, burnout, mentions of surgery

Symbols: ✔ | 1️⃣ | 💜 | 💛 | ▶

72 hours.

If it depended solely on your psychological impression of time, you would never knew that you’ve been in that hospital for such an amount of time. You would never believe the clock if you’d spend a moment looking at it.

This information was given to you by Tobirama, when you opened your eyes that morning, now in your own house, lying on your bed, and found him sitting beside you. His tone was as practical, devoid of affectation as always, but that wrinkle formed on his forehead when he frowned left no doubts about how deep was his preoccupation. This was Tobirama Senju: the depths of his thoughts and emotions were only glimpsed through the subtlest traits.

Yes. Despite what you promised to him the last time it happened, you weren’t able to keep your word: you overworked yourself again and had to be taken out of the hospital.

You didn’t try to speak while you were in bed, both because you were exhausted and because you had nothing to say that could justify yourself. Still, you were convinced that it wasn’t that wrong. You led your team as one of the most experienced surgeons at the Village’s Hospital, and many things – many lives – depended on you. With your hands, your eyes and your concentration you’ve recovered countless people’s health and saved other hundreds from death. You assured them and their families of their happiness. Every minute you’ve spent inside the surgery room was well paid with the bright of gratitude in their eyes, even more than with money. You had enough of these latter, but your passion relied on the first one.

Of course Tobirama understood it since you two met. He knew better than anyone how your work was an undetachable part of you: he had the same kind of connection with his own career, so much that sometimes he didn’t know when to stop. Fortunately for him, you were there to bring things back to normal; now it was his time to do the same for you.

When you tried to sit on the bed, you found out you weren’t able to do it without help: your arms seemed to have lost all their strength, and your hands started to hurt as soon as you applied pressure on them upon the mattress. Your heart jumped inside your chest; that was serious. You felt his hand surrounding your body and lifting you until you were comfortable, then grabbing an extra pillow that was placed behind your back. You fell on it immediately after he released you.

You sighed a thousand times before you could speak your first word.

- Is the kid... alright?

He knew what you meant. Your latest mission consisted in a complex operation on a young child. You were coming from an almost non stop sequence of less complicated operations when you were informed about the child’s situation; you didn’t need to think twice to understand that the family needed your help. You just asked your colleagues where was the patient’s room and went there to inform the parents that you would be leading the operation. You just stopped to change your uniform and gloves, and to send a message to Tobirama telling him about the surgery. He wasn’t a doctor, but he was aware that this type of operation used to take time and that you weren’t going back home for a while.

For countless hours, your only sight was your hands holding the instruments in front of you and the light above the child unconscious over the operating table. Your only thought was to save them, to give them back to their parents, healthy and ready to live their life as well. When everything was finally over, you couldn’t believe it. Now the kid had to rest and you were going to keep an eye on them while they recover…

It was your team that caught you before you fell on the room’s floor, exhausted. This was the last thing you remembered before waking up at home, with Tobirama by your side, as worried about you as you were about the child.

He was expecting your question and had no problem in answering you. He knew enough of you to understand that you wouldn’t rest until you knew what happened after your collapse.

- The child is alright. Of course they will need to stay in the hospital for a while until their full recovery, but the operation was a success – and with a change in his tone that made it softer, so subtle that only the closest people to him would recognize – You and your team saved them.

Your eyes started to burn and a tear rolled from the outer corner of your eye. You closed them and felt Tobirama’s fingers wiping that first tear and the others that came after it. You sighed, trying to contain a sob and failing right after; you raised your hands with the remaining forces in them and put them upon Tobirama’s. It was when you noticed how they were shaking.

- I couldn’t keep my word – you whispered – I’m sorry.

He held your hands between his, his fingertips massaging your knuckles both as if he wanted to soothe your pain and examine their state.

- You know how important it is to us that we keep our promises. Don’t you, y/n? – he questioned you.

He was right this time, since he has been doing it for a long time now: it’s been a year since you had to go and save him from his work.

You nodded to show you agreed with him. He approached your hands from his lips and kissed them, shaking and hurting at his touch.

- Many lives depend on the good state of these hands, and look at them now – he lowered his eyes to your hands – This is the reason why we need to keep our word.

You knew that, but you didn’t need to speak out to show it. You had enough experience to understand that the slightest harm on your hands could change your career – or even finish it. Maybe forever. And what would be your life without it?

Tobirama, as the man of actions he was, didn’t let you deliberate. His hands gave yours a soft squeeze as to regain your attention. You looked at him; there was no impatience in his eyes.

- You’ve been taking care of others for all this time, y/n. It is time for you to be taken care of.

You nodded, new tears rolling from your eyes as he helped you leave the bed and led you to the bathroom, from where came a warm steam of a recently prepared bath.

[enigma-im]

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Rating: Teen Relationship: Space Orc x F!Human Warnings: angst, avoidance, emotional constipation, repression, fluff, space orc

Word Count: 3812

insecurities are like another person in a relationship, whispering in the other’s ears till something happens.

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

Soulmates are something to rejoice over. Which is understandable, it's the person who is perfect for you. How could anything go wrong? It's your other half, your partner in crime, your true paring. Everyone believed it was a simple affair, you meet and then happily ever after. It was the basics until we found out there was life outside of earth, then things got a bit more complicated. New cultures to take into account along with physiology.

Things aren't as straight forward after that.

When I was a kid I use to fantasize about my soulmate. Would they be tall, short, fat, skinny? What kind of music do they like, and will they also eat their sandwiches without the crust? I adored the idea of having a new best friend to hang with. As I got older the idea never really left, morphing more into adult-type thinking. It isn't till I could translate my mark did I begin to have doubts.

It was an off chance that I happened to see the language my soulmate spoke, a weird situation really. I was fumbling about online and I saw it, just a new article that had a picture of the written language. It as scraggly and difficult to read, like a doctor's handwriting. With further research, I found exactly what species my mate was likely to be.

Orc.

I was excited at the time, I figured it out. My mate was to be an Orc, large creature with mostly human parts. To better prepare I did some more digging, looking up anything I could that wasn't video game lore. It was all so new and surprising. I had a direction now, an image to apply to my fantasies.

Since then I have studied extensively on Orc culture. Learning the ins and outs of how they live, socialize, idolize, and talk. It was all so engaging and rich in lore. It felt like I was getting to know my mate already.

The more I researched I soon had an inching doubt. It started off small, basic insecurities. As I read about their courting did I really give it some thought.

Orcs value strength in their culture. A strong mate is heavily sought after. If a soulmate wasn't of great value then they are known to cast them aside. The idea puts lead in my stomach. I'm not strong, or large like their women. I'm tall but I fit more in the string bean category more than anything. I could never be what a typical orc would want.

As I spiraled in these thoughts one thing became clear. I will not be putting myself through that humiliation. I can't stand the thought of being viewed so lowly by someone who is supposed to be my perfect match. To be laughed at by them or be a dirty secret will kill me inside. I can't be an embarrassment, I refuse.

Thereafter I ignored my mark, keeping occupied in school and work. A little while later it became easy to avoid thoughts about him. It was like I never had a soulmate.

It wasn’t as freeing as I thought it would be.

After college I jump into my career, climbing the corporate ladder quickly. It's easy enough when you are married to your work. That even the thought of free time brings anxiety and stress. After a few years, I am exactly where I want to be. Traveling the world meeting new important people.

I have been everywhere and met every type of person. Orcs being one of those types of people. When I first saw one the excitement peaked its head, only for a moment. Then anxiety took over. What if it's him? The orc said his first words to me and the sigh of relief and disappointment was alarming. A few more introduction after that and the rising emotions settled. It was back to normal after that. Pretending that 'special' someone didn't exist.

Years passed and nothing happened. I didn't meet him or even get a trail. My soul felt numb, everything felt numb. It's hardly noticeable after so long, just a hole I've dealt with. I tried dating to fill the void but no one wants to date outside their partner. Anyone who does has lost their loved one already, wanting to also fill the void. Once they find out mine is still out there they break off quickly. So I focus on my career, it's all I have.

In my early 30s, I'm working in Germany. A lovely place but I always preferred the isles of Scotland, specifically Skye. At the embassy passing around some documents, I bump shoulders with an imposing figure. He is quite tall and buff, the poster child of orcs if I've ever seen one. He twists around, apologizing for the shoulder check.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there. Shouldn't have had my focus too far in the clouds while walking a crowded room," he smiles curtly.

I stare blank face at him, all primary functions failing. I can hear- feel- my heart beating against my chest. Everything is cold, my fingers numb but tingly. My vision tunnels and my brain just screams one thing. Run.

Rudely I turn and quickly walk away, giving no further reaction or words to my mat- to the stranger. I don't have a direction as I make it out the nearest door. I close it swiftly behind me, leaning against it. Sliding down to the floor I ball up. Pressing my knees to my chest and begin crying. Years of repression and closeting emotions are now boiling over. The sadness I ignored, convincing myself that they do not exist, is all on the surface.

I hiccup, stubbornly wiping away tears on the floor of a bathroom. All I can think is,

Fuck.

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

I have to say I've gotten good at not only avoiding emotions but people too. A week and a half of only catching glimpses of the orc. Which is a lot of glimpses, he is out and about often. It helps I'm stuck in my office for the time, only leaving for lunch. Still, he is always around when I'm out.

After I can pretend I've forgotten about him does he show up in my office. Knocking on my door a little after lunch. Too focused on work I don't hear him come in. I look up from my desk and choke.

"Hello again," he smiles," I have a folder for you, Reggie asked if I could bring it by."

"uh," I stare. My fingers grip the pen roughly, my fist almost shaking with the tension. The only thought running through my head now is, 'don't say anything'. If I talk then he will know. Then he will reject me. Then I can't go on pretending.

"You alright," he flicks the folder against his chest," didn't mean to startle you or anything. I know orcs can be kind of intimidating." I almost snort at the irony of that statement. Very intimidating indeed.

Instead of answering I hold out my hand for the folder, my other still white gripping the pen. He quickly crosses the room, handing me the folder before walking back to the door. With a curt wave, he is gone.

