#speaking of missing one's friends i just logged on my account and searched my name and cliked the ''show only ppl you follow' option

[pickapea]

literally me omg

not at my shady ass fading into the shadows of obscurity 🤣🤣🤣

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Speak my Language (Fellowship x Hurt! Reader)

Synopsis: After being ambushed by orcs, you are left alone at your isolated camp to bleed out. However, your loyal friend, a “tyger” from Far Harad, has other plans in mind—tracking down another camp nearby, comprised of nine warriors, in search of aid for you.

Pairings: a bit of Legolas x Reader. I’m a simp for him, okay?

Warnings: blood, mentions of an attack, hurt/comfort

The attack came too fast and too swiftly. Orcs weren’t supposed to reside in this area of the forest, or so you thought. It was almost as if something were driving them to your location, like dolphins chasing down fish to the shores of oceans.

Whatever may be the case, and whoever the fish in this scenario were, you were the one left severely injured.

It started with a flickering of your tyger’s ear. Comrade, as you named him, was an exotic breed of big cat, from the furthermost southern jungles of Far Harad, where the likes of oliphaunts also roamed.

You had met the large orange, striped cat on a mission to spring all kinds of animals free on the southern shores of Middle-earth. The Haradrim were responsible for this illegal smuggling trade, though you knew someone far larger was behind it.

A mystery was unfolding in Middle-earth before your eyes. Orcs in odd locations, secret illicit activities in dark harbours, and a growing disbalance in the ecosystem.

Setting the stampeding oliphaunts loose, the wooden crates on the foggy harbour soon burst into chaos. Men ran everywhere, both trying to save themselves and their jobs.

As ropes and hooks were cast into the grey flesh of the loudly trumpeting beasts, you snuck out. However, on your escape route, a rabid, hissing animal caught your attention.

You had never seen a cat like him before, and knew instantly he was out of sorts amongst the scenery of Middle-earth. What on earth would he need stripes to blend in with? You figured he was more used to tall savannahs, if anything.

Tentatively, and knowing all could go wrong for yourself, you unlatched the lock containing your soon-to-be friend.

He leapt out and crouched lowly before you, arching his back and sizing up your neck. His teeth were large and yellow at the gums, as he flashed them viciously.

However, making the first move, you slowly showed him your empty hands, and kneeled down. A slight change in his attitude was present, as his hisses ceased and his ears unpinned themselves.

And when a Haradrim man came at you, well, all that was left were ribbons of flesh and a new partner for you.

Ever your noble protector, Comrade lifted his head from your lap, where you were running your hands through his now twitching ears.

“What is it, boy?” you cooed, tracing the black stripes on his head.

A low growl had begun to form at the back of his throat, and you stilled your hand. Though a level of trust had been formed between you both throughout the three years you walked alongside him, he was still a wild animal at the end of the day.

You took into account the twitching of his tail, and your heart stopped. You always feared Comrade might one day turn around and attack you like he did to those Haradrim. Small housecats were bad enough with mood-swings as it was.

Eyeing up his large paws, where claws the size of small shanks appeared, you grew clammy. However, a distant snapping of a branch beyond the dark trees both settled and rose your nerves.

Glancing up from Comrade, you followed his keen line of sight past your little campfire. You stared for what felt like minutes, until another branch snapping sounded the alarms.

Comrade immediately lifted himself from your lap, and stood tall. The power in his sudden movement scared you, and you found yourself jolting to your own feet.

All you had on you was a small dagger, for you liked to think of yourself as a “wise pacifist”.

You drew it in front of yourself, and scared breaths racked your chest. Comrade was pacing the dirt in front of you, eyes forever trained on the forest, tail swishing.

And then, the attack came.

A slaughter occurred between the trees and before the fire, and though you managed to assist with many kills, Comrade in the end was the clear victor.

However, one tyger against ten orcs was not entirely fair.

In the aftermath, you found yourself with your back rested against a tree—your hand clutching a dagger in your abdomen.

Orcs bodies lay strewn around, some missing heads, others with their intestines spilled on the upturned dirt. Most, however, had their jugulars torn out.

Comrade had just put to rest his last orc, and turned his panting, blood-soaked snout back to you at the sound of a small whimper. The previously feral glint in his eyes subsided, as he observed your mewling state.

Your hand clutched the pommel of the dagger, as you struggled to not look at it—favouring to keep your eyes screwed shut instead, and your chin lifted high.

He immediately thudded one paw in front of the other, as he came to stand beside you. He sniffed the dagger, and made a small sound reminiscent of chuffing to your face. He nudged his nose with your cheek, willing you to look at him.

When you did, you found amber eyes, brimming with concern, looking back at you.

“I wasn’t fast enough,” you tried with a small smile, but mewled again through the pain of speaking.

He chuffed once more, and tried to inspect the dagger. You gently pushed his head away, knowing there wasn’t much he could do.

Understanding the severity of your state, he lifted his neck and stood tall. Flickering his ears in all directions, Comrade scoped out the forest. He could hear the sounds of night for many miles—owls hooting, mice rustling, squirrels climbing and…men chatting lowly around a crackling fire.

They did not sound like orcs, and turning his nose to the air above, Comrade knew instantly they were not. Instead, the scent of men and elves lingered in the breeze, and something new he hadn’t encountered before.

Without glancing back at you, he took off running through the woods.

Watching him leave in confusion, you knitted your brows. However, the throbbing split in your stomach soon burned away again, and you were left crying alone through bared teeth.

On the other side of the forest, just a few miles away, the Fellowship’s camp resided. The loss of Gandalf still rippled through the colleagues and friends like an unsettled lake, and not much was found beyond quiet chatter.

The topic, primarily, was of Lothlorien—the beautiful kingdom they had just reluctantly left.

Sat on a log, and grimacing as he ate rabbit meat off of a bone—quite different from the prepared salads with small chunks of chicken he had grown up with—Legolas watched the fire.

His fingers were sticky, and his nose was scrunched, as he attempted to eat said meat.

Next, Gimli’s chuckles filled the air.

The laughter silenced everyone, for it was the first time anyone had laughed since Moria.

Lifting his eyes, Legolas found Gimli laughing at him. “What is it?”

“A bit out of your comfort zone, aren’t we?” Gimli chuckled back, motioning to the prince’s fingers.

Legolas’ lips fell into a sarcastic frown. “That’s because I was actually raised with the idea of comfort to begin with.”

Gimli dismissively waved his hand. “All I’m hearing is pretty excuses.”

Legolas placed a sticky hand over his chest, and batted his lashes. “You think I’m pretty?”

