#no shade to the writers of course. i love you all and you offer an invaluable service

[ninvic-art]

where my mind goes reading burakhovsky fanfic

[cutieeva]

The Beautiful Lie

Female reader

Warnings : Manipulation. Love bombing. Self harm. Sexual Assault.

⌜ The art and the love interest (male character) belongs to the talented artist @meo-eiru and the story is inspiringly written and dedicated to @meo-eiru and the readers ! Hope you enjoy the plot that belongs to me but also helped by @meo-eiru a lot ⌟

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

(Y/N) rarely has time to offer to love, dating and such things because first : her taste in men are bad and second: she is a extremely busy person to balance her work life and personal life seperated until the most beautiful man she ever saw came surprising her with love. Or is it ?

"(Y/N), could you go to the Cutieeva mall to check out the new product's sales ?" Her female senior asked sitting from her desk.

"Of course, mam. I will be in a minute". (Y/N) agreed, saving all of her working documents before taking her handbag and left with car keys. Aurora Bloom, the brand of the cosmetic company she works, it is for now one of the top three companies to be trending in global and the best in Europe. While She works in HQ department of the company at a young age she didn't expect and living her life at ease at the rented apartment she lives quite close both to the company and her parents house who always here and there tell her to come home and when she does, it's a feast to eat of her home's comfy food and hearing thousand fictional stories from her writer father, well he wasn't a writer at first before he was a regular working manager at a company but he quit after (Y/N) outdone herself to such pristine department letting him decide to do what he likes until his last breath could be taken applying he wants no regrets to bear.

And he surprised the family by being quite a good writer himself, finding his own group of fandom invested in his writing and always support him while her mother is happy as she was being a housewife like always along being madly in love with her father who reciprocate the feelings to this day which (Y/N) finds utterly endearing yet she has no time to dwell about her love life when she has too much on her plate with her newfound career she wants to grow, as a independent woman and a person who lives her life to the fullest if overlook her empty love life.

"Yes mam, indeed people are enjoying the new shade of lipstick saying it's not only non-sticky but also long lasting highlighting their skin tones". The department store female manger explained pointing to the several women trying their new product 'the cherry blossom lipstick' either on their lips or on their palm.

(Y/N) nod, curling into a pleasant smile when her eyes caught a beautiful woman's back, wore pink shirt and tight skinny black pants with her musing long hair flowing with the breeze. "Must be pretty". She thought when she witness from her pocket a small object— foundation she recognized fell on the ground yet the woman walked away.

"She didn't noticed". On instinct almost she walked to the floor picking up the tiny box and call out. "Miss, your foundation..." She tailed off as she turn into the light, and captivated (Y/N) by the vision before her. His hair was a mesmerizing pink musing hue, with subtle waves that cascaded down his back like a rosy waterfall. The straight strands framed his face, accentuating his chiseled features, while his bangs fell effortlessly across his forehead, adding a touch of whimsical charm.

His eyes, a deep, burnished logoon color, like the warmth of a sunset on a tropical isle, sparkled with amusement as he caught her gaze. They seemed to dance with an inner light, drawing her in with an irresistible pull.

His lips, a vibrant red, curled into a gentle smile, revealing a hint of mischief, and (Y/N) felt her heart skip a beat. But it was the glint of gold at his ears that added the final touch to his captivating appearance - delicate, filigree earrings that seemed to shimmer in harmony with his eyes.

(Y/N) felt like she was drowning in the depths of his gaze, and before she knew it, the words tumbled out of her mouth in a whispered gasp "You're beautiful."

The man's smile widened, and a low, husky laugh rumbled from his throat, sending shivers down (Y/N)'s spine. "Thank you," he said, his voice dripping with warmth, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You are a funny one complimenting me beautiful after calling me a lady".

As he laughed, the golden earrings caught the light, adding a touch of whimsy to his already captivating presence. (Y/N) felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from his face, her heart still racing from the impact of his beauty also sinking the fact she mistaken a man being a woman.

"I am sorry. It wasn't my intention". Honestly said, she look down, dare peeking though her lashes to flinch finding him staring at her the entire time.

"I can see that, the way it's written over your face". He chuckle moving his finger in air to the circle to her face making her palm touch her own heated cherry face.

"Ah !" She laughed nervously, unconsciously fisting on the foundation box.

"So, can I have it back ?" His hand reached out, palm up, with shiny white nails gleaming in the light, as if beckoning the object back from (Y/N)'s grasp. His fingers, slender and elegant, curled slightly, inviting her to return the coveted item. The nails, smooth and rounded, seemed to shine like tiny beacons, drawing (Y/N)'s gaze to his outstretched hand. With a gentle, yet persuasive gesture, he coaxed the foundation back into his possession, his shiny white nails glinting with quiet confidence.

"Huh ?" (Y/N)'s eyes widened, then blinked slowly, as if awakening from a spell, realizing the man had taken the foundation with effortless ease, leaving her feeling bewitched while his eyes crinkled, lips curling into a warm smile as he chuckled, clearly delighted by the woman's adorable, bewildered expression. His low, husky laugh filled the air, his gaze sparkling with amusement.

"What a adorable lady she is". His eyes roamed her body, lingering on every curve, exploring each detail, as if discovering hidden treasures. "You aren't from the department store right ?" (Y/N) blink twice.

"No".

"Oh, then you came to shop ?" He narrowed his eyes noticing her carrying a huge white handbag.

"No". She answered in short.

"Then why ?" He asked tilted his head with the notion his golden earrings swing gently.

"I am from the HQ department of the brand you are holding". Finally she smiled confidently pointing at the foundation's box printed Aurora Bloom.

"Oh !" He delightfully smile, toying with the object. "Pleasant to meet you then. He added.

"Pleasant to you t—" a melody emitted from her wrist watch widening her (E/C) eyes. "Oh god ! I need to hurry ! I am sorry but I need to go". She apologized having fun to converse with the stranger.

"No worries—" His eyes spot the missing ring finger. "—Miss ?" He tailed off insinuating her unknown name.

"(L/N) (Y/N), sir". She replied.

"Mine is Elias". (Y/N) choose not to comment at his lack of surname and nod before walking hastily. How could she forget this time's event manager is herself hosted on Tuesday, the very next day. Cursing her fate she ran.

Perfect. (Y/N) release a sigh overwhelmed by the fast yet perfect preparations she had to done within such short amount of time thankfully today would be the flawless day to showcase their skin products to their VIP guests who might be arriving any minute. The models have already came but "Has the makeup artist come yet ?" She questioned worried for the delayed time of the famous make up artist they somehow succeed in booking his seat as social media following was staggering, with millions hanging on his every post and tutorial. Celebrities clamored for his attention, and fashion icons praised his work. Sold-out masterclasses and coveted collaborations solidified his status as the most sought-after makeup artist in the industry. His name was synonymous with glamour and expertise, and his influence was simply unparalleled.

"It's alright ! The artist must be running late right ?" Soon her worries were proven right because soon after their automatic glass door opened revealing a man wore sleek black glasses, adding a touch of sophistication to his chiseled features. His French brown coat, crafted from seemly fine leather, draped elegantly across his broad shoulders, exuding luxury.

"The artist came, mam !" Her female junior announced however (Y/N) knitted her brows finding the man somehow familiar, from his blush long hair, tall statue only be still surprised finding the man remove his glasses to indeed be that beautiful man from yesterday who smile at her noting he remembered her.

"Wow ! The world indeed works in a mysterious ways". She grin shaking her head. "Welcome to the our event sir, please hurry the show begins within minutes". Adapting her professional mannerism she shaked his hand, guiding him to their backstage to appear on the front stage.

"We met once again, Miss (L/N)" His lagoon eyes on her, standing behind the dark curtain to go.

"Of course, Sir Elias". She professionally smiled intriguing the man a little. "Oh ! Your turn". She stretch out her hand to the stage guide him who nod.

Wonderfully the event unfolded with seamless precision, a testament to the makeup artist's mastery. With each stroke of his brush, he transformed the models into living canvases, showcasing their company's product unparalleled quality. The VIP guests watched in awe, their faces aglow with delight, as the artist's vision came to life. As the final model face the guest revamped into a living goddess, the room erupted into applause, a joyful crescendo that wrapped the evening in a warm, golden glow. The event concluded with effortless elegance, leaving a lasting impression on all who attended including the staff and (Y/N) herself.

"He was the right choice". She giggle as her co-workers swarmed around her, beaming with pride and admiration. "Congratulations, you absolutely crushed it!" they exclaimed, patting her on the back and shaking her hand. "Your attention to detail and tireless efforts made this event truly unforgettable!"

Meanwhile, the VIP guests approached her, their faces still aglow with delight. "Thank you for an incredible experience," they said, their voices filled with genuine gratitude. "Your preparation was seamless, and every aspect of the event was meticulously executed. You truly are a master of your craft!" As the guests departed, (Y/N) waved goodbye, basking in the warmth of their praises. Her colleagues continued to congratulate her, their kind words and smiles a testament to her hard work and dedication. With a sense of pride and accomplishment, (Y/N) smiled, knowing she had truly outdone herself once again.

"You know your craft". She flinch almost screaming meeting his eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Elias. Partially it is your skills too that the reason why it was such a successful event". He smiled shrugging his shoulder.

"Okay, please have a safe drive and reach home". She wave her hand and farewell him before he parted his lips to say, remained rooted at his place, watching her figure disappearing.

"She is always hurry to leave". He mutter walking to his car.

"Hmm...this time their new lipstick looks better". (Y/N) discreetly stare at the neighboring make up store despite having much customers on her stores, she still find the new appeal of their products threatening to her company so she walked inside nodding to the welcoming female clerks.

Picking out the a box, she about to apply on her palm when a voice intrupted.

"Don't do it that way". Her eyes wide meeting his lagoon ones, smiling alike to crescent moons she compare. "Apply it in your lips directly and it will definitely have a different impact". He encouraged the doubtful woman who glided the crimson bullet across her lips, leaving a bold, velvety trail in its wake.

"Hmmm not suiting your face. Lighter". He picked out a peach shade handing her who again gliding the peach lipstick across her lips in soft, smooth strokes, as he whispered, "Let it caress your skin, like a summer breeze." As his warm breath danced across her ear, she flinched, her hand trembling with the lipstick. She turned, her gaze darting to his, their faces too close, the air thick with tension. Her eyes widened, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face, as she leaned back, her shoulders tensing. The lipstick hovered, forgotten, as she struggled to create space between them, her breath catching in her throat. His gaze held hers, intense, unyielding, making her skin prickle with unease and heart racing.

"This suits you. I will take one". Hearing his comment she cleared her throat, slowly keeping the lipstick to where it was when from the tail of her eyes she saw him choose an uneven box of peach shade. Quickly she picked the perfect box stretching to him who raised his eyebrows in question.

"I already have one". He jiggle the box but frown staring at her shaking head.

"Take this, it has perfect box unlike the uneven one". She pointed out to his surprise as a thrilled chuckle left his lips.

"Thank you". Replacing the case.

"No problem". She wave her hand as if physically waving his gratitude.

"Wanna grab drinks ?" Elias suggested out of nowhere tilting his head.

"Okay". Checking her wrist watch she still has few minutes to spare. Also she did wanted a drink and they together went to the drink store nearby ordering one white chocolate matcha for her and one caramel frappuccino for him.

Waiting for the drink they sat near a white seat opposite of each other, talking about trivial things about one another where she learnt he is a regular customer of her brand along their frequent makeup artist that's why she was able to book him easily. Soon the waitress called for their drinks and they talked, sipping their drinks and walking.

"Okay I need to leave". She decided glancing at her wrist watch missing his disappointed gaze.

"Okay. It was nice talking to you". He told.

"Me too". Happily she answered, finding herself enjoying their conversation. "I will take my leave". With a wave she left once again.

However what she didn't expected was their daily meeting at the mall department store as she stepped into the store, clipboard in hand, she was focused on her task: ensuring the department was running smoothly. But then, she saw him—a familiar face among the shelves. Their daily meetings had become a pleasant ritual, a brief respite from her HQ duties. He'd ask about her day, and she'd share stories about the office, or he'd gossip about his latest makeup news. She found herself looking forward to these encounters, feeling a sense of comfort and camaraderie with this customer. He was easy to talk to, and their conversations flowed effortlessly. As she checked the inventory, he'd chat with her, making the task more enjoyable. Their bond grew with each passing day, an unexpected connection between them she wasn't anticipating because once a mundane checking became the hightlight of her day with that weeks pass in blink of an eye. Until one day they sat in their usual white table in front of the drink shop inside the mall.

As he asked the question "Do you like me?" she felt a sudden jolt of surprise, her mind racing with a mix of emotions. Her eyes widened, and actions paused before laughter awkwardly bursting back and forth like a defensive shield.

"Yes, as a good friend!" she exclaimed, trying to brush off the tension, her tone light and playful. But in her haste to respond, she missed the subtle strain in his smile, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes but a doubt linger on her mind for him to ask such a question. Why ? Never in her mind did she view the man romantic, beautiful yes but that's a admiration unlike love, she is certain of her feelings are not alike to love.

"I like you too." His voice was calm, sincere, To her, his words were a friendly echo, a mirrored response, a confirmation of their camaraderie. She nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her, thinking the tension had dissipated, that they were back on familiar ground. (Y/N) simply smiled back, comfortable in her assumption, oblivious to the moment hung, suspended, a delicate balance of feelings, but she didn't notice, already moving on, the exchange filed away as a pleasant, friendly conversation and took her drinks however she soon has to depart this time with a hint of awkwardness.

"It's alright. Nothing is wrong". And correct to her thought the next day was normal as their conversation flowed easily, like a gentle stream. (Y/N) chatted with him, laughing and joking, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity. His question from the day before seemed like a distant memory, a minor blip in their friendly interactions. She didn't dwell on it, assuming it was just a momentary lapse, a strange anomaly in their otherwise effortless exchanges. As they talked, she felt her guard drop, her smile genuine, her heart light. Everything seemed alright again, the tension forgotten, their friendship back on track.

"Okay, see you again !" (Y/N) told glancing at her wrist watch because today she has an important delivery to approval on the said store.

"Yup ! See you again". He bid too when a message notification made her pause, worry etching her face. Her dad's request to bring the anniversary cake had just been detailed by the store's cancellation due to an emergency. Panic set in, her mind racing with consequences, her eyes darting around for a solution. Stress and concern replaced her relaxed demeanor, her fingers flying across the screen to respond to her dad's message. Elias noticing the drastic change asked and she replied elaborating her situation of how she must reach to approvel the delivery application but on the otherhand has to get the custom cake from the cake shop if not then the cake would not be handover.

"How about I went to get the cake instead of you and delivery to your parent's house. Didn't you said it is near ?" He presented the idea, smiling causing (Y/N) to halted her racing thoughts and a breath of air pass her lungs.

"Of course ! Of course !". She laughed heartily handing him the receipts and addresses before running to the delivery store to hastily complete her task and return home as soon as possible.

"Today's work was difficult". Her finger pads rub her forehead re-thinking her workload, getting out of the car and towards her parent's house caught the setting sun's beautiful view. Ringing the doorbell she waited thoughts going back to Elias. "How sweet of a person he is". A smile naturally curl to her lips and wider when the door opened by her mother.

"Happy anniversary mama !" (Y/N) embrace tightly, soaking on her familiar comfort while she returned the affections.

"Thank you dearest. Come inside, it must be hot outside". Her mother close the door behind as she let herself in, walking to the living room finding glimpse of her father sitting on the side chair and ran to embrace him from behind.

"Happy anniversary papa". She sing song, playfully kiss his hair.

"Thank you princess". His aged voice laughed, caress her hands to which she close her eyes melting into his raw love. "Also this young man is such an gentleman. Your taste in men is indeed great like your mother". She frown opening her eyes.

"What are you talking—" Her (E/C) wide, taken a back by Elias appearance sitting across her father, on the sofa and he raised his hands in mock surprise, his eyebrows arched in a playful gesture.

"Why are you—" Her words cut by her mother gentle ones.

"My heartless girl ! You left this man to fend for himself by telling him to get the cake and now you ask why is he here ? Of course I told him to grab one or two bite". The young woman nod, feeling guilty and appreciate at her mother's gesture.

"Ah— about that I am extremely sorry. It was my job to do". Elias shook his head nonchalant.

"Yet without my idea you wouldn't agree so yea, not your fault too". She glee truly pleased to find such a good friend she couldn't ask more and the anniversary celebration was a resounding success, filled with love, laughter, and warmth. As the evening unfolded, (Y/N)'s parents shared a tender moment, her father leaning in to kiss her mother softly on the lips. (Y/N) couldn't help but mockingly scrunch up her face in distaste, eliciting a hearty laugh from Elias sitting beside her. The atmosphere was light and joyful, with the sweet scent of cake wafting through the air. As they gathered around the dessert table, (Y/N)'s parents fed each other cake, their eyes locked in a loving gaze. The beautiful man joined in, playfully feeding (Y/N) a bite, his fingers brushing against hers. The room was filled with the sound of clinking forks and happy chatter, as they all savored the sweetness of the moment, and the love that surrounded them. Time stood still and they basked in the warmth of their little family's happiness, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

"Thank you very much. You helped me a lot". She showed her gratitude standing at the doorstep.

Elias shake his head "I enjoyed it so no need". Silence fill between them letting (Y/N) once again notice the lunar luminescence cascaded over the beautiful man's countenance, bathing his sculpted features in an soft, silvery radiance, as if the moon itself had bestowed a gentle caress upon his serene and peaceful face.

"Bye and good night".

"Same to you". He returned, turning his back to her and drove his car away.

From that day forward, the bond between (Y/N) and Elias blossomed into a beautiful, unbreakable connection. (Y/N) found herself opening up to Elias in ways she never thought possible, sharing with him her deepest thoughts, feelings, and desires. She began to show him pictures of her friends, promising to introduce them soon, and shared stories about her life, her passions, and her dreams. As their trust grew, they exchanged contacts, marveling at how they had gone so long without sharing such a simple yet intimate detail. Their conversations flowed effortlessly, filling their break times with laughter and delight. Elias became (Y/N)'s confidant, her partner in crime, and her guiding light. Their friendship was a symphony of joy, a harmonious blend of trust, understanding, and mutual respect. (Y/N) cherished this new connection, feeling seen, heard, and understood in ways she never thought possible. Elias had become her rock, her safe haven, and her forever friend.

"By the way, I need your help with something". This alert her entire attention to him, sipping her drink from the staw as they both stood in front of the usual drink shop at the mall.

"Yes, anything. What is it about ?" (Y/N) was ready to help him when it's his need of time.

"I need your expertise in sorting through my grandparent's old photo albums. I want to create a memory book for my family, but I'm overwhelmed". Elias avert his eyes, smiling rigidly causing her heart melt at such an thoughtful gesture.

"Aww ! That sweet of course. I am happy to help". But his expression remained uncomfortable.

"But, you need to come to my house for that". He whispered dare to stare into her (E/C) eyes.

She suck her breath knowing she never once visited his home and she gulped nevertheless she grin again because her schedule is free mostly and she wants to help "It's alright ! I am happy to go but of course if you are comfortable". She tilted her head.

"Oh !— of course I would be or why would I ask you for help".

"Likewise but why did you ask me ?" If she recalls correctly he showed her many of his influencer, normal friends.