Once the door clicks into place I take in a greedy breath, slamming my head into my crossed arms. I groan, mumbling into my fist. My brain is muddled and my heart conflicted. I yearn to follow him but I also crave to leave back to the states. But one thought is resting quietly in the back of my head.

He looks good in those pants.

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

This idiot is now making it damn hard to avoid him. It's like he has made it his mission to get me to talk. Intercepting my way to my office in the mornings, meeting me at lunch, or delivering things to my office. He is determined, I'll give him that.

I'm almost running out of excuses. It's hard to make excuses without talking. I'm almost convinced he thinks I'm mute. Which would have been a grand way out if it wasn't for my coworkers plotting against me. As I talk with them they try to bring him into the conversation, promptly shutting me up.

I learn at some point his name is Garson. When I first heard I actually blushed, like a school girl! It was just his name and he didn't even say it. I will never understand the inner workings of soulmates but Garson always makes my controlled emotions run rapid.

As I sit in my office, absentmindedly writing my door opens. I don't look up, lost in thought for the hundredth time today.

"Hey," that deep -sexy- voice says. I sigh, shoulders slumping. I glance ahead, annoyed, and flustered. Garson waves shyly, holding up another folder. At this point, he has become my special delivery man. "From Vanya," he sets the file down," she asked I bring it on account of her bum leg. I told her it would be a bad idea to play soccer with her teens." his tense chuckle makes my heart throb. I want to ease his anxiety, but I can't. I just shrug, still writing.

He sighs, walking back out the door. The click echoed around the room and I find myself slamming my head on the desk again.

"Fuck," I groan, pounding my fist on the folder.

As I remind myself for the hundredth time why I'm doing this I notice my notes. I shift the paper and grimace at what I wrote.

Garson. Garson. Garson.

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

I can't fucking take it! He is more determined than I am stubborn. Watching him find more excuses to come to my office is almost impressive in its own right. He has upgraded from delivery boy to a food service. At some point he has found out my favorite snacks and drinks.

He interrupts me at the door, handing me a coffee while ranting about his night. As I ignore him, feeling like the biggest idjit, other coworkers join in. the number of dirty looks I get doesn't outweigh the appreciation I have for them talking to him. I feel like complete garbage when I don't respond to him, letting him look like a fool talking to someone who clearly doesn't want to talk. Thank the kindness of others.

Around lunch he pops in for a chat, offering a spot next to him in the cafeteria. I shake my head, pretending to be too busy to interact with him. Every time he offers and I decline he leaves so dejected. It's so heartbreaking to see him like that.

Day after day he tries his damndest to make friends with me. I cannot fathom this type of devotion to someone he doesn't know. I'm almost tempted to think he knows but its impossible. He is just too friendly for his own good.

Some coworkers have cornered me to ask what is up, some more confrontational than others. Some are casual in their attempts, asking simply why I'm so mean to the orc. Others are personally offended for him, being passive-aggressive to the point that I ask them to take his attention off me if they are so angry. Some do, which I'm grateful for. But he isn't swayed so easily.

I sit in my office, alone, contemplating my choices. I can't keep dealing with this. The heartbreak I feel rejecting him is as bad as him rejecting me. I'm doing what I was afraid of him doing, worse is he doesn't even know.

I have to leave.

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

It was weak, I'll admit that. Asking for a transfer was probably the easiest way out. I know I should just talk to him, let him have a choice in this, but I can't. he is a sweet guy, everyone knows that, but he is still an orc. He deserves someone strong and proud as his kind is. It's impossible for me to be that.

As I wallow on my last week of work I clean up my drawers to distract myself. I sort through some papers when the door bangs open. The knob slams against the wall, bouncing away towards that alluring figure. Garson walks in, grabbing the door and closing it behind him. His sneer is alarming, along with his clenched fist.

"You're leaving," he shouts," are you kidding me?" he walks closer to the desk, turning to pace the length of the room. " I tried, I thought maybe it's because I'm an orc and you were scared of me. I understand that, humans are super sensitive that way. But no! I was nice, patient, and doing everything I could to be nonthreatening. Yet that didn't help did it? It seems like nothing was going to fix that. So my question should really be why is my soulmate running from me?" I gasp, gawking at him. He stops his pacing, glaring down at me with crossed arms. He shrugs," well? Why are you running from me?"

I can't answer, shocked and startled by this admission. He doesn't allow me the time to stew on the question. He shoots forwards, slamming his hands on the desk. I jump.

"Why are you running from me," he chokes on a sob," It's been killing me to give you time. To watch you every day and not be able to hold you. If you want to leave, then fine. I won't stop you. I just want to know where I went wrong, what did I do? What could I have done? Was I always going to be not enough for you? Well?"

I bolt up at his words," I was scared! I was fucking scared, ok?" we both startle at my outburst. His self-deprecating look mixed with his attempt at a sneer melt off his face. I sigh, "I didn't want to be rejected, I couldn't handle that kind of pain." I drop my head in defeat.

Garson ducks down onto his knees, catching my eyes. "Why did you assume I would reject you," he asks.

"because you’re an orc and I'm not," I answer.

He scoffs," and you're a human and I'm not. Do you really see that as being a huge problem?"

"Yes," I slap the desk," of course it's going to be a problem. I'm not strong or proud, I'm weak and antisocial. I cry every time I watch sad dog movies. I can't lift more than half my body weight. I also don't have anything worthy for you. I'm an ordinary human while you are part of a devoted species. I am not worthy."

Garson just stares after my outburst. He looks between my eyes then gives me a once over. He huffs, standing straight. He combs his fingers through his long hair, turning away with a laugh.

"You have to be kidding me," he laughs again. His chuckles turn into full-blown laughter till he is lounging against the door.

"What's so funny," I snap. His laughs trail off as he watches me. When he doesn't answer, I sit, arms crossed and lip sneered.

"Sorry," he looks to his feet," it's just ironic."

"Yea, how so?"

I watch him straighten from the wall and casually flop into one of the chairs in front of my desk. Everything is quiet as he collects his thoughts. I faintly hear the sound of shuffling outside my door. No doubt some people heard the shouting.

"When I first found out what species my soulmate was I was excited. I had a direction now, I felt closer to you. I was so excited I told everyone I could. People of my clan held their tongues at my joy, only giving pitiful looks but no words. I never noticed it. It's when my parents sat me down to explain did I get it," he shifts in his chair," 'humans are scared of us' my mom said. 'they are weak' my dad said. I became torn between the fear of hurting you and the fear of you not wanting me because you'd think I'd hurt you.

"When I finally read what your words said I let their words alter me. instead of rejecting the idea of you I sent out to change. I got jobs that interacted with humans and kept myself small. I'm not a threat, I never was. I took every chance to chat with humans, to get used to them. It was all in preparation for you. I was- am- scared of you." he meets my eyes, his so full of fear. My heart patters, the view of vulnerability shaking me to the core.

"y-you were scared of me," I point to myself. The idea is laughable. "So we are a bunch of idiots too worried about each other's feelings to just ask straight out what we actually felt. That is funny," I chuckle. I huff, sitting back in my seat.

The awkward silence should be stifling but we are captured in our thoughts. It's amazing in its irony that he was also the one scared. I feel relieved and foolish all at once.

"so," he bounces his fingers on his thigh," what now?" I shift in my seat, also curious about our direction.

"depends," I nibble on my lip," do you want me despite everything?" the question lingers in the air for me. The answer I've dreaded my entire life. The choice that decides my happiness.

"Despite everything," he ponders," you ignore me for weeks, avoiding any interaction. Not talking to me less you wish to reveal yourself, and requesting a transfer. Despite all that, despite the ignorance and stubbornness, I want you." the satisfaction that flows through me is startling. My hand shakes from the previous fear and now incomparable joy.

"I never thought I would hear those words," I sigh," thank fuck."

He stands from his chair, walking over the side of my desk. "So you want me too? Despite everything," he crouches down. I grab at his face, finally allowing myself the chance to admire his handsome face. His long tusk and pierced lip. His dark green eyes and even darker green skin. He is so beautiful.

I answer him by leaning forward and capturing his lips. Pressing fiercely against him, showing him my cyclone of emotions. He returns it in full, shedding his insecurities to just hold me.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against him.

"it's ok, I'm sorry too," he kisses me again. He cards his fingers through my hair, petting down its length. I don't want to leave this moment, it filling the hole that sat too long in my heart. Though one question makes me part.

"How did you know," I ask. He traces his nose over mine with a hum.

"How did I know what," he asks.

"How did you know I was your soulmate, I didn’t say anything," I clarify. Garson answers by leaning down to my neck and taking a large inhale.

"Fresh baked cookies and honey milk," he kisses my cheek," only my soulmate can smell so good."

I laugh," you can smell your soulmate?"

"of course, all orcs can. Do humans not have this," he leans back. I shake my head, taking the time to lean in and smell him.

"pine tree and blueberries," I ponder," no, pine tree and strawberries."

"pine tree and fruit?"

"I guess so," I shrug, grinning like an idiot. He smiles with me, leaning back in for another heart stopping kiss.

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

After the week is over I transfer back to the states. The distance is aching, the void opening as he isn't there to fix it. I call him every night, regretting more than anything signing those papers. I belong right next to Garson in Germany. Though I can see now that I deserve to deal with the repercussions of my actions. Still, it sucks.

A month in I feel as empty as I did before he showed up. The daily calls help but seeing him would be better. My work suffers as a result, to the point that I consider taking vacation time to visit him.

Soon enough I do just that, putting in a week-long vacation request. I forgo telling Garson of my visit, wanting to surprise him. It's exciting to be able to this with someone. I always watch couples on tv surprising each other like this. It's nice to feel so normal.

The night before my flight I start packing. As I collect my clothes I hear a knock at the door. Tossing the items down I go over and answer. I throw open the door expecting some salesman but I'm greeted to a hulking figure.

"Garson!" I jump him with a hug. I pepper his face with kisses, too caught up in the growing affection.

