#or just something that mentions the fridge space they have would great lol

[sart7alex]

I'M SORRY CHAT IS THIS REAL?? HELLO?!

I've never been happier about being right

[iguana-eyanna]

Sunshine and Clouds

Pairing: Shayne Topp x Preschool Teacher! Reader

Summary: Things keep on getting better as you take your relationship to the next level

requested by @winifrede

"Babe? Where are my keys?" You ask, lifting up the cushions from the couch.

You were running late to your work and you were trying to find the keys to your car. You looked by the fridge that usually held them by the keychain and under the sofa in your living space.

Shayne pops his head and jingles your colorful keychain that had your school ID.

"Looking for these?" He asks playfully.

"Haha, very funny. Give them back." You said, reaching it, but Shayne stretched his arm, refusing to give it so easily.

"Not so fast there, you gotta give me something."

"Shayne, c'mon. I'm already 10 minutes behind schedule." You said, looking down at your Apple watch.

"Just one kiss, that's all I'm asking." He said, giving you his signature smile.

You roll your eyes and lean in for a sweet kiss as his arms wrap around your waist.

You pull apart as Shayne wiggles your keychain in front of you.

"It was by your work desk. I had to lift the paintings your kids made."

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver. Now I gotta go!" You said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

Shayne smiles as you run off to work at the school you've been working for the past three years.

He remembers meeting you at a Barnes and Noble where you were buying books to read to your kids in your first year of teaching. He could sense you had a big heart. He asked you out then and there and your relationship could only be described as sunshine and clouds.

When you first moved in with each other, Shayne and you really learned to accommodate both of your living habits. For instance, Shayne was a minimalist (there was no question, everyone knew this). He just remembers walking in the middle of the night almost trampling over the work you brought back home, from a stack of worksheets or Crayola crayons.

But you two figured out your differences and helped each other through everything.

You remember helping him draft video ideas and often told him to go to sleep when he accidentally dozed off by his laptop.

Shayne remembers calming your sniffles when your first class graduated, but you knew they would do great things as they continued their education.

And now, he decided to head to the gym since it was his day off and noticed that you forgot your lunch. He looks down at his phone and realizes you should be at work now, and decides to text you.

Shayne: Missing something? 🍱 💛: oh my gawd not again! 🤦‍♀️ Shayne: lol, I should really buy you that airtag for christmas then Shayne: I can drop it off to you now if you want 💛: Really? ty, I would eat lunch here but I will not be satisfied with just dinosaur nuggets at the cafeteria. Shayne: No problem, go through the front desk like last time? 💛: Yeah, you'll be in good hands. The front office ladies love you stopping by. Shayne: Huh, maybe you should forget your lunch more often for me to stop by then 😏 💛: you're so funny

You always like sending those gifs and it always makes him laugh till he can't breathe.

Shayne: please ✋🏻 Shayne: But yeah, I'll go through the front and meet you later. 💛: ty again. I love you!! Shayne: Not possible, I love you more. 💛: you must be wrong sir, because I love you most <3 💛: drive safe!!! Shayne: will do Shayne: ... and I love you infinitely

Shayne shuts his phone as he gets ready to head over to your school.

Once he gets there, he comes down to the front of the school and signs in and has one of the office people walk with him to your class. Shayne lightly knocked on the door and he could hear a bunch of kids screaming in unison.

You open up the door, greeting him with a bright smile.

“Wanna say hi to the kids? I mentioned you were dropping something and they wanna see you.”

“Oh yeah definitely!” He replied.

He always wished to have kids of his own, and since you were a teacher, his dream of starting a family only grew immensely.

“Everyone? Mr. Topp is stopping by to say hello! What do we say?”

A bunch of kids turn around and smile, waving.

“Morning Mr. Topp!” They said in unison.

“Hi everyone! Just dropping some lunch for your teacher.” He said, waving your bag in the air.

“Oooooooooooooo” some kids said, smirking. You playfully roll your eyes and grabbed your bag back and ran towards your desk.

“Okay everyone, let’s work on our alphabets today! Miss Suki from next door will watch you momentarily till I come back.”

One the teacher who had a free period came over, you walked Shayne to the front of the school.

“What do you think of the kids? I think they’re my most rumbustious class I’ve had” you joked, but loved the students regardless.

“They seem like a fun bunch, makes me wonder how our kids will be like.” Shayne said, then stopped in his tracks.

You stopped as well, feeling your throat become dry.

Both of you awkwardly stood by his car, waiting for the others response.

“You want kids?” You ask shyly.

Shayne felt his courage building, no longer hiding his hands in his pockets as he looked at you, timid.

“Yeah, I um… I want to have a family. And I uh… hope I can start one with you.”

You slowly smile, feeling your cheeks grow rosy.

“I wanna have kids with you too, Shayne.”

His smile grew wide as he hugged you, swirling you around in the air.

“Oh my god, I’m relieved. I wasn’t sure since you handle kids 24/7.” He said, looking back at you.

“Please, have more faith in me” you joke.

“And besides,” you said, closing in the gap. “Maybe we should start practicing on this plan of ours?” You ask innocently, slightly smirking.

Shayne’s eyes blew up at your statement, placing his hands on the lower back.

“Oh you be careful. Once we get home, I won’t waste a second.” He said.

“I’ll bet you won’t. Now go, I gotta get back to my class. I love you.”

You two share a kiss, more passionate than this morning.

“I love you more, I can’t wait to see you tonight.” He said, giving you one more peck before he jumped in his car and drove out (and you think he screamed a loud ‘Whoop!’ in his car.)

‘He’s gonna be a wonderful dad.’ You thought as you shake your head and smiled, walking back to your class.

Tonight was going to change the rest of your lives.

[stupidrant]

Regarding Skjoldr, I personally would go as far as to say if he got more screen time or was a regular NPC in the actual gameplay he'd be no less compelling and popular than Atreus. He has a memorable design and knows how to appreciate people. Skjoldr expressed his gratitude and admiration of Angrboda helping everyone out - along with her wolves - after Ragnarok even before Atreus mentioned her to anyone when he came to (even though Atreus knew Angrboda almost got herself killed when she protected him and Kratos during the battle and then came back for them to show them the exit). I don't blame Atreus for being spaced out because he went through a lot himself (both emotionally and physically) and once he reunited with Angrboda he thanked her for saving them and gently held her hands (one of their many classical budding romance moments).

But in the next games it is important for Atreus to learn to acknowledge just how much Angrboda has done for him and his family, completely selflessly, with no benefit for herself, risking her life and health and, unlike him, having NO support system at all. Angrboda knew that according to the prophesies (that led to her parents' deaths, no less) she was not a part of Loki's story after Ironwood. Which meant there was a great chance she could have died during Ragnarok. But she went out there, fought by his side and saved Atreus and everyone anyway (again, knowing that doing so, even if she lives, might bring her no personal happiness because Atreus/Loki would still go off on his own and possibly forget about her).

My main concern with Skjoldr is him having a bigger role and becoming Thrud's love interest (I would like to see them together because narratively it makes sense even though I don't actively ship them; at least nowhere near as much as Atreboda) would attract the omnipresent trolls who would pit him and Atreus against each other in order to put down Atreus (like they do with Thrud and Angrboda). Trolls already treat Angrboda as Atreus's extension and hate her by association but, as I noted in my other reply, they still want Atreus to be a prize/reward for Thrud. It's only a matter of time before they shift the "reward" status to Skjoldr.

What concerns me even more is the developers themselves going that route with Skjoldr. Thrud is obviously set up to have a Valkyrie arc, especially after retrieving her father's hammer. Skjoldr, sadly, might end up being forced into the "disposable love interest/fridged partner" trope, possibly with his tragic death sparking rage/revenge arc for Thrud (maybe with Atreus/Angrboda helping Thrud overcome it and not succumb to it). So my hope is that the writers don't resort to this cliched and trite scenario and don't just write off his character.

I definitely can see atreus starting to voice more of his appreciation and support for angrboda as hes already done some of this already in rag. She deserves all the love for sure ❤️ i do think skjoldr will be a bit popular next game if they invest in him more since they might go the route of the story of the danish king marrying the valkyrie and i honestly hope they do 🥺

thats crazy you mentioned the whole thing of the fandom possibly going in that faux “love triangle” direction with AST bcuz i was thinking something else completely different but i will talk abt that another time. for now ill just say im very happy atreboda is a duo and NOT in a trio and i hope that continues on regarding their relationship lol

[absentmoon]

oh my god OK. i think he's really really good at getting kids' attention:) he knows how to use his strong presence to give big speeches, ofc, but with kids he uses it to play up the "dramatic king" role to get them to laugh & pay attention and such. i think he's actually really crazy good at playing pretend with kids bc hes So do dramatic and literally everyone would go nuts over THE KING being there.!!!!??!!?!!

i also think.cries a little. hed umm. He'd be really good at story time. he does the voices and everything and he answers any questions even silly ones and hes as ive mentioned SOO DRAMATIC. if hes reading a more lowkey story to wind them down hes also able to speak very soothingly:) GHRK. i think hed read from storybooks mostly but isn't adverse to telling funny or kid-friendly dramatic personal anecdotes. Odozeir is well known among certain kindergartens.

on that note of being more soothing hes also good with quiet kids...!!!! if there's anyone whos shy but wants to participate in wgatever theyre doing he's really good at getting them out of their shell and encouraging them and making sure they don't feel left out:) if theres any kids who Want to be quiet and such he'll also make sure they have what they need..! if they need space he'll understand that but also if they just don't want to participate in the more roudy playing with the king hes sure to set aside time to do something just for them. Ok now imagine gibby quietly coloring with a group of kids. Do you understand. They give him pictures that hes very careful with and puts them around his personal quarters:) there are some pictures on his fridge. he treasures literally all of them AND i think he also likes to make the kids little drawings in return.

overall hes like a big hit wherever he goes LOL. i think he visits schools often! hes very intent on making sure everythings running smoothly and won't hesitate to take matters into his own hands — whether that be through extra funding or something else — if not. i kind of cant stand him he's really great and really caring with children i. ghrghh

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 12: Dirty Dreams

…in which Harry and Ezi kiss again…and again…and again… (THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT)

Word count: 4.6k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

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Harry didn’t understand dreams. How did dreams even work? Because sometimes he would see someone he hadn’t seen in years in his dreams, even though he had completely forgotten about the person’s existence up to that point. Then there were these super violent and bloody dreams that woke him in the middle of the night in cold sweats. Then, there were some other more inappropriate dreams that made him so disappointed when the alarm rang.

Listen, Harry wasn’t a pervert. He didn’t think about sex 24/7; well, not usually. But lately, he’d been having dirty dreams more often than he would enjoy. He would wake up with his dick rock hard and end up late for work because he had to stroke one out in the shower. And he blamed it on…

“Ezi! Where are your pants? And why are you wearing my shirt?”

Ezi stopped in the kitchen doorway with a bowl of ice cream in one hand, the other holding a spoon in her mouth. “This is my new ‘at home’ look,” she said, while leaning against the door in nothing but his button-up shirt that fell just past her bum. As if the sight wasn’t torturing enough, she had to be licking ice cream from the fucking spoon. It was eight in the fucking morning! And Harry would not go back to the bathroom to wank again.

“But where are your shirts? Why don’t you wear them?” he asked and slipped past her into the kitchen. He would make himself a cup of coffee so he wouldn’t have to watch her being effortlessly sexy in the kitchen doorway.

“They said on the internet that you should borrow your boyfriend’s shirt, and you’re my fake boyfriend.”

“Fair enough,” Harry chuckled.

She gave him a shy smile and left without saying another word. That was the longest conversation they’d had since that night she went out on a date with Dawson. Ezi was always a little bit weird. Okay, well, very weird. But her weirdness had been different lately, in a bad way. She was still doing weird things, but keeping a distance from him.

Harry knew he couldn’t really complain, since he’d specifically told her to her face that he preferred it when it was just him and the cat. Having his own space had been nice for a day or two, then he’d started missing how annoying she’d been. And of course, he blamed this all on Dawson.

Harry had been second to Dawson his whole life. Ever since he’d been a kid and found out that he’d had a cousin, Dawson had been nothing but a burden for Harry. Harry was the only child, but to his parents, Dawson had been their favourite son. His father used to love sports, but Harry had never been a fan of those. Dawson, on the other hand, had been the captain of the school’s football team and was excellent at marathons as well. So if Harry’s father was still alive, Dawson would be the one making him proud by taking over the family business Harry didn’t want.

Now, just as Harry had finally gained his own spotlight as a singer, becoming great at something Dawson wasn’t good at, Dawson swept in and stole Ezi.

Harry had spent a lot of time wondering why it had mattered so much to him that Ezi had gone on one date with his cousin. He didn’t even like her like that, and the house was always peaceful without her, which he enjoyed very much. But why did the idea of her becoming something with Dawson bother him so much? He hadn’t been sleeping well for the last couple of days. Not to mention that Ezi had started keeping distance from him. Well, he’d done it first because of the kiss, but it was weird when she did it because she had always been so fucking clingy. And he’d hated that. Until now!

Ding dong!

“What do you want?” Harry asked in the least annoyed tone he could pull off, while fighting the urge to slam the door in Dawson’s good-looking face.

“Is Ezi home?” Dawson asked.

“Ezi? You mean Ezili? Because I’m the only one who calls her Ezi.”

“Y-Yeah, Ezili,” Dawson said with an awkward smile. This guy was a tool. What did Ezi see in him?

“No, she’s at work,” Harry said, and quickly added, “but don’t think about going there. They’re having a book club meeting; she’d be mad if you showed up and distracted her.”

That was a lie. Harry didn’t even know if people actually hosted book club meetings at random book shops, but did it matter? If he was going to be petty, he must go all the way.

“What do you wanna meet her for?” he asked before Dawson could leave. He didn’t want to have a long conversation with Dawson about Ezi, but it was the only way to learn more about their date. “Did you do something that you wanna apologise for?”

“No. Of course not,” Dawson chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “She bought some books and forgot them in my car.”

“I could give them to her when she gets back from work,” Harry said.

Dawson looked hesitant. “Well, she told me not to give them to you.”

“Oh.” Harry kept a straight face, but he was very offended that she’d made that request. Did she really hate him so much for what he’d said that night?

“So,” he ventured, averting his eyes. “Guess the date went well?”

“I suppose,” Dawson said.

Harry had hoped for a different response. This one didn’t really hurt him but it didn’t make him happy, either. He cleared his throat and straightened his back. “So are you looking forward to the second date?”

“I don’t think there’s gonna be one,” Dawson said, to Harry’s surprise. “I don’t think she likes me like that?”

Okay, this was the response Harry had been waiting for. He tried to suppress a grin as he patted his cousin’s shoulder sympathetically, while he was far from sympathetic. “Oh, don’t be so pessimistic. I know she’s a bit out of your league, but dare to dream a little.”

“Very funny,” Dawson snorted and brushed off Harry’s hand. “But I think she has a crush on you.”

“Really? I mean, no!” Harry faked a laugh, crossing his arm and leaning against the door in an unnatural pose. “No way.” Now he sounded like a commercial guy who had never attended a single acting class. “She doesn’t...she doesn’t have a crush on me,” he stuttered. “W-Why do you think so?”

Dawson pressed his lips into an understanding smile that made Harry’s face grow red. “All she talked about for the entire night was you.”

Harry thought Dawson was just teasing him at first. Then he remembered that this was Dawson, not him. So it was true. Ezi had talked about him for the whole night when she was with Dawson.

“What did she say?” Harry asked, trying to seem more curious than excited.

“She told me you were a good cook, and then complained about your bad habits. Then it was all ‘Harry said that’ and ‘Harry said this’. It seemed like she was really into you.”

“Oh, wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harry shrugged, trying to act cool and all that. “I’m just surprised. I thought she hated me.”

“I mean, she can still hate you if she has a crush on you,” said Dawson. “Also, why is she staying with you? Where’s her family?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Why didn’t you ask her?”

“She kept mentioning her mother but nothing more than that, and she’d just change the subject whenever I tried to ask.”

Harry didn’t have enough time to think of a lie, so he blurted, “Her family was abusive.”

Dawson looked horrified, but he completely bought that. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said. “She’s a lovely girl, though. I know that you don’t like her, but don’t break her heart. Turn her down nicely.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“You don’t like Ezili, right?” Dawson asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry laughed, uneasily. “I mean no, I don’t.”

“Yeah, I know you don’t wanna be in a relationship.”

Harry didn’t want to be in a relationship, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel things. He guessed most people would just assume he had no heart because it was easier for them to make sense of why he wouldn’t settle down. In reality it was more complicated than that. He had had feelings for some people in the past, and he’d shut them down before he got to the point of no return. Ezi might be a dangerous creature, but he’d probably hurt more people than she had, mostly himself.

So did he like Ezi? Yes. He’d just realised that when his heart blossomed to the thought of her thinking about him on a date with his cousin. There was no denying that, as he only felt this way about his own songs. But was he happy about it? Well, yeah, of course he was happy about it. He was over the moon even. Still, that didn’t mean he should do something about it. He would just keep it to himself and wait–No, hope for it to pass.

Later that night, when Ezi came home from work, she went straight into the kitchen to eat from the fridge, and Harry came downstairs to find her sitting on the floor, munching off a sandwich in the fridge light glow. He watched her for a moment from the door before deciding to break the silence.

She flinched when hearing her name. She turned around, sandwich still in her mouth. “Did Dawson stop by?” she asked. “He said he would bring me my books.”

“Yeah, he did. I put them in your room,” Harry said, trying his best not to roll his eyes at the mention of his cousin. But then he remembered what Dawson had told him and came to sit beside her on the floor.

She ignored him and continued eating. She looked nothing like someone who had a crush on him, so what if Dawson had lied to him? He had never heard a lie from Dawson, but it didn’t mean Dawson was incapable of lying.

“Ezi, I wanna ask you something,” he said.

She finished her sandwich and reached into the fridge of ice cream. “Go ahead,” she said.

Harry started fidgeting with his shirt. “Why won’t you tell me about that date with Dawson?”

Ezi didn’t look at him as she said, “Do I have to tell you? It was personal.”

“Well, your sister was there,” he reasoned, “and she’s tried to kill me several times so I think I deserve to know some details about that night.”

Yes, Harry was curious about Ezi’s sister as well, but was it bad to say that he wanted to know more about what Ezi thought of him? Was it bad that Ezi’s feelings for him mattered more than his stupid life?