A smirk grew on Gimli’s lips, as he pointed at the faint outline of grease on Legolas’ Lothlorien tunic.

Losing his own smirk, Legolas looked down at the clothing and sneered upon realizing his mistake.

Laughter rippled through the camp, and a few added on their own taunts in an effort to keep the happy atmosphere alive, even if at the prince’s expense.

However, Legolas had since tuned out. His head was over his shoulder, his pointed ears twitching, as he eyed off the forest behind. Distantly, snapping twigs and thudding paws could be heard.

“Don’t you think, Legolas?” Boromir laughed, slowly reeling the elf’s concerned attention back in to him. “Legolas? I said, don’t you—”

“Shh!” Legolas cut him off, whipping his head over his shoulder again.

Aragorn was the first to cease his relaxed nature, as he knew the cautious elf well-enough.

“Someone’s a bit of a soft—” Gimli had gone to say, before Legolas shushed him again.

Snapping his eyes to his friends, Legolas hastily whispered, “Do you not hear that?”

“We don’t have your—”

“Hush, let him speak,” Aragorn interjected, earning the obedience of the camp. “What is it, Legolas?”

“Something large and ambitious approaches from behind,” Legolas answered, scanning his eyes over his shoulder again.

Just as the elf did, the Fellowship dragged their sights along the trees. Slowly, following Legolas’ words and now actions, the entire camp rose to their feet and clutched their weapons.

The hobbits all nervously eyed one another, as the four stronger warriors stood in front. They each all watched the trees, and their hearts pounded faster, for they, too, could now hear what Legolas was explaining.

Loud thumps reached their ears, as did beastly panting. Legolas drew an arrow, and aimed it in preparation.

And then, Comrade burst into the camp.

The hobbits screamed in shock—in fact, both Gimli and Boromir shouted, too.

The tyger paced before them all, chuffing loudly in communication. Legolas, understanding all living things, heard the tyger speak.

Please! I need your help! My friend, she’s hurt—wounded by orcs!

Legolas lowered his arrow, much to the horror of the others.

“What are you doing?” Boromir screeched. “Shoot it down! It’s rabid! Look at the blood coating its mouth!”

“It is orc blood,” Legolas slowly drew out, knitting his brows in the direction of the tyger. “And he says he needs our help?”

Aragorn glanced at Legolas wide-eyed, and they shared a look—one dripping in superior knowledge.

Legolas made a show of disarming himself of his bow, and spoke back to the tyger in a way only elves could.

Take us to her.

The tyger turned around instantly, and began running into the woods. Aragorn and Legolas followed.

“Wait,” Pippin exclaimed in confusion, as everyone left him behind. “Has he always been able to speak with animals?! Did everyone else know this but me?!”

“Hurry up, Pippin!”

Comrade had left you twenty minutes ago, and you felt an uncontrollable shiver run through your body. It was a shiver that, despite being close to the fire, was continuous.

Your teeth chattered, and your stomach coiled at the blood soaking you. It was all over the front of your tunic, and continuing to spread. You hadn’t removed the dagger as of yet—too afraid of both the consequences and the pain simultaneously.

You felt both dizzy and tired, and only wanted a nap. Just as you were beginning to close your eyes, frantic thudding in the distance could be heard.

Weakly, you turned your eyes to the trees Comrade had left through, and waited for either your friend or more orcs to appear.

However, what you were not expecting, was a blonde elf to burst through the dark with your tyger.

The tall elf skidded to a stop a few yards before you, and gasped sharply. His widened eyes raked over your paling, clammy body in alarm.

“Oh my goodness!” he cussed, before throwing his eyes over his shoulder. “Aragorn! Come quickly!”

Next, a man burst into view. Behind him, another man, dwarf and four hobbits followed. Though, for all you knew, they were children.

White dots filled your vision, and you soon felt very delirious, as if in a dream.

The elf rushed forwards, and fell to his knees beside you. He brushed your hair out of your face to observe your half-lidded eyes, where he then spoke.

“Y/n? Y/n, are you all right? Your friend, Comrade, told me of you. Can you hear me?”

All you could make out of his face were two brilliantly blue eyes. A white, angelic light encompassed him otherwise, and the blonde hair certainly didn’t help.

You garnered a sort of dazed smile, as you scanned his blinding face. “You’re an angel, aren’t you? Sent from above? Oh thank goodness—I thought I was going to go alone.”

Listening to your soft voice, the brunette man with greasy hair dropped beside the elf.

“Her strength fails and her light fades,” Aragorn commented. He scanned his eyes over your wound. “I shall use athelas to treat the bleeding, but…this may be beyond us.”

Legolas looked at Aragorn in horror, before looking down at you again. Two deaths on his hands in such a short amount of time? The immortal elf couldn’t—wouldn’t—process it.

“We are not yet too far from Lothlorien,” Legolas pointed out, studying your tired face. “We can turn around and leave her in the hands of Galadriel and her kin. They will heal her.”

“We haven’t time to double-back and risk the orcs,” Boromir pointed out.

Next, Legolas gestured at all the strewn bodies of the camp. “It appears our fault she dies in the first place. She felt safe enough to camp in these woods, and rightfully so, but we brought the orcs with us. We must help her. She’s our duty now.”

“Legolas is right,” Aragorn agreed, crushing athelas in his hands with water from his pouch. “The orcs are only in these woods because they track us. Legolas, you are the fastest here and know these trees second-best to me. You will take her back to Lothlorien and then take the journey three times faster to catch up with us.”

Legolas nodded his head in understanding, and felt your hand. It was cold, shivering and sweaty. He swallowed his nerves.

“You might want to hold her further,” Aragorn quietly pointed out to Legolas, gesturing to your hand.

The elf noticed the prepared athelas paste, and the ranger’s hand hovering over the intruding dagger’s pommel. Next, Aragorn spoke to you.

“Y/n, my name is Aragorn. I am going to help heal you, and then Legolas here will rush you back to Lothlorien. I am going to remove the dagger to decrease further injury. It will hurt for a moment. Do you understand?”

“Legolas?” you repeated in confusion, looking up at the aforementioned prince. “Oh, yes—him. He’s an angel.”

Aragorn smiled briefly, especially at the creeping blush on his friend’s pointed ears, until you looked back at him and took into account his dirty presentation. “You, on the other hand, are not an angel.”

Comrade, having been pacing the dirt on your free side, came to lay beside you, recognising what was about to happen next.

Aragorn politely curled his lips at your delirious insult, and quickly tore the dagger from your abdomen.