"Hey, nice to see you too," he laughs, holding me close. He walks in, shutting the door behind himself as he goes into my living room. He sets us both on the couch, leaning down for a kiss.

"What are you doing here," I ask surprised.

"What, can't come visit my mate?"

"Oh shush, you know that's not what I meant. I'm asking because I was just getting ready to visit," I point towards my room," I'm in the middle of packing actually."

"really," he strokes my thigh," I guess great minds think alike."

"I guess they do," I smile. Having him here is like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. I underestimated his importance until now.

We can't help but make up for lost time, making out like a bunch of teenagers on the couch till we make it to the bedroom. Pushing the luggage and clothes off the bed we make love for the first time. When he first pushes in it's like a puzzle finally coming together. I can't believe I was going to deny myself this, even with the chance of denial this is too great of a reward.

We lay in bed, me resting against his broad chest and him petting my head. We bask in the afterglow and silence, overjoyed with each other's company.

"I got some news," he mumbles, breaking the quiet. I hum, nuzzling into his chest. "I got transferred here," he answers.

I snap straight, looking down at him, "You're going to work with me?"

"yea," he smiles," it's exciting, I've never been to the states before."

"really? It's not much but now that you’re here perhaps it is," I cup his jaw, stealing a kiss while my excitement is hot.

"you flirt," he teases," I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I mumble against his lips.

We fall asleep that night, curious but excited about our future.

I'm glad things worked out despite our ignorance. How could anyone deny their mate?

----------------------- 

I just.... I just love orcs so much. soulmate stories ain’t so bad either.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Okay so I have this idea of the boys in the modern world! Like what kind of profession/ college course would Azul, Malleus, Leona, Lilia, and Idia would take? Some modern au headcanons with them please!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Idia Shroud...

...would be an e-girl Twitch streamer that sells his bath water a famous video game let’s player or streamer, maybe even a professional gamer.

But the type that doesn’t show his face, or uses some kind of prop to censor his face whenever he happens to be on camera.

His online personality and his real life personality are so different...! Idia turns down invitations to conventions and fan meets because he worries about how his followers and fellow content creators. will perceive those very different sides to him.

He still makes bank off of his merch though.

I can see him taking college courses for tech-related things so he always has an excuse to hole up in his room and avoid normies. Computer science, video game design, etc.

He does well in school, but if he ever needs to give a speech/presentation or do a group assignment, well...Idia’s gonna bomb it. Thanks a lot, crippling social anxiety.

Disturbs his room mates and his neighbors constantly because of his video game raging late into the night.

The type to show up to lectures in his pajamas if he shows up at all.

Looks like he has gotten zero sleep all the time even if he slept for a full day and then some.

Wears headphones everywhere in public and blasts music at maximum volume so everyone around him can hear it and knows that he doesn’t want to be disturbed.

Llilia Vanrouge...

...is a child daycare worker or a teacher. On weekends, he moonlights as the lead guitarist and vocalist for a death metal band (though he never brings this up in parent-teacher conferences)

He studied history in college, but he discovered his love for childcare when he was tutoring high school students in history as part of a volunteering program...so Lilia changed career paths!

Don’t get him wrong, he still loves history and he’ll tell the little tots under his care all about the most interesting tidbits of it.

But everyone loves him, from his coworkers to the parents to the children under his care. Lilia is just loads of fun--but he knows when he needs to dial back and be serious, too.

Back in school, he was always getting into trouble for small pranks. Spooking the other students, drawing on school property with chalk, etc.--nothing that would get him expelled.

Kind of an easy-going student. If he did well, that’s great. If he did’t do well, that’s also fine! He goes with the flow and doesn’t sweat the details.

Lilia worked really hard for his degree though, especially since he changed it abruptly into something so different.

He volunteered a lot during his studies, wishing to give back to the community and to be with the children even before he had his degree.

Leona Kingscholar...

...is an unemployed rich kid living off of daddy’s money. He’s the second son to some big business or even actual real life royalty.

Have you see how lazy this man is? Of course he doesn’t have a job.

Leona only attends college because his parents threatened to completely cut him off if he didn’t. (”Your older brother Farena went to college, found himself a nice girl, and got himself a stable job that pays well; why don’t you too?”)

Probably got in on an athletic scholarship. What a chad.

He studies liberal arts, English literature, or women’s studies (because he thinks those subjects are easiest to pass with minimum effort and because he respects women).

Very sleepy boi. Falls asleep during the first few seconds of every single lecture (if he’s even there on time), and it is impossible to wake him up.

Shows up late to class. Like...five minutes before the end of class late.

He falls asleep in the most random public places all over campus.

The master at pulling all-nighters.

Most likely sleeps around (both literally and metaphorically).

Popular with the ladies, even if he doesn’t go out of his way to pursue many. Leona won’t force himself onto them, but he won’t say no if they proposition him and he’s feeling bored enough. Might as well have some fun while he’s forced to be here, right?

Has zero idea where he is going in life. Don’t we all?

Malleus Draconia...

...studies architecture, or art history.

He’s so fascinated by the design of buildings and how styles have changed so much over time.

Tends to daydream. This, paired with his resting bitch face and inimidating aura, makes everyone fear him.

Malleus likes to walk around town and the college campus just to enjoy the buildings. Because of this, his peers think of him as “the local scary-looking weirdo”.

Comments like that hurt him, but Malleus tends to bottle up his emotions and be sad about it in the comfort of his personal quarters.

Malleus tries showing up to publicized college events and every club meeting he can think of, but people tend to keep their distance from him.

Probably phones up his family every other night just to check on them and hear their voices. He’s very lonely...

Has a hard time finding a job because many people are intimidated by how he looks. Ends up overwhelming many interviewers.

Probably works part-time at a discreet WcDonald’s location. Nothing glamorous or high-paying, but Malleus doesn’t expect anything like that while he’s still a student. Plus, he is still thankful for the job experience.

Lands a job at a big building firm after college; quickly rises through the ranks and becomes the CEO. All of his haters must be jealous now, huh?

Still, Malleus feels no ill will towards them. He hopes he can be friends with them at the college reunions.

Azul Ashengrotto...

...works as a drug dealer barista and manager of a coffee shop or cafe. If you want to get darker, he runs a casino (where everything is rigged in his favor) and/or is a mafia lord (just look at Octavinelle’s aesthetic) by night.

He dual-majors in business and law because his brain is just that large.

Straight A student, in the honors program, and a teacher’s pet. Most likely a full ride scholarship as well.

Also the president of student government or the head of a club--Azul has stacked his resume with achievements and titles. Employers will be tripping over themselves to hire him.

Azul applies what he’s studying in college into his business (albeit in less-than-savory ways) to maximize his profits and to scare of unruly customers.

He has a lot of friends in college, but he’s not particularly close to any of them.

Binge eats when he’s stressed.

Do not bring up school prior to college life to him; Azul will get war flashbacks to the time when he was bullied. He refuses to talk about his past, and if you keep persisting, he will get back at you.

Despises group projects; he ends up doing all of the hard work. He’s super passive aggressive about it.

Snitches on anyone that crosses him, even slightly. Azul is very petty. Oh, you forgot to return that pencil that he so generously lent you for the exam? Well, prepare to have your embarrassing photos from that one crazy party leaked to the college newspaper.

[fakecrfan]

bloop, I find many of our TMA characters very lovable. Tortureable. I mean, lovable. Definitely that one. What do you think would happen if the eye fell in love with some other people?

Oooooh yes I also find every single character in TMA amusing to torture worthy of love, so I greatly appreciate this ask! In fact I wrote 2000 whole words of this ask, holy crap. It was long enough that I posted on AO3 here, if you prefer to read over there.

Otherwise, have 5 different humans the Eye could have fallen in love with in a funny way, and One in a serious way. :)

---

Jon is tiredly washing his face in the Archives bathroom when it happens.

Nothing immediately concerning, like waking up from a coma or feeling the pull to traumatize random strangers on the street. It’s just--when he looks in the mirror, there is a little buzzing at the back of his head, similar to what he feels when he gets a burst of knowledge or compels someone. Then, like an intrusive thought, words appear.

  HELLO THERE, HANDSOME.

Jon stares at the mirror for a split second.

“What the fuck.”

Melanie gets to overhear Jon’s hysterical phone call to Elias’s prison later.

“No, no! I refuse!” he says, pacing as his voice gets increasingly shrill. “I’ve been kidnapped, blown to smithereens, resurrected, and had my free will toyed with. I’m drawing the line here. I am not  having a-a possession-induced sexuality crisis in my thirties! That’s too much! No!”

“Well, Jon, I’m afraid you can’t simply switch off whatever feelings our master channels through you.’

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Considering our predicament, it would actually be much better if you  --”

Jon throws the phone at the wall.

---

Elias is tiredly washing his face when it happens.

He looks up into the mirror and feels a buzzing at the back of his head, similar to what he feels when he gets a burst of Knowledge, or when he compels an answer from someone. And then, like an intrusive thought, words appear in his head.

  HELLO THERE, HANDSOME.

This is what Elias always thinks when he looks at himself in the mirror, so he pays it no mind.

---

“We don’t think like they do,” Arthur Nolan says.

Gertrude scoffs. “I’m not convinced they think at all.”

Before the statement can go further, the door to the Archives bursts open, revealing a flushed, disgruntled looking Elias.

“Well, how do we know that  you  think?” he snaps, his cadence distinctly un-Elias-like. Un-Wright-like, for that matter. “I mean, philosophically--you can’t know if anyone is thinking besides yourself! Various human philosophers came to that conclusion you know! If you can’t be certain of whether humans think, then why doubt whether powerful eldritch beings can?”

Gertrude squints. “Elias--”

“The Eye is definitely smart. Super smart,” Elias says, still red and jittering like a teenager stumbling for a comeback. “You’re just--you’re mean! Anyway, the Eye knows sooooo many things! So many more than  you,  Gertrude. Maybe from the Eye’s perspective  you  don’t think because your brain is sooo tiny and your thoughts are so small. Ha, ha! Bet you didn’t think of that!”  