“My sister wasn’t there the whole time,” Ezi sighed and dipped her spoon into the ice cream. “I got rid of her at the fair then went for dinner with Dawson.”

“Oh,” Harry said, watching her intently as she ate. “So—”

“My sister wanted me to go back home.”

Harry froze. “Why?” he blurted, suddenly anxious. “I mean…does your mother want you back? Not that I think she won’t ever want you back—”

“No.” Ezi rolled her eyes. “My sister wants me to go back in return of the throne, so she can be Queen and allow me back into the Queendom.”

“But you wanna Queen?”

“I’m going to be Queen!” Ezi snapped. Seeing the shocked look on Harry’s face, she softened her voice, “I’m the firstborn. I’m going to be Queen. I have a year to…” Her voice trailed off and she spaced out for a second.

“To what?”

Ezi pressed her lips into a tight smile then said, “To stay here. My sister told me that my mother would take me back in a year.”

“That’s the punishment?” Harry chuckled. “Make you stay in this world where a handsome man takes care of you and buys you stuff?” Maybe siren mums weren’t as bad as he’d thought.

“And also bullies me 24/7,” Ezi said.

“Hey!” Harry put up his hands. “You bully me, too.”

“You literally told me you didn’t want to see me around the house.”

“Yeah, well, I like seeing you around the house now.”

“Liar,” Ezi said and took a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Harry tried not to pay attention to the way she licked the spoon or think about licking ice cream from her lips, but he knew he was going to see a lot of that in his dreams tonight.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ezi held his gaze for two seconds, squinting her eyes. “Fine,” she said at last. “I forgive you.”

“Well, that was easy.”

“For now,” she added, putting the ice cream back into the fridge. “I’ll hate you again when I’m hungry.”

“You’re hungry eighty percent of the time!”

“Yeah.”

Harry chuckled as he watched her amber to the kitchen door. Clenching his fingers, he asked, “When’s your birthday?”

Ezi turned her head. “March 12. Why?”

“So I can say happy birthday to you on March 12.”

“Oh, thanks. Not looking forward to it, though.”

“Also,” Harry said fast before she left. “Do you wanna go to a party with me?”

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Niall had just reached one million followers on TikTok, so he’d thrown a huge party at his mansion and invited his friends who had brought their friends and their friends’ friends. So the most influential people in the entertainment industry were at the party tonight.

Jeff had suggested that Harry bring Ezi so they could do some PDA stuff at the party to make headlines for the next few days. At first, Harry had planned to make up some excuses so he could go alone.

He and Ezi hadn’t kissed since that day in his mother’s closet. Well, actually, they had had a few pecks on the lips in public, but it’d only been for the paparazzi. It was hard to think about romance when there were at least ten cameras pointing at you.

Their first kiss, however, had been real and…hot. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it. He didn’t know how Ezi felt since she never talked about it, but he had the impression that she had enjoyed it as much as he had. He couldn’t stop thinking about her flushed cheeks and plum lips as she pulled back, confused yet wanting more. In his dreams last night, they had been in that closet, but their clothes had been discarded, and he’d been pounding her against the wall. It was so hot. He’d had to wank twice when he woke up and he couldn’t make eye contact with Ezi in the kitchen during breakfast. Now he couldn’t get those images out of his mind.

“Harry.”

Harry jumped when his name was called. Ezi gave him a questioning look. She was wearing a little pink strap dress and her hair was in a high bun. She looked so cute tonight; his stylist had done a great job.

“You okay?” she asked, slipping her fingers into his. He knew it didn’t mean anything and she was only doing what Jeff had told her to. But he couldn’t stop the butterflies in his stomach from acting up. “It seemed like your soul left your body for a second.”

“Sorry, this loud music gives me a headache,” he said and finished his glass of wine. Ezi didn’t drink. “You wanna dance?”

Her gaze shot up in surprise. “Do you wanna dance?”

“What do you mean? I’m a fantastic dance partner.”

“But I’ve never danced before. I just got these legs a few weeks ago.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ll be good at it, I’m sure. We’ll wait for a slow song.”

Niall walked by just in time to overhear the conversation, so he shouted, “Slow song for my besties Harry and Ezili!”

Harry tried to stop Niall, but it was too late. Everyone in Niall’s living room was staring at him and Ezi. Jeff would be happy about this, but Harry didn’t think Ezi was. Her fingers tightened around his as she stepped closer, apparently uncomfortable with the intrusive glances they were receiving.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her close. “We’ll show them how great we are.”

“But I’m not—”

He didn’t let her finish and drag her out on the dance floor. There were a few couples slow-dancing around them, but Harry knew he and Ezi were the attention of tonight. In these people’s eyes, they were in love, completely infatuated with each other.

“Follow my lead,” he whispered in Ezi's ear while fixing her posture. “It’s easy.”

For a human who had been to too many of these dances, it was. But Ezi was barely good at walking. And so she ended up stepping on his feet repeatedly. The giggles of some women in the room made her even more anxious, so she almost stopped. But he reassured her by pulling her closer and lifting her chin so she was looking at him instead of them.

“Don’t be nervous. This is your little mermaid moment. Embrace it,” he said, making her smile.

“Ariel was a terrible dancer.”

“True. But she looked pretty stepping on the Prince’s feet.”

Ezi arched an eyebrow, amused. “Are you calling yourself the Prince?”

“I almost got casted for the role of Eric, by the way.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes.

He acted offended. “No, it’s real.”

“As real as Santa Claus.”

“Santa Claus is real,” Harry argued. “Not you saying he isn’t when you’re literally a mythical creature.”

“Shut up,” she chuckled.

“Make me,” he replied.

Harry didn’t know who had initiated it. Maybe they had both leaned in at the same time. But this time as they shared a kiss in a crowded room, it felt like they were all alone in his mother’s closet once again. Of course he had to keep his hands respectfully on her lower back, but the kiss was still hot. He could feel himself being unravelled right there on the dance floor, and he liked the way her fingers twirled the hair at the back of his neck as they melted into one. But then people had to ruin the moment for them by filming it. Jeff would be happy; Harry wasn’t.

He had developed a special talent over the years as a celebrity and could always sense when someone was taking pictures of him. It made him uneasy and distracted, so he had to pull back. He supposed his twisted expression might have given Ezi the wrong idea. She thought it was her that made him uncomfortable. And for some stupid reason, Harry let her think that.

They left the party early because Ezi didn’t seem to enjoy it anymore. On the drive home, Harry tried to find a way to apologise for ruining the moment, but he didn’t know how to not make it awkward. She didn’t say a single word to him in the car, and he knew she wasn’t going to unless he started the conversation. But then he didn’t. And so she went to bed angry at him.

Harry felt really bad about it. He knew it wouldn’t be this way if he had communicated like a normal human being. But it wasn’t easy. He didn’t want to admit to her that he’d enjoyed kissing her, and he would’ve made out with her in front of all those people had it not been for who he was. He had wanted that moment to be real, but then he remembered it wasn’t, and he felt like he was taking advantage of her.

Maybe she felt that way, too. He wasn’t sure. Or she was just tired and didn’t really care about the kiss, and he was the one making a fuss out of it because he assumed he meant more to her than he really did. Again, Dawson could’ve lied. Ezi might not even have feelings for him. She might think he was a bad kisser even.

As Harry fell asleep that night, he dreamed about her again. They were alone in Niall’s mansion. The music was playing as they slow-danced but nobody was watching. She started kissing him, and he kissed her back. His hands reached around her to unzip her little pink dress and let it pool around her ankles. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His cock was rock hard when they went in for more kissing. Her tongue slid between his lips, her hands reaching for his belt as he fumbled on the buttons of his own shirt. Then he woke up with a tent on his crotch. It was three in the fucking morning, and he was having the worst erection in his life.

Harry slipped his hand under the duvet and started playing with it to relieve some tension, but just as he was about to cum, he heard a loud crash downstairs. Instant boner killer.

“Ezi!” he shouted in frustration, slipped on his boxers and marched out of the room.

“I’m sorry!” Ezi’s voice echoed from downstairs. Harry groaned and headed down to the kitchen where he found her collecting broken pieces of a vase she’d knocked over.

“Just leave it,” he said, grabbing her wrists and pulling her up and away from the glass. “You’d hurt yourself, idiot.”

“I’m sorry. It was dark. I couldn’t see.”

“Why didn’t you turn on the lights?”

She shrugged, which made him laugh, because that was very Ezi of her. “You’re a dumbass,” he said.

“I’m not,” she pouted.

“You are. This only happens to dumbasses.”

“Gosh, you’re an asshole,” she mumbled, arms crossed. She was standing with her back to the counter, and he was blocking her way from the door. Of course she could always sidestep him to leave, but instead, she stayed there, just awkwardly chewing on her nail. She was wearing nothing but a loose white shirt of his. And this time, Harry wasn’t complaining.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said.

“I’m not even looking at you,” he said, yet staring right at her face.

“You are.”

“How would you know? Unless you’re also looking at me.”

“This is stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

“No, you—” Ezi’s voice cut off; her gaze dropped to his mouth as if she hadn’t realised how close they were until now. Harry knew that look so well, and usually it would be a sign for him to make a move. But this was Ezi.

“I should go back to bed,” she said, eyes meeting his again.

He nodded, but didn’t get out of the way.

Again, he didn’t know who leaned in first. The moment their mouths collided, all his thoughts evaporated; his walls crumbled, and he was powerless, unable to pull back. There was a kind of power in the way she kissed that he could not resist. He was all hers.

He tightened his arms around her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her onto the counter. He could feel his erection growing again in his pants. It didn’t take too long for it to turn fully hard, and she obviously felt it, so she pulled back from their kiss, panting. “It’s…”

“Ignore it,” he breathed, kissing her again, making his way down to her neck and chest. She was squirming now, and he wondered if she was also feeling things down there. “Are you wet?” he asked breathlessly against her lips.

She blinked, confused. “No, I’m dry.”

“No, Ezi,” Harry chuckled, face buried in her neck. “I mean, are you wet between your legs?”

“Oh.” She licked her perfect lips and nodded once. “Yeah. Like most of the time.”

Harry’s whole body went stiff. “What?”

“Like...whenever I think of us kissing,” Ezi admitted innocently.

Harry didn’t know which was hotter. The fact that they were both half-naked and horny right now, or the fact that she got turned on just from thinking of kissing him.

“What do you usually do when it happens?” he asked, adding soft kisses to her lips.

Her fists tightened on his back, her eyelids fluttering. “I r-rub my thighs together.”

Harry smiled as his cock twitched to the thought of it. “Does that feel good?”

Ezi nodded.

“Want me to help you feel even better?”

“You can?”

Harry nodded. He knew it wasn’t right to have sex with her when she didn’t even know what it was, so he wouldn’t rush it. He was just going to help her.

He kissed her once more and got down on his knees between her legs. She looked so hot all spread out in front of him with just his shirt and panties on. She wasn’t lying when she said she was wet. Her panties were completely soaked as he slid them off. She shivered a little yet didn’t protest. She wanted him to help.

He started by kissing her inner thigh. She had the prettiest pussy he had ever seen. He could just cum to the thought of licking her, and he swore he almost did when he took the first try. Her hips jolted, and he glanced up to meet her confused stare.

“If you want me to stop, just say it, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, biting her nail.

He held her eye contact as he started licking. She tasted as sweet as he’d imagined in those dreams. He still couldn’t believe this was real, but god, the sounds she made sent him to heaven. He dipped his tongue into her and her hands flew to the back of his neck. For a moment she forgot everything and started moving her hips against his face. Fuck. It turned him on so much. He slipped his hand into his boxers and gave himself a few strokes. Then she started to moan, and he worked his hand faster while flicking his tongue into her. He fucked himself until she cummed and made a mess inside his pants, cum dripping onto the floor.

“Is that milk?” Her question got him cackling as he got back to his feet, holding onto the counter on either side of her so he wouldn’t fall. He had never cummed so much; it had literally drained him out.

“No, it’s not milk,” he said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looked so fucked out as well, which made him feel so proud. “Did you like that?”

“Yes,” she said shyly. “Did you?”

“Very much,” he said. “I would kiss you again if I hadn’t just eaten you out. Not sure how you’d like it.”

A look of horror crossed Ezi’s face as she quickly checked between her legs.

“No!” Harry laughed. “I didn’t literally eat you. It’s what it’s called.”

“Oh.”

“Dummy.”

“Is it like...sex stuff?”

“Not really sex, just part of the sex. So yeah, sex stuff,” Harry explained, not sure how to feel about this situation. Now that post-nut clarity had hit, he started to feel a bit guilty, but it didn’t he wasn’t proud of himself for making her cum so hard her legs were shaking.

“I still want to kiss, though,” Ezi said shyly. “I don’t care.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry smiled. He liked seeing her blush because of him.

With a nod, she pulled him back in.

[peralta-guaranteed]

Wishing I could read something about Peraltiago talking about how they feel on all Teddy's proposals to Amy. They are really akward, uncomfortable moments and Teddy really crosses the limits every single time, and wish we knew more on their takes about it. Once I read a fic about Jake sending Rosa to stop Teddy and take care of Amy but it just not the same.

lol I have a fic on that topic exactly - I have a proposal for you - where I had the cathartic experience of writing about Rosa breaking Teddy’s hand for being so awful, but I agree with you, Teddy reappearing in the show is so uncomfortable each time ugggh. I thought the wedding one was the worst but then he shows up literally fathering a child with someone else and still does it, disgusting.

So maybe take this as taking place before that fic of mine, where Jake does mention how bad Teddy's proposals make them feel!

Jake can tell, just from the simple drop of her purse in the hallway, that it wasn't a good day.

Weird, how it's these tiny things that he's learned to read instantly - or maybe not, given that he's a detective trained to focus on details others would overlook, and being unable to stop the habit when it comes to the most important people in his life.

She tries to be all smiles when she comes into the living room, though, where Mac is happily rolling around in his playpen while Jake is folding laundry on the couch, the very picture of domesticity as she leans over the pen to kiss their squealing, giggling little baby. The view of her in one of her old pantsuits instead of her Sergeant's uniform is already making his hearts do little leaps even before she makes her way over to Jake for their customary Welcome Home kiss.

"How was that inter-department meeting today?" He asks as she shrugs off the suit jacket and continues her pace into the kitchen, setting aside a set of Mac's bibs that can't be folded anyway.

"Okay." She replies, and that's enough to make him abandon the laundry alltogether and follow her (one eye on Mac, of course, but he's not even crawling yet, and couldn't roll himself into any danger on his foam-based playmat - probably). It's rare that she doesn't have at least one inspiring, 'interesting' or just generally informative story to share from her meetings, the only person in probably all departments looking forward to them.

She's staring into the fridge when he reaches the room and leans against the counter, trying to gauge her level of upset. From the raised shoulders and the fact that she doesn't need to check the fridge to know they were going to order Chinese tonight, he guesses it's at a solid 8, at least.

"Teddy was there." She mumbles into the cold, bright space in front of her, and Jake's shoulders tense up just as much as hers even as he tries to sound as chill as possible.

"How is he?"

"Still extremely boring." Then, after a pause. "Still hung up on me."

So much for chill.

"Did he propose again?"

She nods and sighs, her shoulders dropping as she closes the fridge, but doesn't turn toward him.

"I don't know what's wrong with him." She says through gritted teeth, suddenly. "He has a child with someone. He has a wife. How can he look at them and turn around and-"

Mac's little happy cooing from the living room interrupts her, as do Jake's arms as they wind around her middle, his chin dipping into the space between her shoulder and her neck.

"That's probably a question only a therapist could answer, babe."

Amy sighs as she leans back, falls into the warmth and support of her own husband, the father of her child that she can hear happily babbling to himself from a room over, and wonders some more how Teddy could ever think he would be a better option for her.

"He wasn't like this when we were dating." She muses, and feels Jake's kiss against her jaw - a reflex action she's noticed whenever she mentions a past partner or anything, frankly, that reminds him that there was a point where he wasn't Jake Peralta-Santiago yet. But she kind of needs to finish this thought, and she knows he can handle it. "He was nice and kind and he wouldn't- he wasn't manipulative, pulling something like that in public, or deluded enough to think he was in the right for it. I mean, he thought he was pretty great, but he wouldn't have -"

"You musta broken something pretty major in his brain when you left him." Jake's voice is joking, luckily, but she can sense a hint of something more. "The absolute devastation of a Santiago break-up speech, rehearsed or not."

"Harsh, Jake."

"Remember manbun musician? He went downright insane after your split - not that he was probably the sanest person around before that, but-"

"You promised we'd never mention him again."

"I'm just saying. I don't think any man left by you is going to be completely right in the head after that."

"You're making me sound like some black widow monster." She smiles, though, hearing the awe and affection in his voice bleed through.

"I'm not judging those guys, anyway." He continues, and that tinge of something else in his words is back. "I mean, I can't imagine what I'd be like if you ever decided to take Teddy up on one of his proposals."

She straightens up from her lean on his chest, twists in his arms without breaking the hug, and stares right into him as she studies his face - his actually slightly scared face.

"Jake, you know that's not ever-"

"I was joking babe."

"No. Jake. That's not even an option. Not even an idea. Never. Not in a million years. Not if-"

She grabs his shirt where it's unbuttoned, right next to his heart, and his hand reaches up to squeeze hers like it always does, thumb swiping along her rings.

"I know, Ames." The soft kiss that follows calms her just as much. "I cashed out that jackpot and I'm not giving it back."

She hums as she kisses him again, leans her forehead against his for a deep breath.

"It's just... sad." She returns to her original train of thought. "That he can't move on despite his life doing so. I mean, it's been years. He's got a new job and a new partner and a new baby, and he's willing to, what, dump all that? For me? For that idolised image he probably has in his mind of me now, because nothing between us has been real since ages ago?"

"Wow, this is really bugging you."

"Yes! He's barging into my life and thinking he knows what's best for me and that it's him, like I'm some love-struck silly dreamgirl who's going to drop her entire world because he's romantic enough to go down on one knee in front of our colleagues and superiors who have no idea what's going on-!"

Mac's noises from the next room turn from content to disagreeing, growing into what is sure to be a cry any minute now, and it's the only thing that can make them break apart from their hug. He calms down immediately when Amy lifts him out of his pen, and holds him close while she settles on the sofa next to the half-done laundry basket, snuffling against her chest in a very obvious I’m hungry mom couldn’t you tell?! move before she can even unbutton her dress shirt.