"Because you are the only friend who is good at managing things. You know like a good event manager who knows how to put things together ?" It earned a melodious laugh from (Y/N).

"I feel appreciated".

"As you should". She giggle more along him for his compliment. Soon she found herself in his car as he drove smoothly through the city, their eyes meeting briefly in the rearview mirror. Arriving at the penthouse he lives. The towering marvel of modern architecture that seemed to touch the stars. He expertly maneuvered the car into the private parking garage, and they stepped out into the opulent lobby, surrounded by polished marble and gleaming steel. A swift elevator ride later, they entered the penthouse itself, a breathtaking expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows, chic décor, and stunning city views. Her eyes widened in wonder, feeling as though she'd entered a different world more important his personal safe of walls.

"Sit on the sofa". He pointed going to the open modern kitchen. (Y/N) felt serenity wash over her when her feet stepped onto the shiny white tiles, their cool surface calming her senses. Sinking into the plush black sofa, she felt enveloped in comfort, her eyes darting around the luxurious space in wonder. With each glance, her awe grew, her heart swelling with gratitude for this stunning sanctuary.

"Here, a juice for you and you see those dusty stacks of heavy things. I found them inside". The cold glass slid within her grip but she smiled nervously because unfortunately blinded by the luxury she often seen on the TV she failed to detect the bluntly dusty things.

"Yes". She lied now laiding her eyes.

"They are I think contains photos of my grandparents but I need help to create an entire new album". Elias shrug helplessly.

"Alright ! Let's do this then". (Y/N) full of enthusiasm knelt down, her hands reaching for the dusty photo albums that lay open on the sleek glass table, her fingers touched the worn covers, a cloud of dust swirled up, carrying with it memories of laughter and love. But with the memories came a fit of coughing, as the dust tickled her throat and lungs.

Elias being swift and attentive, appeared beside her, his movements fluid as he knelt down. He handed her a glass of crystal clear water, his eyes filled with concern. "Here, drink this," he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. She sipped the water, cough subsiding only then to be aware of the proximity of their bodies, kneeling together on the floor. Their faces were inches apart, their shoulders touching, and their legs aligned. The closeness sent a shiver down her spine. His lagoon gaze drifted from her eyes to her lips, still moist from the water. His hand, still cradling the glass, began to move, his fingers brushing against her face.

With gentle care, Elias thumb rubbed against her lips, wiping away the droplets of water. she felt a sudden jolt of discomfort. His touch, though gentle, sent a wave of unease through her body. She tried to pull back, but his long slender hand lingered, his fingers tracing the curve of her mouth.

"(Y/N), I love you. Actually I was in love with you for a long time. Please, please accept me". Desperation whisper though his pink lips bringing their face closely and gripping her chin with his thump settle on the curve of her mouth.

"But you said you like—" Her words intruded.

"Never as a friend did I said". Elias connect their forehead. "It was you who receive it that way". (Y/N)'s eyes darted away, her gaze falling on the dusty floorboards as she struggled to process the sensation. Her heart raced, but not with excitement— rather with anxiety.

Trapped.

Betrayed.

Bothered.

She is feeling her personal space invaded by the intimate touch. The air thick with tension, the silence between them oppressive. (Y/N) longed to break free, to shatter the uncomfortable stillness that had settled over them. But her voice caught in her throat, leaving her unable to speak, unable to move, as Elias' hand remained, a gentle yet unyielding presence on her skin.

Why ? How ? When ? So many unanswered crawl inside her limited knowledge. Everything was going well, perfect yet why did it has to crash so harshly.

"Please, (Y/N) be mine. I can offer you anything you want. Riches, fame, connection, promotion. Say a word and it inside your palm". Slowly he draw their distance and (Y/N) felt utter destroyed by the wave of soft lips press against her. The kiss was harsh, demanding, and devoid of love. Her hands desperate to push him away, however his slender grip her fast, his arms wrapping around her like a vice or more like an beautiful snake wrap around his beloved prey.

Raged filled her (E/C) eyes, loathing the string of fate leading her in such advance, loathing the feel of his lips on hers, the way his tongue probed her mouth without consent. loathing the way he held her, like she was a prisoner, not a willing participant she wanted to grace her loved man her first kiss.

Finally air became a need did the beautiful man separate their interviwned lips, heat bust his pale cheeks, adoring heart pupils onto his eyes, chest heaving with newfound excitement snarling the chance she shove him, spatting words of vemon and eyes blazing with anger. "You disgust me". With that she ran and he let her.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she rushed to a taxi, traveling to her home of trust, sobbing by the betrayal she was returned by the conditional trust she gave after reaching home towards her bathroom was a burl rather her sole focus is escaping the lingering sensation of Elias lips on hers.

Rushed to the sink, gagging at the memory of the unwelcomed kiss. She turned on the faucet, cupping her hands under the running water to splash it onto her lips. Fingers rubbed her mouth harshly to scrub away the disgust moment yet the sensation lingered, haunting her. She gagged again, her stomach churning with revulsion. (Y/N) grasped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white with tension, as she struggled to compose herself eventually her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the white floor, her body trembling with anger and disgust. She sat there, her back against the cabinet, her eyes fixed on the floor as tears of frustration and violation streamed down her face.

The bathroom, once a sanctuary, now felt like a refuge from the trauma of the forced kiss. (Y/N) sat there, surrounded by the cold, sterile tiles, trying to catch her breath, in effort to erase the memory of Elias. The man she thought was her cherished partner, a delightful friend. Where ? Where did it all went wrong ? Where was the wrong step or word she utter to lead such devastating ending or was his whole persona was a facade. A spider wed to trap a butterfly like her and she was a naive little thing to walk right on it.

As the night's veil lifted, the sun rose, casting its warm rays upon the world. The golden light crept over the horizon, banishing the shadows and illuminating the landscape. The rays peeked through the curtains, gently coaxing (Y/N) out of her dark reverie.

Her eyes sunken and dark from the sleepless night, slowly opened alike two heavy doors creaking on their hinges. The golden light danced across her face, highlighting the purple circles that had formed under her eyes. The horror of the previous night's experience still lingered, etched on her face like a shadow.

(Y/N) blinked, her gaze unfocused, as the light pierced through her brain, reminding her of the traumatic events that had unfolded. She winced, mind recoiling from the memory. The usual ray of sun, a symbol of hope and renewal, now seemed like a harsh reminder of the darkness she had endured. She sat up, her body droop heavy, weighed down by the exhaustion and emotional turmoil. The golden light continued to pour in, illuminating the room, however (Y/N) felt not a hint of warmth, not of comfort. Only a sense of dread, a fear of what the new day might bring.

Disturbed by her numb thoughts she called her senior announcing her day off slipping the lie of being sick before declining and about to drift into sleep.

DING ! Her doorbell ring. She ignored. Again. Again. Again. Again and again following with a "(Y/N) ! This is me, your mother and father". Irritated she drag her feet to the front door, opening to reveal her aged parents.

"(Y/N)— what happen sweetie ?" Worry weight her words, touching her daughter's check when she flinch unconsciously frightening both her parents and herself.

"Come inside". Heavy her voice sounded, closing the door and sitting on the chair while they together on the sofa.

The air was heavy, thick with tension. Silence was oppressive, suffocating. The atmosphere was dense, like a knife could cut through it. Slicing through the strained quiet like a razor-sharp blade through velvet. Every breath felt like a struggle, every movement a battle against the crushing gravity of the moment.

"Darling, did you fought with your boyfriend ?" Bravely her mother finally questioned raising her eyebrows.

"Boyfriend ? Fight ?" Her voice trembled.

"Or". The old woman grasp. "Did you break up". Her husband rest his palm on her shoulder while (Y/N) confuse more by their words.

"Boyfriend ? Break up ? What are you talking about ? I do not have a boyfriend to begin with so how can I fight or break up with him ?" Frustration she shake her head as if physically shoving their creative imagination.

"Honey, it's alright. You don't have to hide from us. We understand you wanted to keep it a secret but he told us and we accept him as your boyfriend". Her mother calmly smiled providing a sense of comfort yet all she felt was suffocation and more confusion.

"Okay, at first I was sceptical. He looked flashy, an playboy however he is actually a child at heart, a very good one and is always eager to help". This time her father spoke lacing with a fondness she didn't expect him to talk about someone.

"What is wrong with you ! I never had a boyfriend in my life". She scream her lungs out yet her mother clap her hands on her mouth and her father pressed his lips thin.

"We know Elias is your boyfriend. (Y/N), don't be afraid. We are your parents". Then why ? Then why she doesn't feel the warmth from her parents as if they are distant people wearing familiar faces because the words spoken from their lips doesn't make sense.

"He was never my boyfriend ! Who ever told you that ? Don't assume things on your own". Frustration leaking though her voice, eyes narrowed in a glare and lips in disdain from stress.

"He told us himself. Elias told us when he delivery the cake ! Now don't tell me he was lying". Her father sigh stunned to see her daughter's rebellious side at such age.

"W-what ?" She stutter suddenly the world blurred, the walls melt away like a watercolor painting. The room zoomed out, leaving her suspended in a sea of uncertainty. Furniture and decorations receded into the distance, and she felt like she was floating, disconnected from reality. Their voices turn to distant echoes, thoughts a jumbled mess, as shock wrapped around her like a shroud.

"Why would he be my boyfriend ?"

"Why are you asking us ? You are the one in relationship and you are the one to hid it if not for the good man". Enough. The last straw of her held anger cut.

"G-G-Good man ? Good man ? Good fucking man ! You are calling a man who—who—" Words trailed off, lost in the abyss of her own horror, as she struggled to articulate the vile truth. "A-and that good man—" Despite her effectors the sentences remained unfinished, a haunting echo of her own trauma leaving her succumbed to the darkness of her memories.

"(Y/N)". Her mother's brows quiver and her hand touch hers. "I understand". A sense of relief came to her. Her mother understood, understood her assault by the vile, vile man. "I understand couple fight. They fight a lot and dirty but in the end they fight to be better, to be more loving, setting differences aside fight is normal as long as the couple love each other. You going through a rough patch with Elias is normal. He is a good man, believe your mother's judgment". Her words burn a slap on her cheek and her words were salt on (Y/N)'s wound.

"How dare you !" Her voice shattered the air, a raw, anguished with tears rolling down her cheeks. "How dare you labeled a man who forcefully kiss me ! Get out". Standing up, her eyes close feeling her throat constricted, dry and tight, as shame crept in like a thief, stealing her breath and dignity.

"Oh my (Y/N), couples fights are normal so is kissing. He must have meant it to calm you—"

"So he forced himself on me ?"

"He must not had meant to make you—". Her eyes wide in horror watching their impassive expressions oblivious to her distress she felt a stranger rather than daughter sharing a space now. Their faces blur by her teary vision. They are not her parents. They are strangers. They are not her parents if they slide with a stranger who not only forced himself on her but also lied.

"Get out". She commonded raw, loud and clear walking to her bedroom running from the suffocated, unbreathable small space. Her eyes watched her parents walked away, their figures fading into the distance. She felt a complex layers of emotions and when they turned their heads, she quickly shut the curtains, blocking out the sight of their faces. Her strength couldn't bear to look at them, couldn't bear to see their nonchalant expressions.

Turning away from the window and sat down on her bed, her hands shaking as she reached for her phone. She needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand. Her fingers dialed the familiar number of her best friend, the one person she knew would listen without judgment. The phone rang, (Y/N) felt a lump form in her throat. She was ready to unleash all her emotions, to share the pain and confusion that had been building up inside her. She took a deep breath, preparing to pour out her heart to her friend, the only one who could offer her the comfort and support she desperately needed.

"Hello (Y/N) ! How do you do ?" Her ray of light spoke.

"Emily. I-I-I want to talk to you about something".

"Sure, anything (Y/N) ! Aren't I your best friend". Lighthearted giggles on the otherhand comfort her ears.

"The thing is, remember Elias ?"

"Oh ! What about him ? The hottie". A bitter taste left her lips hearing her sound so oblivious yet she understand it's not her fault.

"Well, yes. He yesterday forced himself on me". Silent was the line for a second before a loud screeching noise came.

"What ? That's messed up !" Her firm and resolute voice felt a weight lift from (Y/N)'s heart, a sense of validation wash over her. She was no longer alone in her outrage and hurt. Emily's words were a balm to her soul, soothing her raw emotions. Feeling seen, heard, and believed.

"I knew it you woul—"

"But you see we have to also must see his point of view. He must had done that in desperation to be more than friends with benefits with you. I know normally friends with benefits should know their limits but he is a kind, pure and perfect man for you". As fast as the ray of light came, that vanished in front of her soaking her in cold reality, numbing her heart. Icy truth seeped in, crushing her soul.

"W-what are you talking about Emily ? I never had that kind of relationship with him !! Didn't I told you ?" More tears cover the dry ones, confusion lay on her mind to wonder how each important person to her is on his side.

"Gosh ! (Y/N) forgive me actually Elias told me about your relationship. He was even ashamed to admit it at first before whole heartedly declare his romantic feelings for you that even I was touched". Lies. Lies and lies. Gritted her teeth she decline the call, throwing it on her bed.

Madly her lips parted to scream. Ha ! What a wicked man he is, feeding lies to her loved ones, snatching them away from her and all in an blink of eye and right under her nose. How idiot was she to not notice ? How ? How ? How ? Rage pump on her veins and emotions controlled her rationality.

Swifty she call his number, clenching her fist. "Hello darling, I was waiting for your call". His sickly sweet voice came from the other line.

"Stop this you fucking bastard ! Stop these mind games ! Stop the lies". (Y/N) glare at him though phone.

"Ouch ! Calling my love lies, games hurt more than I expected. I guess this is the power of loving someone. Huh ?" His laughter was like a taunting to her, racing her pulses.

"I will kill you !" She threaten.

"Oh how lovely it is to have your hand on me as I take my last breath". She throw the phone across her bed in disgust and helpless not aware he is driving to her house. Finally obtained the moment he was so patiently awaited. The time to have her vulnerable and alone.

Wasn't she sound so cute right now ? He bite his lips betting she looks more adorable.

Spoiled. Growing up he was spoiled by everyone, every meeting face from his childhood, once they look at his face, they drastically change their behaviors, showering him with free gifts, praises and all, regardless of old or young. He was the beloved of their hearts, the king ruling their minds. Thus, growing up being spoiled wasn't new for him, the admiration stares mixing with some disband doesn't affect him why ? Because that means they are jealous of him. Ha ! Who wouldn't, he didn't view his arrogance as bad, he simply believe it as his confidence nothing more, nothing less after all all women confess to him one after another non-stop yet never did he loved any. Until that fateful day he went to the shopping mall of department store meeting that adorable woman, all red, blushly for him. It amused him to end, what a pleasant play toy to enjoy for sometimes however the drastic change due to her professionalism was a behold see.

She was nothing like the woman he saw that day. He almost tricked into thinking she forget him.

"We met once again, Miss (L/N)"

"Of course, Sir Elias".

Good, she didn't forget him. She simply wanted to act professional. How fun. He enjoyed nailling his usual performance that for some reasons always got him claps, praises when in reality he just does it naturally because he has nothing else to do. Unlike other people investing in their hobby, he has nothing. Perhaps because of that he is used to being pampered, loved and given anything he wish.

However why ? Why once again like yesterday after the event end did she not stay to convey meaningless string of words like others ? Always running away like an lamb catching sight of an wolf. Boring. Elias care not to pay attention to her after all many have dislike him but thousands who love him. The next day encountering her again was a pure game of fates but after noting her little consider habits did he realize she loves him.

Because if she doesn't, who will notice the uneven box of lipstick replacing with the perfect one ? If she doesn't, why she glance at him so many times ? Often smiling and appearing cheerful ? If she doesn't, why she always remembers his drink from the one time he ordered ? And so much more.

She must love him. Right ? Oh ! Oh ! How naive he was to not realize her blunt feelings for him. It's okay he has fallen for her too. Yes, Elias, the man who usual pampered has this sudden desire to pamper his beloved, watching her daily or even seen a glimpse of her flutter his heart like never did before. Their accidental brushes of fingers and shoulders sent him jolts of delight. Once seen her beautiful face could his lips curve to smile itself.

It's okay he will wait. Wait for her to confess and him accept. One week pass, two week pass. Maybe she is playing hard to get. Understandable she must be waiting for the perfect moment to confess that must mean he has to appear perfect right ? Daily he spent hours in front of mirror selecting the perfect outfit, smoothly care his hair, highlight his beautiful face. First it was only limited to changing outfits to style his hair daily to cut his hair in more desirable way to only repeat the routine. Each passing day he is refining himself then why ? Why ? Why didn't she even compliment him ? Let alone confess to him already ? He dolled himself up almost—no surely daily yet what is she so timid about. Til he realize —actually she isn't timid at all.

Rather she is not in love with him. How he got to know ? Because he was hastily ran to the mall, very giggy to meet the heart of his life when his breath stuck in his throat. In front of him a scene of (Y/N) tying a middle aged man's tie that came untie and she welcome him warmly in return of his thanks before talking warmly to the staffs asking if any needs they wishes to have, even helping a woman who's having trouble wearing lipstick and non-judgmentally explaining their products to others.

She is actually not in love with him. She is just nice. As if the gods played a ridicule game to him still his hatred was directed to the gods not her. How could he blame her ? She was a naive little thing. Sooner of later she will come to love him. That's why one day he asked her.

"Do you like me ?"

"Yes, As a good friend !" What a dishearten words.

"I like you too." In a romantic way were the words he choose to not speak. It's okay, if she doesn't like him now she will in the future. All she needs is time. He has to nurture, sewed and take time to built the love or else how it would be possible. First he has to make her alone. Alone to reply on him. And only him.

And the gods were at his side to grace him with the opportunity on golden plate he was used to. Using the excuse to delivery the cake to her parents house was the first step to isolate her. So he did what he was naturally gifted at, winning hearts regardless of age. Quickly they were head over hell, swooning at his lies about their secret relationship and more lies about their wish to keep it a secret as she want to disclose it on her own term. Fools, her parents were and naive his (Y/N) was moving closer to him. Showing him pictures of her friends, spewing all of her work related words and he silently memorize her password so when she went to use restroom or busy checking her tasks, he smartly save all of her contacts.

Charming her friends, dancing them at his rhythm against her, saying they are friends with benefits where he was unfortunate to fall in love and finally he invited (Y/N) home and confess his passionate love.

"You disgust me".

Well, didn't it end badly ? It's alright she will come crawling to him. Right inside his embrace all willingly. Elias will be the bigger person in here, forgiving her amuture mistakes because he loves her.

Ring ! Ring ! Elias stand in front of his beloved house, ringing the doorbell. The finale came and his patient broke all lose. This is the moment she has to be his and he hers.

"Mom, Dad ! I told you—" Her breath hitched and instinctively tried to slam the door shut, but he was too swift, too potent. His hand darted out, arresting the door's momentum with a firm yet gentle touch, and he stepped across the threshold with a fluid motion. The door creaked in defeat, surrendering to his quiet strength. (Y/N) retreated, her heart racing like a wild animal, as Elias's eyes seemed to delve into her very essence. His presence was a palpable force, filling the space with an almost suffocating intensity. With a subtle click, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the doorknob as his gaze continued to hold hers captive.