Gertrude pinches the bridge of her nose. “I was taking a statement, Elias,” she tells him curtly. “Also, I didn’t mentioned the Eye spec--”

“The Eye is also very sexy and dateable too” Definitely-Not-Elias-Or-Even-Magnus says, bowling over her. “I hear the Eye has an eight-pack. That the Eye is cosmically shredded--”

---

Melanie expected her mental breakdown would be the end of her career. It had been awful. She’d woken up every day utterly miserable over the fact that one of her worst, most vulnerable moments had gone viral and was being watched and laughed at by millions of people over the internet.

And then, unexpectedly, her patreon earnings tripled overnight. Hundreds and hundreds of new accounts signed up and started donating. Suddenly every single video she’d made was one of the most popular on YouTube of all time, due to a sudden influx of likes from new accounts.

That’s also when the weird comments started up. Thousands upon thousands swarming the comment section of every video on her channel.

HEY HEY HEY THIS IS VERY FUNNY VERY GOOD MELANIE KING IS GOOD I LOVE HER

THE DOG GHOST JOKE IS FUNNY VERY FUNNY I LOVE MELANIE KING YES

MELANIE IS THE BEST VERY GOOD YES MORE MELANIE PLEASE

Melanie assumed it was some kind of mockery, but none of it was outwardly hostile enough to report. The thing that made them disturbing was just the sheer volume of comments and likes, from so many accounts all writing in the same style.

“This is--uh,” one of her more computer savvy friends told her. “I mean, I thought someone wrote a program to write all of these when you described them at first but… most of them are from different IP addresses. Um, it seems like the most likely explanation from a technical perspective is… multiple people collaborating to send all of these to you?”

The second disturbing thing was that the comments started to respond to things Melanie did not share on the internet… or even speak out loud.

NO MELANIE NO BREAKS POST MORE VIDEOS PLZ

MELANIE YOUR NOT BAD IT WAS VERY SEXY WHEN YOU PUNCHED THAT MAN

MELANIE YOU ARE LOVED HOPE THE ANNIVERSARY OF DADS DEATH WAS NOT TOO BAD WE LOVE YOU

And then, of course, was the third disturbing thing. That in addition to implying to have incredibly private knowledge about her, the comments started to… suggest things. Or rather, one thing in particular.

DO A MAGNUS INSTITUTE EPISODE MELANIE WILL BE FUN YES

MAGNUS INSTITUTE TAKES STATEMENTS THEY WILL BELIEVE YOUR STORY MELANIE DO AN INTERVIEW THERE

Melanie looked up the place. The Magnus Institute. Known for taking stories of spooky shit. Latest Archivist had disappeared mysteriously. Apparently the police gave the place a wide berth.

Melanie took a swig of whiskey, and decided she didn’t have much of a self-preservation instinct anyway.

---

Joshua had dealt with enough creepypasta shit during the coffin ordeal to be able to figure there was something supernatural about the Harry Potter style flurry of letters that swarmed his apartment, the ones with eyes painted all over their envelopes. He ignores them at first, which was his preferred way of dealing with this kind of nonsense, but that leads to the whole thing escalating. Now there are more letters, several boxes of chocolate on his doorstep, and… the wall has a bunch of new security cameras. The lenses seem to have silhouettes of hearts in them.

Huh.

He opens the door, uncertain about what to do with all the packages. That's when he notices his cell phone was buzzing up a storm. He checks and finds notifications peppered with eye emojis and hearts and x’s and o’s.

Well. Might as well see what the sender wants from him?

He taps the notification to see an impossibly long stream of letters.

  Dearest Joshua, my love~

He stares. The texts come in as he does so.

458 new messages.

498 new messages.

He shoves the boxes of chocolates back out, and texts back.

---

Basira is tiredly washing her face when it happens.

It’s just one thing to add to the pile of obsessive paranormal weirdness that’s been happening around her lately. She looks up into the mirror and feels a tingle at the back of her head. Her face looks… well. Not different, exactly. Her features are all the same, but she can feel that thing at the back of her head tingling, appropriating her own eyes to size her up in an intrusive, alien way, noting the softness of her skin and the angles of her cheekbones. It’s not a way Basira sizes herself up--not on her own, at least.

  BEAUTIFUL.

Basira knows, deeply, that she is not beautiful. Beautiful is a label that was always applied to other girls, ones who ran around in frilly short skirts, or put on makeup or wore sparkling things. Basira’s labels were different:  smart, practical, sensible  and most importantly  useful.

Basira doesn’t like to look at herself in the mirror much these days. Still, of all that oppressive… interest… that she’s been saddled with, the appropriation of her own eyes on occasion might be the least of her problems.

Melanie watches her, whenever Basira takes to reading openly in the Archives. Melanie’s eyes are wild these days, and she’s always muttering and pacing and snarling as her eyes dart around as though looking for threats--except for when Basira is there. Then she gets still, watching, eyes unblinking.

“Stop that,” Basira says, when she catches her. “I’ve told you I want to read alone.”

Melanie looks utterly wounded for a second, then she flips.

“Fuck you!” she snarls. “I saved you, that fucking meat man would have skewered you without me! How dare you act like I’m some wild animal?”

“That doesn’t mean you get to--”

But Melanie isn’t good about listening to reason these days. When Basira tries to get her to stop, Melanie kicks furniture and throws things. Staplers. Scissors. Usually Basira doesn’t get hit. Usually. But even when she does, Basira keeps her voice level and her feet on the floor.

(Just like Basira isn’t beautiful, she’s not someone who shakes or cries when people throw things at her.)

Jon is worse than Melanie, though. Not violent. Not irrational. Just  concerned. He tries to bring her coffee when she wants it but hasn’t asked, gives her Advil when she has a headache and hasn’t mentioned it. He blinks even less than Melanie these days, even if his eyes are softer.

What makes him worse are the questions--and the fact that Basira can’t stop herself from answering them.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Melanie. Scissors nicked me. She didn’t mean to, I think. Just was angry and didn’t think. Looked more hurt than I did when they actually hit.” Then, Basira got control of her tongue again. “Stop that.”

No reply to that last bit. Just an unblinking, soft gaze pinning her down like she’s an insect on a board. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful. I miss how she was before,” Basira can only barely keep her voice steady. “I’m mostly okay about the violence. I’ve dealt with worse. It’s just it all adds up, having everyone act so weird around me all the time. Jon--”

“You’ll feel better when you talk about it,” he says. Like he’s doing her a favor, instead of just satisfying that sick curiosity that this place runs on. “Basira, you said you’ve dealt with worse. Do you mean in your past job, or has anyone ever-?”

The second she’s done answering that one she bolts and locks herself in the safe room, pressing a pillow over her ears. She can hear Jon knocking outside, sounding so sorrowful. Saying he’s sorry and he just wants her to feel better and she needs to talk to someone.  

She’s furious with him. If she’d caught him pressing anyone else for info like that, she’d have called him a monster. She’d have threatened to murder him in his sleep. She can’t manage any of that now. Instead she curls up on the cot, shaking in a way Melanie hadn’t managed to get her to.

(It’s not really Jon. Just like the violence isn’t really Melanie.)

(Is there a “Jon”, anymore? Or is what’s left just a hollowed out vessel for--?)

Her phone buzzes. Martin, the screen says. Martin, who refuses to be in the same room with any of them, or respond to any of their texts. Except Basira.

    Are you alright?  

    Do you need anything?  

Basira puts her phone down, unsure how to respond. The timing of the text means that Martin probably  saw something, either through cameras or spooky Eye powers. That he’s just as compromised as Jon, or Melanie, or Basira’s own eyes in the mirror.

They can probably see her now, she realizes. One or another of them watching every single little twitch and lip wobble right now. The thought makes her suck in a deep breath, and school her expression into perfect stillness.

  I wish Daisy were here.  

The thought almost cracks through her calm and sends her into a spiral.

  I was always safe with Daisy.

Outside Jon stops knocking and jiggling the doorknob. Quiet. As though he’s had an idea.

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: something sad (Anger)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him. A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ AU. 

Katsuki gets the worst sort of wake up call, takes a look at himself, and doesn’t like what he sees. 

Characters:  Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia 

WARNINGS: Major Character death (mentioned but not described). Swearing. heavy angst. destructive behaviour.

(Follow up part here)

...

(Anger-  In which  Katsuki does not handle tragedy well  and implodes)

“Katsuki, son, you should come inside.”

Katsuki barely feels the soft touch of a hand on his shoulders as his father attempts to guide him over the threshold. He remains in place, glaring at the older man, unwilling to move. His father sighs and gives up on trying to move him, instead talking over his head, addressing the police officer behind him. 

“Where did you find him this time?”

“The park down the road. We had reports of a kid setting off explosives with multiple noise complaints from the nearby apartments...” The sound of the conversation washes over him, muffled in his growing irritation. He feels that familiar burning anger ignite, fuelling his resentment. “...repeated unlicensed quirk use can lead to time in a juvenile quirk correction facility.”

“We’re sorry for the disruption officer,” his father dips his head, “We’ll keep a better eye on him from now on.”

“See that you do. Next time, he’ll be taking a trip to the station. I would hate to see a kid with so much potential...”

“What fucking potential!” Katsuki snarls, whipping around to glare at the officer behind him. Bitterness curdles in his stomach, exasperated by the expression of disappointment directed his way. What right did this stranger have to look at him like that! He looked at Katsuki like he wasn’t living up to expectations!

“You don’t know a thing about me!” 

“Katsuki,” His father tries to interrupt.

“Why the fuck….

“Katsuki.” This time the interruption is louder, hash, “That’s enough.”

He scowls, shoving past his father, shrugging away from the comforting hand as he goes, “I’ll be in my room, don’t come in.” 

He stomps through the living room and down the hallway, sparks running up and down his arms. If his mum were home she might have yelled at loud his entrance, telling him to stop with the racket. She would probably have had some choice words to say about the police escort as well. She wasn’t home. She wouldn’t be home till later, having spent most of her afternoon with Aunt Inko.  