He latches on immediately when her shirt is open and her bra pulled down - not a nursing bra today, considering she got ready for an important work meeting - while she feels Jake rearrange the pillows behind her and to her side to get her comfortable, without a second of hesitation or having to think about it. He moves on to pick up the jacket she's dropped onto a dining room chair, drapes it on a hanger in the hallway, and she feels the soft prick of tears in her eyes before he settles down again next to the two of them with a glass of water for her set on the coffee table.

Jake only hums as he notices the shine in her eyes too, and wipes across her cheek. He knows that nursing can get her into a pretty emotional state sometimes, but this is probably a bit more than that.

"I love you." She says, and barely waits for his return of I love you too to continue. "I can't believe Teddy expects me to look at Mac, and look at you, and still think he could ever be a better offer for anything I want."

"Aw, babe." He grins softly in return while playing with Mac's foot that is kicking in his direction, covered in the fuzziest green socks with red apples on them. "You scored a pretty dope 2-for-1 deal with us, I admit."

“Before that, too.” She insists, leaning to unlatch Mac and hand him over to Jake to burp as they always do while she buttons back up, thinking about Teddy’s many proposals before Mac was even planned on. “Jake, you know that, right? You alone were the best deal first and foremost.”

He smiles at her, Mac’s soft little curls right next to his cheek as he sways and pats his back, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Jake-”

“You were happy with him.” He says, quietly, while Mac lets out his usual milky burp and smiles at him much wider when he wipes him clean with the linen cloth pulled from his shoulder. “I know it’s in the past and I - I’m not jealous or anything that stupid, but. Like you said... He wasn’t like this back then, and you were happy.”

His eyes seem forlorn, even as he smiles at the now sleepy baby in his lap that looks so much like him it always makes her heart twinge, that little bundle of joy with Amy’s dark hair and skin that seems to know the Cuban sun without ever having been there.

“And I know it’s not - and it doesn’t make sense to think about, but - sometimes his stupid proposals made me wonder what would’ve happened if he’d done that while he still made you happy.” His voice turns low, and it’s probably not just to avoid waking Mac back up as he falls asleep. “And that just makes me think about how I had to watch you be happy with him, and that’s not - that’s never a good memory to revisit, honestly-”

“I wouldn’t have said yes.” She leans over into his field of vision, the most serious look on her face. “Even back then, I wouldn’t have said yes to his proposal.”

Jake’s eyebrows scrunch up in question, his eyes turning into those puppy dog eyes that she knows as a direct hit to her heart when he’s actually sad or worried, and she can’t not hold his face in her hands again.

“Yes, I was happy with Teddy for a while, but looking back at it I realise I was- there was always this feeling of waiting for something. Hoping for something to be different.” She kisses him, careful and short and barely there, but enough to make him close his eyes and lean towards her a bit more. “And maybe back then I thought I was waiting for him to change somehow, but really I was only waiting for him to change into you.”

“Teddy couldn’t change into me if he had major brain surgery.” Jake scoffs, and Amy huffs a laugh with him.

“Yeah. And that’s why he’d never been right for me. That’s only ever been you.”

He finally, properly smiles now, eyes open again and set on her with a soft shine to them before he leans over more, as much as he can without waking the deeply asleep baby in his lap.

“I’m glad you figured that out when you did, in the end.” He quips and earns himself a shy nod. “And said yes when it came to the only good proposal you got.”

She snickers at that, thinking about the gaudy but wonderful boxing belt in her mementos box, and leans in the last few inches she needs to kiss him again, neither careful nor short this time, but equally as soft. 

“And the next time I catch Teddy trying to propose to you again I’m going to punch him out before he can even get down on one knee.”

“You are not assaulting a fellow officer.”

“Kick in the balls?”

“How very mature, Mister-I-have-an-actual-child-now.”

“Can I at least tell him where he can stick his ridiculous ideas of marrying you at any point in the future, no matter the circumstances?”

She hums for a second.

“You can. If you add in how ridiculous the idea was in the past as well.”

“Oh now, that’s a good deal.”

[karajaynetoday]

i'll be honest, it's better off this way | luke hemmings

image credit 

hello pals! long time no writing! i know it seems a bit weird to post a luke break up fic just after he got engaged but to be fair, I already had this in the works before the news broke yesterday, so soz not soz. It is kind of a happy break up story though... kind of? this one features lyrics from our song by niall and anne marie that are in italics throughout the piece (you know i love a song lyric incorporation lol) and i’m a bit rusty, so any feedback is welcome! a big shoutout to my dearest @notinthesameguey​ for beta-reading this one for me, you’re a gem blanca! enjoy xo

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings:  mentions of a break up and a car accident/hospitalisation (minor/non-graphic)

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

I'll be honest, I'm alright with me

Sunday mornings, in my own bedsheets

The break up with Luke had been easier than you’d first thought. It’d been months of growing apart, feeling like a stranger in your own home, before you finally worked up the nerve to utter those four words: We need to talk. He’d been spending most days and some nights in the studio, and you’d been working overtime at your job too; you were ships in the night who barely had time to say hello and goodbye, let alone have any sort of proper conversation. You’d spent an entire evening rehearsing a script in your head, and as soon as Luke walked through the door and greeted Petunia, you mustered the courage to stand up and speak your truth. 

It turned out that you weren’t alone in feeling stagnant in your relationship, and although you could feel your heart breaking as you said the words, Luke’s hand on your knee was all the gentle reassurance you needed. Just like always, even when your relationship was falling apart, Luke was there for you. And that’s what he promised, that night in the living room. It didn’t make sense for you two to become strangers overnight after 3 years together, but you also both knew that you needed space to grow and heal, and that space needed to happen sooner rather than later. 

You could tell that part of Luke wanted to fight it, wanted to raise his voice, wanted to convince you to stay. But part of Luke also knew that it was time to walk away, no matter how much his heart was feeling like it was being ripped out of his chest, because he did truly love you, and if he loved you, he’d let you go. 

Even though Luke insisted you could stay in the spare room for as long as you liked, it only took a week or so to find a new place. An apartment in KayKay’s building opened up for rent, and thanks to her help, you secured the lease and started moving in as soon as you could. Ashton accompanied you to Ikea and then helped with assembling a new bed and dining table for you, while KayKay helped unpack some of your boxes. You could tell that they were trying to be sensitive, but at the same time were desperate to know what went down in the break up, and after a few slices of pizza and half a bottle of wine, you felt the emotions rushing to the surface.

“It feels dumb to get upset, after all, I was the one who suggested we should break up.” You sniffled, smiling sadly as Ashton handed you a tissue.

“Just because it was something that needed to happen, doesn’t mean you can’t be sad about it. You two shared a lot in the time you were together, it’s only natural that it’s going to take you a while to untangle yourselves from one another and to get your head and heart back on the path that’s right for you.” KayKay spoke softly, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You knew she was right, and the healing would come; it was all part of the rollercoaster of walking away from someone you thought was the love of your life, but had turned out not to be. Time to adjust and find some independence, and re-shape the life you found yourself in until it was the life you wanted. 

But every time I think that I can get you out my head, you never, ever let me forget

Once you’d completely moved out Luke’s house, your reasons to contact him became few and far between. A few occasional texts to advise that he’d let his family know about your split, and a link to a new cafe nearby that he thought was your kind of vibe (and it absolutely was). Everyone in your friendship group was trying their best to help you both cope, but it was hard to avoid the awkwardness that came with a break up of close friends.  

You felt like you were walking on eggshells for a while, so you started to say no to invitations out. You threw yourself into a new work project, and barely replied to any group chats. Whenever your friends called, you had the perfect script rehearsed, about how you were going to be up for promotion, and after the next month or so, you’d have plenty more time for catching up with everyone. You were fairly certain that no-one believed your story, but you were sticking to it nonetheless. You’d seen photos online of Luke out and about with various beautiful women amongst the partying crew, and even though you knew better than to torture yourself with doom-scrolling through the internet, you couldn’t help yourself. You had to keep reminding yourself that it was YOU that wanted the breakup, and that it was for the best. Or something like that.

It was coming to the end of your big project, and the entire office decided to head out for celebratory drinks. You only stayed for a couple, because after a month of overtime you were ready for bed. Your boss took you aside to assure you that the promotion was yours and the new contract would be on your desk on Monday, and as you reassured him you were excited to take on the role, a song playing over the bar’s speakers made you stop in your tracks. You’d spent many a Sunday morning dancing around the kitchen making pancakes with Luke and singing these words; something you’d completely forgotten until this moment. As you stepped outside to await your Uber, the first person you wanted to call with the news was Luke. Your fingers hovered over his name for a good few minutes before your Uber driver honked and broke you out of her trance, and you settled for texting the group chat instead to share your exciting update. Lots of confetti and heart eyes emojis started popping up alongside congratulatory messages, and you let out a giggle when you saw that Luke had sent a photo of Petunia with “congrats!” scrawled across it in purple font. It was the last thing you remembered, before the squealing of tyres and your vision going black. 

Just when I think you're gone, Hear our song on the radio

Just like that, takes me back, To the places we used to go

The rhythmic beeping of the hospital monitors was the first thing you noticed as you stirred awake. The second was a dull pain across your skull, and the third was that your arm was in a sling. Fourth was the large, warm hand that was holding your own and gently squeezing; without opening your eyes, you knew it was Luke’s. You felt too weak to say any words, so instead you tried your best to squeeze back as you slowly opened your eyes. You heard a sharp intake of breath, before Luke’s smiling face came into view.

“Hey there, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” Luke asked, reaching up to gently brush some hair out of your eyes.

“Like I was in a car accident.” You managed to croak out, shooting him a wry smile and earning a laugh in return.

“You are correct, you can pass go, and collect $200. A pretty gnarly accident, the car’s a write-off, but thankfully everyone’s injuries are relatively minor. Some dickhead ran a red light.” You could tell Luke was trying to remain calm, but under the surface he was pissed.

“Not ideal, but at least I get a few days off work.” You joked, grimacing as you tried to sit up. Luke stood and gently maneuvered your pillows to support your back and shoulders better, and you felt a zap of electricity as his hands brushed your arms in passing.

As Luke sat back in the chair next to the bed, you suddenly realised that it was just the two of you in the hospital room. 

“No offence, Hemmo, but what are you doing here? Considering we’re no longer significant others, and all…” You said awkwardly, looking down at your arm sling with sudden great interest.

“Very observant, dear. Glad to see the concussion hasn’t affected your short term memory, I was worried you’d forget me entirely. You did, however, forget to update your emergency contact details, so I guess I was first on the list for the hospital to call. Ash, KayKay and I have been taking shifts but they’re out getting food right now - “ The rest of Luke’s explanation was cut off by a gasp and a cheer at the door, signalling Ashton and KayKay’s return and subsequent delight at you being awake.

The days that followed were uncomfortable physically, but kind of heartwarming emotionally. You got home to your apartment thanks to KayKay’s assistance, and found that your friends had stocked your fridge and freezer full of ready-made meals and your favourite snacks. They’d also made a roster so not a day went by without someone popping in to check on you, although you noticed that Luke never came by. 

Your recovery was slow but steady, and soon enough the doctors gave you the all clear. At this point, it was nearly 6 months since you’d broken up with Luke, and you could feel your mindset shifting. He was no longer the first person you wanted to call with good or bad news, or the first memories that popped into your head when you needed cheering up. It almost felt like… relief? Because for the longest time, even though you knew the break up was for the best, detaching yourself from one another seemed almost in possible after so many years of so many memories. 

I've been waking up alone, I haven't thought of him for days

I'll be honest, It's better off this way

The tipping point came at Calum’s birthday party, a month or so later. Ashton had invited you out for coffee and nonchalantly mentioned that maybe, possibly, well actually extremely likely almost definitely Luke was bringing a date to the gathering at Cal’s house; a girl he’d been seeing for a month or so. Everyone wanted you to be comfortable, and everyone, Cal especially, wanted you to be there, but they also understood if you wanted to avoid any potential awkward encounters with Luke and his new love interest. You assured Ashton that it would be fine, that you honestly weren’t bothered, and laughed off his suggestion of setting you up with a super hot blind date to help level the playing field.

The night came along, and you found yourself stumbling along Calum’s front path in the dark as you tried not to drop the gift you’d bought for him (a new cookbook and a collection of various hot sauces).  “Bloody 5sos and the “no good party starts until 11pm rule”, you muttered to yourself as you almost tripped over again, and you heard an indignant shout that sounded very Ashton-like behind you.

“Oi! Don’t be mad at us, you know that rule has never let us down!” Ashton bellowed, as he came forward with his phone flashlight switched on, KayKay not too far behind him.

“Damn girl, you like fiiiiiine!” KayKay said, letting out a low whistle. You rolled your eyes, knowing she was exaggerating. Your outfit was essentially a denim skirt and a t-shirt - maybe you’d sexed it up a little bit with some thigh high boots, tousled hair and a red lip, but all’s fair in love and war, right?

The three of you made it inside, and a very tipsy Calum greeted you with open arms and a lot of excitement at your gift of hot sauce. It felt so nice to be back with all your friends at a house party, like the old days, and you found yourself stepping out onto the back patio for a moment of quiet reflection and to share some pats with Duke.

You’d exchanged a wave with Luke when you’d entered the house, but hadn’t quite worked up the confidence to go up and speak to him, especially when he had his new girl in close proximity. She looked really friendly, though, and you could tell from the spark in both of their eyes that their relationship was blossoming in the best possible way. Part of you thought you’d be upset about it, but all you truly felt was content. Content in your life as it was, surrounded by friends that loved you just as much as you loved them, and actually quite proud of how far you’d come over the past year. You’d learned to stand on your own two feet, and you’d grown into a much more settled, independent human as a result. 

You were lost in your train of thought when you heard the song change on the speakers inside. Duke’s ears perked up and he licked your hand attentively when you stopped patting him as the song registered - it was your song. Or at least, it used to be. You felt a smile creep onto your face when you remembered the Sunday mornings of pancakes and singalongs, and the smile grew wider when you saw Luke’s girlfriend dragging him onto the dancefloor, much to his (fake) protests. You made eye contact with your kind-hearted, softly-smiling, gentle-eyed ex-boyfriend, and for a split second you saw a flash of concern cross his face. In response, you raised your glass in a cheers and shot him a wink, which earned a smile and a small laugh from Luke before he turned his attention back to the beautiful girl in his arms. You took a sip, and smiled to yourself. It truly was better off this way. 

When I hear it, I just can't stop smiling, I remember you're gone

Baby, it's just a song on the radio, That we used to know

Taglist: If there’s a line through your name, I couldn’t tag you, so please message me to let me know your new URL or what the go is!   @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands @cheekysos @ashton-trash  @another-lonely-heart @queenalienscherrypie  @becihadshawn  @allthestarsandthemoon  @oyesmendes​ @andrianawinchester @333-xx  @findingliam-o @hoodhoran @rbforsmileycal @myloverboyash @myhappylittleyoutubee @saywhatnow07 @secretsicanthideanymore @ar1analara  @killmywildflower​

[manonblaqkbeak]

How We Met

here it is, my last fic for rowaelin month! thank you so much to everyone that’s read, liked and commented on my fics, it’s been so much fun reading and writing these last four weeks! i’m glad to know that i’m not the only one that is in dire need of more rowaelin content (srsly, i would pay sjm a truck load of money for a strictly rowaelin book bc i miss them sm)

here’s part 4 for the little series i had going on. i was so tempted to make this an angst piece but held back lol.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw: none

1.8k words

enjoy and thank you again!!! :) 💕💕💕💕

Gathering the ingredients for the cake that she and Ophelia were going to make for Rowan, Aelin plopped them down on the kitchen counter and tied her and her six year old daughters hair back. Even in the kitchen light, Ophelia's hair was a vivid shade of silver and when she turned to look at her mother, the golden ring in her eyes were just as bright.

“Up, mama!” Ophelia asked, pointing to the step ladder that Olive made for her little sister in her woodshop class at school. Getting it off from atop the fridge, Aelin and Ophelia started their baking session for today. It wasn't often that Aelin baked cakes from scratch but it wasn't every day that her firstborn turned sixteen—not that Aelin could really comprehend that her Olive was sixteen—but Aelin wanted to do this for her, wanted to make something special.

She hoped that it wasn't going to taste as bad as the last cake she baked. Rowan had been sick afterwards and didn't go to work the next day.

That was five years ago, so surely with gaining wisdom as people said when others got older, her baking skills grew too.

“Where did everyone go?” Ophelia asked, her little tongue poking out as she helped Aelin sift the flour.

“To get dinner for tonight. We're having Ollie's favourite.” Which was cuisine from the Southern Continent, there was a restaurant that specialised in the spicy food, and Aelin couldn't wait—she and Rowan often tried to recreate their favourite recipes, but it was never right, so Olive wanted to have the genuine stuff for her birthday and not her parents shoddy attempts.

Not that Aelin could blame her.

They continued making the chocolate cake, Ophelia babbling on about her day at school, when her little one asked, “How did you and papa meet?”

Aelin blinked at the sudden question, but answered it nevertheless. “At the grocery store.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows, and with the way her nose scrunched up, she looked so much like Rowan that it made her heart sing. When Aelin first realised that she was pregnant, she was nervous, they had only been married for seven months and while they spoke about having a child of their own, she didn't think it would happen so quickly—but Rowan's enthusiasm melted away her fears. She would never forget his tears of joy when she showed him the pregnancy test, his beaming smile when they heard her heartbeat for the first time. Aelin would walk through hell, as long as Rowan was by her side, or waiting for her at the end.

It wasn't always perfect, however, they had their ups and downs like every long-term couple, they had moments where it felt like they were walking on tightrope, either because of their own personal issues or marriage issues, or when Egan was fourteen and completely lashed out at Aelin, accusing her of replacing his mother—but she worked with her son, telling him that she had never intended to do that, that Lyria would always be the woman that brought him into the world, and that Aelin was raising him. Her heart broke in two at his pain, but she understood, he grew up with photos and stories of Lyria.