As if supporting a woman through birth, Legolas’ mewls were louder than your own, for the hand of yours he held clenched tightly.

Aragorn got to work quickly, and began applying the athelas to your now bleeding wound. You cried softly, as you felt the pain both grow and lessen.

Finding comfort through your dizzy haze in the thumbpad stroking your knuckles, you squeezed the same hand again, and were pleasantly surprised to find it squeezing back.

Gimli, Boromir and the hobbits watched on—nervously observing both the tyger lying beside you, and your hurt form.

“Lothlorien is a night’s run behind us. She needs a different tunic to reduce the risk of infection,” said Aragorn, using a makeshift cloth to wipe the blood away from you.

Legolas pressed his lips into a thin line, and nodded. He briefly let go of your hand, much to your vocal discomfort, and grabbed the bottom hems of his tunic. He lifted the green material over his head, and was left with nothing but a long-sleeved, white undershirt.

As Aragorn wrapped your chest with what he could find on him that’d temporarily work as a bind, Legolas patiently waited.

After your wound was tended to, Aragorn leant over to speak with you. “Your wound is dressed, Y/n. Legolas will now take care of you until Lothlorien. You are in good, capable hands. I promise.”

You mustered the strength to nod back, despite white dots still filling your vision.

Aragorn clasped Legolas’ shoulder and nodded, to which he nodded back. Then, the ranger turned and told the rest of the Fellowship to head back to camp.

Having ensured everyone was out of sight, Legolas looked down at you again.

“May I please change your tunic? I will close my eyes, but it has to be done—the blood will lead to infection if not dealt with.”

However, you stilled gazed up at him with a silly smile. Considering all he wore was now white, you believed your suspicions of him being an angel correct.

After a moment, his words finally drifted through your mind, like a lone leaf on a lazy river, and you nodded.

Legolas raised a hand to the hem of your tunic, and hooked his fingers underneath, but was halted by the sudden growling and standing of Comrade.

You dare touch her in such a state? I sought you out for help!

I am an elven prince, mellon. Trust me when I say; it is not even remotely possible in my genetic nature to do such a thing.

Well, trust me when I say; it is most definitely in my genetic nature to go for the jugular—always.

Understood, but you must let me help her. Have we not done so already? Let me complete assisting her, and then you shall follow me to Lothlorien.

The snarling lips of the tyger curled for a minute, as he stared across at the determined elf over your body—face to face.

Slowly, his growls died.

Fine. Just know, however, I am watching you every step of the way.

Well, that makes one of us.

As he promised, Legolas closed his eyes. He carefully, but swiftly lifted your blood-soaked tunic and tossed it aside.

Fumbling for a few minutes, as he did so blind, Legolas dressed you in his own green tunic. It was large on you, more like a short dress, but did the job of concealing your wounded form.

At some point, you had nearly drifted off to sleep, but a gentle cooing of Legolas brought you back.

“Hey, you must stay awake for now, all right? I am going to carry you to a lovely kingdom, and you will be taken care of. All I ask in return is that you keep me company with conversation the whole way. Can you please do that for me?”

Exhaling past your nose through your fatigue, you fluttered your hazy eyes open again.

Searching Legolas’ own, you nodded.

“Okay,” you promised.

“Good girl,” Legolas replied. He then gently scooped you into his arms like a bride, and checked in with Comrade.

Are you a fast runner?

Is that even a question?

To further his point, Comrade sprinted off into the trees, leaving Legolas jogging behind him. And, just as you promised, you spoke softly to him the whole way—mostly of his “angelic eyes”—and he delivered on his promise, of quite literally delivering you to Lothlórien.

Surprising Legolas most, however, was the new promise you made after healing by the aid of Galadriel’s hand, just a few days after your arrival. 

Upon learning of what exactly was disturbing your ecosystem in Middle-earth, you told Legolas he would not be making the journey back to his friends alone, for he had gained two new ones. 

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Three: Interview

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read Previous Chapters Here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is deserted at 4am, which is exactly why she has to be there so early. She arrives at Skinner’s office with nothing but her car keys and the casual clothing on her back. Agent Wiley, a young woman in her twenties, greets Scully warmly. She’s tall and brunette with an hourglass figure, and Scully has the passing thought that she is exactly Mulder’s type. She wonders if they’ve ever met.

“I’ll drive you to your apartment in Philly where you’ll stay for the duration of the undercover assignment, Agent Scully,” Wiley says in an authoritative though very high pitched voice. “We’ll leave your car in the bureau garage for the duration, but you can give A.D. Skinner your keys for safekeeping.”

Scully hands Skinner her keys and he sets them on top of his desk, rubbing his hands over a weary and sleep-rumpled face.

“I’ll fill you in on the case details on the way. Let’s hit the road, we’ve got a two and a half hour drive ahead of us,” she finishes, slinging her purse over her shoulder and making for the door.

Scully follows her mutely. Just as she reaches the door herself, Skinner speaks.

“Agent Scully?” he asks in a hoarse voice. She turns to face him. “I…I…” He keeps restarting his sentence, but never gets further than that.

Scully finally interjects. “It’s okay, sir. I understand. We all have a job to do.”

He nods at her with a grateful expression, and she follows Agent Wiley out to the parking garage.

The sun is just beginning to brighten the inky sky as they drive out of D.C. Agent Wiley is chatty behind the wheel as Scully leafs through the case file; once they get to Philly, she won’t have the opportunity to see it again. The only trace of Dana Scully in her apartment will be a burner cell phone, which she is to keep off and hidden in an air duct in the wall. She will call Agent Wiley at least every other day, or as needed, to share any updates. She is to turn the phone on only when she’s sure no one else is in the apartment with her. She is expected to get as close as possible to the other dancers at the club, one of whom they believe to be Mila Chamberlain. In the file, there’s a photo of Mila, a young Asian woman with a short blonde pixie cut and penetrating dark brown eyes. There is also her parents’ account of her disappearance shortly after meeting Ricky at a party, and their fears that’s she’s a victim of sex trafficking.

“Your cover is Diane Sellers, recently divorced and needing work,” Agent Wiley explains. “To our understanding, they won’t ask you much about your history, but it’s still good to have a backstory ready. It can be helpful to use real details from your life in regards to things like siblings, parents, and past romantic partners, just because it’s easier to keep straight. We don’t recommend addiction being a part of your backstory, in case that affects Ricky’s willingness to trust you. You should immerse yourself as much as possible with the staff, including spending time with them outside work if you can. You can have them over to your apartment, which is why it’s important that there’s nothing there that isn’t part of Diane’s story. It’s fully furnished with everything from tampons to Rice a Roni, but we’ve also set up a bank account and a debit card in case you need to buy anything. Once you identify Mila, call me. You should try to get as close to her as possible, and ultimately the goal is to confirm that she’s being held against her will. Then we’ll raid the club and get you both out of there. What questions do you have?”