Before he can get to his room, he catches his father’s tired voice as he continues his conversation with the officer.

 “…still processing the death of a friend. He’s going through a rough patch...thank you for your leniency.”

He slams the door with enough force that it rattles the wall. With his back against the frame, he clenches and unclenches his fist, breathing hard.

Friend?  FRIEND! HA! 

Deku had never been his friend. Or rather, he had never been Deku’s friend. Deku had probably seen him as a friend, always following him around, whinging when he got too rough with other kids. The quirkless idiot had always been trying to help when Katsuki didn’t need help! He had never needed Deku!

He smashes a fist into his desk and the wood creeks, splintering but holding together. There are more sparks and the pop, pop, pop of tiny explosions. The computer barely escapes his next attack which sees the desk cracking, his books and pens crashing to the floor. 

“Damnit.”

If he wasn’t Deku’s friend, then why was he so angry! He couldn’t think. He couldn’t sleep. All he could do was feel angry. Burning directionless anger that ate at him, leaving him hollow. It followed him through his every waking moment. Inescapable and all-consuming. 

“DAMNIT!”

…

School is a chore. It’s boring.  Long. Tiresome. Pointless. The other kids were either idiots, dragging out simple lessons into weeklong ordeals, or so pathetic they never grasped the concepts at all. This is nothing new. School had always been boring and full of pathetic extras. For the longest time, school to Katsuki had been nothing more than a stepping stone on his way to greatness. Now it wasn’t even that.

He taps a single, impatient finger against his desk, glaring at the clock as it slowly ate away at the seconds left in the day. 

“Bakugo.”

He deliberately ignores the teacher’s attempt to get his attention. It wasn’t like he was going to get in trouble for the behaviour. She would simply shake her head, humouring his poor attitude like it wasn’t a huge fucking problem. Sometimes Katsuki wondered if he didn’t have some second quirk that projected an invisible bullshit shield, preventing others from seeing what a failure he was.

Today, the call is followed up by another, more insistent one. 

“Bakugo.” 

He tears his eyes from the clock.

“You’re being called to the principal’s office.”

 “Huh?” he drawls. 

“You must not have heard the announcement,” his teacher explains, her expression apologetic, “It was over the intercom so you better hurry.” By now, every eye in the class is on him, waiting for his reaction. The pathetic extras on either side of him are even leaning ever so slightly to the side like they expect him to blow his top any moment. 

“Whatever.” He stands, ignoring the wave of whispers that run through the class in hissed voices. When he steps through the door the voices get a bit louder, so loud that the teacher needs to call them to order, “Settle down. Now if you would turn your attention to this next question.” 

He shoves his hands into his pockets and stalks down the hall to his destination. When he arrives at the door he lifts a leg and kicks so it jumps open and smacks into the wall with a loud CRACK. The sudden action has both his principal, Mr Fukuhara, and that woman representing the district’s Careers Board-he can’t remember her name- startling. 

“You called?” 

They are both seated on the low couches placed at the front of the room adjacent to the principal’s desk. The only times he has been allowed to sit on these couches were during parent/teacher meetings.

“Ah, yes Bakugo,” Mr Fukuhara straightens his tie, recovering first, “Please take a seat.”

Katsuki slouches onto the closet couch opposite them, listening to the principal ramble his way through a greeting, “Now, we tried to have your parents come in but they were both unfortunately busy. Nevertheless, this is an important conversation to be hand and we want you to understand that the school is dedicated to….”

He exhales, cutting off the diatribe, “Am I in trouble.”

“No. No trouble. Though this does involve your recent behaviour.”

Of course, he wasn’t in trouble. He curls one hand into a fist, familiar anger beginning to bubble up, increasing in intensity.  

“We received your revised high school submission forms,” Ms Career Advice starts, “and we think there has been a mistake. We want to clear it up as quickly as possible.”

So that is what this meeting was about.

“What mistake?” He grunts even when he knows precisely what they’re talking about. 

“It says here that you're applying to Aldera Senior High.”

“Yeah, 80% of the losers in this shit hole are going Aldera Senior High. What’s the problem?”

The two adults exchange a meaningful glance. For a brief second, he thinks he might get told off for swearing. No such luck. Mr Fukuhara simply sighs and continues like Katsuki hadn’t said anything.

 “We were under the impression that you would be applying to U.A.?  You have it written on your original submission forms.”

“So what. I’m not allowed to change my mind? U.A. is a selective school…I’m just being realistic.” The words feel like ash in his mouth. Hadn’t he said something similar to Deku not too long ago?

“Your academic performance is more than high enough to qualify and with your quirk…”

He slams his clenched fist into the arm of the couch, cutting the woman off. There is an audible pop, pop around his hands, made loud in the sudden silence. God, would people shut up about is quirk for one second! Both adults pause, expressions a mix of worried and concerned. He hates it. He hates them. 

“I got a zero on my last test,” he snaps, “My average sucks now. I’m just like the rest of the extras here.”

“Yes, well, there were extenuating circumstances in that case. When looking at your academic history overall you’re dedication is obvious,” another pause, “even in the unlikely event that you did not get into U.A. there are plenty of other, top-rate schools that you can apply to as backups.”

Katsuki doesn’t bother responding, opting instead to stand. They weren’t going to listen so there was no point in him being here. 

“Bakugo  please sit back down.” Fukuhara stands as well, voice now stern, “This is an important conversation. You can’t just walk away.”

“Watch me.” He turns towards the door but before he can move there is the lighter touch of a hand at his elbow. 

“I understand that you have taken recent…events…rather hard,” says Ms Career Advice and her voice is softer, more sympathetic, addressing him like he is some startled child, “but you need to think about your future. Don’t throw away this opportunity out of some misplaced guilt…” 

“I’m not fucking going to U.A.!” 

He jerks his arm away, glaring over his shoulder, trying to force some of the fire burning in his chest into his eyes. It must have worked because the woman immediately stops talking, drawing away. 

“How much shit do I have to pull for you morons to get that through your thick skulls,” he growls as he stalks out of the room, the two adults rushing to follow.

“…see… councillor…talk …. your parents. This sort of self-destructive…” The words wash over him as he continues down the hall. 

Katsuki doesn’t bother returning to class, opting to ditch and leave the idiots and their bullshit behind.  He is too angry to concentrate anyway. Until now he has had a perfect attendance record, always meticulous in his show of dedication. 

And that’s all it really was wasn’t it…a show. None of that shit mattered now.

Hands in his pockets, Katsuki wonders aimlessly down the sidewalk, through side streets, jacket to his uniform thrown over his shoulder so he doesn’t overheat under the hot summer sun. At least out here, he is free to be as angry as he liked without people nagging him. He could glare all he wanted at the cracked pavement and it wouldn’t burst into tears. Maybe, he will go blow up some trees in a local park and the police would finally come through on their threat to take him in to the station. It’s tempting…very tempting.

It would have to be somewhere without people-harder to find on such a nice day- because as much as he wanted, needed, to blow shit up, he didn’t want to injure anyone…

Now you grow conscious… too little too late....the treacherous part of his mind hisses. The thought feeds his anger like gasoline on an open flame.  

(Follow up part here)

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar. 

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone. 

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work. 

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers. 

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea. 

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues. 

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon. 

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional. 

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him. 

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises. 

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far. 

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him. 

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.” 

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?” 

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.” 

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.” 

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.” 

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?” 

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor. 

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good. 

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.” 

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.” 

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon. 

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself. 

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued. 

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.” 

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked. 

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you. 

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch. 

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” 

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document. 

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done. 

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by. 

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job… 

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing. 

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done. 

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made  your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess. 

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available. 

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus. 

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had. 

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow. 

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch. 

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly. 

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride. 

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard.. 

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months. 

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now. 

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air. 

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them. 

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him. 

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing. 

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name. 

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light. 

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.” 

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.” 

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes… 

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.” 

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him. 

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was. 

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal. 

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago. 

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching. 

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all. 

[utterlyinevitable]

Hey hi! Can you do a hc about what happened in the time jump for the li routes to fix this mess? Make the lack of progression make sense! please and thank you

I shall try!

Though I’m only going to do Ethan, Bryce and Rafael (TBC in another post). I have never played Jackie’s route and don’t feel comfortable speculating. 

Ethan x MC During the Time Jump 

After the gala, things seemed to be going well. Ethan dismantled the Diagnostics Team and wasn’t MC’s direct superior anymore. 

They thought everything would be fine. 

But no, Ethan was still an attending and MC a resident in the same department. 

And that kiss looked too familiar to be the first time anything happened between them. 

So people started to talk. 

Rumors started to fly about MC sleeping her way onto the best cases and Ramsey giving her preferential treatment.  “Have you seen the way he looks at Dr. Lao? Actual hearts in his eyes.” “She’s the only person he wouldn’t fire for talking back to him.”   “I saw them leave Donahue’s together once last year. You think it’s been going on since then?” 

Ethan and MC did their best to ignore the incessant gossip, they were much too busy helping as many patients as possible to pay attention. 

Two weeks after the gala the gang celebrated Thanksgiving. 

Ethan was invited and joined without pushback. 

He sat at the island talking with Sienna and Rafael as they waited for MC to arrive from her errand that was taking longer than expected. 

It wasn’t as awkward as he would have thought, getting to know MC’s group was rather enjoyable. 

Well, that was until Keiki and Bryce arrived. 

Keiki was very standoffish with Ethan, giving him the full inquisition. 

He took it in stride, brushing off every time Bryce apologized for his sister’s behavior. 

MC and Ethan spent Christmas with Alan at Ethan’s place after a long shift. They hadn’t explicitly confirmed their coupling with his father, using the cover of “having nowhere else to go” to explain why they’re spending the day together. 

Ethan had only spoken about MC and barely even touched on the depth of his feelings for her in the odd conversation with Alan about his personal life.  