Or when they had the awkward conversation when Olive was eleven and asked why she didn't look like Rowan, and Aelin had explained her story, about Sam being her biological father, but he had given them space for Rowan to raise her instead. That had lead to brooding silences and confusion, but otherwise, Olive still saw Rowan as her dad, but she did ask from time to time about Sam, what he was like and what he was doing (the last update Aelin received from him via email that his wife was pregnant with their second child. Aelin was so happy for him that he was able to have a family, a feat that was made easier since Arobynn had been dead for years by this point) and that she would like to meet him properly one day; Aelin had kept that to herself, not wanting to tell Sam in case Olive changed her mind—Aelin hoped that she wouldn't.

Overall, their life together was what she needed, she went to bed each night loved and fulfilled. It was better than what she might have had with Chaol all those years ago, she was fairly certain that if she had married him, it wouldn't have been a long marriage.

“How did you meet at the food store?” Ophelia asked, her brow still furrowed as she and Aelin stirred the cake batter. It surprisingly smelled good.

“I needed something from a high shelf,” Aelin said, “and I couldn't reach it. Your papa was only a few feet away from me, so I asked him to get it for me.” She might have also subtly ogled him as his shirt exposed his tanned skin, and Aelin had damned near swooned at the sight of his six pack.

“Did you get married at the food store?”

Aelin laughed at the question. “No, we got married at the beach. And then you arrived not long afterwards.” Sometimes they wanted another, but things financially were going so well that they didn't want to jeopardise that by adding another mouth to feed.

“Can you have another wedding?” Ophelia asked, looking at her mum with wide eyes. “So I can go? Please?”

“I'll talk to your daddy about it, but I like the sound of that.” Kissing her daughters forehead, they continued. Just as they were putting the cake in the oven and the icing mix in the fridge, the front door opened and three booming voices infiltrated the house and the mouth watering goodness of food.

Aelin's eyes widened at the amount of food that Rowan piled on the table. It looked like they were feeding a small army and not a family of five.

Ophelia helped her older brother set the table, Egan ruffing her hair as he recounted their little adventure to the restaurant.

As they sat down, Aelin mentioned Ophelia's request. Rowan pretended to mull it over as their daughter pleaded, giving her best puppy dog eyes. It didn't take for Rowan to relent—he really had trouble saying no to her—saying that a second wedding was a great idea.

Ophelia squealed in delight and squealed even more when food was placed in front of her (she was very much like Aelin in that regard).

“How did the conversation of another wedding start?” Rowan asked as they all started eating.

“Phia here wanted to know how we meet.”

Olive snorted. “Yes, the ever romantic story of meeting in the toilet paper aisle.”

“It was not the toilet paper isle!” Aelin protested. “It was the cereal aisle.”

“At least you kids have inherited my manners,” Rowan said, “your mother didn't even ask nicely. She just came over to me and said, 'You're tall, could you get that box for me?'” It had taken him a moment to realise he had been spoken to, too focused on deciding what box of porridge to get when Aelin showed up, wearing a faded band shirt and shorts, pointing to the box of cereal that had far too much sugar to be healthy. He had said 'yes' because it was the nice thing to do, and had stayed behind, talking to her for so long in the aisle that his vanilla ice cream had started to melt.

It was the best decision in his life back then, he never thought he would have gained a friend in the grocery store—and that the friend would become his wife.

“I have manners. I said, 'Excuse you' first before I told you what I needed.”

“That's not really using manners there, ma,” Egan said, smiling as poked her tongue out. He looked so much like Lyria that it was almost scary—he still loved flowers and plants too, and was currently studying to become a florist and then one day horticulture. The backyard was full of flowers and plants thanks to him, making into a little wonderland instead of the barren plain it used to be.

“I did say 'thank you' afterwards.”

“You said 'thanks',” Rowan interjected, laughing as Aelin threw a chunk of her flatbread at his head. Ophelia's cute laughter rent through the air.

“It's the same thing!”

“If you say so, love,” Rowan muttered, his lips twitching. Aelin rolled her eyes in the dramatic way Rowan was used to, but he saw the mirth behind the movement.

“Like I said Phie, it's very romantic,” Olive said drily, sounding very much like Rowan. She had even inherited his scowl, which she was wearing now as she sniffed at the air. “Is something burning?”

Aelin had never run so fast as she did right then, the kitchen filling with smoke as she took in the blackened cake. Swearing viciously under her breath, Aelin chucked the cake into the bin, apologising to Olive as she did so.

“It's okay, mum, dad got me an ice-cream cake earlier today anyway.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at her husband, who simply gave her an innocent smile in answer.

Rejoining her family, they talked well into the night, helping Aelin to forget her failed baking attempt. Ophelia asked more questions about their time in the grocery store and how that moment lead to friendship, to pining for the other without realising it, to a life together.

And to think, Aelin almost didn't go to the grocery store that day.

Rowan thanked the gods that he had remembered at the last moment that he had no porridge left, otherwise, he might not have met Aelin at all. Might not have had this life, this family. Part of him would always be sad that things had gone so wrong with Lyria, and he would always miss and love her. But he learned in therapy that it was good to have a life, and Rowan was glad that he heeded that advice.

He thanked the gods all the time.

And thank the rutting gods he did right now for the umpteenth time that Aelin deemed him tall enough to get her food for her, to stay in that aisle with him as they got to know each other.

Rowan was a very happy man indeed as he and Aelin went to bed that night, the smiles still on their faces at Olive's unrestrained joy at the sight of the car they spent weeks looking at second-hand dealerships at, hunting for the perfect car for their daughter.

Thank the rutting gods for all those moments in the past, present, and future.

Rowan couldn't wait to marry her again, and neither could Aelin.

Life was good.

[halorocks1214]

Hey, could I request more of that ‘Alan has cancer’ fic please? With Scott looking after Alan when he’s not feeling well, like a really tender moment?

sure! i hope you dont mind me nabbing prompt number 4. “Please stay with me.” for this. its based on the number in your URL :] (i would have also grabbed 7 for fun but theres no way im fitting that sentence in lol)

ill be accepting prompts until tomorrow morning, so get them submitted within the next 7 ish hours if you haven't yet and want to! the prompts are pinned at the top of my blog <3 (im going to bed snnnzzzz)

cw for mentions of cancer/cancer symptoms as well as chemotherapy

technical first part to this story but you don't have to read to understand

Scott vividly remembered a memory of both John and Virgil banning him from the kitchen. They already had Grandma to start fires for them, they don't need Scott helping.

But even they would have to be willing to forgive him for dabbling with their janky pancake maker considering the circumstances.

"It's started," Virgil plainly stated while standing on the other side of Scott's desk.

The brunet could only look up confused, the paper he was reading previously loosely gripped in his hand with one of his favorite pens in the other, "What started?"

Virgil sighed, but not at Scott, just at the situation in general, "I was helping Alan get ready this morning and started brushing his hair. I got about four brushes in before a clump of hair fell out."

Well, what great news to start the day off with.

"Jesus," Scott could only lightly slam the paper and pen he was holding down onto the table to push his wrists into his eyes. "Jesus Christ."

They were all expecting it to happen sooner rather than later, still didn't suck any less.

Virgil walked around to place a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder, rhythmic with his comforting rubs as much as possible, "Yep."

Scott left a hand on the side of his face as he looked out over their house with a shake of his head, staring off into space as a million thoughts raced behind his eyes, "God, why Alan out of all people, out of us? What has he done in his life to deserve this?"

Virgil shrugged his shoulders, swallowing the spit in his mouth as he proceeded to look out over the room just like Scott, "Nothing, absolutely nothing, which is why cancer sucks so much. People who get it never deserve all the pain it brings with it."

John mentioned something about eating lots of healthy things during treatment, didn't he?

Scott grabbed a cup from one of the cabinets before heading over to the fridge. Filling the plastic container to the top with some grapes, pineapple, and carrots (Alan's favorites), Scott went back to the tray to place it on there and leaned away a little bit to make sure everything on it looked presentable.

A few pancakes, a cup of juice, utensils, and now a cup of fruits and veggies.

Scott sighed while carefully grabbing the edges of the whole thing, hoping it would be enough (would anything be enough right now?).

Making his way to Alan's room quietly, he used one of his feet to prod the door open to the kid's room, leaning over the tray in his hands to peek inside. With the sun rising over the horizon and peering in from the window, the room was lit up just enough to make Alan's outline on the bed, IV and all.

For the most part, patients tended to receive their treatment in a clinic or hospital, but occasionally, with the help of an on-site nurse, chemotherapy can be given at a person's own home. With both Brains' and Virgil's expertise, it wasn't that hard convincing the staff to release Alan and to let him stay with his own family.

They weren't dumb with it, and anything they were even slightly unsure about involved inviting a private doctor to the island to help them out, but for the most part, they knew the best thing they could do for the kid was letting him be in a familiar environment he felt safe at.

With a soft 'click', the door was pushed back shut with the same foot he used to open it. Scott took a deep breath, "Alan?"

He thought he would need to speak again before the youngest finally stirred and rotated himself around to look at the door. Once he noticed who was in his room and what that person was carrying, he sat up on his hands and knees with an ear-to-ear grin, "Scott!"

Scott was sure to hide the way he wanted to grimace at how Alan sounded, "Hey Allie, I got something for ya."

Walking over to the bed, Scott leaned down to place the food on Alan's lap, grinning at how happy the smile on his face was. Sitting down on the edge of the covers, Scott crossed his arms as he stayed to make sure nothing went wrong.

Ignoring how Alan's hand trembled while holding the fork, Scott watched Alan take a bite of pancake. He hummed around the utensil in his mouth, words mumbled as he spoke with food in his mouth, "Wow, this is great! Did Virgil make this?"

Scott laughed, though it had a hint of unsureness behind it, "Um, thank you, but no, I made it."

Alan moved to munch on some grapes as he absorbed the words, "But John said you weren't allowed to use the kitchen any more?"

Dirty snitches the lot of his brothers were, sometimes. With a fond sigh, Scott reached forward and ruffled Alan's hair the softest he ever had, "Well, he can take it up with me later if it bothers him so much."

Alan giggled before continuing on and finishing the breakfast Scott made for him. Nothing else needed to be said, everything the two of them needed could be achieved by just being in each other's presence. It almost felt like an eternity, with how slowly Alan was eating, but eternity was exactly how much time Scott had for his brothers anyway.

Setting the fork down, Alan leaned back with a blissed-out sigh, "That hit the spot. Thanks again Scooter."

Scott nodded, "Of course, it was my pleasure."

The brunet stood up and stretched his arms above his head to get the knots out of his back. Before he could fully reach down to grab the tray for when he left the room, Alan shot forward and wrapped his hand around his older brother's wrist.

The grip laughably weak, yet it still tugged on Scott's heart all the same. Despite it all, Alan still had the ability to whip out an absolutely stellar pair of puppy-dog eyes, "Please stay with me."

Scott had a lot to do today. He had to sign a bunch of papers, make a few phone calls, and he still wasn't sure whether or not he needed to go to the mainland for an in-person meeting. Still, "Sure thing, bub."

As gently as he could, Scott lowered himself back onto the bed next to Alan, grabbing the now-free-of-food tray and setting it onto the table next to them. Worming his way closer to the headboard to be more comfortable, Scott had all of two seconds before Alan's head was on his shoulder and the kid's arms were wrapped around his right one.

With a fond sigh, Scott pulled out his phone, content with the idea that he'd probably be hunkering down for a while. After a few rings, he held it horizontal as John's hologram appeared before him.

He spoke quietly, "Hey John, do you mind rescheduling anything I have for today for later in the week? Something came up, I'm gonna be kind of busy."

Noticing the tuft of blond in the corner of Scott's hologram, John didn't need to be told twice, "Sure thing, Scott."

[whentherewerebicycles]

You seem to be really amazing at executing planned changes with food and exercise (and also generally better psychological habits) - can i ask for advice on this? I’ve finished up studying for now and realise my body has turned into a twisted up, pudgy, weakened wreck! Exercise hurts and sugar/processed food feels so cosy and I can’t seem to get through this part where i have to feel discomfort for a while before i feel better!

What works for you? Should i read that atomic habits book you mention? I saw another one recommended - the Kindness Habit - do you know anything about it?

(I tried journaling btw - but it didn’t get me anywhere)

hello!! i can share some things that have worked for me when it comes to implementing longer-term changes in diet and exercise. these seem really simple but i think that actually making big lifestyle changes is much less about summoning up colossal amounts of willpower and much more about making small but important tweaks to the way you think about/approach diet and exercise. here are five things that have been helpful to me.

(1) don’t think of diet changes in terms of restrictions (i.e., “what delicious cozy sugary things do i have to deprive myself of today to be Good”). instead, approach diet changes as a fun little game of adding in as many good things as possible (fruits, veggies, leafy green things, nuts of all kinds, whole grains, beans, etc.). every single time you are preparing a meal or looking for a snack, describe it to yourself as a chance to be creative and resourceful, as you think about fun ways to add in small good things every time you eat. especially in the early weeks, don’t restrict foods from your diet at all. focus solely on finding a creative way to add in something healthy and delicious every time you eat. (i really liked using the daily dozen checklist when i was starting out—they have an app and it’s very satisfying and fun to see how many things you can check off the list each day.)

(2) narrate this “adding-in” game aloud to yourself. for example: “oh—what if i eat a big handful of berries on top of that ice cream?”, or “i’m hungry—ooh, there are carrots in the fridge, aren’t there? i’ll eat three carrots with hummus before i switch over to pita chips”). and every time you figure out a creative way to add in a good food, stop and observe yourself doing it, and let yourself feel a little spark of delight at how clever and creative you’re being. this sounds silly, but i swear it works! part of changing your habits is changing self-talk & especially changing the kind of running narrative you have in your head about who you are and what you do. you can change that narrative in part by repeatedly reframing the way you tell it to yourself, ideally aloud (or aloud in your head) to help you can better “hear” and internalize the new story. instead of “ugh... i ate ice cream again. why don’t i have any self-control? why am i someone who just eats like crap?”, you’re offering your brain an alternate story, one that focuses less on things you perceive yourself as lacking, or on things you ‘failed’ to do, and more on the creative, positive things you did do (“i wasn’t going to eat any fruit today, but wasn’t it great that i remembered we had those frozen berries in the fridge? that’s pretty creative and resourceful of me, and plus it’s a good way to use up something i’d forgotten i even had”).

the “noticing and feeling delighted” part is just as important. to successfully change a habit, you need to find creative ways to make the new habit pleasurable in and of itself. the more pleasure you feel when you do it, the more self-reinforcing the habit itself becomes. you might not experience eating healthy foods as intensely pleasurable (at least at first, especially if you are comparing them with the intense brain-hacking pleasure that super sugary foods give us). so don’t try! instead, focus on making the choice a source of pleasure and delight. "look at how clever i was! look at how creative i can be! look at what a good choice i made! look at how good i am at this game of adding in!” that act of stopping, narrating, and letting yourself feel genuinely pleased with what you’ve just done makes the choice to add something in pleasurable, which in turn can help fuel your sense that this isn’t about having iron willpower or about cruelly depriving yourself of delicious things, but is about playing a fun little game with yourself, creating little challenges or puzzles for yourself throughout the day and then giving yourself positive reinforcement when you figure them out.

(3) manage your environment to set yourself up for success. to paraphrase the atomic habits book: the people who seem to have the best willpower are the people who have to exercise it the least. and they have to exercise it the least because they’ve very effectively managed their environment, arranging things so that the desired choices are easy and “frictionless,” while the undesired choices or habits are more inconvenient or introduce more friction (it’s harder to get to them).

the easy starter version of this (from atomic habits): put the things you want to eat in highly visible places and/or in appealing arrangements, and put the things you don't want to eat in places that aren't visible or that are inconvenient to access. ice cream goes in the very back of the fridge, buried behind all the other stuff. nuts go in a bowl on your desk so that you can idly snack on them while you work. apples and bananas go in a big brightly colored bowl right on the counter, so that every time you pass through the kitchen your eyes are drawn to them. chips go in the bottom cupboard, the one below eye level that you don't use very often, and when you get them out you pour some into a bowl and put them right back in there (instead of leaving the bag out on the counter). make the choice you want to make easy, and make the choice you don't want to make harder to get to.

eventually, the most effective way of managing your environment is just to exercise total control over what comes into your own living space. for me, if i don’t want to eat it, i don’t have it in the house. i typically also place a curbside delivery grocery order so that i don’t have to go into the store—anything that comes into my house is something i made a deliberate choice about ordering, not something i wandered by a shelf and added to my cart because i wanted a treat. something i’ve learned about myself over the years that moderation is just not in my vocabulary—i’m an all-or-nothing person, and it’s SO much easier for me to just not have stuff i don’t want to eat in the house. no ice cream in the house. no alcohol in the house. no fried things, no chips, no candy, etc etc. if someone kindly brings me baked goods that i did not ask for, i genuinely appreciate the gesture, but as soon as they leave i give them to my next door neighbor or dump them in the trash. (SORRY TO PEOPLE WHO BAKE FOR ME!) if it's in the house i'll eat it. if it's not, i won't, and i also won't miss it.

i did do this pretty gradually at first, though! when i switched to a primarily whole food plant-based diet, i focused on playing the adding-in game for a couple weeks, and then when i started getting competitive about it i decided to use my grocery order as a way of creatively boosting my fruit/veggie/etc consumption even more, and in the process i started winnowing out things that took away chances to add in a good thing. i would say it took about three or four weeks to get to my personal ideal state of Nope I Don't Have It In The House.

it takes time, but i’d say that within a month of having only things you want to eat in the house, your cravings will be gone, at least within your own managed environment (going to restaurants or traveling DOES require you to exercise willpower, but there are ways to prepare for this in advance). the good news, though, is that 6-8 months or so of eating like this usually brings with it such improved sleep, mood, energy levels, skin, hair, GI function, etc etc that you start to be like oh my GOD why would i want to eat that horrifying thing?? I KNOW HOW BAD IT MAKES ME FEEL!! I WANT TO POWER MY BODY WITH PLANTS!!!!! in other words, the pleasurable side effects of eating well becomes positively reinforcing in its own right, while the negative effects you experience when you reintroduce sugar or fried things tends to reinforce the idea that those foods Feel Bad.