Scully stares out the window at the cars rushing by. The pink sunrise illuminating the clouds on the horizon makes the sky look pinstriped.

“Why weren’t you asked to go undercover, if this is your case? You’re young, you’re very pretty. So I guess my question is why not you?” She recognizes the irritation in her voice, but she can’t help herself.

Agent Wiley glances over at her and back to the road a few times. “I can understand why you’d ask that. And I also realize that I haven’t thanked you for taking this assignment. It was a hard one to staff.”

Scully scoffs and turns to face the other woman. “I wasn’t given a choice, Agent Wiley.”

“Right. Sorry. Um, the reason I couldn’t take this assignment is that I have an ostomy bag, as a result of a pretty severe case of Crohn’s. I doubt anyone wants to see a stripper with a bag of poop strapped to her belly dancing around on stage.”

Scully closes her eyes against the shame that wells in her gut. “I’m sorry, Agent Wiley. That was rude of me to ask.”

“Don’t worry about it, Agent Scully. Honestly, I’d take my ostomy bag over this assignment any day. I don’t envy you.”

Scully turns back to the window, spinning up the life story of Diane Sellers as they drive on through the early morning light and towards her uncertain future.

Agent Wiley drops her off around the corner from her apartment with nothing but a set of keys and verbal instructions for where she can locate the burner phone. Her interview is today at 2, and the address of the club and interview information are on a slip of paper on the kitchen counter. They bid one another an awkward goodbye, and Scully goes in search of her home for the next several weeks.

The apartment is small, a studio, and fully furnished. She can tell that Agent Wiley herself took care of decorating it; youthful touches like a sequined throw pillow and a magnet on the fridge with “Diane” printed on a tiny license plate give it a dorm-like feel. Many of the items appeared to have been thrifted, which will be important to keeping up her ruse of being a woman in a tight spot financially. She locates the air duct and the burner phone, turning it on to be sure it works before securing it back in its hiding place. She pokes around the various cabinets and cupboards to find all kinds of dried goods and snacks, and is surprised by the 6 pack of beer in the fridge and the bottle of vodka in the freezer. The closet is full of clothing in her size, some of it basic jeans and tees, some of it tube tops and daisy duke shorts that she would never wear. Well, Scully would never wear them, but she suspects Diane would. The slip of paper on the counter reads:

Damsels in Dominance

1634 W York St, Philly

Ricky Dean, 2pm

She makes a face at the name and her stomach turns at the thought that this might be some kind of S&M club. It's just after 9am, so she has quite a bit of time to kill before her interview. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, so instead she takes a thorough inventory of all the cabinets and closets to see if anything important is missing. In the bathroom, she opens the medicine cabinet to find a full Oil of Olay skin care line right next to a box of condoms. What the hell does Agent Wiley think she has planned for this assignment? Her confusion deepens when she pulls open the drawer of the bedside table and is greeted by a book light as well as a small bullet vibrator. Either Agent Wiley went to very great lengths to make sure this apartment would pass the sniff test for anyone who decided to snoop, or….she doesn’t even know what the other possibility is. Adding some paperback novels to her mental shopping list, she slams the drawer shut and flops down on the bed. Mulder is at work by now, and she wonders how long Skinner will be able to keep up the ruse. Knowing Mulder, not all that long.

Mulder arrives at work just past 8, noting that Scully’s car is parked in her typical spot in the garage; she must have needed to stop by before heading to Quantico. He’s a little bit disappointed that she’ll be away for the next few weeks; the basement office is exceedingly boring without her. At the same time, he’s grateful for a bit of space to think.

The tension between them had reached a tipping point but now sits suspended, teetering between coworkers and friends or whatever lay on the other side. He’s made some attempts at pushing things towards the “more than friends” end of the spectrum, but nothing seems to come of it. He kissed her, and while she kissed him back and seemed receptive to it, she hasn’t initiated anything further. The night they played baseball together was fun and flirtatious, but again nothing happened. He’s getting the sense that any move will need to be made by him. Maybe Scully just isn’t the forward type in these situations, or maybe she isn’t confident enough that he’ll reciprocate. This time that she’s working away from the office might be the perfect opportunity to take her out on a real date, knowing that if things get weird they won’t have to face each other in the morning.

Entering the office, he doesn’t find her there; they must have just missed each other. He logs into his email and opens a new message.

Hey G-woman,

What time can you get away for lunch today? I was thinking about checking out that new sushi place on 8th. Or we can meet halfway, whatever works.

Would you like to get dinner sometime this week? My treat. Let me know.

Mulder

He hits send, then digs in to some more case reports that he needs to complete. He has a vision of Scully returning to find them completely caught up on paperwork and how pleased she’d be with him, and decides then and there to make it a reality. While he’s not generally an approval-seeking kind of guy, the surprised smile on Scully’s face when he does something uncharacteristically responsible is one of his favorites. The number one spot will always, of course, be held by the smile she gives him when he says or does something that truly strikes her as funny. He finds it hard to keep from smiling just thinking about it.

Two hours later, there’s no response from Scully. That’s a little bit weird, but not exceedingly so; if she’s working on a particularly gnarly autopsy it can take quite a while. When he still hasn’t gotten a response by noon, he first checks his sent email to be sure it went out, then picks up his office phone.

“Autopsy bay, this is Richard.”

“Hey, Rich, this is Agent Mulder up at the Hoover Building.”

“Hi, Agent Mulder, how can I help you?”

“Is Agent Scully around? I was hoping to talk to her.”

“No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Not at all today?”

“No, I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, actually.”

A flush of worry spreads across his chest.

“Hey, Rich, are you guys pretty busy down there? I hear you have a big case you’re working on.”

“Busy? Uh, no, not really. Just business as usual.”

“Okay, thanks. If you see Agent Scully, will you ask her to call me?”

“Sure, will do, Agent Mulder.”

“I appreciate it, bye.”

He sets the phone down and sits back in his chair. Did Scully lie to him? And if so, why? Her car is here, so he knows she came in today. Picking up the phone again he tries her cell, which goes straight to voicemail. The darkest part of his brain worries that she came to the office but never made it to Quantico. He makes one final phone call.

“Skinner.”

“Hi, sir, this is Agent Mulder.”