Alan knew better. He sees the way his son looks at MC and how attentive he is to her needs; whether it be a new napkin or a top up without batting an eye. No to mention, this wasn’t the first time he caught them cozying up in Ethan’s kitchen. 

Word still spread around the hospital, even quicker now that Ethan and MC were confirmed to have spent the holiday together. So much, to the point that they could not ignore it any longer. 

Ethan and MC and her friends tried to squash as many rumors as possible. Telling everyone that they’ve only started dating. It was part of the truth.  “They hooked up the moment she was cleared of the toxin. One of the nurses heard them. MC is loud!”  “That’s ridiculous. MC went right to sleep the second I wheeled her out of there,” Bryce informed. “And seriously, the kiss at the gala was the first time they got frisky.” 

They were able to buy some more time. The amount of patients coming through Edenbrook’s doors tripling and keeping everyone busy. 

MC spent New Years with her friends while Ethan worked. 

He made it to her apartment just in time to kiss her at midnight. 

Eventually the most salacious of rumors made their way to the board. 

Edenbrook still had ~7 months of life left and accusations like this could not be brushed under the rug. 

Ethan was called into a meeting to assess the claims not long after. 

He blew a gasket - face and ears red with rage at the laundry list of claims brought against them.

The board threw around the notion of a sexual harassment case. 

Ethan assured them that would not be necessary. Their current relationship was more than consensual. 

The board would have loved to believe them but in the current climate they could not afford another lawsuit and are proceeding with extreme caution. 

Ethan was advised to keep distant from MC until the investigation was concluded. 

MC was called in a few days later. 

She said the same as Ethan. 

Things were awkward that entire week they had to stay away from one another to prove their point of not interfering with their professional relationship. 

The case was cleared quicker than both thought possible. Luckily, all their friends and close colleagues vouched for them. 

Ethan and MC received the email of no wrongdoing just before their shifts ended one night.

The night they got the news wasn’t the happy reunion they were expecting. 

She met Ethan at his place - ready with a set of lingerie she was saving for February. 

MC was so excited. But that all ended over takeaway when Ethan spoke of the thoughts that had plaguing him since his meeting with the board. 

Needless to say, Ethan never got to see the outfit. 

The evening ended in them arguing about where she should apply to residency and how he doesn’t want to hinder her career. 

MC stormed out and gave him the cold shoulder for a while. 

Their fight lasted well past Valentine’s Day. 

MC did send him a text to thank him for the flowers and food basket he sent. Other than that it was professional business as usual between them. 

Both Ethan and MC threw themselves into their work, letting the days turn into weeks and neither of them acknowledging their issues. 

They let the fight simmer down and let themselves down along with it. 

They didn’t fight for their relationship, they didn’t talk anymore about what it all means for them. 

MC loves Ethan and would choose him and staying in Boston for him over a better opportunity elsewhere. But after everything, she’s dejected. She’s put so much effort into their relationship over the last two years that there’s no point to fight for something he’s not willing to meet halfway on.

Ethan knows MC leads with their heart. 

That’s why he wouldn’t tell her. That’s why he couldn’t tell her he’s madly in love with her. 

He doesn’t want to ruin her career anymore than he has already, doesn’t want the rumors festering within Edenbrook to follow her wherever she ends up. Doesn’t want her to give up a very promising career for whatever this is. 

He’s also not going to admit he’s a little scared of what it means if she did stay. It’s easier for him to push her away in the name of her career than admit he’s absolutely hopeless without her. 

MC’s night on the town with her friends ended up at the helipad on top of Edenbrook. Ethan heard the commotion of their dancing and loud music and went to investigate. 

The gang invited him to join and he looked at MC for permission. 

She smiled and shrugged, the fight forgotten and the nostalgia washing over her tipsy state. 

He grabbed and beer and sat next to her. He lamented on the view and when MC told him she was glad he was here Ethan grabbed her hand. They relished the feeling of their skin on each others after what’s felt like years. 

They welcomed the silence and just being in each others company. 

Slowly the group trickled out, leaving Ethan and MC alone.  “What did you get up to tonight? Besides trespassing.”  “We did some applications then said ‘fuck it’ and went out”  He didn’t comment on application although he was itching to know where she hopes to end up. So, Ethan changed the subject, “You look beautiful. That dress really suits you.”  “Thank you.” 

They sat still in unsettled silence. The nightly breeze picking up and Ethan mindlessly rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. 

They went to speak at the same time, MC letting Ethan continue: 

“Will you come home with me?”  “Is that a good idea?”  “I’d like to make the most of the time we have left.” 

MC looked at him, their eyes locking. 

She knew it wasn’t a good idea - she’d fallen into him one too many times. Every time she was scorned.  

But maybe tonight she’s diluted her inhibitions enough to indulge in one last goodbye. 

They went back to his place and they didn’t talk at all. 

Very few words were exchanged in the seconds their lips parted. 

Small pleasantries were exchanged in the morning along with light kisses everywhere but on the mouth. 

Ethan drove her back to her place the next morning to keep prying eyes from catching them coming to work together. 

MC wished she regretted sleeping with him again. 

The moment she got out of bed she missed his heat and the way he wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled into her neck as they slept. 

It was heaven. And MC didn’t ever want to come back down. 

MC was still applying to programs all over the country, hoping she’ll find a new match somewhere. Ethan’s recommendation letter could only carry so far. 

Ever since that last evening Ethan and MC refused to acknowledge the fault staring them in the face. 

Instead, they took things one day at a time. 

They kept their friendship alive after months of ignoring one another. 

They’ve texted, they’ve almost sexted. They’ve gone out for coffee. 

But they never had another sleepover. 

Whenever they got close, their internal siren would wail “they’re leaving they’re leaving they’re leaving” and immediately someone would make an excuse to stop much to both their disappointment. 

It was for the best. They knew that. They convinced themselves to be true. 

Edenbrook’s last day came and Ethan was understandably shaken. His career he had devoted his entire life to ended. This creature of habit has to rebuild and it’s terrifying. 

He had a number of hospitals and research centers send him offers but none of them felt right. None of them were Edenbrook and none of them were the team he and his mentor built, and none of them had his favorite person. 

So Ethan was set to take a few months sabbatical; spend more time with his dad and at the opera and just enjoying the life he has been too distracted to live. 

Later that day while waiting for labs for the Bloom Case, he wanted to strangle his father for inviting MC on the quick trip to Providence. 

He also never expected her to agree. 

Ethan had never taken a woman home - and they weren’t really in that close of a place for her to nosey around his guarded past. 

It was disconcerting and strangely familiar to have MC by his side in his childhood home. His past and present meshing beautifully. 

And that scared Ethan. 

Standing in his childhood home watching Alan and MC coo over baby photos, Ethan never wanted a domestic life more. He wanted to show her everything and have her do the same. He wanted to do all this in twenty years with his own family. 

He was coveting things he had thrown away. 

And then she kissed him and for a split second no hope was lost. 

When the lights of Edenbrook finally went off that fateful day, MC grabbed his hand. 

It felt like the only thing to do. 

He was the most important part of Edenbrook - for MC Ethan was Edenbrook. 

Their romantic past aside, they became friends here. He was the reason she was here in the first place - at Edenbrook and practicing medicine. It was only fitting that he’d be at her side when this chapter closed. 

“I’m going to miss you,” she said so sincerely his heart didn’t know whether to shatter or swell.   “For what it’s worth, I feel exactly the same way about you.” 

The silence hung for a while as they watched the last of the lights switch off. 

She broke it with the most visceral question: “So. This is really it.”  “For some things.”  “And what about... other things? Am I going to see you again now that we don’t work together?” 

It was the question they’d been volleying and avoiding for months. The time came to finally put a decision to it. 

MC was still unsure where she was going. Ethan will be spending more time with his family. Things were still so complicated. 

“It’s impossible to say what the future will bring...” Ethan opted for one last life lesson to close their mentor/mentee relationship. 

Her features, mood and hopes simultaneously fell. This was really the end. 

A part of her hoped they could compromise. They only had one another a few times, there was so much more to explore between them. 

She kept her eyes glued down at their shoes, “Oh...”  “But I can see as far as tomorrow. I’ll see you then?” 

He had the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

After what felt like ages, their eyes locked. Both clear as could be. 

“I’d like that.” 

MC left to meet her friends while Ethan stayed to say the emotional goodbye to his home of the last 11 years, to the place that made him who he is. 

Ethan and MC went their separate ways with a promise of tomorrow.     

[devnicolee]

Into the Light (1)

Warnings: none yet! 

Summary: Wesley Parker is a smart, political genius with years of policy experience. After working at the Wakandan Outreach Center in Oakland for over a year, Erik Stevens, Wesley’s longtime friend, offers her the opportunity of a lifetime: move to Wakanda and serve as an international policy advisor to King T’Challa alongside him. For reasons even Erik doesn’t know, she jumps at the chance and immediately leaves her Oakland life behind for a new one in the elusive, secretive nation. Like her friend Erik, she is a recluse and a loner, determined to focus on rebuilding her life and keeping her secrets her own. However, when she meets a certain Mountain king, she realizes that her life in the darkness doesn’t always have to be so. But is stepping into her light that easy? Or will the fear of trusting others keep her stuck? 

Word count: 4,509

Enjoy!

***

Wesley took a tentative step down the ramp of the Royal Talon, the smoldering African heat immediately hitting her in the face. 

“Parker!”

Her face immediately lit up when she saw him, standing separate from the rest of the Royal Family. She hadn’t expected all of them to be waiting to greet her. 

“Stevens.” 

It came out as almost a quiet sigh of relief instead of the upbeat, jovial tone she usually had. After days on edge, the reality of seeing him, stepping her feet on Wakandan soil was like stepping under the warmth of a thousand suns. She couldn’t even hide how relieved she was. It certainly felt better than her impromptu move back to Oakland a year ago. She quickly fixed her face to mask her relief and put on a neutral smile, more of an expression he would expect. 