"What's the hurry hmm ?" The gentle smile contrast to the violent actions was ironic. Unfazed he step forward. She step back.

He advanced, his footsteps deliberate and purposeful and (Y/N) retreated, her own steps faltering in a desperate bid for distance.

With each step he took forward, she mirrored with a hesitant step back, her eyes fixed on his, her breath caught in her throat.

"What are you doing here ?" Alarm danger ringing inside her entire body, sending mix signals to her flight, fight or freeze mode. All she felt being hovered by him was fear, no longer the anger fuming her veins.

"Just here to visit my darling". In sing song manner he told, walking until his wild cat cornered. (Y/N) feeling the wooden wall of her kitchen immediately run away near the stairs.

"Just stay there—". Her words cut off.

"Do you love me ?" Using the same honeyed coated voice he asked.

"I will call the police Elias !" She threatened

"Do you love me ?" He bore his lagoon eyes into her (E/C) ones.

"Please stay away".

"If you answer. Do you love me".

"No. I don't". She spat, bewilded by the fact he would wish for her to love him even after the twisted games he played with her.

"Then will you love me ?" Her face contorted in mix of anxiety and exasperation.

"No". Nodding calmly to her denial he picked the nearby kitchen knife scarying her further.

"No. No. No. No. No. Elias ! Please don't do this—"

"I must or else you won't be mine". Saying she was ready to sprint for her survival however he pressed the knife to his throat, tears streaming down his face like rivulets of sorrow, his eyes pleading for her. "Please be mine or I will kill myself". He gaze fondly at her widen ones.

"You are crazy". She whispered not expected such move.

"Yes, I am for you". A sly, mirthless grin spread across Elias's face, his lips curling upward in a macabre smile. "So will you love me ?"

Tears swelled in her eyes, fear and despair mingling watching his steady hand inch the sharp blade closer.

"No wait !"

"Then say do you love me ?" He whisper alike to the sweet nothings hushes. "Because without you why must I stay alive". He added.

"Okay okay I will say it". She doesn't know. She doesn't know why she says it because a twisted sense of desperation clawed at her chest, a morbid longing to preserve the life of the one she loathed, as if his existence was inextricably linked to her own.

"I l-l-lo— I can't". In despair she collapse unable to bear so many complicated emotions and nightmares at the same time in her seemly simple life. Footsteps echoed the silent room as his shoes came to her view and he bend to her level, throwing the knife and cupping her chin like she was a delicate flower despite plucking her roots and held her.

"It's all right you will learn to love me". A happy smile curve his alluring lips that press against hers. This time the is gentle, caressing and lovely as if petals of love is pouring out of his lips silently conveying his words. Slipping his tongue in hers, he trapped her tongue savoring her divine flovours he was thirsty to drink again. Sucking mouthful of air he kiss more, not letting their lips separated for a moment and close his eyes drowning under the moment while she close her eyes motionlessly stilled, letting him do as he please selling herself to him with the price of forever.

As oxygen grew scarce, he parted their lips grinning ear to ear, leaning his forehead to hers.

"This is a lie. All of these are lies you said to others". She utter hopelessly.

"Then let's make it a reality". He suggested however brows frown watching her shake her head.

"Can't. Too much lies to forget".

Chuckly raspy, he kiss once more saying. "Then let's make it the beautiful lie".

FIN

⌜ Once again thank you @meo-eiru for letting me use your wonderful male character Elias and your permission to write this story along thank you readers for reading the story. Hope you enjoy it ⌟

[simp-ly-writes]

My Glance Meets Your Touch

Ask: Halsin having a touched starved, significant other reader headcanons.

Pairing: Halsin Silverbourgh x Tav!Reader

Warnings: brief mentions of blood.

A/N: I love being a writer- your mind goes blank for days and then at some time during the early morning you are suddenly writing paragraphs upon paragraphs. Hope you enjoy this one! :)

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

↳ After freeing the lands from the Shadow curse alongside Halsin of his duties. You found yourself being able to concentrate more on your main objective- of slaying the absolutes army... alongside furthering your relationship together

↳ Yet in the celebrations being held for this small achievement, you could not help but feel this pit inside yourself, seeing everyone chatting, dancing, and feasting close together as you picked at the skin of your hand

↳ Halsin of course notices your state very quickly as he sets down his drink and try's to resolve your state, ever the healer the party knows him to be

↳ He checks over your hand, dressing the wounds from your picking alongside others you didn't notice from the battle earlier, his large, rough and callused hands encase your own in a gentle embrace that has you leaning your forehead to his shoulder- dreaming to be enveloped in his warmth as you sigh out, your body weight dropping onto his

↳ Slowing his actions from wrapping your frame, he pulls away slightly as you plea out, your bandaged hand starts to move upwards to pull him back as you wince from the pain. Thus snapping yourself out of the trance you fell into- cheeks becoming a feverous pink shade as you turn your head away to think of an excuse for your actions

↳ Halsin hums out lightly, taking in your appearance before tilting your head back to face him once more as your panicked eyes meet his own, he continues to care for you yet his eyes tell you otherwise. He demands to know where your pain is coming from

↳ You look over his shoulder to see all the festivities still roaring into the night as you shake your head and save the conversation for a later time- much to Halsin displeasure he stands back up, offering you a hand before returning back

↳ As your adventures continue, you find yourself absent mindedly pulling your fingers through his shifted-forms coat, untangling small knots while giving his back a slight scratch from your nails as you imagine the feeling in your own hair.

↳ Halsin looks back at you, taking note of your clouded over eyes in his yellow ones before shifting back to help Gale prepare dinner with the group

↳ Halsin watches as you increasingly spend more time around the owlbear cub and scratch, petting them for hours on end when you return to camp and read as you rest your head against their stomachs

↳ In the nighttime you toss in turn as the coldness eats you alive resting alone in your tent as Halsin stays awake as well- worried sick.

↳ Halsin eventually tells the party about your falling condition while you are out trading with local merchants- the worry eating him alive that you may be trying to leave him for a reason unknown

↳ The groups heavily suggests that he should just talk to you (or well Lae'zel had some more... violent opinions) yet nevertheless, Halsin cornered you at the fire as the others fled the scene with their excuses voiced into the cold breeze

↳ You shivered as nestled closer into your lovers embrace as you sighed out happily, your stressing leaving your shoulders- forehead wrinkles disappearing from your face. His hand gently rubs your arm as you nestle yourself further into his side

↳ Before your eyes close into the feeling, you glance up quickly as his circles stop against his skin, his eyes light up slightly as a small yet sad smile overcomes his features as you pick yourself up from him

↳ Yet he pulls you back, now further settled into his lap as his fingers drift through your hair, scratching your scalp and teasing its ends before he speaks softly, "I apologize for not understanding sooner"

↳ Your eyes widen to hear the sounds of his light chuckles as his chest reverberates against your body, a blush covering your face as you move to cower behind your hands

↳ "There is no need to be embarrassed about our needs, you have accepted mine and I have been all to forgetful to observe your own. I made a promise to dedicate myself to you and I have failed my words, it is I who needs to be embarrassed."

↳ You watch as his head hangs low, his chin tucked into his neck as you remove your hands from your face to cup his own, your thumbs ease the worried skin of his cheeks before you sit up to give him a light kiss against his chin

↳ "I am to blame as well, I should have addressed myself with your help before coming to this state" you reply, resting your forehead against his own while reaching to squeeze his hand in your own

↳ From that night forward, you walked hand in hand down the paved streets of Rivington and up into Baldur's Gate as you heard Karlach squeal behind you slightly, her hands clapping exceedingly before Astarion pulled her aside with a hush leaving his lips and Lae'zel rolled her eyes at the whole scene before carrying up the street, leaving you all behind

↳ You all treated yourself to an inn for the reminder of your adventure together as a party. You managed to sneak the owlbear and Scratch into your's and Halsins room as you snickered in delight to your plan working before hopping onto the freshly pressed sheets, burring your face into the scented pillow as you felt the bed dip beside you.

↳ Peaking out from the pillow, you watch as Halsin undresses and feel as he pulls you towards his body underneath the covers, the fire crackles in the background as your legs intertwine and you bury your head into his chest, his hands gliding up and down your spine as you shiver in pleasure

↳ In the morning as the window gives way to the nosies of the streets bustling below, Halsins voice calls to you in a hushed tone above them all as Scratch jumps up and begins licks your face before Halsin convinces him to wake the others as well, the owlbear following in tow

↳ You both treat yourselves to a warm bath as well, your back pressed against his front as you stare through the window and to the sky, watching as the clouds gently glide across the open blue and you sigh out happily

[pickledpascal]

Hold Me Like Water

Chapter One: The Best of the World in the Palm of Our Hands

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2k

Hold Me Like Water Masterlist

Next Chapter |

May 2013,

Being on a set for one of the X-Men films was not what Maya envisioned when she became an actress. It was the first big-budget movie she had ever been a part of and she assumed it would be the only, if she was honest. 

The director wanted a local unknown for a character he had the writers make up for the film: a Native American mutant with water abilities. Maya thought she’d give it a shot since she only lived a province away in Nunavut and the production was focused in Quebec. She never imagined she’d get the job. 

Or that they’d let her sister be a part of it too. 

Maya was sitting in a chair in the middle of the makeup trailer, hands in her lap as her younger sister, Sakari, was using a Q-tip to wipe off the excess makeup covering her facial tattoos.

“I can’t believe they got your shade wrong,” Sakari huffed, glancing at a few of the other makeup artists in the trailer. Both of them were white. “They made you yellow. And then your Kakiniit was horribly treated too. Unforgivable.” 

Maya chuckled. Her sister had the rage of any young person, outspoken about any little thing that could be considered insensitive. Sometimes genuinely. Sometimes to take the piss out on people. Maya could not relate though they were only four years apart. She was twenty-three while Sakari was eighteen, her birthday was in October. 

Maya was usually a very calm person so it was nice to have someone like Sakari to fight for her. 

She was ushered onto the set after she was done with makeup, with Sakari following behind her. Maya looked around like a fish out of water because she was. The set was busy with activity, all sorts of people passed in all different directions. It was a far cry from the calm, sometimes one-person crews she was used to working with back in Nunavut. 

“Hey!” Exclaimed an accented voice. Maya turned to see Hugh Jackman coming up to them. Right, she was supposed to act alongside him for a lot of the film. He had his signature Wolverine hairstyle and mutton chops. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He beamed, offering a hand for her to shake. 

“You have?” Maya’s heart fluttered as she shook his hand firmly. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous now. Maybe it was the fact that he greeted her so warmly or that people talked about her. Positively, she assumed.

Hugh looked at her like she was insane for a moment. “Of course, Singer loved your audition. Couldn’t stop talking about how perfect you were for the part.” He grinned and then looked at Sakari. “And who might you be?”

Sakari glanced at Maya, telepathically telling her older sister that she would try her best to be civil. She mustered up a smile. “I’m her sister. And makeup artist since forever.” 

“Oh, wonderful!” Hugh’s face brightened before his eyes focused on Maya’s face to admire Sakari’s work. “Are those markings a part of the makeup?” He wondered aloud. 

Maya cut off Sakari before she could speak. “No, uh, they’re my real tattoos.” She had a feeling something like this would happen so she just wanted to speed through it rather than make a big deal about it.

Hugh was a goddamn Australian. She couldn’t imagine, out of everyone on set, that he would have met an Inuit before her. Let alone one with facial markings like hers. She was expecting comments about how it was weird to have tattoos on her face, she got that a lot when she was simply at the grocery store picking up specialty items in Montreal for her mother.

Instead, he stared like he wanted to touch her face and admire the lines up close. “They’re quite beautiful.” He mused.

Maya wasn’t sure what to say to that. And, for the first time in a while, Sakari felt the same way. Even the tamest reaction to their Kakiniit was filled with a bit of underlying disgust. Why would they “ruin” their faces? Of course these reactions were usually from white people.

The conversation was interrupted by the first assistant director telling them to get to their marks.

Acting for Maya always came easy. She was never classically trained but she had been in quite a few small-budget films up to this point so she knew how to embody a character. Especially a character that was so similar to herself.

Since her audition, many changes have been made to her character. Rather than being ambiguously Native American, they changed it to an Inuit character to fit Maya better. They liked her tattoos and thought it seemed cool to have the markings on a mutant. Singer probably thought it looked exotic but Maya wasn’t going to complain. Sakari could do that for her.

After filming ended for the day, Maya made it back to her trailer with Sakari. Maya’s makeup was taken off and she was scrolling through her email on her computer while her sister was judging the wardrobe for the next day.

Sakari pursed her lips as she grabbed a pair of bell bottoms from the rack. “None of these pieces are period accurate. And these tops do not match your skin tone.” She put the pants back on the rack and took out her phone. “I think Mom had some stuff from the seventies, we should see what fits you.”

Maya looked up over the top of her laptop. “Mom is your height.” She raised an eyebrow. “Shorter, even.” 

Maya was six-foot-one. Taller than the average woman, let alone an Inuit woman. Her father was tall but shorter than her by a few inches. Her family liked to make jokes about her height since she was the tallest—some genetic miracle or gift from the Heavens.

“True,” Sakari shrugged, “But I can work with them. You know I’m great with a needle and thread.”

Maya shook her head and let out a soft chuckle, returning to her email. Her agent and one of her best friends, Arlo, was sending her email after email asking about how work was.

Then there was a knock on the trailer door. Maya glanced at her phone for the time. It was evening but it wasn’t late. “Who is it?” She asked, raising her voice so the person on the other side could hear. 

“It’s Hugh!” He responded.

Sakari and Maya shared a look. “It’s open!” The older sister said.

The door opened revealing Hugh. He shut the door behind him as he entered. He was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans. It looked a little funny seeing him in such normal clothes with those mutton chops and that hair. 

“I just wanted to say you did amazing work today, Maya.” He said warmly. She could tell he actually meant it and that made her heart flip again. 

She stood up from the couch, setting her laptop off to the side. “Thank you,” She said bashfully, “It’s not hard to act when they reworked the character to be closer to myself.”

“Still.” Hugh urged with a kind smile. “I almost believed you could control water.” He teased, lowering his voice as if he was telling a secret. 

It wouldn’t have been the first time Maya had played a character that could bend water. Or some variation of herself that could. But Hugh probably wouldn’t know what she was talking about. She simply nodded and smiled in response. 

Hugh clasped his hands together, “The cast wants to go out for drinks tonight—the younger cast, at least. Would you like to come with?” He looked from Maya to Sakari. The invitation was for both of them.

“Drinks with James McAvoy? Count me in.” Sakari grinned, wrapping an arm around Maya’s shoulder, ultimately making her lean down to her height. 

“I don’t think she’ll give me a choice.” Maya told Hugh, nudging her sister’s side with her elbow. “We’ll go.” She nodded. 

“Great!” He exclaimed.

Hugh then exchanged numbers with Maya and Sakari so he could text them the place they were meeting at. It wasn’t too far from set so it wouldn’t take too long to get there. They could probably walk if they felt like it. Maya and Sakari weren’t famous so it wasn’t like anyone would be stopping them. 

When Hugh left, Sakari turned to Maya and shook her head. A disbelieving look was on her face. “I can’t believe you’re being normal. Didn’t you have a crush on him when he was in the first three movies?” 

“When I was ten.” Maya stared blankly at Sakari. “Plus, he’s my co-worker now. And married. Having a crush on him would be weird.”

She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Sakari of that or herself. Hugh was an attractive man. Anyone with eyes could see that. Maya just couldn’t stand the thought of possibly revitalizing her crush, she would feel guilty even if she decided not to do anything about it. 

At the bar, a lot of the “past” cast was drinking shots, cocktails, and just about anything they could get their hands on. Sakari immediately left Maya’s side to try and chat up James and Michael. 

So Maya decided to get a Manhattan and found a booth in the corner of the bar where it was quieter. She wasn’t much of a partier, even in college. But it was fun to watch people make decisions they’d regret the next morning. 

“May I sit with you?” Hugh asked with a cocktail glass in hand. 

Maya looked up at him and nodded. “Oh. Sure.” She sipped from her glass.

He sat across from her, setting his forearms on the table. He mirrored her, eyes trailing over her body to read if she was uncomfortable or not. “What did you do before this?” He asked softly.

“A lot of different things. Mostly small-budget Indie films. Nowhere near this big and grand.” Maya explained with a shy smile.

She couldn’t believe she was talking to Hugh Jackman about her career. Especially since he had such an intriguing, varied filmography. The X-Men saga was just one of many. The Prestige, Kate & Leopold, and—goddamn—Prisoners was about to come out but she was sure it would be amazing if the trailers were anything to go by. She admired him for his acting, too, not just his looks. 

“What are they usually about?” He seemed very interested in her.

Maya licked her lips, suddenly feeling put on the spot. “A lot of them were horror.” That made him raise his eyebrows in surprise. “But there were also some that were just kind of slice-of-life for an Inuit in Nunavut.”

“Right.” Hugh grinned, “I may have to find these films. Do my research on you.” He teased. 

Maya didn’t want to imagine Hugh watching her on TV getting her leg chopped off or mauled by a polar bear. 

“What made you take this job?” His eyes focused on her face as if he was properly taking in the markings again.

Maya played with the edge of the napkin underneath her glass. “My friend sent me the casting call information. It was pretty vague on what it was for, so I decided to give it a shot, not really thinking much of it.” She chuckled. Her lips quirked up into a small smile.

“That’s how I got my first TV show. I did the audition not thinking I’d get it so I was fairly relaxed.” He chuckled. “It’s always the thing you don’t expect, isn’t it?”

She stared at Hugh for a second before her eyes flickered down to her half-full glass. Her smile widened. “I guess so.”

[scoobydoodean]

hi! i read your misogynist post and while i haven't read it all to analyze, this one stood out to me the most:

In 1.06, Sam cuts Dean off before Dean can accept an offered beer from Rebecca, but then as soon as Sam needs Rebecca out of the room, Sam asks her to not just bring them those beers... but also fix them sandwiches. Rebecca says, "What do you think this is, Hooters?" and Dean mumbles, "I wish" and we somehow lose sight of the fact that Sam literally just asked a woman to make him sandwiches which is possibly the number one misogynist man trope.

while that i'm not justifying or defending, the thing about this section is he ASKED rebecca those things to distract her and not have her come back in the room right away after grabbing the drink, because he needed to DISCUSS with dean what he just saw on the camera without freaking her out because that was her brother. i would have done the same thing, and i'm a girl.

I would greatly appreciate it if you would read posts fully before responding to them. That said, of course there's a context to Sam's comments. I in fact stated in the very portion of my post that you yourself quoted that he wanted her out of the room:

then as soon as Sam needs Rebecca out of the room, Sam asks her to not just bring them those beers... but also fix them sandwiches.

Misogyny almost always has a conversational motive/context. It isn't usually cartoonishly and randomly spewed. There's a context to Sam's request. There's a context to Sam lying to the women he loves and intends as life partners, and using the word "bitch", and usually being bad with women more generally, and tending to view women Dean might be interested in or who might be interested in him as loose distractions. But if you think the writers weren't aware of exactly what they were writing when they specifically went to sandwiches, I think you're wrong, and Rebecca's immediate objection to Sam's request lends to the author's awareness.