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?”

“Have you heard from Agent Scully today? I’m having a hard time getting in touch with her.”

“She’s assigned to work at Quantico for the next few weeks, Agent Mulder, she wasn’t expected to report to the Hoover Building today.”

“I know, sir, but her car was in the garage when I got here and I just called over to Quantico and they haven’t seen her today. I’m a little worried.”

He hears Skinner mutter what sounds like “Jesus H Christ” under his breath before he speaks again. “Agent Scully is fine, Agent Mulder. She’s on assignment. I encourage you to focus on your own assignment.”

Mulder hesitates. “Should I take that to mean that she’s NOT assigned to Quantico?”

Skinner sighs. “All you need to know is that she is fine, but unreachable. You worry about yourself and let me worry about Agent Scully, got it?”

“Um, okay. Thank you, sir.”

He hangs up the phone even more confused than before. Scully’s behavior yesterday after she returned from Skinner’s office makes a little more sense; she was uncomfortable about lying to him. When he leaves the office that night, her car is in the same spot it had been that morning. He doesn’t like this, but he knows Scully was in the same situation when he was on an undercover assignment and he should just trust her, and Skinner, and wait it out. That’s easier said than done, and he spends his entire evening imagining all the dangerous situations she might be immersed in. Drug cartels, amateur mafias, cults, hackers, the list goes on and on. He can only hope that she’s safe.

Damsels in Dominance is an unassuming building nestled between strip malls and fast food restaurants. The parking lot and entrance are at the back of the building, a fabric-draped chain link fence surrounding it for privacy. Scully pays the cab driver, though now that she realizes how close her apartment is to the place she’ll probably just walk back. After much deliberation, she wound up wearing jeans and a blue T shirt, guessing that it would be out of place to dress up for an interview at a strip club. She pulls the front door open and finds herself in a small foyer with a counter along one wall, a hulking man perched behind it on a stool. Even seated she can tell that he’s very tall, with a broad chest and square shoulders. His neck is nearly nonexistent, thick and disappearing into the rolls under his chin like a tree trunk. His head is shaved bald and his deeply tan skin shows evidence of long ago healed acne scars on his ruddy cheeks. A small gold name tag pinned to his T-shirt reads “Denny.”

“Hi, I’m Diane, I’m here for an interview with Ricky,” she says with a smile. She’s decided that Diane will be the kind of person with an easy smile. The kind of person who makes friends quickly. She channels her sister Melissa, who would talk to anyone and somehow have them sharing details of their childhood trauma within fifteen minutes. If she’s going to get these people talking, she needs to be more like Missy and less like herself.

Denny nods with a grunt and stands, proving himself to be at least six inches taller than Mulder; her head barely reaches his waist. He comes around the counter to push open a second door and holds it for her, motioning her to follow. They enter one end of a long hallway, a door directly in front of them labeled “Enter Here to be Dominated.” They walk down the hall, past some restrooms and several other unmarked doors, until they come to one that says “office.” Denny knocks and a small woman answers.

“Diane, 2 o’clock interview,” Denny says in a flat baritone, then turns and walks away.

[ryuuseirune]

As someone who likes DoL a lot (240 hours logged since last year)... I've never felt like there's a shortage of fanmade content for it. Many of my favorite artists on twitter are DoL fans and regularly draw art for it. Typo (typpo8), Tnso/rabbitguy, and Baiwa/Frog (byebyefr0g) have posted some cool DoL stuff if you're looking for recommendations. There's so many DoL fans online if you know where to look! It has a massive Chinese-speaking fanbase, so if you understand how to navigate Chinese fandom tags you can probably find even more. I feel like I see Sydney stuff at least every other day on the bird app lol.

I've also played a bit of CoC, but I've never seen it in the wild. So... I looked it up to see if there really is a shortage of fanworks, and found that there's actually quite a lot. On rule34, there's like 1.8k results for CoC 1 + 2 and only 1.6k for Funger 1+2. On Sad Panda/exhentai, there's a 432-page ongoing CoC comic that was last updated 3 days ago (September 30, 2024) and 73 other user-uploaded media. In comparison, funger only has 19 entries on exhentai as of the time I'm searching. (DoL has none, in case you're wondering).

I think it all depends on what sites you're on and the people you engage with. What kind of people like the media you're searching for? Are you considering all avenues? As someone who has scoured the deepest parts of the internet to discover pornography that suits my (incredibly specific) tastes, sometimes you'll find hidden vistas around every corner. Discords, surprisingly active forums, image boards (aka booru), Reddit communities, mastodon instances (aethy, baraag)... the list goes on and on.

If you're having trouble finding fandom spaces, I think all of the sites I mentioned above are decent options. It's really easy for fanworks to get lost on larger sites, so I'd stick to the smaller sites if possible. And, if you still can't find anyone after exhausting all your English options, maybe learn a couple languages for fun. (I'd say just kidding, but I'm really not.) Go join a super topic on Weibo. Support Japanese artists on Fantia and Pixiv. There's 2ch.hk if you speak Russian, though you might need to dig a bit before you find fandom stuff lol.

Also, I was talking with a fandom friend about image boards and she actually didn't know they existed, which made me realize that there's probably a lot of newer tumblr users who are unfamiliar with imageboards as a concept. They're basically sites exclusively made for uploading visual media (images/videos/gifs) and sorting them via functional tagging systems, usually with an entirely separate forum section for discussion.

There's a lot of imageboards out there with a lot of different uses/fanbases. I mentioned Rule 34 earlier, which has a lot of stuff for Western cartoons and Overwatch but it's also probably the most well-known image board nowadays just because of its iconic name. Danbooru and Gelbooru are the most popular ones for anime-adjacent stuff. There's also joibooru, which allows captions to pictures. Don't use Sankaku Complex (does that site still exist?); its tag search system is horrid and it doesn't provide image sources (not cool!). If you're a furry, e621 is good because it lets you sort between types of furries (canid, bovine, avian etc). Ehentai technically isn't an image board since you can also share files other than images, but it's been around since 1999 and has one of the largest databases of manga/doujin like... ever. And it has sooooo many images. If you're not using it as a fan of 2000s-2010s manga/anime/games, you're missing out. Its sister site exhentai hosts more extreme/controversial content, and you need an ehentai account to access it - otherwise you get a picture of a Sad Panda. Hence why users colloquially call it Sad Panda. You can also find scans of certain official media on there, so I'd consider getting an account if you want to scrounge up a high-quality PDF of that Pokemon HeartGold/SoulSilver guidebook you got from the Scholastic book fair when you were a child... just saying.