As soon as she was in arm’s length, his strong arms wrapped around her midsection to pull her into a tight hug. She hesitated for a moment, surprised at his greeting, before her arms rested on his broad shoulders to return it. Even after rekindling their friendship over the past year, she still wasn’t used to this new version of him. He was more inviting… more warm than he used to be. Wakanda had changed him, just not in the ways he originally intended. 

He pulled back, eyeing her up and down as if she had managed to acquire some injury in the last week without his watchful eye. 

“You good?”

“Yea, the flight was great… you know, I just slept through most of it.” 

Her eyes tried to take in everything: the silent planes whizzing above her head, the guards lining the landing pad around them, the grandiose palace towering above them, the sounds of bustling city streets outside the palace gates. Wesley had done a decent bit of traveling in her time and this was truly unlike any city she had ever seen. 

“Aight. Good, good. Come inside, sis… get you situated.” 

After a quick introduction to the Queen Mother and hellos to the rest of the family, all of whom she had met and worked with at the Outreach Center, Erik ushered her inside to show her the room she would be staying in. She knew the accommodations were only temporary, until she got settled and could find her own place. But she certainly was not complaining. 

She tried to listen to Shuri as she rattled off information about the different areas of the Palace, what her new bracelet did. But Wesley knew she would retain none of it. She was too excited, too anxious, too nervous.  

Her professors and old colleagues called her a budding prodigy. Everyone knew Wesley Parker was going places. But she knew what they all also called her now: a waste of talent. After graduating from Harvard, she spent years working her way from government office to government office, trying to work her way up to the upper echelons of the political sphere. She was poised to be a leading voice in foreign policy, one of the few young Black women in the field. And then, over two years ago, Wesley just walked away. From her cushy life in D.C., her high-paying position, a new job offer with the U.N. She abandoned her dream, leaving it stranded in the road for an unexpected detour. And she always looked back, always wished she could get back there. 

And here she was, as she walked down the opulent halls of this palace tucked away in Africa. This was the break in the trees illuminating her path back to her dream. This was her chance, her shot to rebuild what she lost… and this was the only place in the world she could do it. She couldn’t mess it up. She wouldn’t. 

****

“You like it?” 

Wesley laughed, rolling her eyes, “Yea nigga… this is bigger than my whole apartment.” 

Her feet sunk into soft taupe carpet blanketing her bedroom floor. She shuffled her feet, feeling the plushness between her toes. She flopped down on her bed, which felt sinfully good and soft. She propped herself up on her forearms to look at Erik, who looked amused by her childish antics. 

“Good. How you feeling?” 

Wesley sighed, rolling her eyes as she pushed herself back to her feet. The question was vague, as many from Erik were, but she knew exactly what he was referring to. She walked toward him, arms folded in annoyance at his overprotective and overbearing nature. 

“Stevens… you gotta stop asking me that. I am fine. That was, what? A week ago? I’ve been through worse, I’ve seen worse. I am good - I’ve moved on.” Her beautiful face scrunched up in a frown, “I am honestly sorry I even brought you into all that. It’s not a big deal.”

His eyes widened slightly, “The fuck? Wes. That was a big fucking deal. And lying to me about it don’t change that. You need to talk someone… you need to talk about it. And you need to tell me what ha-” 

“Erik. I am begging you… drop this. Leave it alone. Please.” 

She knew he could hear the exasperation in her words, the pleads. She didn’t like thinking about it, one of the many things from her past she flew halfway around the world to escape. The thin fraying ropes holding her up were starting to unravel again, and it took all her power not to collapse, fall right here in front of him. 

He nodded, raising his hands in surrender, knowing that she was serious if she chose to use his first name. 

“Fine. I’ll let you keep your secrets… for now. We all got ‘em. When you’re ready, I’m here. You know, I’d kill for you. I gotchu always, Wes.” 

And that’s the problem. 

“I know… you’ve killed for less.” 

Wesley was one of the few people, outside of his new family, that knew about his past, knew the road littered with blood and bodies he traveled to reach his paradise… his home. 

After her parents died in a tragic accident, 15-year-old Wesley was sent from her home in Charlotte to live with her aging grandmother who had little time or interest in raising a rambunctious teenager. However, she did have time for her friends, Ms. Louise and Mr. Franklin, the old couple in their building who had been fostering a 17-year-old boy, Erik. 

She and Erik became fast friends, developing a close brother/sister bond. Already exhibiting a penchant for violence, Erik was a good friend to have around as a young girl. He was always there to fight for her, protect her. Even when he left for MIT, everyone in the neighborhood knew she was the wrong girl to mess with. 

He looked after her when she joined him in Cambridge during his last two years at MIT. Harvard and MIT were demanding for the pair but they still spent as much time together as they could, studying their respective disciplines. As she kept her nose to the ground and worked on the Hill in D.C. after graduating and Erik started his career in the Navy, they still remained close, talking or seeing each other anytime Erik was available. For every high and every low, Erik was the one constant in her life. 

However, when Erik decided to fall deeper into the life of espionage and violence, the calls came less frequently and, eventually, stopped all together. And there was no one to call, no one to check in with to see if he was ok. And so, Wesley lost the remaining family she had in this world, the only family she thought she would ever have. 

When their paths fatefully crossed 12 months ago outside a black-owned coffee shop near the Center, both thought they had seen a ghost. They hardly recognized each other, mere shadows of the teenagers that ran through the streets together. Part of her wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn’t. One brief conversation reminded her what it was like to have family… someone who cared. And she jumped at the opportunity to have him back in her life - with the promise that he would never leave her again. And it was clear how much his life had changed. He had found home and safety while she was still fumbling in the dark, desperately searching for both. 

It didn’t take long for him to “convince” her to take a position as a consultant at the Outreach Center, lending her policy experience to help them bridge the gap between them and local policymakers in the state. It was better than what she was doing before, preparing to apply to a bookstore to pay her bills.

“Fair enough. See you for dinner? I’ll come by and scoop you… you’ll be lost in this place for days tryin’ find it yourself.” 

“Yea, yea. That’s cool. Thanks. See you then.” 

Wesley chewed her bottom lip as she watched his back retreat out her door. She hated how overprotective he was… how much he actually cared. Most people heard “I am fine,” and accept it as fact. Not Erik… he wanted the truth. 

She flopped back down on the bed, this time out of frustration and guilt, not childlike amusement. Her hand covered her face as tears stung the back of her eyes. 

“You are not fine,” she whispered out loud. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that… or the real reason why. 

****

“Does this look ok?” She smoothed the front of her dress. 

Erik told her dinner was casual and she tried to follow that but she also refused to look like an idiot in front of the Royal Family. This was casual enough but still stylish and cute. And purple, paired with gold jewelry, as Erik told her those were the colors of the Panther Tribe. While her relationships with Erik, Shuri, and Nakia extended beyond professional pleasantries, she could not say the same about King T’Challa, who she had only really spoken to a handful of times. She couldn’t show up to dinner looking any type of way. 

“Yea… I told you it was casual tho?” 

And he looked casual and comfy, sporting a pair of black joggers and a t-shirt. 

“This is as casual as I am gonna get. Some of us aren’t royalty, Stevens… Or should I call you Prince N’Jadaka?” 

He rolled his eyes.

“Nah you shouldn’t if you wanna know where dinner is.” 

“Stevens or Erik, it is,” she vowed quickly, not wanting to smart mouth her way out of a meal. 

“The tribal leader of Jabariland gon’ join us to by the way. Name’s M’Baku.” 

Wesley tilted her head, racking her brain for the bit of knowledge about Wakanda she learned from Shuri, Erik, and Nakia during their long sessions at the outreach center.  

“Jabariland, Jabariland… Jabari… Oh, that’s the group in the mountains right? Gorilla god, snow, just started talking to y’all again like last week?” 

“Tribe,” he corrected. “But yea, that’s the one. He is cool people tho. The only council member I like.” 

Wesley didn’t really understand why she was so nervous. After a year helping them launch the Outreach Center, she was, at least, friendly with everyone at varying degrees. But here? She was a stranger, feeling an intense desire to prove herself and fit in.

“Ms. Parker!” T’Challa stood as she entered the dining hall. It was set for seven, four of the people already seated and waiting. 

“King T’Challa,” she rose her arms in the X she had seen others do around him for a year. He smiled brightly, an encouraging sign on her end. “And you can just call me Wesley or Wes.” 

“Of course, of course. And just T’Challa will do as well. Please sit. We are just waiting on Lord M’Baku.” He gestured toward one of three empty seats available, the one with a mysterious small gift box sitting on the chair. 

“You all did not need to get me anything,” she muttered as she picked up the box. It felt heavy as she fiddled with the edge of the wrapping paper. 

“Nonsense. We are so excited to have you here. N’Jadaka and Nakia believe you will be a great asset as we determine how to situate ourselves on the world stage and I concur. This is just a token of our appreciation for your willingness to join us here and we hope it makes your job a bit easier.” 

“Thank you. And believe me, I am so appreciative of the opportunity.” She prayed no one could see the light tremble in her hands as she started to tear the paper off. However, before she could, the double doors to the hall burst open. 

“Apologies for my tardiness, my king! Issue in the mountains.” 

Wesley looked up to find a giant walking toward her, that was the only way she could think to describe him. She almost wondered if he was an enhanced person, like T’Challa. For she had never seen a “regular” man quite his size. 

You’ve never seen a man as gorgeous as him either. 

If she could have, she would have rolled her eyes at herself. It was true, he was a sight to behold. He entered the room with an aura of power and strength that would have, once upon a time, had her lusting after him. But that was hardly what she was there for. 

“No worries, M’Baku. We were just welcoming our guest, Wesley Parker. This is Lord M’Baku, tribal leader of the Jabari.” 

Wesley smiled brightly, offering him a polite wave. Her smile wilted slightly under his unreadable gaze. She watched as his eyes traveled up and down her frame, lingering on her for a few moments before he seemed to catch himself and the awkward silence filling the room.

“The American… Welcome to Wakanda, Ms. Parker.” 