The context of that entire section of the post is not to demonize Sam, but to state that fans who push this narrative that Dean is a huge misogynist (in an effort to erroneously demonize him) are almost always contrasting him with Sam, who they believe to be some bastion of progressive morals who has never so much as looked at a woman lustfully (because that would be Evil and Bad™️). When shades of misogyny in Sam (that he is very very unaware of) are intentionally written into the script from the Pilot.

Kripke appears particularly fond of giving Sam an air of moral superiority that often backfires on him when he endeavors to judge Dean. 1.16 "Shadow"—another Kripke episode—is also a great example. Sam at one point criticizes Dean (who has gathered all of their major leads up to this point) for not "thinking with his upstairs brain", because Dean dared get a bartender's number while asking her questions about the victim. Sam, meanwhile, has been floundering reading books and getting nothing. Later in the episode, Sam peers up at Meg in an upstairs window as she undresses, and gets called a creep by a woman who passes by and sees him leering. It's again—a situation where Sam's initial intention isn't any brand of misogyny. He thinks Meg is bad news and is tailing her, but then can't help... looking... and then looking again. But it's so blatantly intentional from Kripke—especially the contrast of Sam peering in at Meg upstairs while Sam sits in a car below—downstairs.

The goal of the writing team in writing in these moments certainly isn't to make me think of Sam as some horrible evil man. It's simply to give him flaws with a fascinating and rich context that make him far more interesting than the Mary Sue some of fandom is obsessed with rewriting him to be. Sam's misogynistic moments don't endeavor to villainize him any more than Dean’s do—they provide fascinating insights into Sam’s relationship with and clashes with Dean, and add to other incidents where Sam takes on a morally superior air—perhaps, in some ways, out of subconscious jealousy. I won't link you to every single thing I've written adjacent to the subject, but for example, this post on how Dean earns money, how Dean pimps himself out for information, and how Sam and Meg both minimize Dean's contributions to the case in "Shadow" while Dean actually gets all of the leads (similar minimizations occur in 1.10 "Asylum"—which is another excellent example of Sam floundering while Dean repeatedly displays his brilliance, only for Sam to ultimately accuse him of having no mind of his own).

[bumblebeeappletree]

Difficulties designing a steep sloped garden? Jane visits a gardener that has managed just that.

Chloe Thomson is a television and online presenter, writer and horticulturist living in Melbourne’s northeast. One of her biggest off-screen challenges has been the creation of her home garden, designed around what she calls her treetop house. Chloe’s garden sits on a quarter-acre block on a serious slope. “The garden really appealed to me here because there’s lots of different spaces, on different heights.”

As you enter the driveway, the first section of the garden has been created as a family space with a lawn and trampoline. It’s situated close to the road but remains calm and peaceful - “you still feel snug.” While the lawn is not that big, Chloe says the slope is “just right to lean back and read a book.”

A steep driveway really can be difficult for gardens. Chloe says, “to get things to stay and survive in this environment, we had to first play with Corten steel” to terrace the garden into beds. The steel panels arrive flat and black and can be shaped to the slope and filled in with backfill. Over time the steel changes to a rusty colour. This is a dry-shade microclimate, which can be a tricky place to plant, but Chloe has chosen plants to suit the environment. Succulents have been planted using a “tried-and-true rip it off and shove it in the ground method.” The variegated Carex ‘Feather Falls’ bring a pop of brightness, and the Arthropodiums, Chloe says, are “fairly bomb-proof.”

Onwards and upwards, a wooden flight of stairs takes you up through the garden and towards a cliff face about two meters from the back of the home. It’s a narrow space and has other uses for utilities such as the water heater and ladders. Chloe utilises the raised garden bed at the back as her ‘picking garden’ filled with dahlias, zinnias and oregano.

One of Chloe’s newer projects is a self-built glasshouse which was initiated during lockdown. It’s made from 100% recycled windows found on the side of the road or the tip, which Chloe calls “freecycling”. It’s a great space to grow some tropical plants that wouldn’t survive outside in the cold, such as turmeric, ginger, curry leaf and frangipani.

The next set of stairs is designed with Cordon steel “to hug the landscape”, filled in with pale gravel. To get an even grade on such a slope is a huge amount of work, especially when hand built. To do this, Chloe says this process was done “literally one step at a time. Starting at the bottom, we did perhaps one step on one weekend, then two steps on another, gradually making our way up to the top.”

Near the top of the property is a chook house with three silkies who are laying eggs, have free reign in the lawned areas, and the kids love them. At the height of the garden is a very inviting green lawn. Chloe says, “being at the top of the garden, you can perch yourself and admire the view, which is really nice.”

Jane comments on Chloe’s use of the vertical elements that complement the steepness of the space and give a sense of height when looking out across the view. The climbing Hops grows very tall in summer and is harvested for homebrew before dying back down in the Autumn. A new addition to the garden is another climber, the warty gourd, which Chloe says may end up hollowed out for Christmas decorations.

A small side pathway offers a view that is higher than the house, which shows you how steep this garden really is. In this spot, Chloe grows a viburnum hedge, chalk sticks, tussock grass, westringia, “and of course yellow paper daisies - I have a bit of a thing for them.”

Chloe’s advice to anyone wanting to build a garden on a steep slope is to “look at different retaining options, look at ways you can create planting pockets or planting spaces. Things don’t have to be straight. I think people think too much that retaining walls and retaining soil needs to be all straight. Think outside the box.” Rather than being daunted by this steep slope, Chloe has embraced the unique opportunities that have arisen, and in the process has created a great family space.

[atelierlili]

What happened in the thg subreddit?

I didn't want to continue stirring the pot, but honestly I'm still miffed about it so I'm gonna answer. I wouldn't care if it only happened to me, but it didn't and that makes me even more angry lmao. It's why i've been quiet for a few days. I had to simmer down.

I will not provide links of any sort, I don't want this to spark about shitstorm and draw more any more attention it than I already have. If you know, you know, you know?

But the tHG subreddit are guilty of but are not limited to:

Thinly veiled racist remarks regarding fan/artist interpretation of character's skin tone. As if the skin colour of one's skintone doesn't further add to the class disparity that is VERY canon in the books. Then downvoting when people (especially the OP) give their justifications on their interpretation, which is actually supported by the book. Look at a fucking bowl of olives, they come in all different shades and hues. This issue only scratches the surface we talk about race, skin colour and its relationship with the books AND how the community handles it. It's a shit show all around.

2. Unsolicited criticism of fan art. (This is what I'm most upset about.) If someone isn’t asking for criticism, it’s wrong to offer critiques, especially if it’s a stranger. I don’t care if the person critiquing is an artist of whatever skill, don’t even care if it’s Da Vinci himself, it’s inappropriate. Art is time consuming and its is personal even when we say it isn’t. Someone people like to draw things a certain way and sometimes they prefer to use colour outside of conventional means. Who cares. When they share it to their community, they’re sharing something they love and care about, ripping it apart with criticism and critiques spoils that joy. I don't care if you're an artist yourself and you just want someone to improve, if I didn't ask for critiques, I don't want it. You're not an artist at that point, you're a hemorrhoid. Completely unwanted. Gonna need a cream for that.

I view my fanart differently than I would an art assignment I've giving my art teacher for mark. Different frame of mind, different goals. All of which I get to decide if I want criticism or not.

This is how a bad apple spoils the bunch. THG is over 10 years at this point. While the new books and movies bring in new content every now and then, for the most part we're on the smaller side of the fandom. If you ask me, fanfic writers are the backbone of this fandom and we're extremely lucky to have so many talented writers who still continue to write for us. We have a small handful of fanartists in comparison. Go to the THG subbreddit and you might see at least one or two new fanart artwork once a week thanks to the self promotion Sunday. Might see less if this sort of behaviour continues. Sorry, not sorry, but being a total asswort to and dogpiling on your content creators are a surefire way to never get content from them again. In all of this i forget to mention that 95% for fanwork is given away for free to the community, for the community to enjoy.

I didn't think it was that bad until I saw it first hand and in development. If I didn't have my friends here on tumblr and on the discord server, I'd probably straight up leave.

Of course, these issues aren't exclusive on reddit. My first encounter with some nasty individuals began here on tumblr. But its different if one singular user on tumblr leaves an nasty ignorant and racist comment compared to that user getting upvoted a bunch of times and any sort of justification by the original artist or OP gets DOWNVOTED to hell. One asshole is fine, but seeing the dogpile is something else.

Anyway, my relationship with how I viewed the subreddit has drastically changed this week. Not for the better. I'll keep posting to piss people off and let them get a twist in their panties, but I am more certainly going to limit my interactions with users there.

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Lost scenes/Fics Game!

Thank you for tagging me @valandhirwriter. Im going to copy-paste the rules here:

We all probably have them, those scenes that never made the story, the stories that never went anywhere, all those small and larger bits of love we wrote and still hoard on out hard drives. So now - let's share!

The Rules are simple:

1. Share a piece of fic that you cut out for some reason, or a piece of a fic, that you began and never continued, some lost piece of your writing, be it long or short, prose or verse. Unfinished Art and Illustrations are also welcome.

2. Tag five or more people or about everyone where you are curious for them to share a piece of their writing. Specific questions are welcome, but don't need to be adhered to.

3. Be kind. Let's spread positivity. Show support for your fellow artists and writers. Laughing along is great, mocking is not welcome.

4. Tagging someone back is totally fine, if the person doesn't want to share anything else, or anything at all for that matter, that's fine too.

Mine would be a chapter that I removed from my Emhyr x OC fic A Painting of You. This was before I decided to cut the fic into 3 parts. This chapter would've been a part of Part 2: The Roles We Play. The scene happens after the dissolution of Emhyr and Sarahs' relationship. Morvran Voorhis has a minor part to play here and he reports to Emhyr about his findings (this part was revised in The Roles We Play with Vattier doing the reporting). Read the lost chapter under the cut:

                                               Where Loyalties Lie

Sarah carried a wooden bucket of water towards the southwest part of the gardens, just a few hours after dawn; the wind cold enough to give her goosebumps. It was her job to water the hanging plants decorating the arches that were obviously of elven origins. The climbing vines covered the top half of the arches with its lush foliage and pretty little white flowers. Adjacent to it is a small man-made pond with a fountain in the shape of a miniature tower at its center surrounded by a carpet of white and yellow pansies serves as the central decoration and point of interest.

There were very few guests this early in the morning walking around the imperial gardens. Most were old couples taking in the scenery, admiring the flowers and conversing. They paid Sarah and the other workers in the area no mind.

Sarah lifted a dipper full of water towards one of the hanging plants when she felt something soft brush against her cheek. Startled, she spun around and the water spilled, nearly drenching Morvran Voorhis had he not jumped away in time.

“Easy, milady, it’s just me.”

“Oh General, you startled me” she said, hand against her rapidly beating heart. “Did I get water on you?”

Morvran used his free hand to brush away the few speckles of water off his fine blue-gray travelling coat.

“No harm done. Most will probably think I got caught in a light drizzle”

She noticed he was holding a red rose in his other hand. That was the soft thing that brushed her cheek.

“For you, milady”

Sarah took the rose offered to her. She smiled.

“You should do that more, smiling I mean” he said.

Sarah chuckled, feeling a blush rise. She saw the ragged end of the stem and gave Morvran a scolding look.

“You shouldn’t be cutting flowers from the gardens, even if it’s for good intentions. Especially in this sorry state. The workers carry pruning shears, you know.”

He inclined his head to the right and smiled. “My common sense abandoned me when I saw the rose and thought of you.”

Her face took the same shade as the rose. The general definitely knows his way to a woman’s’ heart, or under their knickers.

Sarah shook her head and changed the subject. “What brings you to this side of the gardens, General? Certainly not to see me.”

He raised his hands in front of him. “Please, call me Morvran. Only my men call me by my military title. And the emperor of course.” He added and shrugged. “I have an audience with the emperor a few hours from now, so I decided to look for the garden trobairitz.”

Apart from the gardeners and the emperor, Morvran also knows her secret role.

Sarah placed the rose inside the bucket in an upright position.

“Haven’t you heard? Concert has been postponed, for the foreseeable future.” she said.

Morvran twisted his lips and exhaled through his nose. “I heard from the visitors about it. Shame, I was hoping to hear you sing while I pass the time until my audience. You are greatly missed, milady.”

Wow, he certainly laying the charm down thick!

“Gen- I mean, Morvran. Just this once, I will grant you an exclusive performance as an apology for the near drowning. And as thanks for being a gentleman.” She added.

Morvran gave her a deep bow. “An imperial officer must also be a gentleman, milady, and I lead by example.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we? The inner courtyard should be available and empty at this time.”

Sarah crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “You expect me to sing in my garden gear? Take me to my cottage so I can get my lute and change into something more suitable.”

He grinned.

“Your command is my wish.” Morvran picked the bucket with the rose and offered his arm once more.

Sarah did not refuse.

The inner courtyard was completely empty. Perfect for a concert of one. Morvran sat on the stone bench, leaning back while Sarah sitting adjacent to him strummed her lute.

She had changed into a more casual wear of white long sleeved cotton blouse, dark green trousers and plain brown half boots. She did not dress to impress nor wore any jewelry. And since it was just the two of them, her mask is on the bench beside her.

She chose to play one of her original compositions: about a young girl who followed a hummingbird deep into the forest and finally found a place to call home. The young man was a captivated listener.

“Ow!”

Morvran was out of his seat in a flash and sat beside her.

“What’s wrong, milady? Are you hurt?” he took the lute from her as Sarah inspected her right hand.

She winced. The nail of her forefinger was split in the middle just enough to break the skin. Blood began to trickle slowly down her cuticle.

Morvran took out a white handkerchief from his trouser pocket and folded it over her hand.

“Thank you, Morvran. I think I neglected caring for my nails for so long. I should’ve heeded the aestheticians and wore gloves when gardening.

“I should take you to the physicians-“

Sarah shook her head. “This is a small thing. In less than an hour the bleeding should stop. Thank you. I’ll return to you your handkerchief after washing the bloodstains off.”

“Please keep it milady. I am just relieved that you aren’t in any danger.”

He was still pressing the cloth against her hand.

“Um, I can take it from here”

“Oh, pardon me.”

It was quiet for a while. Morvran picked up the lute and tried his hand on playing, strumming random notes out of the strings.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Gen- I mean, Morvran, what is your audience with the emperor about?”

Morvran looks up and rested a hand on the strings, abruptly cutting the sound. He reached inside the opening of his coat and showed her a corner of what appears to be a several folded papers. Then he tucks them back inside, close to his breast.

“Not exactly an audience, but to deliver information of significant importance to the emperor. I am required to hand them to him personally.”

He looked glum.

“Is there something on your mind?” she asked.

Morvran exhaled and looks at the decorative tree: the centerpiece of the inner courtyard.

“I know of the troubles the emperor has with the Merchants Guild. I’m sure he has mentioned it since you are a member of his council.”

“No, he hasn’t said anything to me about it” she lied, not giving any hint of her involvement. “What does this have to do with you?”

“I am a member; or rather I inherited the membership from my father.” His eyes looked both ways, confirming the privacy of their conversation, and then he leans forward. “I’m afraid the emperor is excluding me from any meetings involving the guild.”

“You are upset that the emperor doesn’t confide in you.”

“I am in the emperor’s service, and I’ve proven my loyalty to him time and time again. Yes, it troubles me that his majesty doesn’t trust me, or my devotion to the empire.”

“Do you trust the emperor, General?”

Morvan looks up and saw she was serious.

“I trust the emperor”

“Then trust that what he is doing is for the good of the empire. When he has need of us, we will be summoned.”

Morvran was quiet, taking in that simple counsel. It was a command he’s familiar with. It came straight from the emperors’ mouth. It revitalized his resolve and dedication. Sarah added.

“He does nothing out on a whim. Decisions are his to dispense, and if it meant excluding us from his confidence, he is doing so to protect the empire and the people.”

“The emperor excluded you as well.”

What is it with Nilfgaardian royalty stating facts instead of asking questions for confirmation? Am I that transparent?

What Morvran said, was the truth. Emhyr still hasn’t summoned her in dealing with the guild, and it was her idea. Or could it be because of their soured relationship that he isn’t seeking her help? She was willing to aid him on a professional level, nothing more.

She gave Morvran a sad smile. “Yes, but he can count on my help when he seeks it.”

Morvran nodded. “Then I shall give him no reason to mistrust me. Thank you for your counsel, Lady Sarah.”

The chamberlain appeared to take Morvran to the emperor’s office. Morvran gave Sarah back her lute and bid her farewell. The chamberlain gave her a nod of acknowledgement which Sarah returned. Both men left the inner courtyard.

Sarah removed the handkerchief and inspected her injury. The bleeding has stopped.

She picks up her lute and mask, puts it on gingerly to avoid aggravating her wound. She looks to the direction of Emhyrs’ office.

Despite our past, you can count on my help, Majesty.

Sarah decided starting that day, she will not avoid him, but she won’t try to attract his attention as well.

If only she could train her heart to be indifferent when he parades his lovers in within her sight.

___________

Moments ago, in Emhyrs’ office

“These are the reports our informants in Oxenfurt gathered about Lady Sarah’s origins, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“My thanks, General Voorhis. I trust you’ve read these and made your conclusion.”

“Yes sire. The information is still inconclusive. We’ve not enough proof to make a conclusion about Lady Sarah’s origins.”

“Damn that Viscount. I swear by Ard Feainn he is getting more and more incompetent with each task. Did you garner anything in these papers?”

“Yes sire. Base on the available intel, there are seventy -eight Sarahs enrolled at the Oxenfurt Academy. The spies are combing through each one of them and so far, none match Lady Sarah’s description. We’ve even included the years she may have studied there.”

“None?”

“Affirmative, sire. But, as I’ve mentioned, the information is still inconclusive.”

“Hmm.”

“If I may ask, Your Imperial Majesty, did Lady Sarah mention anything during her supposed stay in Oxenfurt? A date perhaps, an instructor or a collegue?”

“Sarah mentioned in passing of a Cidarian noble. Remus, I believe his name was. Pass that to Vattier along with my demand that he better show me results before I decide I have enough of him pussyfooting around and hand his job to someone else.”

“A noble for a colleague. If this Remus is a nobility of high station… Oxenfurt separates the high nobility from the general student body. I’ll have the men look into this Cidarian.”

“Very well. Give the orders, general.”

“As you wish! At once!”

________________________________________________________

I taggeth @bittersweetbark, @jawanaka, @traumschwinge, @smehur, @alphagravy and @gauntermetaverse

[daringneedles]

Blog – September 10, 2024

After what feels like an eternity of scorching hot, 30+ degree days (I’ve finally caught on to Celsius now, good immigrant that I am!), Vienna is finally enveloped in that fall feeling. Right now, a cool, wet breeze is drifting in through my open window, the constant droning of my fan is hushed, and the heat-scorched chestnut trees in Augarten are getting just as much relief as I am.

The summer was good, but very much. It always tends that way for me: I love summer, but I’m delicate and over-motivated in the hot months, which means I overextend myself. I still have an alarmingly sore Achilles from Vienna's month-long dance festival, and my social battery has been operating on a chronic low. 

I like how temperate climates impose a certain rhythm of life, with buzzy activity falling into rest, then hibernation. That’s what I’m longing for now: a break from the excesses of summer.