(4) it's not exercise, it's movement. i too used to hate exercise and found it extremely painful and tedious and horrible. so instead of exercising i just started moving. i canceled my membership at the local dog bar, where i had been taking my dog almost every day to let him run off excess energy, and started talking short walks with him twice a day instead. if you don’t have a dog, offer to walk your friends’ dogs—trust me they will lose their MINDS with joy lol. i think that starting to build in regular walks is the best way to get active again, because walking is typically quite pleasant and it becomes positively reinforcing to like, wave at the same neighbors every day, and see the cute kids next door running around, and notice all the ways that the trees and flowers are changing, and so on.

if you do not find being outside inherently pleasurable (sometimes i do not lol esp if i’m grumpy about having to walk the dog), tie another pleasurable activity to your daily walk. i listen to about six hours’ worth of hockey podcasts a week and i am only allowed to listen to them on my walks, so i end up looking forward to the walk because i’m desperate to hear people talk about My Guys. you can also walk with friends, or call a friend while you’re walking, which is even better than podcasts!! social walks are so much fun and go by so much more quickly. i started out just doing daily 15 min walks, and over the past couple years have built up to walking between 60-90 min a day when i’m at home. sometimes i hate/dread my walk; sometimes i love it and look forward to it. but regardless of how i’m feeling, i do it every day and if i miss it once, i don’t miss it a second time. 

as far as activity goes, i think it’s totally ok to just be a person who walks a lot! but i’ve found that becoming someone who walked a lot helped change my own narrative of myself—I started to think of myself as a walker, an active person who moved a lot every day. and that made it easier to pick up other forms of activity too, or at least to adopt a curious, exploratory attitude towards other forms of movement. also once you start tracking your active minutes you tend to get quite competitive about it! or at least i do, lol. i keep a note on my phone where i write down the date + type of activity + total number of minutes I did after every burst of activity, then at the end of the week i add it all up and compare it to the previous weeks. it makes me want to do more, to beat my own numbers—or it makes me want to keep up a streak (like, if i have a five-week period where i’ve consistently hit a certain level of active minutes every week, i don’t want to break it!!).

my biggest suggestion for exercise, though, is to figure out what kinds of things you enjoy and what kinds of things you don’t, and then to spend all your time doing things you like. i HATE structured fitness classes and workout videos. i hate them so much!!!!!!!! but i love being outside, i love doing solo activities (as opposed to group workouts), and i love doing any form of movement that doesn’t feel like a Planned Workout, capital w. also becoming a hockey fan got me really interested in skating, so i picked up rollerblades and found that to be amazingly fun too (something i can do outside AND something that feels like gliding around effortlessly AND something that makes me feel closer to My Favorite Guys!!!!). you may not have passionate feelings about hockey fandom as i do, but i think it’s really just about being creative—finding a creative way to link something you don’t love to something you do love, or find pleasurable, so that you can start forging those positive associations. 

i spent my first couple years of being more active just walking walking walking, and then this past year during the pandemic when i really ramped up my movement i added in longer walks, hikes, and rollerblading, and i also looked for ways to “habit-stack,” ie attaching an activity i don’t much care for (running; exercise biking indoors; doing squats and lunges) to one i do enjoy (i take my tennis shoes when i go skating and then go for a run immediately afterwards, before i have time to talk myself out of it). there are still all kinds of things i don’t do—i really don’t love strength training + bodyweight exercises yet, and i hate stretching even though I Know I Should, and i know that if i want to get stronger and faster, or build up my endurance, i will eventually need to introduce some element of structured training into my daily movement.

BUT the idea of making those changes seems kind of cool to me now, instead of Horrifying and Dread-Inducing! i feel like all the positive associations i’ve forged have made me more curious and open to ideas i would’ve resisted with my whole being not all that long ago. i found a way to make movement pleasurable, and then (thanks to sports fandom + my tendency to go down research rabbitholes) i found a way to get myself intellectually and emotionally engaged in the general concept of being a highly active person. for me, that combination of real pleasure + intellectual/emotional stimulation is what i personally need to build & maintain good habits.

(also, just shoehorning this in at the end because i like it: the “it’s movement, not exercise” mindset shift was also really helpful to me because it stopped me from thinking of exercise as like, this highly structured, regimented, torturous thing you forced yourself through for a set period of time each day, and helped me instead think of movement as something that humans are designed to do & to naturally enjoy. instead of Forcing Myself to Exercise, i looked for more natural-feeling forms of movement that didn’t feel so artificially divided from my “real life.” i think that helped with reframing my self-narrative, too! it made being active feel more integrated into my daily life, which in turn made it easier to think of myself as an active person, someone for whom movement was just a normal part of daily life and not a thing i had to psych myself up to do every day.)

(5) it takes time to build good habits, but not nearly as much time as you might think, and eventually you stop thinking about how long you’ve been doing something and you just start enjoying it (ie it becomes a genuine change in your lifestyle/thinking, not an artificial thing you have to work hard every day to maintain).

i am not yet AN ATHLETE and may never be, but i often remind myself that it took me a little under 30 years to build up a PROFOUND aversion to exercise, so it’s actually kind of miraculous that in just two years i’ve become someone who genuinely, earnestly, enthusiastically enjoys being active and feels antsy/weird/restless when i can’t get out of the house and move. every small stride i’ve made has strengthened my trust in myself and helped me reframe the narrative i tell myself about what kind of person i am and what i do/don’t do. every time i do the thing (whether it’s exercising or making a delicious healthy dinner) & happily notice myself doing it, i reaffirm to myself that i’m the kind of person who takes care of my body and mind by eating well and spending lots of time moving outside. (as a side benefit, when i spend a lot of time happily noticing things and speaking encouragingly to myself, i also reaffirm to myself that i am a happy person who treats myself kindly and who is always eagerly seeking out experiences that feel joyful and life-affirming.)

plus, the more often you do something, the more opportunities you have to have positive experiences while doing it! not every walk is AMAZING, LIFE-CHANGING, DEEPLY FULFILLING, but like, if i am walking seven days a week, that’s seven opportunities for something cool or fun to happen on a walk (not to mention seven opportunities to reap all the physiological & emotional well-being benefits of exercise!!). and if i am really conscious and intentional about noticing and actively delighting in those positive experiences, i help wire in those positive associations more deeply, and my brain/body increasingly comes to associate movement with happiness, joy, and fulfillment. as the habit of being more active becomes fulfilling in and of itself, i don’t have to expend as much energy tricking or cajoling or bribing myself into doing it.

*

i hope this helps!! i am literally always happy to write extremely long essays in respond to simple anon questions, lol, so if you want to talk more about your own ideas for building better habits please do share!! i can also rec you specific books that i’ve found really useful—both for just like, helping me figure out how to make big changes, and also for providing that intellectual stimulation that gets me more engaged in wanting to eat well & be more active.

(also, on the extremely slim chance that you are also a hockey fan: over in my fandom sphere, we are organizing a fun summer thing inspired by one of our fave hockey players, where we’ll be planning lots of fun fannish community things to get ourselves moving this summer. it’s going to be a good time!!)

[barnesandco]

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy (1/14)

Story Masterlist

The plum seller at the farmer’s market saves Bucky from being captured for the attack at Vienna that he didn’t commit, but is she really all that she appears to be, or are ulterior motives involved?

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2020. Word count: 1191. Square filled: “Amnesia”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, memory-loss, sad, lonely Bucky. Mentions of cigarettes, smoking and smoking addiction. Mentions of torture, hunger, and pain.

A/N: I know I said I would post this on Monday, but I’ve decided to move it back a day because I can lol. I’ll post and update weekly on Sundays from here on out, and if you want to be notified when I post a chapter, please follow @ayeshaupdates​ and turn on notifications. I’m so excited about this story, and I’m really looking forward to sharing it with you guys. Thank you to everyone who reblogs and comments - your support and encouragement is so so helpful and much needed. 

He doesn’t trust her. The woman who sells plums at the farmer’s market - he doesn’t trust her at all. She smiles too bright, and seems to be making a point of acknowledging him by his name, week after week. “James” is as foreign to him as this country, as much of a stranger as these scavenged clothes he wears, but there’s something about the inflection of her voice that makes it sound like a gospel truth. It’s also why he approaches her stall with an appropriate modicum of caution.

“Good morning. How can I help you, James?” She asks in Romanian that is flawless but for the small pause between clauses, as she translates what she wants to say from her native tongue in her head. He watches her bite her lip while bagging the number of plums he has requested, his own voice smaller than it ought to be.

After paying for the fruit, he heads to the corner shop for cigarettes. A costly habit, one that he doesn’t strictly feel the addiction to maintain, it is only a reminder. One that he took up after seeing a picture of someone he used to look like standing alongside grinning comrades in a French forest, cigarette poking out of a younger mouth. A reminder that he used to be more than this, and, on the good days when he dares to hope, that image printed in smoky gray-scale is a reassurance, too. That he can be more than this, again.

Today is one of those days. A good one, that is. The kind that has him worrying about something as superficial as whether he’ll make it back to his apartment before the clouds overhead start pouring. He does. Makes it back followed by the ghost of the plum-seller’s smile, right up to the point where he steps across the threshold of the place he is trying to call home. 

He has had many hiding places over the course of the last couple of years, but this is the first that he has truly tried to make his own. Sparse furnishings and a pitiful lack of decor though it may have, it is sacred to him. Not clean in appearance, but at least his hands are. At least this place and everything in it - the secondhand dining table, the bare, mouldy mattress, the cheap journal he now picks up off the fridge and holds in his hands like it is made of sapphires the color of Captain America’s suit - weren’t earned by bloodshed and terror, but by a graveyard janitorial shift at a nearby hospital. Six nights a week.

Flipping past the images of the man museums tell him is his friend, he finds an empty page, and grabs a ballpoint from the table he sits down at. The grocery bags are blocking the already dim, cloudy light that permeates grimy windows to make his living space look even gloomier, but he squints and starts writing. Manages to put seven words on the paper, the same seven he was greeted with by a smiling face that morning, before he stops, blanks at the vast expanse of yellowing, water-damaged white, and wracks his brain thinking about how to describe the way his name in her mouth makes him feel. But he can’t. 

Eight consecutive weeks, almost two months in Bucharest - the longest he has stayed anywhere besides the childhood home he doesn’t remember and the frosty depths of Siberia that he distinctly does - and every time he attempts to put her into words, his hand cramps. Not because she is indescribable, but because he does not allow himself even this right to her, not even to expel her from his mind by means of ink.

And that frustrates him. Because that’s how he’s been exorcizing the rest of his demons, with varying degrees of failure, and isn’t she just another one, more unassuming than most? A schoolboy crush for someone who no longer as any claim to his childhood, he responds with the wary, jumpy attitude that a soldier does a tree-branch that moves too suddenly in wind behind enemy lines.

Now there’s an analogy he abhors, and scolds his mind for conjuring, while he gets up, closing the journal - it’s presently a lost cause - to start taking out the groceries. 

Mechanically, he starts with the items to be refrigerated; milk, eggs; vegetables, not great in number nor variety, but just as much of a luxury as he can get away with on minimum wage in a city centre. Putting the last of the greens in the fridge, he thinks a prayer of thanks. To whom, he isn’t certain, but he thinks it. Because whatever this is, it isn’t the Depression. Sensations of pain and ache seem to prevail in the chaos of his amnesiac memory, so his most vivid recollections, his primary ones if he’s being truthful, are of cryostasis and torture, mind-wipes and cruel scientists scrambling his brain. However, there are also a few images of a time before, and the feeling of an empty stomach, the sound of a small sister crying in hurt, is another.

It’s a red memory, that one. As red as the lone apple he pulls out next, followed by those plums. Seven of them, one for each day of the week. Small graces, that he’s thankful for. Gratitude is directly proportional to happiness, or so a one of the cheery, laminated quotes adorning the entrance of the local library would have him believe. The same library in which he located books about memory loss, with one telling him that plums can aid in reversing it, and that book, in turn, led him to her.

The fruit saleswoman with a smile as knowing as the Mona Lisa, but far too loud to fit in a portrait. Who sells plums with hands too soft for a farmer, who looks so out of place and yet eerily, perfectly in it at the same time. 

Leaving one plum on the counter, he hurries to put away the remaining groceries, and then washes the plum before going to eat it.

This routine of a plum a day is a sacred one, now, and he takes his place at the table with the round, red-purple fruit in his hand. A lifeline nobody is holding on the other end. A miracle he has ceased to have faith in, but repeats the ritual motions of regardless. 

The first bite washes over him like a summer rain, the taste of cool sunshine, sweet and syrupy, exploding on his tastebuds. Consumed in a matter of moments, this afternoon treat, this brief reprieve leaves him a touch softer, and a tad calmer. More sated. Never one to waste a drop of good, he licks the sugary, tangy juice off his sticky fingers, and resolves to try the journal again.

Perhaps he’s approaching it the wrong way. Perhaps she’s a guardian angel, albeit with a haunting presence. Perhaps she’s the one holding this lifeline at the other end. But then, when have the odds ever been so good to him?

[noocturnalchild]

Of Thieves and Poets

Warning : Mention of abuse, light depiction of wounds, hurt

Well, that was a hard chapter to write, mainly cause I’m still strugling with my English, and sometimes, ideas are here but I find no words to describe them as I want to !

Many thanks to a great friend who’s always been there to beta read my fics and correct the MANY language mistakes I’m still making,it’s a shame that I can’t tag her here !

Sara maybe you’ll never read this but I LOVE YOU ( this is me talking to myself lol)

Also many thanks to all who are sharing and liking my fics, I love you guys, you are the best !

All the poetry in this chapter is William Carlos Williams’ ! 

Chapter one here ! 

Chapter 2 

* 

Give me something to eat! Let me take you to the hospital, I said and after you are well you can do as you please. She smiled, Yes you do what you please first then I can do what I please

“Who’s she?”

The day Laura died, he wrote his most accomplished poem. It rested between her cold fingers, folded in a small sheet of damp paper and he briefly wondered if the dead could read. Heavy rain washed the sleepy city that day, and everyone said that they’d never seen so many white peonies in the same place before. He buried all his other poem books with her, tucked between her curls and the black and white satin.

He never made a copy.

Paterson didn’t write love poems anymore. But never were his fingers as ink stained, bruised and abused by so many hours spent writing as they were now, and never was his desk inundated by so many notebooks. They piled up in complete disorder, competing with books and tools, making the old wood squeak uncomfortably.

“Who’s she”

Only now he saw her fiddling with the framed photo he kept on his living room table, so that it was always the first thing he saw as he woke up.

“Wife?”

Paterson didn’t answer.

Mina had her back turned to him. She couldn’t see the man’s eyes watering, or the frown of his brows, nor could she feel his struggle with his breath, repressing the tides of anguish that menaced to crash on him again.

“Gorgeous, dude! bet she gives great head” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, winked suggestively.

Beaming and smug at the same time, Mina looked like one who’s sure just dropped something so smart and funny, completely oblivious of the hands clutching on the cold marble of the kitchen counter. White knuckles, white pain…

“No complaints.“

Paterson’s reply of choice. Life was going on for everybody, for him too. Doc got a TV in his bar after all. Marie went to New York and Everett to LA. And he was still a bus driver, eating cereals every morning, writing in his yellow pages and sitting on the wet benches of Paterson’s waterfalls, so why would he complain?

“Go and freshen up, bathroom first door to the left”

“You’re no fun” She stuck out her tongue and left. Paterson couldn’t be mad.

Laura was laughing, straddling the arm of the sofa and eyeing him with mischief in her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Won’t ya help me with my clothes?”

“I can’t do much with a broken wrist”

“It hurts”

(…)

“Dude, come on, so prudish!”

Laura had a hand on her mouth now, in mock shock, her eyes were still laughing, and Paterson was confused, a pretty blush rising to his cheeks. He remembered now that the only clothes he had that might fit Mina were Laura’s, and even those were big for the bony creature waiting for his help in his bathroom.

“Hold… hold on a second”

Paterson drew in a shaky breath, fetched one of his sleep shirts from his bed drawers, strode to open the bathroom door and… oh God.

A trembling dry leaf stood before him. Only in her white crop top and equally white panties; Paterson imagined her cracking under the passers-by’s soles, giving in under their rough stumpings, each one leaving a stain on her weak frame. Paterson’s eyes descended to her bare thighs, and she kept her eyes on the floor.

“Jesus… Who… who did this to you?”

Her thighs were a hideous map, little red and yellowish scabbed dots and circles on tarnished, discolored skin.

She shrugged, eyes avoiding his. Why would he care, why was he so insistent, why couldn’t he just be like the others, why won’t he try something with her, on her, like she deserves… she would let him, this one, she would.

“Just help me with my top” a wobbly voice replied, but Paterson was already looking for something in his medicine cabinet.

“Sit on the stool there” His hands were shaking as he put the ointment and the bandages on the side and proceeded to wet a washcloth.

“Can… I?” He kneeled, and their eyes met. She kept silent and nodded and he thought the sparkle in her eyes was gratitude.

With infinite gentle touches, Paterson washed her thighs and legs, dried them carefully, applied the ointment and wrapped them in clean bandages.

Laura was watching in reverence. The scene exuded something religious; the saint washing the sinner’s faults. And none spoke a word.

Afterwards, Mina laid in white clean sheets, but for all the comfort she had, she couldn’t sleep the few hours separating the night from dawn. She counted the hours, watching the bus driver as he slept peaceful and soft; not so far from her spot on the sofa.

The domestic rituals, the warm clothes, the vanilla soap smell lingering, the nice buzzing of the fridge in a quiet space, and the dim light he kept on just for her… His… his kindness coiled her like sticky ropes. Mina was suffocating.

She got up, slid in her dirty jeans, but kept his shirt on, and with a final brush of his hair, she took his watch and slipped out of the quiet house, and the monsters took her in their arms again.

***

Recycled air and synthetic notes, shopping carts rolling and low, lustful giggles.

With his favorite brand of cereal in hand, Paterson’s food shopping was almost done for the day. He was just strolling, verses starting to form in the fog of his mind as he saw two forms melting in each other, just against one of the snack vending machines. A smile began to tug on his lips. Life was simple, young lovers making out in malls and supermarkets, in the streets and gardens; the boy handsy, in baggy jeans and a loose jumper, fake golden chains around black collar, the girl…the girl.

Paterson’s mind went blank, and verses fled away like frightened pigeons.

“Oi man, whatcha lookin’ at!”

The guy addressed a dazed Paterson, and the girl turned her head from off her lover’s chest.

In all the scenarios she imagined at night, curled up in the corners of the streets and between the brushwood of the parks , meeting him again while in the arms of another man was never on the list. It shouldn’t be like that, it wasn’t supposed to be like that. He shouldn’t think that she… but what was she anyway? She was everything he might think of her now.