Wesley bristled slightly at his words as if being called an American was an insult to her, and in many ways - it was. She turned her head to her right where Erik sat, rolling her eyes and mouthing “the American?” sharing her disdain with the only person in the room who would understand. To which he just chuckled lowly and shook his head. She fixed her face to hide her annoyance before turning back toward him as he sat down in the seat left of her. She supposed she should ready herself for that reaction.

“Uh.. thanks? I guess.” Her voice trailed off a bit as she spoke. Turning her attention back to the half opened gift sitting in her lap, she ripped the rest of the wrapping paper off. 

She gasped as she pulled a shiny, state-of-the-art tablet out of a box. 

“Oh… I can’t accept this! Thank you but I can’t.” 

It was sleek and beautiful, she had seen them all with it over the last year. And she knew no amount of money would afford her something as high tech as this. But she didn’t feel right accepting it.  

“Really, it is nothing.” Shuri waved her hand dismissively, completely ignoring the woman’s protests. “And it will work better with our tech here. It syncs to your beads, the easiest file transfers you have ever seen. You will love it.” 

“It’s a losing battle, Parker. Just say thank you,” Erik whispered out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Thank you,” she responded meekly. 

T’Challa motioned for a servant to take it from the dinner table, letting Wesley know it would be brought to her room. 

“Thank you! It’s too much, really. But I appreciate it. I am sure it will work better than mine.” She thought back to the broken and beaten iPad tucked in her bag, the screen partially shattered and many years past its prime. 

Small conversations commenced throughout the group as Wesley sat watching. Shuri and M’Baku were engaging in a lively debate about the merits of vibranium vs. Jabari wood? Whatever that was. Hushed whispers past between T’Challa and Nakia on the other end of the table. And Erik listened, albeit reluctantly given the look on his face, to the Queen Mother chastise him for missing yet another council meeting.  

Wesley sat, eating her second course of only God knew how many, just listening to all of them laugh, bicker, and poke fun at each other. 

This is nice, Wesley thought. She knew they weren’t her family. But even being in their presence lifted her spirits more than she could have known. More than sad for what she didn’t have, she was filled with joy for what Erik found. She was curious how they found a way to accept him, forgive him… love him after all he did. But she was glad they had. He deserved it. He deserved happiness after losing so much for so long.

And you don’t. 

She shook her head lightly, as if she could shake the negative orator out of her mind. But she knew she couldn’t. That voice was always there, always reminding her to never get attached. Everyone leaves, everyone hurts you. Because nobody wanted her. 

“Wes. Wes!” 

At the sound of her name, Wesley pulled herself out of her thoughts, directing her attention at Shuri. It was clear the young girl had tried and failed to get her attention multiple times. 

“S-sorry, princess. I-I got lost in my own thoughts there. What did you say?” 

“No problem. I just asked how the date with Jason went?”

Wesley blinked a few times in confusion before it hit her. Fuck. Jason was a gorgeous and accomplished volunteer at the Outreach Center who taught engineering to the students with Shuri. He had his eye on Wes since the day she literally ran into him in the staff lounge but Wes never really paid him much attention. Shuri had tried incessantly to play matchmaker with the pair. Wesley had almost forgot she lied and told Shuri she had agreed to go on a date with him. She had no intention of doing such a thing; she just didn’t want to be asked about it again. 

“O-oh we ended up not being able to get it scheduled before I moved. Y-you know, it all happened so suddenly.” 

Shuri seemed crestfallen for a moment but immediately perked up. 

“Oh, well good thing there are soooooo many eligible men here. And cute too! Nakia and I will find you someone, don’t worry.” 

She wasn’t worried or interested. But she appreciated Shuri’s enthusiasm and good intentions so she just nodded and smiled. 

“It must have been hard, moving away from home so quickly,” the Queen Mother interjected, thankfully moving the conversation away from Wesley’s nonexistent love life. “We were surprised you wanted to move so soon.” 

“I-I hadn’t been in Oakland long. Just a year so I hadn’t put down too many roots. Wasn’t too difficult to make the move.” 

“Still, your friends and family. It must have been hard to say goodbye so fast?” Shuri asked. 

“Yes, it was.”

She picked up her wine glass, taking a long sip, which confirmed the finality in her clipped and short response. This conversation was over. 

Everyone returned to their separate conversations and their food. Awkwardness slowly seeping into her as she questioned whether she should have just lied to keep the conversation going and be polite. 

“Do not feel awkward. Shuri and the tribal leaders in Jabariland have been trying to play matchmaker with me for the last year. I just ignore them.” 

Wesley laughed, directing her attention to the owner of that deep baritone voice. “And they haven’t caught on yet?”  

M’Baku brought his glass of wine to his lips. “Of course, not.” 

“Well, I could use some of your tips then. The Princess is quite persistent. But I suppose that is what makes her the genius she is,” Wesley mused. 

“Happy to share my insights anytime.” 

“You live in the mountains, right? I didn’t even know it could snow here.” 

M’Baku smirked, “I imagine there is quite a lot you do not know about Wakanda yet.” 

Wesley took the bait, he was not wrong. There was so much she didn’t know about this country she was now meant to help lead. 

“Well, tell me something about Wakanda you think I should know.” 

And his answer to that question carried them through the main course and on to dessert. She mostly listened as he talked about his home, Jabariland, and the people there. It was very surface level, but it made her want to learn more, as much as she could. He explained the differences between the Jabari and the rest of the country. As he spoke, Wesley felt at ease for the first time since she sat down at the table, felt glimmer of her old eager and passionate self peaking through the thick walls she had stacked up. Talking to him felt like talking to an old friend, someone she had known all her life. 

“So you come down here often?” 

“A few times a month. T’Challa and N’Jadaka lean on my counsel often.” 

Wesley nodded, “So we will be seeing quite a lot of each other then, I suppose?” 

“Oh, I am counting on that.” 

The flirtatious tone in his voice was not lost on Wesley, even if no one else at the table was paying them any attention. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, seeing him wink at her before smiling. If her deep, warm brown skin could, her cheeks would have turned a rosy pink. There was a lot about this face that was gorgeous beyond belief. But his smile drew her eye, pulled her in. She could tell he frowned a lot, his resting face throughout dinner had looked generally disgruntled. However, his smile lit his whole face up, made him look even more beautiful - as if that were possible - and more youthful.

“All, I must retire for the evening. Attend to some tribal business. I will see you all in the Council meeting in the morning. My king.”

He saluted T’Challa who returned it and offered him a head nod. He offered Wesley a lingering glance and and a small smile before leaving.

What the fuck was that? She imagined he did that with a lot of women. Harmless flirting that meant nothing at the end of the day. She knew a man like that would never go for someone like her. 

“U-uh I should head to bed as well. I have quite a bit of reading I wanted to do before bed, actually. Thank you for dinner. It was amazing.” Wesley wiped the corners of her mouth before folding her napkin and placing it by her dirty plate. 

“Let me walk you,” Nakia offered. “I am headed in that direction anyway. T’Challa and Erik have some business to discuss.” 

A sense of longing washed over Wesley as she watched the intimate, subtle touches that passed between the pair as T’Challa kissed her hand and squeezed it before letting her go. Once again, she shook her head, internally stamping down the emotions that did not serve her cause. 

She offered them all thanks again and said good night before following Nakia. There was silence for the first minute or two as the events of dinner tumbled through her head. 

Was he actually flirting with me? 

Does it really matter? She debated with herself. Even if he was, which seemed highly unlikely, there were about 1,000 reasons she couldn’t pursue him. Wesley pushed that aside quickly, deciding that he was simply a flirt and she was simply a fool so starved for love that she would fall for his flirtatious nature so easily. 

And then that awkward moment with Shuri and the Queen Mother. Wesley hated questions about her personal life. Not because she found them intrusive, but because she did not have the standard cookie cutter answers people actually expected when they asked those questions. She couldn’t tell the truth and all that left her with was lies and she had enough lies… enough secrets for one person. 

“I can almost hear you overthinking, Wesley.” 

Nakia broke their silence, stopping in front of a large bay window that looked out into the palace gardens. The moonlight illuminated Nakia’s face, which carried a concerned expression on it. 

“Dinner went well. Everyone is excited to have you here, truly. Don’t stress over tomorrow. The Council will like you.” 

The tension building in her chest dissipated almost immediately, thankful that this was the path the conversation was taking. 

“Y-yea I’m sure you’re right. I’m good, really. Just need to get some of the nervous energy out I guess.” 

Nakia nodded before turning to resume their trek back to her quarters. More turns and long hallways than Wesley could count later, they were standing outside her bedroom. 

“You and M’Baku seemed to have hit it off.” Nakia’s face was filled with interest and excitement. “And that is saying something… there are few in Wakanda as cold as Lord M’Baku. Pun intended.” 

Wesley chuckled, tucking a stray black hair behind her ear. Her small frame leaned against her closed, deep mahogany doors as they talked. 

“He was nice! Well… everyone here is nice. But I am sure he is like that with all the ladies, just a charmer.” 

“Oh I can assure you, he is not. He likes you.” 

Wesley’s face must have been a lens into her inner skepticism for Nakia immediately started to laugh. 

“I am serious!” 

Wesley’s hand fumbled for the door knob, slowly opening it before saying, “I doubt it but it doesn’t really matter. I am here to work, I don’t have time for much else.” 

Nakia tilted her head, almost examining her. She imagined it was from all the spy training but Nakia was almost impossible to read, which frustrated Wesley to no end. Half of being good at politics was simply being able to read people. Nakia always made her question that skill. 

“I find that people only make drastic moves like you have for two reasons. They want to start over or they are running from something. I don’t know which one brought you here, Wesley. But you won’t find your escape or new start behind a mountain of paperwork. It is out there.” Her hand pointed behind her at the stained window across across from her door. 

“What are you saying?” 

“I am saying is that Wakanda is more than its political agenda. Wakanda is its people, its culture. To succeed here,” she gestured around her, “You have to know what’s out there. You have to experience what is out there. You have to live, Wesley.” 

Silence. 

“Just something to think about. Good night, Wesley.” 

***

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