The story I tell myself about myself is that I’m an introverted, nocturnal, homebody creature. And there’s definitely a time when that was true, but as my partner likes to remind me, this hasn’t actually been an accurate reflection of me in some time. During the COVID winters when we were living on a fifth-floor walkup and Vienna’s gray skies stretched into infinity, yeah, I wasn’t leaving the house much. Four out of five invitations to go on a brisk winter walk, declined. My glory days of knitting activity: laid out of the sofa, dozens of TV-show episodes to consume, with next to no social obligations and an aching lower back.

But since the COVID lockdowns are now just a memory that we all seem very inclined to forcibly forget, I guess I should update my frameworks. Time is scarce in winter too, now, with roller skating and dance classes and queer writer’s circle and all the friends that I’ve made from these activities. Work has picked up significantly and I can no longer act as a student ignoring my homework till cram week. Whether I like it or not (okay, I actually do like it), I’m doing nearly as much in winter as in summer.

Still, here’s my shift in priorities: A repetitive strain injury (knitter’s elbow) + the inspiration of Bernadette Banner’s most recent embroidery video have shifted my cooler-months’ focus from knitting back to hand embroidery, which I had last seriously engaged in maybe eight years ago? I’m still in my manic phase about it. I’ve collected a shocking number of kits in a shockingly short period of time, I can’t stop telling everyone about it, and I’m in the process of envisioning a new life for myself in which embroidery is the center of my personality. Shall I drop everything going on in my life right now to move to the UK and spend three years studying technical hand embroidery at Hampton Court Palace? (It’s a strong maybe.) Standard order stuff for me when picking up a new hobby, really.

Here’s some progress pictures from my first Royal School of Needlework online course, “Next Steps: Jacobean Crewelwork”. It’s nearly done now, apart from some whipped and woven wheels that I find really tedious to make.

I’ve loved the kit and the whole process of working on it. The “Next Steps” courses are like the intermediate-ish level RSN classes, and I’m glad I didn’t start with the beginner Jacobean crewelwork class they offer; I’m sure it would have been similarly informative, but I much prefer the design of the intermediate level and it was not out of my skill range at all. Most of the stitches were new to me, but really fun to work and the videos were very clear and useful. I also love the design itself and the color scheme, in particular the deep greens and terracotta shades. I only wish that, given the cost of the course (GBP 120), you had unlimited access to the course content; they remove your access to the videos after a year. You can always ask for an extension, but I’d rather not have to beg for it, and I think I would enjoy returning to the videos again and again when working on other crewelwork patterns (also, I have a PDF of the design and idea I’ve had is to work it again in a year in a different color scheme to see how my embroidery skills have improved).

I already have my next RSN online course lined up, the Intro to Goldwork. I pounced on the kit as soon as it became available again, since they’ve been having supply issues for several months now and the kit has rarely been in stock.  This is a class where I’m definitely happy to start at the beginner level. A lot of people seem terrified by the complexity of goldwork, and I wonder just how challenging it will be. Since I’ve started up with embroidery again, goldwork has been the technique most fascinating to me (again, some influence of the Banner video here). 

(Not mine, of course! Image of the Intro to Goldwork design from https://www.rsnonlinecourses.com/)

I’ve also got an abstract beadwork kit from Imogen Melissa; I think I’ll work on this after I’ve finished up the crewelwork as a less precise, more free-flowing project before diving into the exacting world of goldwork.

(Not mine, again – example beadwork kit from @imogenmelissa_embroidery)

After that, I’ve got some other plans floating in my head: an embroidered Christmas wreath for my in-laws, a cute cross stitch project for some skater friends, many colorwork socks for me and my partner, and some sweater WIPs from last winter that I should really finish up before we’re at sub-zero temperatures...

I guess I won’t be hibernating this winter. But at least I won’t be sweating while doing nothing more than laying in bed.

Ciao for now,

Ona

[sloanedestler]

Hehee, for the "Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask", I'm really curious about you UwU sorry for asking too much UwU

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

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

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. (of course, Erik hehee, but could I have Christine too? UwU)

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

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

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

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

Oh my gosh, how fun! You could never ask too much btw 🥰

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

I think the version of the moment where Erik realizes Christine accepts him for who he is, whether that's physically, emotionally, or both. I'm just a sucker for a sad man who thinks he'll never have love in his life realizing he finally does

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

One that gets my every time is this exchange between Erik and Raoul from Thanksgiving Dinner:

'Just as Erik was about to comment on his friend’s lack of culture, Raoul entered the room and rudely thrust a wine glass at him. He arched an eyebrow as the insolent boy took a seat, his own wine glass in hand. Erik tried to be the bigger person, truly he did, but the wretched boy made it so difficult sometimes.

“Something on your mind?” he asked innocently, and was rewarded with seeing Raoul instantly bristle. Ah, he was simply too easy to rile, Erik thought with satisfaction.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Indeed? I thought as much, but it’s always nice to be validated.” Really, irritating the boy was no challenge at all.

Raoul had turned an unflattering shade of red, Erik noted with satisfaction. Just as he was about to return his attention to Nadir, the boy spoke again. “By the way, nice shirt, jackass.”

Erik slowly allowed his gaze to return to the boy. Why was he cursed? Why did every person in his life have to be so irritating? Except for Christine, of course.

He stared at Raoul until he flinched slightly, but still he refused to break Erik’s gaze. After a moment in which he determined the boy wouldn’t back down and look away, Erik answered his insult. “This shirt is to please Christine. Obviously if you knew more about how to do that, maybe you would still be with her.” By now fully done with the conversation, Erik turned away once again, but Raoul refused to take the hint.'

⛔️ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

There's been a few one shots that I started that never went anywhere, but the only one that had enough there to come to mind is a story I started right before I had the idea for Second Chances. It was also a marriage of convenience story (surprise lol), where Christine knows Erik is a man and not an angel. Mamma Valérius gets sick, and Erik offers to pay for a doctor. Christine thinks he will only do it if she marries him, and he thinks Christine is marrying him because she wants to. I don't really know what else would happen though so I've never gone back to it

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

Very, very positive. They truly mean do much to me!

❌️ What's a trope you will never write?

I would probably never do a time travel story

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

I can't see that ever happening for me. However, I'm happy to consider any prompts people might send my way. I actually have a great one in my inbox right now, I just need to get to it

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

Not that I can think of (apologies if I've forgotten someone). I guess I'm too predictable! 😂

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

This is a hard one for me, as I don't necessarily have strong headcanons. I think there are so many ways to see the story that I can get into many different interpretations of it. However, as far as what I like to write:

Erik: I like an Erik that was probably a very sensitive and kind child, and it was everything he encountered that made him the way he is, as in he became who he had to in order to survive. And I like to think that under the right circumstances, he could reclaim at least some of who he once was

Christine: I like to write a Christine that recognizes Erik as her 'person', at least on some level, but has to deal with feeling as though she shouldn't want him, both due to his actions and to outside pressures

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

This is from a story I started last summer but haven't posted anything from yet:

'Trailing along after her father and M. Khan, Christine glanced up shyly at the tall man walking silently next to her. Uncertain if she should remain quiet or not, she decided to try venturing a question.

“Destler is an unusual last name. Is it British?”

Taking so long to answer that Christine had decided he wasn’t going to at all, M. Destler slowly shook his head. “No, it’s just a name I took by chance. I have no idea what the origin is.”

“Oh,” she answered weakly. He really was the strangest person she had ever encountered. “I’m sorry if I offended you, M. Destler.”

“Offended me? You haven’t. But, I would prefer that you call me Erik.”

“Of course,” she answered automatically, wondering if she was trapped in some kind of bizarre dream. Wanting to be polite, she added, “And, you may call me Christine.” Slightly encouraged by his brief nod at her words, she continued, “So, with the given name Erik, are you Scandinavian? I was born in Sweden.”

Again, he shook his head. “No, I’m not Scandinavian. I suppose you can say I’m not really from anywhere.”

Thankfully they had arrived at the wagon by this point, because Christine truly had no idea what to reply to that statement. Fortunately, M. Destler - or Erik, as he wanted her to call him - seemed to forget what they had been discussing, completely changing the subject.'

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

Omg any of them 😅

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

Although it ends happily, one part of Second Chances really got to me as I was writing it, specifically Erik's internal monologue during the climax of the story. I'm not usually a crier, but I cried a little when I was writing that

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

Reader interaction means the world to me, and any questions about my fics are so welcome! The entire reason I started writing was because I was feeling some kind of way during the pandemic, and I think I wanted some kind of way to connect with people. And that's still true today, so yes please to any and all reader interaction!

Okay I think I made it through 😂. Thank you again, I had blast answering these! ♥️

[boricuacherry-blog]

On NFR! Del Rey is at her most instantly compelling, a pro asserting her future spot in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, as her closest peer and rival Stefani Germanotta did with her turn in A Star is Born. Words like "classic" and "greatest" adhere to her now; she writes sings that use them unironically. The possibly fictional shade whose fluttery alto flickered and beckoned on YouTube nearly a decade ago is a woman now - "a modern day woman with a weak constitution," she intones on the album's billowing final track, "hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but I have it." That's one of several moments in which Del Rey seems to open herself up; another is the melancholy "Mariners Apartment Complex," four and a half minutes of gospel-inflected transcendence in which her pastiche is so perfectly constructed that it becomes flesh, an utterly believable plea by a weary but steadfast soul to the lover whose tether she refuses to loose. It's a story about which most people can feel something.

gardener of the weediest patches of the contemporary psyche. On NFR! she remains that artist, even as she asks herself if she might, with insight, better compartmentalize her impulses.

you want to do," Lana continues. "I hear that you like the bad girls, honey, is that true?" And so a dream of romantic fulfillment slipped into self-negation, the way it has since time immemorial in the scripts that young women learn from those songs and from movies, their moms, other girls and the boys who benefit. The tone of her voice as she uttered these words was forever after labeled "sad," but was really something different. My mom would have called it "needy"; today, more common descriptions are "disempowered," "self-sabotaging," "unwoke."

"Women hated me," Del Rey told writer Alex Frank in 2017. "I know why. It's because there were things I was saying that either they just couldn't connect to or were maybe worried that, if they were in the same situation, it would put them in a vulnerable place."

But we know this. Over the course of her five albums, as she has learned to be a more specific writer and a more adventurous vocalist and to make room in her echo-saturated arrangements for her words to resonate, Del Rey has continued to stand firmly against the ideal of self-empowerment. Instead, she has explored what happens when women call themselves children; when they stumble in high heels; when they put the love of a man before all.

Mostly, critics have perceived this as an anti-feminist stance. Lindsay Zoladz sympathetically recontextualized in a cogent 2017 essay, seeing Del Rey's embodiment of the weak woman as an antidote to "empowerment as the default aspiration of the pop star" - the tendency of chart toppers from Beyoncé to Taylor Swift to configure their careers as one long therapeutic, vaguely political pep talk.

Del Rey herself simply said she found feminism uninteresting. She's modified that stance somewhat in the aftermath of the #metoo movement, citing Trump's infamous "grab 'em" remark as a sign that sexuality has been weaponized beyond even her tolerance levels. Yet even on NFR!, an album some writers have extolled as a (circuitous) form of protest, Del Rey remains much more invested in describing how people - mostly women - fall apart, how they take risks or otherwise work against their own best interests in the pursuit of pleasure, intimacy and what she still guilelessly calls "love."

To many of its champions, NFR! is Del Rey's revenge against those who would misinterpret her, offering a critique of 21st Century decadence rather than another chance to wallow in it, an "obituary for America" that still extends some hope that, with the proper perspective, its best qualities can be redeemed.

The album describes an affair with a fellow artist in which the power roles never solidify, a situation Del Rey depicts as unsustainable but clarifying - trading in her kitten heels for kicks. These are the cleanly satisfying moments of the album, evoking what we expect from singer-songwriters like Joni Mitchell or Tori Amos, both of whom are clear inspirations in Del Rey's pursuit of legible expressiveness. She and [producer and co-writer] Jack Antonoff don't try to imitate Mitchell's tricky musical fusions, but they do invoke the finely honed confidentiality of Amos' music, and similar moods (Fiona Apple is another obvious source of inspiration.)

The power of NFR! emanates from the compulsion to collapse logic, to violate musical boundaries, through imagery and within storytelling. On their own, her lyrics often read as unremarkable and derivative. What hooks the listener is the way she enacts her dramas just as the mind replays formative memories, especially painful ones. She repeats herself. She veers into cliché. Her touchstones fall into each other across time.

Mitchell's lyric reads as poetic and incisive. Next to it, Del Rey's feels uncooked. Musically, "Cold Blue Steel" also strikes the listener as much more sophisticated, with its subtle arrangement and a melody that sinuously moves from folk to jazz.

Yet, let Del Rey's song sink in, and it offers its own revelations - emotional, like Mitchell's, but less clearly mediated. The simplicity and directness of "Cinnamon Girl" hits as its leaden rhythm seems to grow more elastic. A syn-drum keeps the narcotized time as a string section puddles around it. Del Rey moans her lyrics in a small voice, almost pleading but also self-soothing. Sometimes she makes a trilling leap that sounds like the squiggle of one of the vintage synths Antonoff employs - a sign of her indebtedness to West Coast hip-hop, whose smudged arrangements and stoned cadences she often assimilates.

The whole effect is slippery, unattached to the process of telling a story. The song feels more like you're in a story, in someone's head at a particularly unsure moment. Del Rey accesses the twin realms of Surrealism and the psychoanalytic most often through their cinematic manifestations, such as film noir and its latter-day revival, especially within the work of David Lynch.

It's also worth remembering that Del Rey's first debts were to hip-hop and post-punk, and noticing how crucial those sources remain even as she nods more noticeably toward Laurel Canyon.

[bmaxwell]

Life is Strange: True Colors

I have a weird history with DONTNOD and the Life is Strange series. It's the first major "Choices Matter" game I played. A group of friends and I played through it concurrently and discussed spoilers and choices, with "Why did you do THAT?" and "Oh so wait, this didn't happen in your game?"" and so on. It's a great way to play one of these. And I really love the game despite its flaws.

The follow up game - aptly named Life is Strange 2 - didn't land for me in the same way. I have a pretty low misery threshold, and LiS 2 exceeded my limit. Tell Me Why (a similar kind of game from DONTNOD) landed better for me, but the story's ending left me wanting. True Colors was being developed Deck Nine (the developer behind Life is Strange: Before the Storm which I didn't play) instead of DONTNOD, so my expectations for True Colors weren't especially high.

As with the previous 2 games on the list, I played this one with my wife and firstborn. We pass the controller around, offer advice, and generally make choices by committee. It's a great way to get some insight into how our brains work differently, how we interpret various mannerisms and speech patterns of characters, and where our moral compasses guide us.

True Colors has heart. It has a strong emotional core. New protagonist Alex Chen is relatable and likable, easily the best lead the series has had. The series always has revolved around a character who has supernatural powers; Max had the power to rewind time, and Daniel has telekinetic abilities. Alex, on the other hand has the power of Empathy. Did you roll your eyes or suck in air through your teeth and slightly shake your head after reading that? Because I definitely did when I first learned about it.

Thankfully it is executed very well and works on a different level from the previous two titles. Even though it's supernatural, it has its roots firmly in the human experience. Most of us have some form of empathy; whether we nurture it or try to suffocate it, it's there. You've seen someone crying and felt for them, or felt uplifted in a room full of laughter? Alex has that but it's coming in at high voltage with zero filter.

Alex Chen takes on any powerful emotions nearby. If someone is shocked, sad, or enraged in her vicinity, she feels that too. She can try to fight it or try to take it onto herself to defuse a situation. It's bewildering and hard to wade through. In one scene she attacks someone in a fit of rage that she's taking on for someone else. And you end up in scenarios where you want to help someone, but taking on their pain can be harmful to you and not always ultimately beneficial to the person. Anger, sorrow, elation, shame, ecstasy, guilt...these are all valid, human emotions that serve a purpose. There aren't too many black and white choices, and shades of grey are where life gets interesting.

Of course Alex has her own story and her own intrigue outside of this ability. She's the new girl in town, a stranger who quickly loses her only connection. From there we get into the sort of local lore, cover-ups, and secrets I want from a small town drama.

I found myself rooting for Alex, worrying for her, and getting to know and love the characters in the small Colorado town of Haven Springs. The cast of characters who are all endearing, slightly weird, and maaaaybe hiding something is wonderful.

Alex befriends a local DJ who runs a record shop. There's a nice lady who runs a flower shop in town. Alex lives in an apartment above the town bar down the street from the dispensary. There's a section of the game that involves the characters getting into cosplay and going around the town LARPing. It's a lovely, homey little place; the writers and artists did a great job of making Haven Springs feel like another character in their story. The cast and the setting are important because I need to have the sense that there is something worth caring about and fighting for. I've experienced plenty of games, movies, and TV shows where I don't have anyone to latch onto.

I love these characters and I want to hang out in Haven Springs. The game isn't perfect of course, as the way the story wraps up asks the player to accept one coincidence too many. No matter though, I find myself agonizing over choices that don't have a clear right/wrong split, and that couldn't happen if I wasn't invested in the cast. For me the journey was great regardless of the destination.

[your-average-lad]

A Really Stupid, Quick, 40k Homebrew Post.

So, In my efforts to either homebrew my armies entirely, or at least add some personal flair, here is what I have come up with! Well, mostly. Obviously I'm no pro writer, but I think I sprinkled just enough crack head tax evading energy to make it OK.

The Syndicators

SO, starting off with my par for the course Space Marine homebrew. The "Syndicators". You see, in real life, I started a Chapter back in second grade called "The Sons of Michias" and eventually kinda dropped out of the hobby. When I came back I played Orks (Da Fancy Ladz), and after many more years started Space Marines again. It took some Trial and error but I wanted a spiritual successor to the Songs of Michias. Thus, The Syndicators were born!

Armored in shades of blue and silver, they marched! Now, I wanted some lore that was both unique, but also had a little humor to it. So, I came up with the idea of somehow including... you guessed it, tax evasion!

The idea is that the Sons of Michias' home world was attacked by a Tyranid Hivefleet (Hive Fleet Inanis), and was ravaged, leaving most of the chapter dead. However, from the remnants of the chapter arose a new one. Gathering whatever they had left, they took to the stars. There idea? Let's find other chapters on the brink of collapse or beyond repair, and offer them an off the imperial record recruitment.

Through this method, the chapter grew rapidly. Do to the different gene seed of the recruits, you had a wide array of specialties and traits. This would go on to play a part in how the chapter is set up. I haven't fully worked the details out of chapter organization, but truly its less a chapter and getting closer to 'legion' in scale. After all, since its all off the record, they totally only have a thousand marines.

This, obviously has put them at a head with the inquisition. They don't much like the fact the Syndicators are breaking the rules and committing Imperial Tax Evasion to boot. However, whenever asked, the Syndicators say to take it up with accounting. From the few times the Inquisition has actually went to 'accounting' all they have found is a servitor repeatedly pressing a small red button. When asked to speak it says "Please take a number" and the person is given a ticket that reads #3... The servitor doesn't know numbers higher then two of course.

Over all, the Syndicators are on the brink of being declared renegade, with the only obstacle being the fact they still are avid protectors of Imperial worlds and there people.

Hive Fleet Inanis

Simply put, my own custom hive fleet! Based off the idea of dark armor with highlights of bright pink and blue, I just thought it sounded cool. I've never written Tyranid lore before so... this is still a WIP, but I have about 3000pts or so, and I just want to make it cool. So bare with me.