He was so beautiful she wanted to bury her pain in his chest, between the threads of his regal hair. Curl all the hurt in a bundle and he would take it, in his large warm palm. He would know how to make it disappear, like by magic, vanish in thin air. With a touch of his finger pads, he could wash away scars; wipe away the purples and the blues and the burns. He was so clean she feared to touch him. He was so wholesome and she felt so queasy, so sickening she wanted to puke. Her hand skimmed the hidden pocket in her rat nibbled jean vest; the watch was still there, burning a hole in its worn fabric. She didn’t pass it on to Ian. It earned her new cigarette burns and a slap that made her nose bleed a little, but she had survived worse treatments.

“Who’s that, you know that guy? You do boring now?”

Carlos giggled, showcasing many missed teeth. He pinched her sides playfully, slapped her cheek playfully, squeezed her tits playfully, and she wished to die.

“Yo dude, wanna suck my dick? Ow no? Maybe a threesome? My chick here gives amazing head”

Oh, that again.

“See, not interested”

Carlos giggles sounded like gallows bells.

“I’m not your chick, for fuck’s sake!”

Mina screamed in frustration, pushed a stunned Carlos away, wriggled free from his sloppy hold, hand reaching out for salvation.

“I’m… I’m sorry!”

What she meant to be loud and clear, came out as a choked whisper.

But Paterson was already turning his back to her. This time he didn’t wait for her, not even a hum or a discarding hand, his long silhouette drawing away, swallowed by the light.

Life was going on, no complaints.

***

Mina was out, really out.

Even when she told him she wouldn’t play “pretend” with him anymore, Carlos still hung around for some time, and the money she could get from him she saved with scrutiny, starving herself to death. She never came back to the “pack”; her steps always took her to the quiet small house at the end of the stairs. She lurked there, watching when the lights went on, and stayed hunched behind shrubs and bushes, clutching the watch to her heart, listening to their combined tic tic tic… the mechanics soothed her, and she slept there every night.

Whatever happens, never sell the watch.

She started doing windshield scrubbing too, helped some nice grocery shop owners with their crates for some dollars, and by the end of the month she could buy a dozen cigarette packs and tissue boxes to sell in the streets. She was always hungry, but at least she could picture him in the back of her mind smiling, not disappointed in her anymore. He might not know, for now, but the thought was comforting. The thought was like a pier, supporting the bridge she was building towards him and she was sure she would reach him again, one day.

***

Sun benches at the curb bespeak another season, truncated poplars that having served for shade served also later for the fire.

It was Saturday morning. The rainy clouds of the day before blew over for a shiny crystal sun to come out. Excitement and expectations wired the air with buzzing electricity around Hinchliff Stadium. Kids and teens, middle aged and old people formed noisy groups, stomping on empty chips bags and placing bets.

Mina thought herself lucky when she laid hands on second hand baseball game tickets. Her wrist completely healed now, she roamed the area around the stadium, surfed the crowd, hands full, voice rusty from a cold she was nursing, over exploited vocal chords, yelling, trying to convince hurried passers-by to buy, by means of jokes and charms.

That’s when she saw him.

“Fuckin’ Carlos” a livid Mina stumbled a few steps backward, eyes seeking a gap between the crowds, quickly calculating her way out.

Fuck!

She could recognize Ian’s red sneakers anywhere. She thanked the heavens for his poor cover-up skills, giving her the high ground for a moment. She knew he could see her, but she took her chance. One group blocked his vision for a moment, and Mina took off her oversized leather jacket, let her hair down and started to walk slowly in the opposite direction.

She mentally counted to ten, chewing furiously on an overused gum, her hands started sweating. She knew that if caught this time, it wouldn’t just be cigarette burns on her thighs.

So Mina ran.

She ran aimlessly, not looking back, eyes closed and breath shagged. She could feel the adrenaline rush shot through her bones, just like every time she plunged her skillful hands inside the pockets of an oblivious passer-by, but this time there would be no euphoria of the gain waiting at the end of the road, just a sliced head.

Five minutes of sprinting and she couldn’t take it anymore, were her lungs that damaged? Fuck you Carlos, couldn’t keep his trap shut! Fuck! She was losing speed, she could hear Ian’s red sneakers batting the asphalt, tap tap tap, just behind. It was common belief that, at moments like these, the film of your whole life would flash back before your eyes, that the spool of all your wrongs would unfurl the threads that would wind around your legs and throat, choke you to death, drag you to hell. But Mina only saw two amber gems, Mina saw warmth and large, strong arms wrapping her in endless depths of comfort, and she felt peace descend upon her, Mina saw the future so she ran faster, and this time, with one destination in mind.

[silverarmedassassin]

Come Back to Me // Part Two

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2084

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident, traumatic brain injury, and memory loss. this is going to be pretty angst heavy throughout.

A/N: Feeling a little meh about this part. It’s too early in this process to be hitting writer’s block, lol. I’ll blame the current state of life and my decreasing motivation to do anything. 

Thanks for reading! Feedback is welcome :)

Come Back to Me Masterlist // Masterlist

Slowly but surely, the wires and tubes start disappearing. By your fifth day awake in the Compound, all but the heart monitor and a few electrodes are carted away from your room. Dr. Banner reassures you daily that you’re making “great progress,” and that, hopefully, your memory will return to normal soon. You’re still not sure what that means.

You sigh as you look towards the holoscreen Dr. Banner had installed in your room to occupy your time. You had access to thousands of T.V. channels from across the world and a seemingly endless supply of movies to watch, but you never took advantage. Instead, you kept a live feed of the Compound grounds on. Tony Stark had had a few of the security cameras’ feeds rerouted so you could have some kind of window to the outside world.

Between your bouts of unconsciousness and mindlessly watching the outside, members of the Avengers would trickle in from time-to-time. You’d met almost everyone on the team, even members you’d never knew existed. But, while you enjoyed getting to meet and know each of them, you’d found comfort in just a few.

Steve, of course, was at the top of your list. The super-solider had made a habit of visiting you daily, usually multiple times a day. He’d bring a meal and a deck of cards and spend hours telling you stories. He talked about everything - life growing up, his experience in the war. He talked about it all, but he would always tread lightly when the Soldier, Bucky you would remind yourself, was brought up.

You hadn’t seen Bucky since that first day, at least not fully. When Steve would stop by, you’d often catch a glimpse of the man just outside your door. You’d sometimes hear him talking with Banner after the doctor came to check on you, but Bucky never made it in the room. And for that, you were grateful.

The others didn’t mention him much, only Sam on occasion. But it was usually in an off-hand, humorous kind of way. That made you like Sam. Unlike Steve, he didn’t talk about Bucky like he placed the sun in the sky. You understood Steve’s fondness, remembered that they were childhood friends despite it all, but it still left a bad taste in your mouth. With Sam, though, it was jokes and conversations about learning to cope with this new, unfamiliar life you’d woken up in.

“Knock knock,” a voice sing songs from the doorway, drawing you from your thoughts. You look over to find Wanda with a large container of take-out in her hands. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

Wanda had quickly become another comfort during your time. She was caring, witty, and overall a great person to talk with. Aside from Steve, she spent the most time down with you. When it was announced you were awake and able to see visitors, she promptly brought you down a pair of pajamas and a decent stack of clothing so you wouldn’t have to lie around in the uncomfortable hospital gown.

“I figured you might be hungry, so I brought you a little something,” Wanda says as she moves to sit in the chair next to your bed. “How are you feeling today?”

You smile weakly. “Tired. My head kind of hurts, but I’m okay.” You shrug and take the container from Wanda’s outstretched hands. “You haven’t seen Steve, have you? He usually stops in by now.”

“The team got called out this morning. A few others and I stayed behind to man the Compound and take care of you,” Wanda smiles and winks. She knew how much you hated being doted on.

You and Wanda sit and eat lunch together. She’s in the middle of a story about her brother when there’s a soft knock on the door. When you turn, you find Dr. Banner’s smiling face peeking in through the crack.

“You’re awake,” he exclaims as he shuffles in, holopad in hand. “I’m glad. I have some news for you.”

Bruce brings over the roller chair, the only normal, doctor-like piece of furniture to be found in the high-tech room, and sits. “I’m pleased with the amount of progress you’ve been making. Brain activity is back in the normal range, your ribs are healing nicely, and your vitals have been steady. To the point where I feel comfortable releasing you from the medical wing.”

You perk up then, looking from Bruce to Wanda with a wide smile on your face. “I can go home?”

It’s not that you didn’t enjoy being at the Compound. The food was great, the company was even better, and, despite it all, you felt more relaxed than you had in years. But you were starting to get stir-crazy. You missed the routine of day-to-day life.

“Well, not exactly,” Bruce takes his glasses off and slips them on top of his head. “While I’m comfortable with you not being monitored twenty-four-seven, I would like to keep an eye on you, just until your memories return.”

“If they return,” you grumble.

“But,” Bruce ignores your offhand comment, “I’ve already talked with Tony about you staying, and he set up a room for you. It’s far more comfortable than this sterile place, and you’ll have an actual window to look out instead of a screen.”

“It’s right by mine and Steve’s,” Wanda says reassuringly as a grimace settles on your face.

“That’s nice and all,” you say, “but what about my life? Rent? My classes? I can’t just abandon everything.”

The duo shares a look before Bruce speaks. “You’re...you graduated two years ago. You don’t remember that?”

“Of course I don’t remember!” you shout. “I don’t remember anything. And it turns out I don’t even remember myself.”

You bury your face in your hands before they can see the tears in your eyes. It wasn’t right to shout, but you’re so frustrated and upset about the situation that it just happened. All you wanted was to go back to the city, see your friends, and return to normal life - whatever that looked like for you now.

Graduated? Two years ago? Exactly how much were you missing?

>>>

Dr. Banner was right, the room they set up for you was much nicer than where you were staying prior.

After your mini-meltdown, Bruce and Wanda explained that your expenses would be taken care of back home and that they’ve already been in touch with your boss. Apparently, he’d been very understanding of the situation. Wanda then wheeled you through the seemingly endless halls of the Compound pointing out various offices, rooms, and common areas before getting to your room.

It was definitely better than the medical ward room, twice the size even. Despite the ultra-modern design, it felt homey. Wanda informed you Steve and Sam had gone to your apartment in the city to grab some of your personal belongings so you didn’t feel so out-of-place.

It was nice seeing your favorite blanket draped across the bed and a stack of books on the nightstand. You can’t help but wonder if you’ve already read them or not. Wanda doesn’t leave you much time to think about that, though, as she is intent on showing you around your spacious living space.

The bathroom looked like it belonged in a space station and, if it weren’t for Wanda showing you, you probably would never have figured out the shower. She even showed you the closet, which was stocked, allegedly, with your own items.

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” you ask as you try and make yourself comfortable on the edge of the bed. “You don’t even know me.”

Wanda smiled sadly before coming over to sit next to you. “Oh, Y/N.” She wraps you up in a hug and doesn’t offer a proper explanation. “Why don’t you get some rest and we’ll talk more later?”

As she makes her way from the room, you realize how tired you’re actually feeling. Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt.

>>>

It’s not until several hours later that you wake up. By how dark it is in your room, you can tell it’s well into the night. Your mouth is bone dry, and you contemplate if it’s worth getting up to get something to drink when your stomach growls. That settles it.

As you carefully slide out of bed, you check the illuminated alarm clock that’s set on the bedside table. 2:15 a.m. When Wanda showed you around earlier, you didn’t see any of the other Avengers, so you assumed it was only Wanda, Bruce, and you at the Compound. Hopefully, you think, neither is still awake.

You decide to forego the wheelchair that Bruce had insisted you use when you came up to the room. The kitchen wasn’t too far, after all. You make your way down the dimly lit hall as quietly as you can. You don’t hear anyone else or see any lights on, so you figure you’re the only one awake.

Your stomach rumbles again as you get to the kitchen. Wanda hadn’t actually shown you where anything was, so you rummage through the cabinets before finding a few cans of soup. You grab a few to get a better look at your options.

“You’re up late,” a deep voice says from behind you.

You jump and drop one of the cans of soup onto the floor, startled from the unexpected guest. You turn to find Bucky standing on the other side of the kitchen island, watching you intently. He only breaks eye contact when he bends to pick up the can of soup that rolled across the kitchen.

“Wa-Wanda said I could help myself,” you say as he makes a face at the soup. “If it’s yours I’ll replace it, I promise.”

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky laughs, setting the can on the island. “But this stuff is awful. Wanda made spaghetti for dinner, have some of that.” Your eyes never leave him as he walks over to the fridge and pulls out a large bowl before also setting it on the counter and sliding it over to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as you peel back the cling wrap and place it in the microwave behind you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You felt uneasy having your back to Bucky, but it felt safer than having a staring match with the assassin. Ex-assassin, you remind yourself.

“Wanda wanted to wake you up for dinner, but I told her not to. Figured you needed the rest,” Bucky says. You turn slightly to look at him and offer a small, forced smile. You just wanted him to go away. When he starts rummaging around for a bowl and cereal, you realize he’s probably not going anywhere anytime soon.

“When did you guys get back?” you ask quietly as you turn back to the microwave.

“What? Oh, no I sat this one out. But the team isn’t back yet, part of the reason I’m up.”

To distract from the looming figure across the room and the knot in your stomach, you start going through the many draws looking for a fork. Bucky must catch on because, a few moments later, a fork is being slid across the sleek counter in the same manner as the bowl of spaghetti had been.

“Top drawer next to the fridge,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

The fact Bucky was being so nice, so generous was confusing to you. When you looked at or thought of him, all you could see was the silver-armed assassin who literally destroyed an entire block of D.C. and nearly killed his best friend. Making sure you were rested and fed was the last thing you’d ever imagined from him.

With the microwave beeping, you quickly grab the fork and bowl without letting it cool. You’d had no intention of eating in your room but staying out in the kitchen with Bucky was too uncomfortable. You thank him again and quickly shuffle back towards the hall your room is in.

“Hey Y/N?” Bucky calls from where he’s seated at the island. You stop and wait for him to continue. “I’m glad you’re okay. Really.”

You don’t turn, only nod and continue down the hall. You try to ignore the churning in your stomach as you do so.

>>>

Tags: @tricksterwinchester​ @themarveledwriter​ @numwoon44​ @wonderlandmind4​ @basicjetsetter​ @igothroughphasesalot​

[akaashisupremacy]

Chapter 2: Chasing Springtime (Summer)

Tsukki x fem!reader/Oc

genre: romance, angst, friends to lovers, lowkey nsfw (wc: 5072 lol)

Summary: Kei Tsukishima, now in college is reacquainting himself with a childhood friend. Old feelings that he has long shoved aside resurface.

Notes: Kaori Miyahara is an original character, but readers are free to put themselves into her shoes! There will be more chapters to come and let me know if you have any feedback or if you want to be in the taglist. 

Chap. 1 (Ao3) || Chap. 2 (AO3) || Chap. 3

Summer (July) || Sendai City || 2018

It was a warm summer evening in July. The gentle summer breeze swirled with a bit of humidity plied on Kei Tsukishima’s skin as he made his way into the train station. Usually buying a strawberry shortcake was an errand he readily undertook, but the day has been long and he was hungry that he was almost ready to neglect his errand. Besides, the anxiety building at the pit of his stomach as he walked towards the store was of no help.

As he selected a cake from the display stand, Tsukki tried to shake off his nerves. He was tired, worn and a little bit sticky, but today required special effort. Today was Kaori Miyahara’s birthday and he promised himself that he would surprise her with her (and his) favorite cake. He saw her regularly around the Sendai University campus, but he only ever hung out with her on Sundays. Today was Tuesday.

Tsukki was a second year college student playing professional volleyball in the Division 2 league. Since school was out, the training hours have extended themselves into the day. His schedule looked similar to a signed professional’s during his breaks, testing his stamina and his patience to their limits. His sport was fun, but sometimes it could be draining and Tsukki was the type of athlete who needed to rest.

The shopkeeper asked if he needed anything else. He requested for a candle to which she willingly obliged. He paid for his purchase and briskly walked in the direction of Kaori’s apartment which was located in a nearby residential street. He found his feet taking him into a dark brown door with a single pale of light lighting the doorstep. He rang the doorbell door.

A girl that barely hit the height of his chest opened the door. The smell of a maturing dinner wafted out into his Tsukki’s nose. He could hear the sizzling of meat and smell freshly cooked rice.

“Tsukki!” exclaimed a surprised Kaori. She looked like she just got home; she was still dressed in training shorts and her team shirt. Kaori trained with their university’s rhythmic gymnastics team.

“I didn’t expect you’d be dropping by,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the cooking, but her face looked drained. She too looked like she had a long day.

“I came over to drop this off. Happy birthday.” he said, handing her the paper bag containing the cake box. He tried to be cheerful in his tone, but Tsukki had never been great at being sunny.

“Thank you!” she smiled brightly, ”You really shouldn’t have-“ She stopped midway to take her cooking out of her pan and throw her windows open before rushing back to the door. The smoke from her pan had quickly filled her small room.

“You really shouldn’t have! I’m sorry to have caused you trouble on a weekday, I know how hard training is lately. Anyways, have you eaten dinner yet? Is your brother home for dinner?” she asked, with one hand holding the cake and another hand fanning herself. She had forgotten to put it down on her table.

Tsukki lived with his brother who was working in the city. They usually made dinner together.

Tsukki shook his head, “He’ll be out tonight. I’ll be heading home to get started on dinner. Sorry to bother you, I hope I didn’t distract from your cooking.” He shrugged his shoulders and put his hands in his pocket, slightly embarrassed that he had caused a ruckus in her home.

“Why don’t you stay over for dinner? I’ll make a little more teppanyaki beef.  Okasan came over last weekend and she brought over enough food to stuff my fridge.” she said, ushering him in. Tsukki tried not to show that the smoke lightly fogging his glasses was bothering him.  

Tsukki put down his bag and put himself to work. He filled two bowls with rice, plated some pickles and vegetables and helped her set the table as she made more beef. Kaori seemed to have run out of miso paste, so instead he made soup from powdered miso from her cupboard. This was the first time he’d been inside her home in the city.