Anyway, all this to say... never give up hope in finding the porn you want. It's out there somewhere. And if it isn't... I guess that means you've just gotta make it yourself! Or pay someone else to. Or both. (If I revealed how much money I've spent on commissions over the past three years, I think I'd feel a moderate amount of embarrassment at my poor financial management.) I hope you find what you need, anon. I've struggled similarly but just know your people are out there somewhere.

do you ever think about how even though sex and sexuality is a HUGE part of fandom culture and often the main appeal for many people, it's considered weird to be a fandom-level Fan of something that is objectively meant to be porn? like, i somewhat get it with 3-episode shows that clearly just exist to be fetish material and have no real depth, but when it comes to genuine works of art like Corruption of Champions, or Degrees of Ludity, your usual fan spaces have so little room to work. i find it odd, seeing as horror doesn't seem to have the same issue? there's a LOT in Fear And Hunger that you just straight-up cannot depict on tumblr, but that doesn't stop people from drawing tons of fanart and openly loving the characters. but for so many amazing porn games, it's total radio silence.

--

There are fanvids of CockyBoys on AO3. There are some regulars at ye olde slash cons who are always ready with the live action porn recs. Tagame is pretty popular.

You phrased this like it was a general question, but you're talking about something very specific: porn games.

I think the fanworks makers who like CoC hang out on image boards full of dude users and f/monster noncon content. At least, that's where I remember seeing it mentioned.

[broadstbroskis]

surprises- pt 1 | mat barzal

welp, here we go with barzy baby fic! how long’s it going to be? your guess is as good as mine! but i’m excited to start sharing with you guys and i’d love to hear what you think!

warnings: mention of the pandemic/quarantine

-----

The timing was pretty poor, you could acknowledge that. 

Stuck in your apartment as a result of social distancing, you’d grown bored quickly. Working from home was only so exciting and your company’s slack channel was often getting more and more ridiculous as you and your coworkers searched for things to talk about (debates had thus far included best and worst Taylor Swift song, best and worst Harry Potter book, and ranking coworkers' new baby names).

Your roommate had left you on your own, in favor of quarantining herself with her relatively new boyfriend (ignoring your cries of betrayal as she left) so when your neighbor and friend from across the hall had come knocking, you welcomed him with open arms. “I’m bored out of my mind.” Your eyes are wide as you pull him inside.

“How do you think I feel?” You didn’t even notice the bottles of wine in Mat’s hands but you’re grateful for them as he settles them on the counter. “The only thing I can do is workout right now.”

You give him a look. “Yeah, because that’s what you need to be doing.”

“I’m going to lose my washboard abs.” He whines overdramatically, and that’s what sets you off.

Technically you’re still supposed to be working, but you know for a fact you’re not the only one who’s started drinking already and as long as you stay logged in for the next hour, no one will care. You and Mat quickly work your way through the first bottle and he’s popping the second one, while you log off your work account and place the take out order for pizza. 

The second bottle goes almost as quickly, but then the two of you slow down once the food arrives. Mat pops the third bottle in your apartment after dinner, when the two of you settle in together, very closely, much closer than usual, for some Netflix.

You’re not really sure who makes the first move; you know you’re leaning against him and that his arm is around you, brushing against your shoulder, but the next thing you remember, you’re in his lap and his hands are eagerly tracing every bit of skin they can find.

That you end up in bed after that isn’t surprising. That it keeps happening is a little surprising. But, well, there’s not really a lot else to keep you occupied.

And it’s lot more fun to spend your days fucking Mat than doing almost anything else. There’s apparently a lot you two have been missing out on that you could have been doing. 

Eventually, things go back to normal- or as normal as they could be after the pandemic that occurred-and despite the fun the two of you had during your quarantine, you fall easily back into friends and neighbors. Mat gets back to real training, a modified game schedule, and then into playoffs, where after crashing and burning in the first “round” (if you’d like to call it that), he heads back home to Western Canada for a shortened summer to catch up with family and friends.

You’re back at work, excited to be with people again. You and your coworkers institute happy hour Friday’s, where you all start ducking out of work two hours early-summer hours, your boss is calling them, completely ignoring the fact that no one else in your company is having them-to go to the bar, hang out, and just catch up after spending the long weeks apart. They usually end up turning into more of a shit show, with the office group chat often blowing up the next morning with complaints about how hungover people are.

It’s after one such happy hour that you first notice your issue. You wake up Saturday morning, roll over, and then immediately rush into the bathroom to throw up. Within the next hour, that happens four more times. 

You’re lying as still as possible on the couch in the living room when your roommate comes out of her room and straight up laughs at your misery. “It’s not funny.” You whine at her, even though it makes you kind of nauseous to even talk.

“Yes it is.” Molly snickers. “You were home by like 8. For a lightweight like me to get to sit here and watch you be hungover as fuck when you didn’t even have this crazy night, this is my Christmas. Welcome to the club, bitch!” She cackles, not unkindly, but definitely remembering all the times that you and your friends had laughed at her when she’d been in your position.

You barely even hear her, as the first part of her sentence registers, and you bolt upright, immediately regretting it as you do so. You were home by 8. You hadn’t even had that much to drink, begging off a third drink after a headache had started. There’s absolutely no reason for you to be feeling this way.

“You’re right!” You’ve learned from your mistakes and you slowly lower yourself back down to the couch. “I must have eaten something funny.” You’re already starting to feel a little better, you think; it wasn’t nearly as nauseating to lower to the couch. You’re actually almost feeling like you could stomach some food.

“Ugh.” Molly scoffs in disgust. “Couldn’t you just let me have this?”

“Want to watch some Netflix and order breakfast?”

“Fine.”

And as the day goes on, you feel a ton better, even feeling well enough to join Molly and her boyfriend for dinner at one of your new favorite places. It’s another early night and you hold off on booze, just because your stomach’s still feeling kinda queasy from the morning.

And it’s full on rolling again the next morning. You’re back in the bathroom again first thing, which is where Molly finds you, a look of concern on her face. “So, what’s going on?”

You close your eyes, a little more sure that the nagging thought from yesterday morning might be true. “I think we need to take a walk.”

She gives you a look. “To where?”

“Drug store.”

She inhales a sharp breath. “To buy?”

“I think you know what.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be real to me until you said it.”

You stand up shakily, reaching for your toothbrush. No use in putting this off longer than you need to. “Yeah, me either.

Molly squeezes the arm that’s reaching out for your toothpaste comfortingly and then turns to leave and get ready herself.