There are a couple other things I am thinking about. One being a Nightlords successor warband? Really, I just want to make a small Nightlords army, cause they seem cool... also like, REALLY FREAKING EVIL, which in the setting can also be seen as a little bit cool. Not to mention, they have some of the best reading material for 40k. I am just starting this faction, So on the chance I go for more of a successor warband, I would love to hear some ideas and thoughts on this!

Anyway, thats it for my late night 40k post! I hope this was at least an OK read.

[onceuponastory]

Bethany my dear,

you write stories which are so gorgeous, thank you so much. I guess I speak for all readers when I say that writing stories is more than just bringing some words in the right order. With every story you create a world which is comforting and leaves room to escape into a safe haven. Just thank you <3 today I will try to be brave enough to send you a Bucky AU request. I hope you like it and even write a story with my idea. Just let me know if I can look forward to a story, if not I'm not mad at all, I don't want to pressure you into something. After reading your last story my hurt and comfort fic brain startet to work in overdrive.

Bucky has a new neighbor, a beautiful and graceful young woman. But every attempt of him to flirt with her failed. There's nothing more than a polite hello the shy woman offers him. Since one evening when she's frantically knocking on Bucky's door, clearly in panic. She's ghostly pale and looks like she's going to pass out with her lips a sickly shade of blue (she has a heart failure and has to reduce stress and she needs her medication really urgent but forgot it her car and now she is too weak and in panic to get it). Bucky's helps her and takes care of her this evening. Unfortunately there's more. She runs from a stalker. This fateful evening where she had to knock at Bucky's door for help she saw a man (her stalker?) near her car so she couldn't get her medication out of her car. So shit hits the fan when she is certain that she saw her stalker not only that evening near her car, but nearly everywhere she goes. There's also a scenario in my head where she's having a bad nightmare and screams in her sleep and Bucky hears her and runs into her apartment because he thinks she's hurt. Eventually she tells Bucky about her stalker and that she tried to hide from him to find peace to reduce stress, because this is all affecting her heart disease. Bucky helps her and MAAAAAYBE there's a fluffy ending, after some angsty, sick, hurt drama. 😍 In my head Bucky is always the protective gentleman and of course sexy as hell.

Omg I'm so sorry for my rambling. Take care lovely writer 💞

Hi anon! Firstly, I want to thank you for your lovely, sweet comments about my work! Reading that made me smile so much 💞

Also, your idea sounds great, but I am working on a fic similar to it just now called Something Sweet, where Bucky and his neighbour fall in love, and she's also running from someone (sorta). There's still a few differences from yours though, namely reader's heart condition. Also, she's not hiding from a stalker, but there's a similar sort of thing going on with her ex.

Sorry if that's the story of mine you read before sending this ask, but I thought I'd let you know just in case you haven't seen it. But if you still want me to write your request, I can definitely try!

[smashboxgirl26]

strawberry jam

cowboy(ish)! bakugou katsuki x fem! reader summary: This had to count as one of the worst days in your entire life — stuck on the side of the road in the hot sun in the middle of nowhere with your old, stupid, broken down car and no cell service. At least there was a super hot cowboy who stopped to help. contains: FLUFFF OMG JUST FLUFF AND LOVE word count: 11.6k (somebody sedate me pls) masterlist a/n: this is for the loml, @katxn15, for her birthday that was like, a month ago, BUT I FINALLY FINISHED OKAY IM SORRY IK I SUCK (but also, apologies to my followers, i still feel like this writing isn't my best work - but we're kicking writer's block's ass one day at a time) also, here's the strawberry jam recipe

This had to count as one of the worst days in your entire life — stuck on the side of the road in the hot sun in the middle of nowhere with your old, stupid, broken down car and no cell service. 

You’d just been trying to drive back home from college for spring break, but no — the universe had decided that it was too much to ask for and decided to dump you here, on the side of the backroad (because, of course, you thought that using the backroad would be quicker to avoid the usual highway traffic; and now there were no cars passing by that could help you) in the middle of some random field on a hot spring day.

You finally gave up trying to call someone — your roommate, your parents, a friend from your hometown — after about twenty minutes, when you realized that the phone stopped ringing completely and a low battery notification popped up.

Fucking hell.

Under the hot sun of the afternoon and without the AC, the car had started to reach its boiling point, leaving it unbearable to be stuck inside even if it offered the smallest amount of shade from the blinding light above. Your water bottle was all finished now too, so you were sure if you didn’t get out, you’d die of heat stroke. 

The air was sticky when you finally cracked open the driver’s door, and paired with the direct sunlight overhead you could already feel yourself turn sweaty and breathless in the heat, and yet you pushed yourself out with your phone still in hand and outstretched, trying to catch at least one minute of cell service.

For a minute you thought one bar popped up, but it was gone as soon as it came and you were left with nothing as you flung it back into the car and closed the door out of frustration. 

The stupid, fucking car just had to break down in the worst place possible, out in the middle of nowhere where no one was driving by. 

“Fuck!” You finally let out in frustration, grasping at your hair and pulling at it as the panic set in. 

You’d been sitting in your car for about thirty minutes now, and no one had driven by in all that time.

What if you were just stuck there until you died of heatstroke — okay that was an exaggeration, but at this rate you might have to be stuck on the side of the road for hours, you might even have to sleep in your car until morning.

Your back hurt just thinking about it. 

At the very least you’d be extremely dehydrated, you could already feel the energy getting sucked out of you from the sun in reverse photosynthesis — and now that you thought about it you kinda had to pee.

Scratch that, you really had to pee.

There were just miles of fields ahead and behind you, there was nowhere to go unless you wanted to just go at it right there in a bush, but there was no way you were attempting that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” You paced around your car trying to will your bladder to stop bothering you, hoping — or praying, more like — that someone would pass by and that they could just take you to their little nearby house. 

These fields had to belong to somebody, with the wheat, or whatever it was, that was being grown in bulk, there had to be someone living out there somewhere who had a bathroom that you could use.

And after what felt like an hour of waiting under the sun (though it was only about ten minutes), your prayers were finally answered when you spotted a red, old, beat-up looking pick up truck from across the distance, and the sight was enough to propel you to start waving your arms and jump around to catch their attention.

Maybe it was a nice, old farmer who was just heading to his house nearby who’d be kind enough to let you use their bathroom and phone and to help you with your car.

And that’s who you were expecting to step out when it slowed to a stop — a nice, old, friendly dude. 

Except it wasn’t. 

Instead, you were faced with a tall, young (your age, it looked like actually), attractive guy wearing worn-out cowboy boots, faded jeans, an orange plaid shirt, and a cowboy hat with blonde strands peeking out from underneath. And not only was he not old or a farmer, he was also scowling at you like it was your fault he’d decided to stop.

That was enough for your open mouth to snap closed in an instant, and instead of explaining your situation to him and thanking him for stopping like you were planning on doing, you stood there frozen with wide eyes, watching as he stomped towards you like he was about to yell at you for something. 

You cringed away from his figure with your eyes squeezed shut in response to his expected lecture, only for them to pop open when he spoke in a soft, grumbled tone instead.

“Yer car’s broken?”

“Huh?” you blinked up at him like you’d just been squirted in the face with water.

He rolled his eyes before they rested back onto your face with that same scowl. “Is yer car broken?” he asked louder.

“Oh, yeah” you quickly turned away to point at it as you babbled dumbly. “I think it’s the engine. It’s really old so it kinda sucks now.”

“Lemme take a look,” he walked around you towards the hood of your car — and you just stood awestruck as your mind finally registered that he wasn’t about to attack you, and that he was instead looking down at the wires and stupid things in the hood of your car like any other normal, nice person would have.

Why’d he look so angry then? A super bad case of resting bitch face?

You trailed after him, watching from the sidelines as he fiddled around with stuff you didn’t understand, biting the inside of your cheek when he reached up to wipe away some sweat that was dripping down his face before he continued working.

You know, now that you thought about it, he was actually super good looking. Under the small shade from the hood of the car, you could carve out his features: red, piercing eyes, clear skin, a strong jawline. 

Your roommate would be so jealous if she found out some super hot cowboy helped you with your car. It was straight out of a romance book actually. If only you hadn’t thrown your phone back in the car out of anger, you could’ve snuck a picture of him and sent it to her when you finally got cell service. 

You could already imagine the look on her face if you were able to get a picture of this guy, all screwed up in anger and—

“Engine’s gone,” the cowboy’s voice came back, and you were back to being an idiot.

“What?” you blinked up at him.

“S’not fixable. Engine’s dead,” he responded as he shut the hood. “Yer gonna need a ride then?”

“Yeah, uh actually,” you rubbed the back of your neck that was definitely gonna be sunburned, “I kinda have to use the bathroom. Do you live nearby, or—”

“Town’s about thirty minutes away, n’ I live past that.”

“Shit,” you mumbled under your breath while turning away.

What the fuck were you supposed to do now?

“Jus’ go here,” he gestured to the blowing wheat field around you. “No one’s gonna find out.”

“Um, no,” you stopped him. “I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why? Yer too civilized for that shit?”

“I never said that—”

“Ya cityfolk have never had to piss outside before?” he challenged with a raised eyebrow.

You knew he was just trying to rile you up for some odd reason, trying to challenge you into doing something stupid and dumb just for the hell of it. And yet, and this sounded so idiotic, you felt like he was trying to guage something about you, to test some limit you had to see how far he could push you, and for some goddamn reason you were letting him push you past it.

Or maybe it was just because you had to pee really bad and were getting to the point where you really didn’t care anymore.

Either way your patience was running thin.

“I literally never said anything about any of that,” you huffed. “Stop putting words in my mouth. But fucking fine!” you raised your arms up in despair. “I’ll go piss somewhere out here. Happy now?”

The cowboy’s face twisted into surprise for a split second, but you watched it switch back into a frown as he stared boredly.

“Don’t take long. I’ve got places to be,” you could almost hear the chuckle in his voice — he really wasn’t as attractive now that he’d opened his mouth.

.

.

.

Mr. not-so-attractive-anymore cowboy didn’t even help you when you had to pull your overstuffed suitcase out of your trunk and stick it in the back of his pickup.

“A little help?” you’d looked at him with your hands on your hips after trying to hoist it onto the back of his pickup truck and failing.

“I’m the one doing you a favor,” was what he replied with before he just went and sat in the driver's seat — in response you stuck a middle finger out to his back.

It took a couple of tries, but you finally got it up and secured it — though you could feel the sweat that’d built up from you trying to lift your heavy, overpacked suitcase out in the sun and humidity. 

Damn you really wanted to kick yourself in the head for being stunned by his looks when you first saw him, his personality was actual garbage.

“Took ya long enough,” he grumbled when you swung the passenger door open, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes, making sure to close the door harsher than it needed to be in response.

You almost expected him to get angry at you for it, but at that point you didn’t care because you finally had AC. It was a sigh of relief after being stuck outside in the sweltering, afternoon sun for almost an hour, and you let yourself lean against the headrest as you finally let yourself breathe something other than the humid air outside that made you feel like you were choking on your own lungs.

The cowboy didn’t say anything after his initial comment, and you both instead drove down the road in silence as you stared out the window, watching the blur of fields and green that passed, with only the sound of the AC blasting to keep you both company.

You found yourself staring at him from the side after a while, perhaps out of boredom; and though you berated yourself once more for being so attracted to him because of how good he looked despite his personality, you couldn’t not thank him for helping you out in a dire situation.

“Thank you,” you found it in yourself to utter it somewhere besides your mind, and you noticed the slight tinge of a smile on his lips and the way his eyes slid over to you for a second.

“What was that?”

“You heard me the first time,” you groaned, resting your head in the palm of your hands while your elbow leaned on the door handle.

That elicited a small chuckle from the cowboy, and somehow you found yourself smiling in return.

“What am I supposed to do with my car?” you took advantage of the more normal mood. “I can’t just leave it on the side of the road.”

“I know someone who can deal with that in town, s’not really a problem.”

“Is there cell service there?” you instantly shot up. “I really have to tell my parents about what happened since they were expecting me to be home in the evening.”

“There’s nothin’ really in town, to be honest — most people use landlines ‘round here,” he shrugged. “Where I live’s got service though, I can bring you there.”

“...Thank you..” you found yourself choking out again. It had to be his stupidly handsome face, there was nothing else that could explain it. 

You noticed the small twitching smile on his lips again before it disappeared into his resting bitch face, but he wasn’t cocky about your thanks this time.

“S’not a big deal,” he grumbled back.

“I’m Y/N.” You decided to make the leap before the car settled back into the sound of blasting AC.

“Katsuki,” he replied without missing a beat.

At least now you knew Mr. Cowboy’s name.

“Town’s up ahead,” Katsuki spoke after a minute or so, pointing towards the small sign posted at the side of the road that read Welcome to Auburn Springs — and you watched the deserted-looking fields transform into roads and small buildings through the window as Katsuki began slowing down to adhere to the changed speed limit.

It looked straight out of those old western movies your dad was obsessed with for some reason — with small, cramped and shabby buildings lining the main road, though they all seemed to be out of use with either boarded up doors and windows or peeling signs that read CLOSED.

These used to be businesses, you quickly realized, from the couple of handpainted, faded logos that were still stuck to a couple of windows; but they all had to be shut down for some reason. Perhaps the buildings were too old?

“This is town?” you turned to Katsuki, confused. How did people get anything done?

“Old town,” he grumbled back. “Main street’s up ahead.”

You nodded before turning back out the window, taking note of Katsuki turning right at the edge of the street to where you were met with a lot of buildings with very obviously newer construction (though it was still quite old fashioned — but it wasn’t historic). 

Smaller, obviously Mom and Pop shops, lined the street — you caught a motel, a café, and a small grocery store — following the curve of the road as it went into a roundabout at what you guessed was the center of town. A towering fountain stood in the middle of the small square, a young man standing proudly in the middle of it, watching over all the stores for their protection.

Katsuki pulled past the roundabout into a small parking lot behind one of the buildings on the side, and quickly gestured for you to get out. 

“I’ll take ya to the tow shop first,” he guided you back towards the stores, and you got a better view of the small town center and the shops that lined it, the small boxes of flowers that were laid out on the sidewalk next to the streetlamps, the single stoplight at the end of the road with a blinking yellow light — you guessed a lot of people didn’t come by.

“Ya comin’?”

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare.

Your head snapped back to where Katsuki was standing. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

He nodded slightly, gesturing to the shop behind him and for you to follow him in. When he opened the door to walk in, you half expected him to let the door fall closed behind him; you couldn’t really stop your eyes from widening when he held the door open for you, stunned in place until he glared at you and gestured for you to walk in.

You were immediately blasted with air again, coming from the large fan attached to the cracked ceiling, met with a small shop: an empty counter in the back, and a couple of comfy old armchairs chairs in the foreground with a round, wooden table in the middle.

“Ei!” Katsuki called out, and it startled you out of the calm silence that was present in the shop.

“One sec Katsuki I’m coming!” someone called out from somewhere in the back, maybe there was a hidden room back there.

Katsuki huffed before walking towards the counter while you followed behind him slowly and unsurely, guessing you were waiting for whoever Ei was.

“Sorry, Sorry I–” a tall, red-haired guy (who was also very attractive — was this where all the hot guys had gone?) appeared from some side door that you hadn’t noticed, pausing when he saw you standing there behind the counter as well. “...I was just eating lunch really quickly. I, uh, how can I help you ma’am?”

You opened your mouth to answer but Katsuki was already talking just as the words were forming in your head.

“Her car’s stuck on the side of the highway — the side road ya know? ‘Bout thirty minutes out of town — engine looked like it was busted.”

“Ei” stood there for a few seconds, blinking between you and Katsuki for what felt like hours before his eyes brightened and smiled at the both of you.

“That’s not a problem ma’am,” he nodded towards you. “I can grab it easily and bring it over to Sero’s across the street. He can fix it up for ya if it isn’t too messed up.”

“That would be a life saver, thank you,” you spoke before Katsuki could say anything. “How much do I owe you?”

Ei just let out a smile. “S’not a problem. Any friend of Katsuki’s is a friend of mine.”

“She’s not a friend,” you heard a pained grumble from beside you, and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I insist,” you pushed, turning back to Ei. “I can’t ask you to do something like that without paying you for it.”

Ei let out a small chuckle, with a look directed towards Katsuki that you couldn’t exactly make out, before replying. “Twen’y dollars is enough.”

You dug through the wallet that had been sitting in your back pocket, fishing out a fifty dollar bill instead and placing it on the counter.

Ei opened his mouth to ask about giving you change but you stopped him before he could speak.

“Keep it. You don’t have to charge me a heavily discounted price.”

A slow, toothy smile spread on his face once more, as he glanced back between both you and Katsuki before sliding the bill back over the counter to his side and tucking it to somewhere you couldn’t see it.

“I’ll let ya know tomorrow when I get the car over to Sero’s. Ya got a number that’s good to call?” he grabbed a notepad from his side of the counter and a pen, scribbling quickly as you rattled off your phone number.

“Great, I’ll give ya a call tomorrow ma’am,” he nodded his head slightly. 

“Oh, you don’t need to call me that,” you stopped him. It felt weird being called something that made you feel so old. “Just Y/N’s fine.”

“Good to know,” he reached his hand out towards yours over the counter, eyes sliding over towards Katsuki in a way that you didn’t notice. “I’m Eijirou, Miss Y/N.”

You shook his hand with a smile — two super attractive dudes in one day? Your roommate was gonna be mad mad that she decided not to come back with you when you’d asked. “Nice to meet you Mr. Eijirou.”

“Likewise.”

Katsuki cleared his throat, and both you and Eijirou’s handshake broke apart in time for Katsuki to come close enough to grumble in your ear that you looked like you were going to pass out.

“Go get somethin’ from the café across the other side of the fountain,” he pointed out the window. “You’ll get heatstroke otherwise.”

You could barely get yourself to register how close he was standing next to you as he practically breathed down your neck with the smell of his woody, spicy aftershave swallowing you — so you nodded quickly, waved bye to both (and the cool air from the fan) before you pressed open the door and stepped out to shield them both from the view of your flushed face. You could practically feel the heat radiating off your cheeks as you power walked across the sidewalk, trying not to think about what’d just happened in less than a minute.

“Who was she?” Eijirou gave a cheeky smile as he leaned forward on the counter once the door closed behind you. “Ya finally got yourself a girl, man?”

“No one you fuckass,” Katsuki rolled his eyes as he sneered. 

“She didn’t look like no one,” Kirishima’s smile widened.

“Jus’ found her on the side of the road and she needed help. Nothin’ more than that.”

“Yeah right Katsuki,” he let out a chuckle. “Yer not known to be the most helpful out there.”

“What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“I’ve known you since we were kids, ‘kay? Yer not exactly known to hold open doors for girls,” Eijirou rose his eyebrows in a smug look. “And I can’t blame ya. She’s pretty.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest as he turned away.

“Would’ya mind if I asked her out then?” Eijirou hit him with the ultimatum, a growing smirk on his face as he watched Katsuki’s shoulders tense in anger. “I already got her number too, I could ask her tomorrow when I call ‘bout her car. Maybe we could go down to the bar and get a couple drinks, I’ll invite her back—”

“Fine, ya little shit.” Katsuki whirled back around with a scowl imprinted into his features. That’s the reaction he was looking for. “She’s pretty or whatever, ‘kay? I just stopped ‘cause I saw her jumpin’ on the side of the road like a lunatic. But that doesn’t mean anythin’. I don’t like her or nothin’.”