While he helped her prepare their dinner, he quietly observed her little apartment, which was little more than a glorified room. Her dining room was her bedroom when her bed was rolled up. Her left wall was occupied by a desk and shelf stacked with books, memorabilia and some baskets of clothes. What looked like sliding doors to another room were where she kept her bed things and some clothes. Kaori was by no means big, but the room looked too small for her (at least in his eyes). The two of them making dinner off a minute counter quickly crowded the space.

Her apartment was drastically different from her old family home near Karasuno, just outside of the city which was a relatively spacious concrete home with wooden floors. The house had a backyard that was the size of a small half court. The house had multiple rooms and a wide receiving area. If Kaori did mind the size of her apartment, she did not show it. In fact, she was almost oblivious.

Once dinner was set, the absent sound of cooking begged to be filled by conversation. They sat down on her table on the tatami floor and began their dinner.

“How’s your birthday so far?” he asked. The table they were eating on was so small for Tsukki that even when his legs were folded and crossed, his knees would still touch Kaori’s toes. He felt conscious about touching her and moved himself back.

Kaori’s teammates had surprised her with some home-baked treats as birthday tokens, but other than that her training went on as usual. She proudly showed off some of the treats and told him a little about each team mate that gave it to her.

“How was your day? ” she asked in return.

“Nothing new,” he shrugged.

“Any ideas for internship plans for your senior year yet?” she asked. Tsukki was aiming to eventually enter a historical or science museum.

Kaori hesitated a bit, “When Okasan was here last weekend, she talked about her retirement plans. She is thinking of retiring in the Kansai region and I might move there after I graduated to be closer to her. I’m a bit concerned if I can get a job there considering our internship will be here.”

“So you’re moving again?” he asked as casually as he could. He could sense his nerves building while remembering Kaori’s last move. He had almost forgotten about that memory.

As far as Tsukki remembered, Kaori had moved a lot when she was in elementary. At one point her family lived overseas because of the nature of her Otoosan’s job. When she entered Junior High, her family moved into the house next to Tsukki’s family home. She stayed there until she abruptly left during their second year of high school which was the last time he saw her before college.

Kaori nodded, “Probably, if I can find a job in the region.”

Tsukki’s facial expression shifted. His face stiffened and then immediately erased any semblance of emotion.

“Is anything the matter?“ she asked, as she looked up from her food. She sensed his tension. She knew he was holding back.

“Nothing, it’s not my place to say. You should do what you like.” he said, shaking his head. He could sense his temper rising.

“Tsukki, I feel like you have something to say.” she said, treading carefully. Tsukki definitely had opinions even if he was quiet most of the time, “Just air it out.”

He put his bowl down unintentionally slamming it onto the table.

“ I can’t believe you’re moving…again! Every time things start to fall into place, you leave.” His voice was brimming with hurt and anger. His eyes were beginning to feel hot. It was taking all his control not to let angry tears roll down his eyes.

Kaori had never seen Tsukki so emotional. He kept trying to hold his outburst down without much success. Whenever he was disappointed or angry, Tsukki was always careful not to show it and now he had just exploded. She was stunned into silence.

“At least this time you’ve said it ahead of time, last time you didn’t even bother to say goodbye.” he said, crossing his arms and avoiding her eyes, “You just left.”

“Tsukki, I wanted to say goodbye. I had prepared to say my goodbyes to everyone -“ Kaori was pleading with her voice.

“You literally said goodbye to all you other friends except me!” he exclaimed with his hands.

Suddenly Tsukki felt like he was sixteen again, sitting in his high school classroom during lunch. He mentions to one his few friends that he had not seen Kaori yet after summer ended. A friend replies that Kaori had moved away during the break. Surprised that Tsukki had not known, his friend asked if Kaori had spoken anything about her move. Tsukki sits on his desk shocked and unable to process what he had just heard.  

Tsukki remembered being asked to walk with Kaori to school on their first day of Junior High. His mother informed him that their new neighbors had a daughter that would be attending the same school.

“Moving to some place is always hard, it would be nice if you can be a friend to the Miyahara girl.” she said.

Tsukki grudgingly obliged to walk her to school on the said day, barely talking to her on the way there. Although he only promised to walk with her on the first day, they somehow left for school almost the same time every day. And so for all three years of Junior High, they walked to school together. Their friendship wasn’t particularly chatty, but Tsukki knew about Kaori’s dream to qualify for the national team for gymnastics and secretly thought it was cool whenever she got invited to selection camps. Kaori learned about Tsukki’s admiration for his older brother who played volleyball and was not surprised to find that he had barely made any friends in his volleyball youth group.

“Tsukki, I think your experience at volleyball would be richer if you made more friends.” she said, looking up to the sky with her hands in her pockets on their way to school, “I wish I could have teammates, you know. In gymnastics even your teammates are your competitors so it can be difficult to find lots of support from them during high pressure moments.”

Some time in their first year at Junior High, Kaori was invited to a selection camp for junior level gymnasts hoping to compete internationally. She found the experience stressful.

“Then why don’t you just join a team?” he asked. That seemed like a pretty obvious solution.

“Coach says I can better polish my individual skills if I work alone. Group routines take longer to choreograph and clean,” she sighed, “Joining a team will require me to learn a different skill set too. We don’t really do teams for individual competitions if you’re qualifying for elite.”

“See even your coach thinks team mates are unnecessary for improvement.” he pointed out.

Kaori retorted that it was because she competed in an individual sport.

“You compete with a team. You can’t compete alone.”

“Whatever, I still think I don’t need to be friends with my team.” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s like you weren’t listening to what I just said,” she said with her hands on her hips as she stopped walking. Tsukki ignored her and continued strolling to the direction of their school.

“Hey! You can’t just pretend not to hear me.” she exclaimed, with her hands still on her hips.

“Yes, yes I can.” he called out, turning his nose to the sky.

“You can be such a snob sometimes,” she said, her nostrils flaring while running to catch up with Tsukki’s long strides.

Tsukki chuckled on the inside as he walked slower so Kaori could catch up.

They began drifting apart in High School when Tsukki could no longer regularly walk to school with her because he had morning training. Still they tried to keep in touch, Kaori would sometimes go to his games and he would keep tabs on her competition scores. After summer training ended in his second year, he noticed he hadn’t seen the light in their house for a while. He heard about her move at school and hurriedly asked his mother as soon as he got home to confirm if it was true. His mother validated that the Miyahara family moved away because her parents had separated. Kaori would be living with her mother, who got a job somewhere else in another city.

“I was so tired by the end of it all explaining why I was leaving them that when it came to saying goodbye to you, I couldn’t do it anymore. I was so so tired of having to keep explaining a move I didn’t even want. I felt that we had drifted apart and that was excuse enough not to tell you at that time.”

Kaori looked worn. She had not anticipated Tsukki’s reaction. With her back against the wall, she could not decide between letting Tsukki vent or airing her own frustrations about him. She decided to pick up another piece of beef and continued chewing, too tired to do more than ignore the conflict at hand.

“Kaori, we’re next door neighbors. Could you really not have said anything?!” he snapped. His eyes glared at her intently. Tsukki did not have many friends so he felt particularly betrayed by her sudden move.

His last line incensed Kaori. She forcefully stabbed her chopsticks into her bowl of rice and crossed her arms. She couldn’t believe he was laying all the blame on her. Part of the reason they had drifted apart was him too.

“Tsukki, we barely talked during High School. We were both busy and you weren’t making time for me either. Qualifying for Nationals in important and hard work on your end, but you can’t just toss people aside while you compete. You would never even talk to me at school, because you were afraid that people would tease you about it like they did in Junior High. It made me feel like you had outgrown me. Every time I tried to reach out it felt like you were pushing me away.

I know and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was only thinking of myself. I didn’t think you’d be so affected by my move. ” she said. Tears started welling up in her eyes. He realized too late that he went too far. Kaori was clearly hurt. His anger shifted to guilt.

“I was just so tired, Tsukki. My parents had been fighting all the time for years at that point and they were getting divorced during our first year. I was pretending that everything was alright even if I’ve been wearing thin all of freshman year.” she continued, not meeting his eye. She buried her face in her hands, sighing heavily.

Kaori knew from the moment she decided not to let Tsukki know that it would eventually backfire if they had met again and that moment had definitely arrived.

Tsukki slowly regained his composure. He didn’t mean to yell at her on her birthday. He hadn’t expected that he would be confronting the resentment that he held for her tonight and now that he finally did it his anger was slowly evaporating. He pulled the box of tissue beside him and handed it to her. He hated to cry and he even felt worse that he reduced her to tears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out.” he sighed, his temper finally cooling. He stood up to make another pot of tea to make himself useful. After adding more cold water and some ice onto her small pitcher of mugi cha, he poured the drink into her cup and gently pushed it towards her.

“I was so hopelessly attracted to you for so long, but I preferred to just shove things down.  I liked you so much that I didn’t know how to deal with it when you suddenly left. At the end of the day, you don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t even have to apologize.” he acknowledged, nodding his head.

Kaori was quiet for a long while after that. At a loss at what to do next, Tsukki  awkwardly kept eating his dinner in silence. When they were done, he brought out the cake and lit a candle for her to blow. She looked at the cake thoughtfully and waited a bit before she blew it out. She silently cut the cake in half, giving a slice to Tsukki, who started clearing dishes into the sink to make room for dessert.

“Where do we go from here? What do we do now?” she said in a subdued tone, not meeting his eye. Dinner was so still that one could hear the soft clacking of utensils on plates. Tsukki was tempted to wash her dishes to avoid any more conversation.

The two only ever met up every couple of Sundays under the guise of aiming to explore more museums in the area. Any conversation they had were usually related to school work or their current living situation.

“Well…ahh” Tsukki stammered, “We always talk about what we’re doing now, but we haven’t really caught up on the things we’ve done when we were apart….”

He was conscious of his wording as not to put the blame of being away on Kaori, “Do you want to start there?”

What supposedly began as a quick weeknight dinner dragged into the night. Kaori narrated how she was injured through most of her high school gymnastics career from a combination of pacing, stress and growth spurts which made her determined to pursue gymnastics through college so that she could have another chance to rediscover her love for the sport. Since she joined her current team, her training was lighter allowing her to be healthier.

“I’m doing so much better I feel like I’m having a resurgence of sorts. Competitive gymnastics is not really a long term career so to still be doing this now makes me feel so happy,” her eyes glistened as she spoke, “I can’t do all the tricks I used to do but I’m the healthiest I’ve been in a long while.”

She turned around and lifted her shirt a bit to show him her back. It was a slim back with some athletic tape here and there.

“I used to be covered in tape, like it was the only thing holding me together. Now, I feel so much stronger.” Kaori beamed as she talked about her health. Tsukki vaguely remembered a time in High School where she lost her spark for gymnastics.

“I mean if you’ve been in sports rehab for most of High School I should hope you really did come out stronger,” he said, sipping his tea.

Kaori put her shirt back down and patted herself, “That is true, but I don’t expect you to understand since you’ve had a relatively healthy career. What about you?”

Tsukki was slightly taken aback but tried not to show it. He talked about qualifying for nationals all three years of his high school career and how he found his passion for volleyball. In Junior High, he felt like he was only playing because he needed something to do, but that changed during the finals for his first prefectural.

“Nobody thought we could beat Shiratorizawa High because they’ve been unbeatable in the finals at the prefectural level the past three years, even I thought we were going to lose. When I learned how to block his spikes and play against them, we won. That really changed the sport for me. It stopped being just a club. I realized how much I liked playing and winning.”

“It’s still not fun all the time, but it started becoming fun some times.” he added.

Tsukki briefly touched on how he was recruited to play professionally in Division 2, which was a far less exciting story than qualifying for his first Nationals.

Their conversation kept going and they began talking about their future plans for after college. Kaori explained why she was so adamant to be near her mother and how she found it difficult to be away from her so long now that she worked in another region.

“After my parents divorced, I felt very lost. I knew I was a child, but I had no choice but to be an adult. After she started getting part, I was set to start out college and she moved south. I want to get some time with my mom back. It’s very important to me Tsukki.

When she retires, she might not like it here in Japan so she might just move back home to be with the rest of her family. She said she might stay in Japan for a couple of years in her retirement to give it a shot.”

Tsukki stated that he would like to work for a museum and that he was aiming for Sendai City Museum. He wasn’t really sure if that would pan out with his professional contract, but he is quite looking forward it.

The night ended quite late with Tsukki standing just outside her door. He had felt much lighter than when he first stepped foot into her apartment earlier that evening but he also felt more exhausted. Not only was he physically drained, but the emotional weight of the evening was wearing on him.

“If you really want to move to Kansai, I’ll move with you.” he said in all earnestness. Tsukki caught himself after he made his promise, “Depending how things pan out I guess.”

Kaori was caught off guard. It was near impossible to get him to be expressive and vulnerable and here he was promising to plan his future with her.

“What about your career? How will you continue to play volleyball professionally if you move?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“We can talk more about this another time. I don’t have to play professionally. I can just find another league. I’m not sure I can keep playing like this after I do get a normal job.” he shrugged.

“Really?“ she smiled brightly.

“Kaori I just said I would,” he said, raising his eyebrows, his cool had returned after an evening of being unnerved.

“It wasn’t loud enough. Could you say it again? I don’t think I heard you right the first time,” she teased, laughing while cupping her ears closer to him.

“You’ll have to wait another day.” he nodded while tilting his head and turning his back on her, “See you on Sunday.”

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

Summer (August)

Sendai City

2020

On a rainy August afternoon, the change of weather had finally eased the sizzling pavement of its heat. The unyielding sun and the dry air gave way to a cooler temperature made it an easy enough day to spend under light summer blankets.

Although there was a little bit of sun out, Kaori’s apartment was barely lit. Her curtains were drawn and the lights were off. The only sliver of light in the apartment escaped from a part of her window that could not be covered. The light barely grazed Tsukki’s head, illuminating the strands of his hair.

Despite the darkness, Kaori was aware of exactly where Tsukki was. He was laying on his side atop of her futon bed with a thin blanket covering most of him. She could see the outline of his toned body draped beside her. He had one hand on her waist and another running back and forth her hair and her spine.

“I called Okasan to tell her that I would like to work a bit in Sendai before I move to Kansai. I told her it might be easier to get my start here since I’ll be doing my internship in the area. She must have sensed that I’m seeing someone because she immediately told me to make sure that I put my career ahead of my priorities,“ she sighed her forehead pressed against his throat. She could feel his throat rise and fall as he listened to her.

“She went on a tirade cautioning me about getting into a serious relationship too early. She went on about me being in the age of curiosity - a time to explore what I like and don’t like. Now was not the time to be committing to something I might later regret was what she said.” Kaori murmured, her hand around his neck while she lay across him. She could feel his fingers continually running through her hair and bare back as she talked.

“I’m sure the advice was well-meaning.” he murmured into her ear, his fingers drawing shapes on her hips and lower back.

“Do you think she really knows?” her tone sounded a bit troubled.

Tsukki adjusted his glasses and gently pushed her away to look into her eyes, “She is probably just casting out a wide net honestly. I don’t think it’s anything to be worried about.”

In truth there was probably no repercussion if Kaori’s mother found out she was seeing someone. Kaori was just intensely private about her personal life and she felt mortified at the thought that her mother would know about her relationship.

“Do you ever get curious though?” Kaori asked.

“Curious about what?” said Tsukki, looking somewhat confused. He kicked the blankets down to his feet which were barely covered just because he was just too tall for her blanket. Kaori instinctively covered herself as her blanket slid down. Tsukki, grabbed his jacket from his side and covered her.

“What it’s like to be with other girls? Athletes have lots of fans, right?” she asked, only half paying attention.

Tsukki thought back to incidents with fans. He did remember hearing his name occasionally from the spectators during big matches. There would be girls trying to go up to talk to him every now and then and he opted to ignore them or shake them off.

“I don’t have the time nor the interest to entertain romantically interested fans frankly. Even when there were girls approaching me in high school, I thought it was just annoying,” he said, scratching his head, “I think Yamaguchi would have been a better audience for their attention honestly.”

Yamaguchi was his best friend and teammate from his High School Volleyball Club. One of his pet peeves was that girls would often approach him to ask about Tsukki. Tsukki felt that Yamaguchi was probably more suited to the attention Tsukki received from girls his age.

Tsukki was puzzled by the direction of the conversation especially considering how they had just spent the afternoon together. Just thinking about the intense pleasure he had experienced half an hour ago made tingles up his spine. How could he be thinking about other women during an hour like this?

“Are you actually jealous of my ‘fans’ ?” he smirked, then feigned shock, “I didn’t think you’d ever be the jealous type. My my!”

Kaori punched his ribs.

“You play in a Division 2 league, get over yourself.” she huffed, turning her back on him. Tsukki didn’t even play in the top tier professional league. There were more tiny children asking for his autographs than women shrieking for his attention. “You’re not Kageyama.”

“I’ve known you since we were in Junior High. If I was more curious I think I’d opt to look for someone I didn’t know as well or maybe a flashier girl…maybe I am the country bumpkin simpleton you tease me to be.” he said, “If country bumpkin equates to my lack of attachment to fame and attention.”

He tried to put his arm around her waist to draw her back to him. Kaori instantly swatted his hand away. Tsukki resigned to himself and lay flat on his back with his arms on his head.

“I mean I wasn’t even looking for a relationship, we kind of just stumbled onto each other. I really like you, I do but if we hadn’t been seeing each other I wouldn’t be actively going around searching for someone to date.”

He flipped the question onto her.

“How do you feel about your fans? Are you curious what it would be like to date one of the people cheering for you in the stands.”

“Not really? I mean I feel thankful and respectful for the people cheering me on, but honestly I’ve never thought about being romantically linked to any of them. Liking the same sport is not a good foundation for a relationship.

Also, the majority of gymnastic fans are either hardcore fans of the sport, former gymnasts or families of budding gymnasts. There are very few casual fans looking for a date in the audience, you know?” she said, turning towards him with her arms crossed.

“Oh wow, that’s very balanced of you.” he said.

“Are you not curious?” He asked, suddenly conscious of being her lover.

“Curiosity doesn’t always pay off.” she swiftly answered, “Every guy that has tried to ask me out either looks like trouble or believes me to be a different person from who I am.”

Kaori thought back to the time her friend tried to set her up on a double date with a guy that asked her to be more “kawaii” and lady-like because he felt she was taking too big a bite of her food. The boy thought she would be more attractive if she demurred herself. The experience made her shudder at the audacity of men.