-----

Once you’ve got far more pregnancy tests in your basket than you’ll hope to ever need in your life, Molly looks at you. “Did you want to take them all home or?”

“Or what? Take them here in CVS? This isn’t fucking Juno, Molly! We have an apartment!”

She shrugs as the two of you start walking up toward checkout. “Maybe you just didn’t want to taint your bathroom with those memories.”

That’s a good point. “I’ll just use yours.” You crack and the two of you burst into laughter, for the first time all day.

It feels so good to laugh that you don’t even notice someone calling out for your roommate. “Moll!” You both look around for the familiar voice, searching for Molly’s boyfriend, but you’d been so distracted by your laughter that you don’t realize how close he is until he speaks again. “Holy shit! Is there uh-something you need to tell me?”

Brian’s actually right there-like standing next to you, in line. Molly’s eyes are wide, looking between you and Brian in a panic as she’s unsure how to answer, so you step up. “They’re not for her; they’re for me.”

“Oh.” Brian says. Molly breathes out a sigh of relief. He looks over at you. “Uhh. Do I need to kick somebody’s ass?”

You burst into laughter and Molly slugs him on the arm. “Bri!”

“What?” He protests. “I’m just trying to be supportive.”

You’re still laughing. “Not yet.” You tell him. “I’ll keep you posted.” Brian’s great; the more time you spend with him, the more you grow to love him and the more convinced you become that he’s absolutely perfect for Molly. But there’s a zero percent chance he’s going to be able to beat up Mat, who’s probably got a good 3-4 inches and at least 30lbs. on him. 

Brian grins. “Done deal. Should I go grab some-” He pauses. “Well I was going to ask if I should grab some booze to get this party on the road but that doesn’t seem appropriate. Sparkling cider? Orange juice?”

“There’s no point in having orange juice if there’s not champagne in it.” You tell him.

“Ohh, go hit that juice bar we were at last week!” Molly requests. 

“See you in a few!” Brian salutes.

“I love him.” You tell her, as he exits the door.

“You can have him as a baby daddy.” She offers.

“I might take you up on that.” You pay for the absurd number of pregnancy tests and begin walking with her back home.

She scoffs. “Yeah, like you’re gonna need a stand in.”

You’re actually pretty nervous of that fact.

-----

A few hours later, you’ve got a string of positive pregnancy tests sitting in a row on the living room table. Not even one negative giving you a sliver of hope. Brian and Molly are drinking for you, for all three of you, and you’re sitting in your corner of the couch numbly staring at them.

Suddenly, you can’t take it anymore. You reach for your phone and press the contact for the one voice you need to hear now.

Mat answers almost immediately, laughing, sounding like he’s having a great time, doing...whatever he’s doing back at home. Sounding young and carefree, like the 23 year old he is. Like the 23 year old you usually sound like.

“Hey!” You can practically hear him grinning through the phone.

“Hey.” You are...decidedly not grinning, but you do your best to stay upbeat and positive. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, immediately, so you must not have done too good a job.

“Nothing.” You tell him. Despite what all the tests are saying, you don’t want to say anything until you call your doctor first thing in the morning. And this certainly isn’t a conversation you want to have with him over the phone if you can help it. “Just-a little bit of a crazy weekend.” Not necessarily in the sense you’d usually be referring, but not a lie, all the same.

“Big parties?” Mat teases.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and trying not to cry. “Something like that.”

You can practically hear him frown. “Are you sure you’re okay, YN?”

“Yeah.” You tell him. “Just wondering when you’re coming back so I don’t have to water your plants anymore.”

“Do I still even have plants?” He asks skeptically. “I know what your black thumb is like.”

“I guess you’ll see when you come back!” The answer is no. There were no plants. You and Molly kept swearing you’d go out and replace them with new ones before he came back, but you were sure he’d be able to tell. He always could.

Mat laughs. “I know what that means.” In the background, you hear someone call for him and he shouts for them to fuck off. 

“You got to go?”

“We’re about to go finish our hike.” Mat says, apologetically. “Have to get down the mountain now.”

“Ugh.” You scrunch your nose.

“Alright, city girl.” He teases. “I’m sure I’ll talk to you soon!”

“Excuse you, I am from Larchmont!”

He laughs again. “I think that’s probably worse.”

“Don’t fall down the mountain.” You tell him dryly.

“Is Molly there? I want to make sure you aren’t holding a voodoo doll right now.”

You laugh. “Bye Mat.” He bids you the same and you hang up, feeling much better than when you called.

Still anxious as shit, but at least Mat is still the same Mat.

You wonder for how long that will last after you tell him.

[some-dr-writings]

Rantaro x Fussy SHSL Model Reader: A Reunion

You and Rantaro had been best friends for as long as you could remember. You two had been together for everything whether it be holidays, weekdays, anything really. You also always supported one another like when you had to get surgery after fracturing your arm or helping Rantaro search for his lost sisters. Because the two of you were always together you were like another member of the Amami family, so you were great friends with his little sisters, like another older sibling. That was probably where you got your fussy tendencies. They were also the reason you became a model. The Amamis were rather rich so, they could have easily sent people out to search, but likely if word of the girls’ disappearances got out, someone would find at least one of them and hold her for ransom. Another reason was Rantaro’s parents weren’t exactly ever really around so in all honesty you weren’t exactly sure if they cared about their daughters going missing. But Rantaro and you cared. So, you became a model. If you got famous enough, you’d be well known around the world and maybe Rantaro’s sisters would see you, recognize you and try to contact you. That was your hope at least. But over the years as Rantaro kept traveling and you getting busier and busier with work, you slowly lost contact with one another.

Your goal was eventually reached though, or at least it was a sign you were heading in the right direction. You had gotten scouted and was asked to join Hope’s Peak Academy as the Super High School Level Model. You accepted without a second thought. In all this time, you never forgot your true goal. It was the only thing that kept you going down this path, even all the difficulties and hard work, with seeing and occasionally being forced to partake in the darker side of the modeling industry. There were some nights where you just wanted to quit and never look back, but not knowing of another subtle way to get well known in the mainstream you pressed on. It was practically guaranteed that anyone who went to Hope’s Peak would be known the world over or at least in their industry. You had to attend, you just had too.

It felt surreal going back to school. You ended up being homeschooled after modeling since the schedule was too restrictive. This was a rather refreshing change of pace. You were hardly ever there focusing on your modeling work, but on the rarer occasions you were there it was rather lovely. So relaxed. No posing for hours on end, no having to follow all orders and demands given, no creeps, no people judging you for your looks… kind of. You were a model so it was only natural it would happen.