“I never said anything about likin’ her,” Eijirou chuckled. “S’not a bad thing, man. It’s good that yer letting yerself out a lil’. And she seems like a nice person to do that with.”

“Gimme that fifty back,” Katsuki opened his palm over the counter. “Put it on my tab instead.”

Eijirou stuck it in his palm without hesitation, a small, knowing smirk resting over his face as he watched Katsuki stick into his back pocket.

Katsuki liked you.

.

.

.

As it turned out, Katsuki had gone to the city for a farmer’s market (as he did every Sunday and Tuesday), which meant he had to go to that little grocery store you’d noticed to sell off the couple extra crates of fruit he had sitting in the back of the truck. Even though you tried to tell him that you could help him carry at least one as thanks for giving you a ride, he told you that your “noodle arms” weren’t gonna be of any help to him, and carried all of them across the street while telling you to stay by the pickup truck with your iced tea.

It was winding down towards the evening, you realized, as you watched the wispy clouds overhead take their slow strides across the blue sky; the sun was definitely leaning towards the western hemisphere of the sky now, towards a string of mountains that laid in the distance.

Out of plain curiosity, you slipped your phone out of your pocket to see if there was any cell service available. Even a little bit would’ve been fine at that point, you just had to tell your parents what happened and that your trip was probably canceled.

But, as Katsuki had said, there was nothing, not even a single bar, and you only had about five percent of battery left. Great.

You shoved it back into your pocket without another thought, sipping from your iced tea while shielding your eyes from the sun. 

“If ya drink like that yer gonna have to piss again.”

Mr. Cowboy Katsuki was back.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes and flipped him off before walking towards the passenger’s side.

He only barked out a laugh that startled you, leaving him in a lopsided smile that you couldn’t exactly understand — but you were both on the road before you knew it, passing by a couple of different farms that he pointed out because you couldn’t tell the difference between wheat and barley. 

It wasn’t long until he pointed out that they’d passed his property line, and you watched the wheat fields turn into corn as Katsuki turned into a smaller, winding road up to a large house you could see from the distance.

“That’s the main house,” Katsuki knew to explain from your curious stare. “I don’t live there. It’s where my boss lives.”

“Oh. What’s your job then?”

“I’m a ranch hand, I help out with stuff ‘round the property. Takin’ of horses and cows n’ shit.”

Well that explained the cowboy outfit.

“I thought you said you were taking me to where you lived.”

“I do live here. I don’t live there, though,” he gestured towards the house specifically. “There’re smaller cabins scattered around the property — two others live on site too.”

“Ranch hands, you mean?”

He grumbled in agreement, and you nodded as you watched the house grow larger and larger until he’d parked the truck right in the middle of the driveway.

You followed him out of the car as he marched straight into the house as if he owned the place, taking hesitant steps until you closed the front door behind you to observe the cozy space that’d been made; a beautiful stone fireplace was what you noticed when you first walked in, as well as the two tufted, brown leather couches with, what looked like, a hand-quilted blanket tossed over the side, and a wooden coffee table in the center to complete the living room.

It made you want to curl up with a book and a cup of coffee just from the sight of it, but you were in some random person’s house you had to remind yourself as you followed where you saw Katsuki disappear to the kitchen (which was small, quaint — with a pretty bowl of fruit on the counter and a dark stained dining table already set with four places of silverware) and the back door where you could see him standing through the window talking to someone.

You quickly made your way outside, where Katsuki was talking to an older man with a large crate in his hands; he was thinned and tall, with blonde hair that stuck out from under the straw hat he was wearing and bright, cheerful blue eyes — with a small smile peeking from his lips when he noticed that you were standing there.

What did Katsuki say to him?

“Sorry to hear about yer car,” he approached you, a gentle tone in his voice. “I do hope it can be fixed tomorrow so you can go home. In the meantime, why don’t you stay in the guest bedroom upstairs?”

“Are you sure?” you blinked. You hadn’t even said anything to the dude and he was already offering to let you stay the night? “I don’t want to be any trouble, I mean there was a motel in town I could just stay–”

“Ya can’t even drive there by yerself,” Bakugou interrupted. “And I’m sure as hell not driving ya there.”

“It would be no trouble,” the man said as he walked up onto the porch. “I have more than enough food ready and the guest room’s always prepared.”

“Uh, then yes. Thank you, Mr…”

“Toshinori,” he nodded as he passed you to step inside. “Just Toshinori, no need for honorifics.”

“Thank you, Toshinori.”

“Of course. Katsuki, get ‘er suitcase outta the trunk, will ya? And show her where the guest bedroom is,” Toshinori said before disappearing into the kitchen, and you inwardly smirked when Katsuki grumbled under his breath about having to lug your heavy suitcase up the stairs yet showed you back through the house and up the stairs without saying anything to Toshinori.

He just pointed towards the room from across the hall, told you the bathroom was right across from it, and trudged back down the stairs with his heavy boot fall to go get your suitcase.

You wandered into the room, taking in the simple wooden bed frame and linen sheets, the matching dresser and nightstand set as well as the lacy curtains that were tied to the edges of the window to let the sun in.

It was pretty and pleasing and simple, and you sat down on the bed without thinking about it to grab your phone from its spot in your back pocket, only to be greeted by a (what seemed like) a thousand notifications from your parents and your roommate — which meant you’d finally gotten some cell service.

You called your mom first, of course — she would’ve killed you if you hadn’t — and she was almost crying when you told her that you were okay and that the car had just decided to be a piece of shit and break down in the worst place possible. She seemed hesitant to hang up once you’d finished, but she ran out of things to tell you about and finally had to let you go after about two minutes.

Your roommate though, you savored that conversation.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she screamed. “You just happen to be stuck where all the hot people are and you can’t even send me a picture of one of them?”

“It was only like, two hot guys but whatever.”

“Okay, okay, okay — what about the cowboy though? You said he was an asshole but he was hella good looking. Like how good looking, describe him.”

“Um, well he’s blonde, and tall,” you bit the inside of your cheek. “Super attractive. Probably toned too, I mean he does work on a farm all day, I’m sure he does a lot of heavy lifting.”

“Anything else?” she pressed. “Give me specifics here.”

“His eyes are red, like a really pretty, vibrant red — kinda like a strawberry, sorta. And he’s always kinda frowning. That’s why I was scared of him when I first saw him! I thought he was gonna come and yell at me, I swear–”

You were interrupted by knocking, where you whirled around to find Katsuki standing at your open door with your suitcase, his (what you guessed, at this point you only knew him for like, two hours) usual frown on his face but with a new look you hadn’t seen in his eyes.

Shit. He fucking heard me, right?

“Dinner’s in twen’y,” was all he said before he left — and you let out a sigh of relief in return at the lack of reaction.

By the time you’d washed your face and gotten downstairs, the table had already been joined by two other guys, who, you guessed, were the other ranch hands Katsuki was talking about earlier, along with an additional place setting at the end of the table. One of the guys was covered in freckles and had green hair, and the other had dual-colored red and white hair. Izuku, who you learned was the green-haired guy, asked you a million questions about college: what you majored in, what it was like living in the city, how it was to attend classes everyday — everything he could probably think about; in the meantime Shoto, Mr. red and white hair, sat quietly and nodded along to whatever Izuku said. 

Surprisingly, Katsuki did the same as Shoto did, with the occasional grunt to something or a one-word answer when Toshinori told him about something that had to be done the next day, and it was surprising to see him act un-snarky compared to how he’d been earlier; you kinda wanted to kick him under the table just to see what he would do in response, but you didn’t want to be rude, especially not when his boss was nice enough to let you stay the night without even meeting you — for all he knew, you might rob the place and sneak away when no one was awake.

And honestly, it was nice to sit down and eat at a dinner table, it felt like you were at home when you were in highschool, where your mom did that thing where she made everyone go around the table and talk about one thing interesting they learned that day; it was so different from the nights you’d spent cooped up in the quiet library with a simple sandwich so you could get through your essay in time.

You were quick to offer help in cleaning up (since you’d been upstairs pacing around your room trying to convince yourself that Katsuki, in fact, hadn’t heard what you’d said about him and the weird glint in his eye was made up in your mind) since you’d been upstairs when they were setting the table, stacking all the plates silverware and bringing them over to the sink where Katsuki was already washing his.

“Just put ‘em down, I’ll do ‘em,” he pointed to the counter space next to the sink.

“I can help though,” you crossed your arms over your chest. He hadn’t even let you carry one crate when you were in town — he had to at least let you help here.

“Clean up the lefto’ers,” he rolled his eyes before going back to scrubbing a plate. “There’s smaller containers in that cabinet next to the fridge. Put ‘em in there and bring me the bigger dishes.”

“Aye Aye Captain.”

You heard him grumble under his breath and you laughed as you stuffed leftover carrots into a smaller tupperware container.

It was kinda funny, actually, how your perception of him had changed in the past couple hours: you’d gone from being scared of him, to thinking he was attractive, then finding out he was an asshole, and now you were stuck in this weird limbo of being friendly and awkward with him.

“Do you have a phone charger I could borrow?” you asked as you placed the larger dishes next to the sink. “My phone is about to die and I forgot to bring one.”

“No.”

“I won’t lose it or break it if that's what you’re thinking,” you stood next to him as finished up the dishes.

“Can’t,” was all he said as he used a towel to dry his hands.

“Why not?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t have one.”

That made you pause for a second, stuck in place as you watched him shuffle to the other side of the kitchen to do something.

“What do you mean you don’t have one?”

“I don’t have one,” he shrugged.

“What do you use to charge your phone then?”

“I have one but it won’t work on yers.”

“Why? What phone do you have?”

And damn, were you shocked when he pulled an old flip phone out of his back pocket to show you.

“Are you serious?” you blinked between him and the phone in his hand, watching as the scowl on his face deepened — and that was about all you could take before you burst into laughter. “How do you do anything on it? Can you even text on it or what?”

“Oh shaddup,” he grumbled as he shoved it into his back pocket, watching as you could barely hold yourself up as you laughed about him being a grandpa and the phone being from the 1990s.

The both of you’d actually forgotten that everyone else was still in the kitchen with you — until Midoriya told you that he had a phone charger you could borrow, leaving you and Katsuki standing there and staring at the rest of the kitchen with wide eyes until you could finally muster out a “yes” and a “thank you”.

Waking up the next morning without the sound of your phone alarm screaming at you to get up so you could lug yourself to class was refreshing, to say the least. It was almost strange to wake up naturally, to the sunlight streaming in through the window and the view of the green fields outside. 

It was probably the most relaxed you’d felt in a while.

In fact you were so relaxed, that you stumbled down the stairs after just crawling out of bed in need of some coffee since you remembered that you’d noticed one when you were in the kitchen yesterday. It was already late morning, so you expected that everyone else would be out doing whatever their jobs were anyways, it wouldn’t matter what you looked like.

The wooden floors creaked underfoot as you stepped into the kitchen, beelining straight to the coffee pot that sat on the counter next to the fridge — a smile perking up when you realized there was already coffee in it, and it was still a good temperature.

But you almost spilled coffee all over yourself when someone cleared their throat, and you whirled around to find Katsuki sitting at the kitchen table with a mug in hand; a stupid smirk climbing up his face as he realized he’d scared you.

“Did sleeping beauty finally wake up?” he sipped his coffee, looking up at you through his eyebrows.

You only rolled your eyes as you took a sip from your own mug, though you pulled away after a second because it was way too bitter.

“Do you guys have any creamer or something?”

“Fridge,” he grumbled — eyes following as you opened it and grabbed a small glass container, pouring it into your coffee and putting it back before stirring it with a spoon and coming to sit at the table.

“What time do you wake up?” you asked after a moment. “I’m guessing you didn’t just get up and come here to grab coffee.”

“Around six,” he shrugged. “We try to do more work in the mornings so it’s not too hot.”

You just nodded as you went back to sipping on your coffee, watching from the windows as the fields swayed in response to the wind. Life seemed to move so much slower out here, which was so strange compared to the busy lifestyle you were used to.

And what felt even stranger was Katsuki sitting next to you, sipping on his coffee, without a care in the world — strangely domestic, even. You could find yourself imagining your future like this, in a small little kitchen being served pancakes and coffee as you stared out to the pretty, lush fields outside.

But, why were you thinking about this with Katsuki?

You turned to look at him discreetly, watching his throat move slowly as he sipped on his coffee, the steam still rising from the cup. 

How was he able to drink it when it was so hot? Was he secretly burning his tongue and keeping quiet about it?

“Ei–Eijirou call you yet?” Katsuki (speak of the devil) asked suddenly, his voice harder and colder, a contrast to what it had been when he’d first called you out for sleeping in.

“I don’t think so,” you shrugged, sitting up straighter. “I haven’t checked my phone yet. But I’m pretty sure his phone call would’ve woken me up.”

“Let me know what happens,” he said as he pushed himself up from the table. “I can drive ya into town if it gets fixed.”

“I will,” was all you could say before he was already out on the porch, back door slamming behind him as you were left staring at the rest of the empty kitchen.

The sudden change in his behavior threw you off, leaving you with whiplash as you took another small sip of your coffee. You thought the both of you would continue being as friendly as you had been yesterday — if “friendly” could be defined as trying to get a rise out of the other, but to you it meant the same.

What’d happened in the few minutes that neither of you were talking?

You could only let out a sigh, pushing yourself up from the table to wash your mug in the sink with a small, unnoticed frown settling over your lips. And it, once more, led you towards the question: why were you thinking about Katsuki?

And you could try to justify it by saying it was because he was the only person you’d really talked to in the entire town — maybe the only person you really got to know (in a small way). Maybe it was just because he was attractive, and there was some sort of pull that always seemed to lead to wherever he was — you really weren’t sure.

Omygodddd…. I’m getting hung up over a guy I’ve barely met.

And with that, you headed upstairs to take a shower and clear your head.

.

.

.

You were, once again, reminded by the circumstances of your trip when you opened your suitcase to only find it stuffed with winter clothes — a byproduct of you still having a majority of your wardrobe stuck in your room at your parents house. You’d been planning on switching out your winter wardrobe with the summer clothes from home over your week spent there, since the sweaters and puffy jackets took up too much space for anything else to fit in your small, shared dorm closet.

The only thing that seemed to be appropriate for the weather outside was an oversized university t-shirt that you’d gotten at the beginning of the year that you’d promptly forgotten about, only found a couple days ago when you packed your whole wardrobe away — and a pair of jeans.

The shirt seemed to swallow you though, since the university had just given out large sizes for everyone (maybe because they expected everyone was gonna be a giant football player for some reason), so you tied it up into a somewhat crop top just so you wouldn’t drown in the cheap cotton.

If you weren’t able to go home this week and switch out your clothes, you might find yourself dying in the heat when you went back for classes next week. At least then you’d have an excuse to tell your parents to buy clothes instead of school supplies.

As you went through your suitcase to see if there was anything you could wear in hotter weather (maybe something had just slipped in), your phone started ringing. 

You only assumed it was your mom, asking what an update was on the situation with your car, and answered it without looking at the screen. 

When “Hey, it’s Eijirou,” came out instead of Hi honey, you had to pause just to register what was going on.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Eijirou,” you finally answered, sitting down on your bed. “Sorry, I’m going through my suitcase.”

“Nah yer all good. I wanted to tell you I brought yer car to Sero’s already. He said the engine looks real old. He’s gonna try and fix it, but he said there’s no promises. I’ll call ya later in the evening once he’s finished.”

“Damn, that was fast.”

“Yeah, well there’s not exactly a lotta business ‘round here. Only luck we have is if someone’s drivin’ and their car breaks down — like what happened with you.” You heard him chuckle from the other end of the phone before it settled into silence for a second or so. “How’s Katsuki treating ya?”

The topic startled you. Was he reading your mind or what? And, what exactly were you supposed to say when you knew they were probably friends of some sort? Katsuki called him Ei.

“Um, fine?” you sounded like you were unsure, which wasn’t what you were going for since you were just confused as to where it came from.

“Lemme know if he’s being an asshole — I’ll whack him upside the head for ya. He doesn’t exactly have a lotta experience being open with others.”

WHERE IS ALL THIS COMING FROM??

“I’ll, uh — I’ll keep that in mind,” you responded just as unsure, which was then met with an awkward silence that he finally ended with an “I’ll call ya later about the car” and a goodbye.

You hung up the phone feeling more confused about what was going on with Katsuki than you’d started, and just decided to ignore all of it to head downstairs and tell him about the situation with your car — he did say to tell him what happened when you got the call from Eijirou.

No one was in the kitchen when you stepped out to the back porch, making sure to close the door behind you. It was the first time you’d seen the rest of the farm in its openness, and not through a window. 

A vegetable garden was what first caught your eyes, sitting in a small fenced area just next to the porch with neat little rows and small wooden signs labeling each crop. A faded red barn sat just a couple hundred feet past that, with a couple of windows you could see horses through as you walked past a separate patch of strawberries. 

You spotted one of the cabins that Katsuki had been talking about earlier towards the left of it all: a neat little wood cabin with a small, clean porch, a welcome mat, and a rocking chair out front. 

You found Katsuki standing at the side of the barn with a hose and a bucket, washing a foal who looked like they’d rather do anything than be there at that moment.

He didn’t say anything when he noticed you’d approached him, evidenced by the double take he’d given your figure before he went back to brushing the wriggling horse to make sure the soap cleansed them thoroughly.

“Eijirou called about the car.”

He didn’t look up as he responded. “And?”

“He said that Sero said the engine looked pretty old, so it might not be able to get fixed. But he’ll call later in the evening to let me know for sure.”

You heard him hum before he doused the foal with hose water.

“I’m not really sure what to do now,” you continued, leaning against the wall. “If the car isn’t fixable does that mean I’m stuck? I don’t wanna ask my parents to come out all the way here just to get me.”

“I’ve gotta go to the farmers market in the city again tomorrow,” Katsuki grumbled as he towel-dried the foal (who snuggled into his warmth). “I can jus’ take ya with me.”

“Are you sure?” you pressed. “I don’t want to be a burden and–”

“Stop talkin’ shit,” he rolled his eyes as he scooped the foal up and walked back into the barn with you following. “M’already going there — S’not a burden if I’m already headed there anyways. Jus’ lemme know what happens later and we’ll see.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, watching him place the foal back into the stable with its mother, where it rushed straight to nurse from her. “What’s their name?” you turned to Katsuki.

“The foal? Her name’s Lavender.”

“That’s pretty,” you hummed.

“Thought it was fitting for a spring baby,” he shrugged, rearranging some of the tack equipment to their proper places on the opposing wall.

You walked over to another horse, a pretty brown mare who had her head sticking out of her stall, trying to gauge your attention. 

“You named them?”

“Some of ‘em, yeah,” he gestured to the pretty girl who was now nuzzling your hand to encourage you to keep running your fingers across her face. “She’s Iris.”

“I used to love naming horses,” you gave your full attention to the creature in front of you, scratching the sides of her ears as she bent down. You could feel Katsuki’s stare from the back of your head.