“Does that mean I look like trouble?” he gasped, faking his dramatics.

“No, you’re too anti-social to cause trouble.” she laughed.

“Then are you not content with me?” he followed up.

Kaori quickly paused to think and said, “I am.”

Tsukki moved over closer to her, covering her body with his. Kaori wrapped her arms around his neck as he pressed himself onto her. He could feel her breathing in his skin.

“Then I don’t see what’s the problem.” he said, planting a kiss along her neck.

[kinetic-elaboration]

December 29: The Wrath of Khan

Today’s movie watching was Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

My overall impression versus TMP is that this is clearly a smoother and more consistently entertaining film. It has a definite story with very little filler, good pacing, a lot of great little dialogue and character moments, and a strong conflict at its center.

But its sci fi bona fides are much weaker. Like by a lot.

Mom and I are talking a bit about Genesis and the more we talk, the weaker it appears to me. First, it’s not really as believable, imo, as a lot of Star Trek. Maybe it’s because it’s not alien based, but I just have a harder time suspending disbelief to think this is possible. Second, it’s not clear why anyone thought this was a good idea. I mean, as McCoy immediately pointed out, it just seems so CLEARLY dangerous: an object meant to foster creation that could so easily be the worst weapon the universe has ever known--nothing could go awry there! Third, the reason for creating such a device isn’t obvious at all. Carol mentions the “growing population” and “food scarcity” but nothing we’ve ever seen of the Federation implies they’re running out of space. Or, frankly (Tarsus IV aside), food. And fourth, there really isn’t any point to Genesis in all its particulars in this film. Like, obviously, its actual purpose is a plot device to resurrect Spock. Within just this film, it doesn’t do anything. Khan wants it, for some reason I’ve already forgotten even though I just saw the film, and he gets it, but I didn’t even notice that happening, because it was so unimportant. His REAL mission is his single minded revenge fantasy on Kirk. Genesis is just a McGuffin/space filler/plot device for the next film.

And honestly that’s not such a big deal, except that when you compare it to TMP, ,and its central idea of a human made probe that gained so much knowledge, doing what we taught it to do, that it became sentient and then started searching for the meaning of life, and how this relates to the search for meaning experienced by the main alien lead, and how his search, in that film and throughout the series, is a mirror for humans and OUR need for purpose... well it just seems really weak. “We made this really dangerous and unrealistic thing for no reason whoops!”

Mom is now criticizing Kirk for being too slow on the uptake when he first encounters the Reliant, which is fair. That’s pretty OOC of him. The idea that he’s too old for space is both one that I must personally disregard, and one that the film would have you discard, since we’ve already heard from TWO characters, the people who know him best, that his best destiny is as a starship captain, and command is his proper role. And that he might be a little rusty is also not a great explanation imo, because the rust was supposed to have come off in TMP. So, plot hole probably.

We were trying to do some math--TMP is at least 2 years post 5YM and TWOK is at least 10 years post TMP, so at least 8 years post TMP. I can understand more rust growing but like... he was already an Admiral in TMP and the idea that he was out of practice with actual command was a big part of his arc there. So it doesn’t seem warranted to do that again.

Also, the way he was commanding poorly in TMP was very IC: he was pushing too hard, trying too much, caring too much about the mission and not enough about...the laws of physics. That’s very Kirk. Being slow on the uptake, caught with his britches down--that’s not Kirk. Plus, with no one to call him out on it, like Decker did in TMP, his poor command doesn’t seem like a big character obstacle to overcome but just like...sloppiness all around.

I thought Khan was over all... just not that interesting. I guess I’m just not into the obsession/revenge plot. Also...idk man he didn’t seem that super to me. He outsmarted Kirk, like, once, and Kirk outsmarted him like 4 times. He tortured some people--but regular humans can do that. He used those sandworm thingies, which is also something humans could do. Overall, he didn’t seem to have any particularly special skills. The only time he really seemed like a worthy adversary for Kirk was when Kirk wasn’t really being IC himself.

I’m also not into the fridging of his wife. Think how much cooler it would have been if she’d still been alive! The only non-super human in the bunch and she’s still there! Ex-Starfleet and bitter!

The K/S in this film is very soothing. Imo they are clearly together here, and the whole film is better if you assume they’re boyfriends and everyone knows. That Vulcan convo that Spock and Saavik have? Waaaaay funnier if you think she’s talking about his boyfriend (”not what I expected....very human” “Well no one’s perfect”). Every time they call each other ‘friend’ like ““friend”“? All the Looks? The birthday gift?

Also the “I have been and always shall be your [friend]” scene is a wedding I will not be taking criticism on this opinion. Could it have been written more like a vow? I think not. It’s not quite This Simple Feeling but it’s the best this film has in that regard.

I liked Saavik and I do think she’s one of the better later-movie additions (though I only like her, as far as I can remember, when played by Kirstie Alley). She didn’t necessarily strike me as super alien, though, at least not at first... But I appreciated how persistent she was about the stupid test, and her regulation quoting. I enjoyed her. I also liked how she was obviously Spock’s protege, which makes her Kirk’s step-protege, and they had just a little bit of that awkward dynamic going on. (”Did you change your hair?”)

The Bones and Kirk relationship was great in this film. You can really feel their friendship and their history with each other. Bones knows him so well and can be honest with him, just when Kirk needs it most.

I also love how Kirk has the SAME conversation with both Bones and Spock (re: being a captain again) but with Spock it’s sooooo much flirtier. In case you weren’t sure what the difference in these two relationships is.

Bonus: this bit of dialogue: Spock: “Be careful, Jim.” / Bones: “WE will.” Lol Spock people who aren’t your boyfriend do exist.

Obviously, I cried during THAT scene. Honestly AOS should have taken note about how to do emotional scenes like that: they come after the main action is over and the villain is defeated. Then they hit at the right time and to the right degree. Kirk just slumping down after Spock dies....like he’s boneless...like he doesn’t know what to do... I CANNOT.

I feel so bad for him that I’ll even forgive him that awful eulogy. Spock died for Genesis? Uh, no, he died for the Enterprise, and for YOU. Spock is the “most human”? You shut your whoreson mouth

I remember hating both Carol and David but I actually hated them less this time, Carol especially. My mom is being really harsh about her, though, which makes me feel less confident in my assessment. I mean first off, she’s the inventor of Genesis, which is a pretty big strike against her. Second...pretty lame to keep Kirk from David. Although I did some vague math and Kirk would only have been about 21, still in the Academy, when David was born, so you can see how that would work out. Also, she distinctly says “Were we together?” which means they were not--this was a fuck buddy arrangement for sure. More complicated. But it still feels weird to retcon that, like, he’s known THIS WHOLE TIME that he’s a dad and we’re only learning about it now, as an audience.

Anyway I’m getting off track. Carol. What to make of her? Is she unstable? Is she still mad at Kirk? My mom points out that she just decided on her own that David would want to join Starfleet if he knew Kirk was his father--whereas what seems to have happened instead is he didn’t just become a civilian scientist like his mom but became her specific protege--working on a project where everyone was probably handpicked by her? I would assume? Also..he hates Starfleet. Not to put everything on the mom, but how did that happen?

Also...going down the rabbit hole of this and feeling awkward about it... but David KNEW Kirk. As “that guy you hung around with.” That means Kirk was in his life for quite a while, long enough for him to have memories, and long enough for those memories to still be with him even into his 20s. But he was never allowed to know who Kirk was. That means Carol’s rule must have been “You can see your son but you can’t tell him who you are” which in some way seems meaner to me than just “please don’t contact us again.” If he was already on his way into space, that could even make sense--”I know you’re not going to be able to be a family with us, so let’s not pretend, let’s make a clean break now.” But that wasn’t what happened!

Anyway whatever not to be HAICG!Kirk about this or anything lol

David is mostly annoying because he’s so anti-Kirk lol. I found him least annoying when he came around to Kirk at the end. Another big strike against him: he wore his sweater tied over his shoulders in such a Preppy manner. I honestly don’t see what about him is supposed to be reminiscent of Kirk.

David/Saavik was definitely happening lol. I wish I could have heard that conversation. It sounds like she told him a lot!!! Not sure why she attached herself to this particular annoying human so fast but I guess she did.

....I think that might be all. The uniforms and general styling were much better than TMP (though less funny/entertaining), and it was certainly an enjoyable overall yarn. A lot to pick apart and critique but in a fun way. Will probably watch The Search for Spock soon.

[piracytheorist]

My Notes on Rewatching “Call Girl”

I amuse myself by thinking that watching this film is an important rite of passage for anyone who’s an all-in Colin fan, as in, one who’ll watch anything and everything he’s in, no matter the content, theme or quality.

I actually used to think that this was a pretty bad movie... but, as you might have seen from my last few posts, I recently realized this isn’t the case. Sure, it is not your average short film, but breaking it down you realize it’s doing most things right from a filmmaking point. I mean, you don’t have to love it, but it does a great job overall.

And I mean, it’s got Colin in it. How bad can it be? ;)

Beware of spoilers, if you haven’t seen the film. And if you do wanna see it, here it is :D

~

I'm still surprised that... this is it. That's Colin freaking O'Donoghue right there. The pirate. The cowboy. The astronaut. The man the myth the legend.

Ah, early 00's.

Wait. Ok let's make a breakdown of the decoration here. There's: 1) a heart anatomy poster 2) a frame with an undiscernible picture 3) IS THAT AN ASTRONAUT FIGURE? dun_dun_dun.mp3 4) a small penguin (?) plushie with a nautical (?) hat on it 5) are those... mantis figurines stuck on the sides of the screen????

Oooooh boy you sure have some very specific decorations on your desk.

The music stops abruptly when Brendan's mother calls out to him to not close the door because she wants to see him studying. That's interesting. Also how old is Brennan supposed to be? Is he supposed to be in high school, or an adult in college? What was the age of consent in Ireland in 2003?

This vibe, though. White perfect shirt and dark vest...

The look of "I'm gonna look at hot girls with my bedroom's door open while my parents argue across the hall" ALSO YES THAT'S A MANTIS

This just makes me laugh so much. Can you imagine sweet innocent (mostly) virgin Brendan typing it and his heartbeat skyrocketing?

Seriously though, that "Welcome back Brendan" thing. With one small addition you add a whole point in his backstory about him trying to deal with his urges.

Jesus I have forgotten so much. As soon as Brendan hears his mother coming, he immediately clicks "Dump her" on the "Virtual Babe" and it just... explodes. 

With a full low-quality boom sound effect to boot. Like seriously if you were trying to hide why the f have your speakers on. You had one job, Brendan.

A rare glimpse into Brendan's room, and I'm trying to understand what the pattern on his sheets are. Maybe I'm just confused by the astronaut figurine, but it looks... vaguely... about space? Like, if you squint, the circular thing on the top left looks like Saturn's rings. No?

Also, Brendan's mom being obsessed with disinfection. That was 2003.

"I don't want filth getting into my house while I'm gone." And two hours later, her son has sex on her bed.

Oh wait, his father says "The only contact [Brendan] has with the outside world is through that bloody computer of his," in a... weird, tone? Like he's trying to placate the mother's fears of any rave party suddenly taking place in the house, but also with his tone (and maybe by using the word "bloody"? idk I'm no native speaker but it piques my interest) it doesn't seem like he's very... understanding and/or supportive of his probably very shy and/or socially awkward son.

Mom: That reminds me, block off the internet, will you? Dad: *scoffs* Why not lock him in a tower while you're at it?

He is sassy though!

Lookit him though! So sad he won't be able to create and look at Virtual BabesTM while his parents are gone.

The parent's accents strike me more towards a British one and I got confused for a bit, but then I remembered that we see Brendan use euros later, lol.

*hatching the plan to search in his father's briefcase for any cards for escort services*

This is where I started feeling that this movie is better than I’d remembered. Like, it does the job of delivering Brendan's guilt over "tresspassing" into his parents room and disobeying his mother, as well as his fear of being discovered, even though he watched his parents drive away, so he'd hear the car if they came back, in a pretty well-done and clear way.

I love how he immediately knows exactly where to look. His father's such an organized fella. Also those pills that he seems to not need immediately (thus leaving them behind for the weekend) are... something. They're put there for a reason and I wonder what that could have been.

There's not even a moment of hesitation, once he opens the briefcase. He doesn't put the card back in, he only looks briefly at his parents' photo but then he's like "Yeah. I'm doing it."

That smile as he sees the card though, lol. 

Casual reminder to have safe sex, lads.

And then the phone operator is like, full business mode. Brendan stutters for one (1) second and she's immediately like, "You want a girl?" She's like, I've had tons of people like you, lad, can't waste my time waiting until you find the courage to ask. You wanna hire or not?

OH MY GOD I JUST REALIZED The operator asks for the address, Brendan gives it, then asks how much does it cost. Then the operator says "Same as usual." BRUH she knew the address from how often his father used the service!

And then poor Brendan checks his savings and his "Uh..." says it all about how he wishes he could hire someone for longer than an hour. Bro, calm down. It's your first time.

And then he's like, waiting all anxiously by the door. I've never hired an escort service but I feel ya dude.

And of course Barbara the nosy neighbor, here to bring us to the edge of our seats, lol.

Look at how organized their fridge is. Why is that chick suddenly so eager to cook something for him? There looks to be so much food already prepared in there.

And dude. This movie has set-ups. Barbara tries to open a cupboard to like pick up ingredients to cook something, and Brendan, with a sudden "No!" rushes in and closes it. It only makes sense later, when we see that that's where he hid the money for the call girl.

Yikes she booped his nose as she left... what is he, ten? I mean even if he's supposed to be a teen here it's still... like... he's not a little boy to fucking boop his nose. No wonder her mother seems to trust her with taking care of him, with how both treat him like he's a child.

Hi there! You're gonna die :D

Shit I just noticed the portrait on the wall. Is that a... is that a fucking ruff collar his mother is wearing???? (btw I had to search to find that term with "shakespeare collar" XD)

I mean... you can't help falling for it. At first you're like, she seems too... simple for a call girl. But then you're like, who else could it be who also knows his name?

I wonder what would've happened if she hadn't asked to use the bathroom, which prompted her to look at his parents' bedroom and him to... initiate contact. Would he have mustered the courage to actually ask her about it or would he have been so flustered until she'd say something? What would she say? "You know, your mother said you would [something]" and he would FREAK THE FUCK OUT because how does his mother know? Would they have stayed there in awkward silence long enough for his mother to call, him to pick up and find out what she was really there for?

I mean, look at that! I'm speculacting the "what-ifs"! Good fucking movie!

That look, though. You suddenly go from "Aw you cute" to "WTF I know you're thirsty for it but that's... creepy"

Look at that smile, though! She is pretty nosy!

I just... I love everything about this. The way she's smiling at nosing in in her boss' bedroom. Him creeping behind her like the future killer that he is, actually scaring her. The way he says "This is my mother's room," so shy and collected. The fucking music, too. How it slowly builds up from the moment she spots the bedroom and it starts developing when Brendan kisses her.

And that kiss. So chaste and shy and yet she's like, wow yeah let's have sex now.

"You're not as shy as you look." LOL

For the pre-sex scene I just wanna link y'all to @killian-whump 's post about it, since it says it all.

Also dude the voicemail is set up from that moment too, but we've yet to hear what it includes, aside from his mother being bossy about the smallest things. "I hope you haven't gone back to bed." IF ONLY YOU KNEW. Not only what bed he's gone to, but also what he's doing on said bed.

"You don't waste much time, do you?" Lol if only you knew. And again his first response is to apologize if he did anything wrong.

And you know what? Plot twists are a hell of a lot of fun and well made when they make you go back and see things with the new perspective. Like, how chill and simple she was, why she said the last line I mentioned, the newly-known reasons why she said it was kinky to have sex in his mother's bedroom... *slams hand on table* That's a great way to do a plot twist! A fucking plus!

Like seriously, this convo: B: Have you met my father? M: No, but a lot of the other girls have though.

Pre-plot twist viewer: Wow whAT how do you say it like that Post-plot twist viewer: Yeah makes sense

M: I think he gets sympathy from them, like, you know, cause his wife's such an old witch... *realizes* Oh, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that! *more failed excuses and then THAT face*

And like, that's a bit inappropriate in any case but pre-plot twist you're like WTAF. And then you're like eh makes sense for frustrated employees to pity their bitchy boss' seemingly calm husband...

And there's that set-up from before. Job well done, film.

And then their argument about the money. Brendan being confused about the amount, Mandy saying she'll come back and speak to his mother about it...

Seriously though what if he'd found out the voicemail after he'd had sex and before the "confrontation"? Would he like, have sent her on her merry way with all the money and then had more sex with the actual call girl?

And then his instinct, to try and make sure his mother won't find out, is to fucking threaten the woman with a knife. Wow, a little too much, Brendan. And then his first instinct, when they're fighting, is to search and grab the knife and fucking stab her. Lbr though that's just baby Colin finding his call for playing messed-up characters.

Also how did she die so quickly. Guess I found one weakness in the plot XD

And now you're like Jesus he just murdered her but when Barbara comes a-knocking and he looks at her and exasperatedly calls her name, you're like... same, bro.

And the stupid bastard didn't even wash the blood off his arm. Like seriously, Brendan, either do a murder correctly or don't do it at all. At least you can't say he wasn't dedicated, bro sliced his own arm open. *pats head* you'll learn, my little murderous bean, you'll learn.

Brendan: I was doing the dishes. Barbara: Did your parents leave them for you to do? They must have left in a rush this morning.

Yes, Barbara, he can do the dishes, he's in an undetermined age between late teens and-

Barbara: They didn't even make their bed.

Wtf you nosy bitch.

See what I'm saying? Full character development for a character with like, two minutes of screentime.

And then the voicemail drops like an anvil. My first thought when his mother said that Mandy is nothing but trouble I was like "Yo look who's talking" but then I thought that... yeah she did creep in her boss' bedroom, actually had sex with her son in it, then pretty much talked dirt to him about her... I mean she definitely didn't deserve to die, but maybe his mother was a good judge of character for one (1) moment.

And then Lorraine appears.

And Brendan's like "Now I have money for like, three hours with her. Maybe I'll even convince her to help me hide the body too."

“OR MAYBE I’LL JUST KILL HER TOO.”

In conlusion, yup, I’m pretty glad I spent a good hour and a bit watching, analyzing, writing this review and screencapping this film. 10/10 would rewatch and review again.