“My grandparents had horses,” you continued. “They lived not too far from the town I live in, so we’d try and visit them in the summer. They used to let me name the summer babies when we visited — one of them was Baby. She was a baby horse so I only thought it was proper to name her Baby. I was three, I think,” you chuckled. “Another one was Strawberry — because I had an obsession with strawberries when I was six.”

When you looked back at Katsuki, he was leaning against the opposing wall, staring at you — more like observing you, actually; like you were some animal in your natural habitat on some nature documentary.

“The first horse I ever named was this black mare when I was ten,” he spoke, hands dug into his sides with his arms crossed over his chest. “Called her Cherry.”

“That sounds like a hooker’s name,” you raised an eyebrow, watching as the soft expression he wore turned into a playful sneer.

“Hah? As if Baby and Strawberry aren’t hooker names.”

“Well, I mean, they could be,” you rolled your eyes. “But I feel like they’re not as obvious as Cherry.”

“Whatever,” he bit back, pushing himself off the wall. “Still a better name than Baby.”

“I was three!”

“Whatever you say,” you heard him chuckle as he strode out, hands shoved into his pocket with a cocky stance. “Now are ya gonna help me, or are ya just gonna stand around and stare?”

“Help you with what, exactly?” It was your turn to cross your arms over your chest with an eyebrow raised. “I thought I was too weak to help.”

“This is different.”

“What is it?”

“Strawberries.”

“...Strawberries?”

He didn’t answer you as he charged straight out of the barn, his stupid cowboy boots leaving you in the dust as you were forced to follow behind him without an answer. 

Katsuki led you past the vegetable garden you saw earlier to the small patch of strawberries you’d noticed, though you didn’t get what he meant by saying he needed “help” with them. Picking them? 

The cabin you’d noticed earlier lay nearby as well, under the cool shade of the grove of trees outlining the main house — and you stood, watching as  Katsuki ran up the small steps of the porch to grab two baskets, before coming back to hand you one.

“That cabin’s yours?” you squinted in the sun, almost jealous that you weren’t wearing some bigass cowboy hat that would protect your eyes.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Strawberries are mine too,” he gestured towards the small, fenced area. “I grew ‘em myself for the market.”

“Really? That’s so cool,” you followed him, stepping over the fence. “So you sell them for yourself then?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “The old man said he doesn’t really care what we do since we’ve already helped him for so long.”

“Do you just sell them as plain strawberries — or do you make stuff out of them?”

“Jus’ jam, usually,” he grunted, leaning down as he began picking the fruits off the bushes and tossing them into his basket. “Don’t really get enough time to do much else.”

You hummed, leaning down at another bush as you plucked off a couple strawberries and placed them into the basket held in the crook of your elbow. They were so vibrantly red, like the color of expensive lipstick your roommate liked to wear out to a bar (under the guise that it’d attract rich, hot dudes)  — like the color of Katsuki’s eyes, just as you’d noticed the night before.

You kind of wanted to eat all of them, though you weren’t sure that Katsuki would be happy about you gobbling down all of his strawberries. He’d probably tear you a new one. But, maybe a taste wouldn’t hurt.

You plucked a small one, as ripe and red as some of the larger ones you’d picked, just so it would be more discreet — a small smile creeping up when you saw that Katsuki was busy doing what he was doing; you were about to pop it into your mouth when you noticed a beetle making it’s journey through the leaves of the bush before it crawled into one of the branches and disappeared into the plant, and immediately decided against trying any of them before they were washed.

It wasn’t too long til your basket was filled to the brim, threatening to overflow from the way they were piled on top of each other; it was heavy enough that it required two hands to hold it.

Katsuki was just about finished too, finally standing up to his full height and wiping away the sweat that’d dripped down his forehead with the back of his forearm before his eyes settled on you. A small, sly smirk had made its way up to his lips, though you couldn’t understand why he was looking at you like that.

“What’s the look for?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You need both hands to hold the basket?” he snorted.

You wrinkled your nose as soon as you realized he was carrying his own with a single sturdy hand — almost making the stupid basket look as light as air, even though you knew how heavy it was since it was just as filled (if not more) as yours was.

“Well sorry Mr. I work on a farm and basically lift weights for a living, that I need two hands to hold the basket so I don’t fall on my ass,” you huffed, rolling your eyes when he let out his bark of a laugh.

“Jus’ gimme that,” he walked towards you, holding his other hand out.

“No. I can carry it on my own.” Even though my shoulders are killing me. But feminism!

“It looks like yer arms are about to pop off,” he took another step closer. “Give it.”

“Nope,” you answered, making sure to pop the p while rolling your feet back and forth between your toes and heels.

“Give me the basket, shitty woman.”

“You said I should be helping you,” you emphasized. “This is me helping you.”

“You can help me — by giving me the basket.”

“How is that helping you?”

“Ya can’t exactly do anything else if yer arms fall off,” he rolled his eyes, ignoring the offended look you gave him. “B’sides, I want ya to go grab the jars for me.”

His hand comes to grab the handle you’re gripping tightly, fingers accidentally brushing against yours as the smell of aftershave hits your nose, just as it had yesterday from how close you’re standing — it makes your stomach flutter from how warm and rough his hands are, just from that little glimpse you catch of him, and you almost drop the basket in the process.

“Wh-Where are they?” you don’t break the eye contact that’s connected you, his hand still over yours.

“M’house,” he rasps — and you swallow, thickly, letting the weight of the basket shift from your hands to his before he continues. “They’re on the counter.”

You nod slightly, finally breaking the heat of his stare and his fingers when you fully let go of the basket and turn to the small cabin, thankful for the cool shade of the trees when you step up the porch from how hot your face has become, like you’d gotten a sunburn.

The little welcome mat invites you in as you push open his front door; and though it feels strange walking into someone’s house like that, you don’t want to look back at Katsuki and give him the opportunity to notice your flushed face.

You settle on not being nosy as you make your way into his kitchen after wiping your shoes on the welcome mat, just taking note of his decor’s simplicity and the cleanliness of the small cabin. There was a cardboard box filled with jars sitting on the counter, just as he said there would be — which you grabbed easily before making your way outside. 

Katsuki was still standing where he had been, feet rooted in the same position under the sun with flushed cheeks under his cowboy hat — an unreadable expression on his face before he turned and began trudging towards the house with you by his side. There was nothing besides the crunch of dirt underfoot and the birds you could hear from the trees. Your shoulders occasionally bumped due to your unfamiliarity with the uneven ground, but he never said anything — so you left it.

The kitchen was quiet too, when you both walked in, with only the sound of the fan whirring from the living room ceiling while you looked up to Katsuki, wondering what’d happened again.

Every time there was a moment between you, it disappeared to reveal Katsuki being harsher than he had been previously — and it was always in a matter of seconds. Sure, he hadn’t been welcoming when you met him, but he was still willing to stop at the side of the road to help a complete stranger; that could tell you enough about his character. 

You watched from the kitchen table as he washed the strawberries in a large plastic bowl in the sink, rinsing them out a couple of times before he placed them between your seat at the table and the one next to you. As he turned away to get whatever else he needed, you stole a strawberry — popping it into your mouth, eyes widening from how good it was.

After plucking the stem off another, a firm hand stopped you from taking a bite out of it; and Katsuki gave you a sneer after stealing it and taking a bite while he sat in the seat next to you.

“Cut ‘em small,” he pushed a knife and a cutting board your way.

“What’re you doing then?” you raised your eyebrows, watching as he finished off the rest of the strawberry he’d stolen.

“Making sure ya do it correctly,” he leaned back in his chair.

“That’s not fair.”

“It is if yer a thief.”

“It was one.”

“I saw you take the first one,” he smirked, leaving you to roll your eyes before pulling the bowl closer and getting to work.

He hovered over you for the first five you did, commenting that you were cutting the strawberry cubes too big or too small (though you weren’t sure it mattered if they were ‘too’ small — didn’t you want it as small as possible for jam?). But when he finally approved of the size of the pieces, you built up a pace for yourself — slicing them long twice before cutting them three (or four, depending on the size of the strawberry) ways across — tossing them into a different bowl Katsuki’d provided when the cutting board became too full.

It didn’t take as long as you would have expected, your fingers stained red and ready to prune when you finished, before looking up to find Katsuki’s nodding head bobbing alongside you.

“Not too bad for a newbie,” he smirked, standing up and grabbing sugar. 

After adding the amount he deemed necessary, he showed you how he got it ready to cook by mixing the sugar and strawberries with a spatula until the mixture was soupy and liquidy. He transferred it to a pot on the stove, still stirring it with the same spatula as he explained what to do.

“If it starts sticking, ya need to take it off and lower the heat,” was one of the pieces of advice he gave (the only one you retained)  — but all you could do was watch the top of his cowboy hat bob up and down from your spot on the countertop, kicking your legs slightly as you watched him go through the motions of making strawberry jam.

It continued on for twenty minutes, of him explaining small things that you weren’t really listening to as he continued to stir it; until you watched the foam bubble down to reveal a shiny jam, darker than the color of the original strawberries.

“Put the kettle on,” he ordered, and you kicked your legs out as you pushed yourself off the counter. 

You wandered to the other side of the kitchen to do as he asked, watching as he turned the gas off and let the pot start cooling down while stirring.

“What’s the water for?”

“So the jars don’t break,” he looked up. “The glass shatters if the temperature difference is too high.”

He had you pour the water into the jars to warm them up before he came to the table and started filling them up with a ladle stolen from a kitchen drawer, handing them to you to seal and cap them. 

The process was quiet and concentrated, as you both went through the motions of filling up each jar and sealing them, until you were finished and left with about thirty jars.

It was when you finished that you realized how close you were sitting next to each other, shoulders almost touching, your pinky fingers basically intertwined; you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him. And when you turned to look at him, you noticed how close your faces were to each other — how you you could practically feel his breath fanning your face when he did the same, how his eyes seemed to roam your face the same way yours were doing to his — and how it felt like you were getting closer; an invisible string was drawing you together, bringing you both closer and closer as you stared at his lips.

“Oh — jam?”

All it took was an instant for the both of you to break eye contact, turning to stare at the back door. Shoto had stepped in, completely disregarding the both of you as he walked forward and picked up a jar. You barely realized when Katsuki’s expression had turned into a sneer and he’d stood up from the table without missing a beat.

“Beat it half n’ half.”

“But, it’s lunch,” Shoto stared at him blankly.

And just like that, it was like nothing had happened. Again.

.

.

.

Lunch consisted of peanut butter and jam sandwiches (because Katsuki had argued that you couldn’t refer to his jam as jelly — even though they were basically the same thing), and earned you the nickname “strawberry shortcake” when you dropped jam on your shirt. 

(“Didn’t ya say you were obsessed with strawberries?” Katsuki smirked when you asked him where it came from.)

Eijirou called after lunch to let you know that the car wasn’t able to be fixed and that Sero wanted to buy it so he could use some of the parts. The news wasn’t that surprising, since your parents had bought it second hand as soon as you got your driver's license when you turned sixteen and that you were now a rising senior in college; and after a quick phone call to your parents to let them know about the situation, they agreed the best thing to do would be selling it so you could buy a new car.

You didn’t even notice when the sun began hanging low in the sky — and the afternoon turned to evening. 

It was during dinner that you realized that you probably wouldn’t get a chance to see anyone ever again. Even if you hadn’t spent time with Shoto or Izuku — it was easy to see how nice and welcoming they were. It led to the four of you (Katsuki tagged along too) laying outside beside a small campfire and drinking beer, trading stories as if you’d known each other your entire life.

It was fun to learn about their lives in a small town: how everyone had practically known each other by the time they were five and all the shenanigans they would get up to. They told you about their other friends, the ones who’d moved away for bigger opportunities in bigger cities — and you noticed the way Katsuki’s face seemed to fall when the topic was brought up, even though he hid it by sipping on his beer quietly.

Both Shoto and Izuku eventually waved their goodbyes when they got up to go to bed, in the case that they wouldn’t be able to see in the morning if they were too busy, leaving you and Katsuki to quietly sip beer by the flames in comfortable silence.

“It’s weird to think that I won’t see you again,” you murmured after a while. The couple of beers you drank seemed to loosen the restraint your mind was holding on your mouth, and you stared up at the sky after a moment when he didn’t answer. “I won’t get the chance to be here again.”

Katsuki hummed in response, watching as you began tracing out constellations with your finger, muttering the names to yourself in the exact stupid way Deku used to. But, he wasn’t annoyed when you did it.

“Can I ask you something?” you turned to him suddenly, watching as he put his beer down.

“Shoot.”

“Why was your mood changing all day?”

“What d’you mean?” he blinked.

“Like, it felt like we were close at times — but then you’d seem angry again,” you looked back up at the sky and sighed before trailing off. “I just, I thought…”

“I heard you yest’rday.” 

You snapped back to where Katsuki was staring at the ground.

“No one’s compared my eyes to strawberries before,” he commented. “Usually it’s rubies n’ other shit.”

“You heard?”

“M’pretty sure everyone heard shortcake,” he chuckled. “You were fuckin’ yappin’ at the top of yer lungs.”

“I was not!” you huffed. You could feel your face burning up as you huffed and turned away.

It remained silent for another minute or two before Katsuki spoke again.

“Back in highschool, I was with someone,” he started. “And I thought we were gonna stay like that — that she was gonna go away for college and come back so we could get married. I proposed to her, and she said no and left.” He looked back up and you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “You– uh, I guess you reminded me of her a little.”

You could only blink in response to his confession, watching the light from the fire dance off his face as he stared almost wistfully off into the distance.

“I do think, that uh, yer…pretty, or whatever,” he coughed out. “But, it’s not permanent. Yer gonna go back tomorrow and eventually forget.”

It was silent again, the sound of the crackling fire remnant of his car’s old air conditioning.

“You don’t know that,” you finally spoke hesitantly, scooting across the log to where he was sitting. 

He looked up at those words, his eyes scanning your face, your expressions, the way you’d placed yourself so easily next to him.

“And even if I don’t stay here, it’s not like there’s no way to contact you — or even see you again. You live a couple hours from me, and you come to farmer’s markets there,” you paused, gathering your thoughts before you looked back up at him and the soft look on his face. “Katsuki… whatever she did — I’m not her.”

Maybe the beer had a larger effect on you than you thought it did — you weren’t one to admit something like that as easily as you just did, but it was probably a combination of the hazy spell your mind was experiencing as well as the intoxicating atmosphere of the night. You could feel your heart jump in your chest as Katsuki just stared at you, his eyes flicking down ever so often until he moved himself closer to you, his hand hovering just above your cheek as you inhaled his scent once more.

“...may I kiss you?” he whispered.

You nodded slightly, shocked, before he’d pressed his lips up against yours in a sweet, chaste kiss. You could taste the beer on him as his hands rose and cupped your cheeks gently, his thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks as yours tangled around his neck, playing with the back of his hair.

He took that as an invitation to pull you closer, pulling you up onto his lap with his arms wrapped around your waist and rubbing small strokes up the small of your back — melting into each other as sugar does into jam, slowly and gently and passionately through small touches and gazes. 

When you finally pulled away for air, you could see the flush of his face as he stared up at the sky and panted, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Damn shortcake,” you heard the smirk in his voice — though it didn’t seem to be as cocky as you would’ve expected. “You know how to kiss.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you murmured into his chest, feeling the rumble as he let out a short chuckle.

“Nothin’,” he pulled away for a second, and you noticed him grabbing something from his jean pocket.

In the light of the fire, he showed you his beaten leather wallet, with cracks and scratches — pulling out a fifty dollar bill that he then handed to you.

“What’s this for?” you sat up, your head leaning against his shoulder.

“S’the money you gave Ei,” he flipped it over, revealing a phone number on the other side, before looking away in embarrassment. “I was gonna give it to ya tomorrow when I dropped ya off — Ei suggested it.”

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle to the red that was rising on his face, becoming even more flushed than he had been when he kissed you.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “Now I can call you on your ancient phone.”

“Yeah, well, now I can teach ya how to make strawberry shortcake.”

[inariyazaki]

・❥・ 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 2

ೃ⁀➷ 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 1

╰┈➤ ᴄʏɴᴏ x ᴋɪᴛꜱᴜɴᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ༊*·˚

╰┈➤ made in mobile, if the lines may seem short / too long its the width of your device <3

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Summary : you were a kistune who stumbled upon a group of people, one of them approached you and you took them to somewhere you really love and had fond memories of.

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warnings : none, no nsfw, pure sfw ♥

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characters mentioned : the General Mahamatra Cyno, Kitsune reader ♥

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Genre : pure fluff, nothing to worry about <3

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You pulled Cyno to a beach you've created with your will, your strong will made you created this beautiful scenery, the starry night, all the stars shine's oh so brightly on both of your eyes, this scenery is indeed majestic. "This is the place where I like to bring people. This place truly gave me fond memories, I like to recall them, it feels like I'm experiencing all of them again, and if I can I want to recreat them with new people, now, I want to recreat some of them with you." You tell Cyno, Cyno looks at you in awe, "If you'd like, of course. I promise if you want, I'll recreat only good memories." You said, "Of course, if you'll be happy." Cyno said, you smiled at him "Really?" You asked, Cyno nods, "I'm glad, however, could you perhaps answer some of my questions?" You said, "Be my guest." Cyno said, "What was your position when you were in teyvat?" You asked curiously, "I was a general. To be specific, a general that worked for the Academia, my name was General Mahamatra." Cyno informed you, "Oh-! Then should I be calling you general?" You said "Uh no.. just call me Cyno." He said, "Got it! Second question, are your ears real? You ask, "Yes, they are real." ( Assuming ) Cyno said "Alright! I don't think I have anymore questions." You said as you sit down on the sand, "Alright, now I'll be the one who'll ask." Cyno said as he sits down beside you "I'm more than ready to answer them." You said, "Since you said you had family, what happened to them? Of course, you can only answer if you're comfortable." Cyno said, "Ah, well, they became stars." You say "Stars?" Cyno said confusingly "That's how kitsunes turn if they turn deceased. If they've protected their home land they turn into a beautiful beautiful star.. a star that will forever shine so bright. I even once saw a shooting star, it was a beautiful purple shade, I made a wish as well, to hopefully make new friends and meet more people, now, here we are, meeting all of you." You say smiling to Cyno "..I see." Cyno said sorrowfully, "Do you feel bad about asking it?" You say, "A little, I didn't know you all turn into stars after you die.." Cyno said, "Don't be, I'm a little happy you asked, the people I meet never asks about me or anything related to my family, I don't want my family to be forgotten so.." you say, Cyno didn't say anything, he only looked at you "Sorry, did I change the mood?" You say "No no I'm just amazed, you're really.. ethereal, majestic, every words that are elegant fits you, Y/n, you have a beautiful personality. I'm not a story writer, but I know someone who writes.. if possible, I'll request them to write about you and your family." Cyno said "Really? You don't have to do that, seriously." You said, "It's fine, after all the help these past few months you really deserve recognition." Cyno said, you face to Cyno, "Thanks, Cyno." You said smiling at him comfortingly, Cyno's eyes slightly widen, his cheeks tinted of a beautiful rose color, "Ahh? Sunrise already? Yeesh time passes really fast. Hey, Cyno, I really had a good time! Thank's for asking me questions and thanks for answering mine, hope we can talk like this again." You said standing up and offering your hand to help him stand

Most definitely. I really loved your company, thanks again for helping us until now, and advanced thank you for helping us in the future.