Because you so rarely got to go to school you never really got to connect with your classmates but at least they were nice to you. You didn’t exactly have friends here, just acquaintances. And so, you were left to your own devices. Which included eating on your own at lunch.

One of the many good things about Hope’s peak is that because the school was solely dedicated to cultivating talent you were able to get rid of some of your coaches, particularly your diet one, since as the Super High School Level or Ultimate you should be able to do this on your own, so you finally had a proper excuse to get rid of them so you could actually eat healthy and not starve yourself! Sure, you’d have to exercise more but if it meant actually getting to be full sometimes you didn’t mind at all!

There you sat in the grassy courtyard, simply watching as students meandered about. The sun beamed down from that cloudy sky as a cool autumn breeze rolled past carrying along some warm colored, crisp leaves with it. You nibbled away at your meal more so lost in thought than truly savoring the taste and textures you had long ago abandoned for not being approved of by your coach. It was rarer to have a moment like this. A moment to just sit back with absolutely nothing on your to-do list. You could… just do anything.

…

“Huh? Don’t tell me that’s all you’re going to eat.” That voice! “Rantaro!? When did- what!?” He simply chuckled seeing your baffled reaction. “Here, have some of mine.” “Wait! No! Hold on! Firstly, you’re attending Hope’s Peak too. Secondly, how have you been. Thirdly, when did you start sitting next to me. Fourthly… I’ve missed you.” He passed you his lunch box before looking out to the courtyard like you had been moments ago. “I’m fine, and I missed you too. As for when I got here, maybe a minuet ago?” “You’re just as laid back and relaxed as always it seems.” “Yeah, maybe so.” “You don’t even button up your blazer! Rantaro we’re at school, please have some decorum at this prestigious place.” “Huh? Speak for yourself, your blazer is unbuttoned too.” “I’m a model, so fashion or something. I have an excuse! I doubt your talent would let you get away with this without getting scolded or something.” “Yeah, I guess Ultimate Traveler title doesn’t give me such liberties.” You set about fixing his blazer, temporarily ignoring the food.

Neither of you said a word about it, but… somehow, despite the years, this moment was exactly like when you were kids. Like nothing had changed at all.

“Okay, now that I’m dolled up, please eat.” “Okay, okay! Geez.” “Guess I’ll have to start making lunch for you myself if you eat so little.” “Excuse me! But… that…” You looked rather sheepish, mumbling your next words, almost ashamed by your next statement. “was actually the most I had eaten in a while.” For a moment Rantaro stared at you before his expression shifted to one you had seen a thousand times before. The look he gave you whenever you wanted to do something reckless, the look he had asking you if the surgery on your arm went well, the look he gave you when you told him of your plan to become a model to find his sisters and he explained how some of his sisters wanted to do so and in doing research for them he learned how strenuous and tough it could be. His concerned yet understanding expression. His brows slightly furrowed, posture a little slouched, his hands held together toward his face, often his chin resting on them. “Model work that rough, huh.” “It’s getting better. Right now, I’m working toward being able to eat a little more each day without gaining too much too quickly. It’s a slow process but soon I should be able to have a proper, full meal again!” “There’s that determination. Seems you haven’t changed much yourself.” He smiled and seemed to relax. Especially so once he saw you eating, humming in delight at his cooking. “Ah. I forgot how good your cooking is!” “I’m just glad you enjoy it so!”

“This takes me back. Remember how we’d make lunch for your sisters before school? It was always so fun! And chaotic since they all always wanted different things and would change their mind AS we were cooking.” “… Yeah, it was.” It pained you seeing how his voice withdrew becoming solemn. “So… have you found any of them?” “No, not yet. And you?” “Unfortunately, not…” Resting you chin in one of your hands, you sighed, looking out at the horizon. “Maybe I’m unrecognizable to them now. I’ve lost so much weight.” You placed a hand on your stomach. “I don’t get to wear my preferred clothes, the style they’d be used to seeing on me, when at photo shoots.” You pinched the fabric of your button up shirt and pulled it out a little. “So much makeup is caked onto me because of those swelteringly bright lights.” You placed a hand on your cheek. “My hair had been changed so many times, even I don’t remember that it’s my own sometimes. Feels like some cheaply mad wig when so much hair spray is placed on.” You ran a hand through your hair pulling it all back for a moment. “It’s been years so all that plus being older and more mature looking doesn’t help. I’m surprised you recognized me Rantaro. You even mentioned my determined look. Even without it you knew I was me. Maybe I am still recognizable, somehow…” “Maybe, but I have been following you since your career started so that probably helps.” “Even after we stopped texting and calling?” “Yeah, have a look.”

He took out his phone, quickly logged in to an account on some social media platform and passed it to you. Instantly you recognized the account name. “Y/N#1fanboy!? Excuse me, but that’s you!?” “Yep.” “The account that retweets, reblogs, everything I’m in!?” “Yep.” “Even the smallest of jobs!” “Yes.” “The account that famously is able to without a doubt disprove any bad press about me!?” “Yeah.” “THE account that has saved my butt more times than I can count!” “Your welcome” Your mind sputtered not believing this revelation and having no idea how to react. “I… You… What… Wh… WHY DIDN’T YOU EVER TELL ME!?” “… Oh, I guess it never crossed my mind.” “OH. MY. GOODNESS RANTARO! HOW ARE YOU SIMULTANEOUSLY THE SMARTEST AND MOST OBLIVIOUS PERSON I KNOW!” “Would you have believed me if I told you, though?” “NO! But you could have sent a picture or something! Or if not you have had an ‘I told you so’ moment right now! We could have been still… well I still would have been busy, but it would have been nice to know you didn’t forget about me!” “… That hurts.” He placed a hand on your head and lightly ruffled your hair. “You thought I could ever forget my best friend, or my crush.”

“… Your… Your what now?”

“My best friend?” “Enough with the teasing smile! The other thing, your crush!?” Your cheeks were flushed as you stared slack jawed at the man. Did he seriously just confess to you, in the most nonchalant way he could? “Yeah, I had a crush on you since we were kids but back then I was too embarrassed to tell you.” He gently laughed at himself as your mind just froze. “… And you decided to just drop this out of the blue!?” “Yeah. You’ll probably go back to work soon, so I better tell you now before I lose this chance.” “I… Excuse me, but WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!?” “Huh? Like what?” “YOU! Just… This is just like when we were kids all over again.” You buried your face in your hands, not prepared for this at all. “There, there. Take your time.” He placed a hand on your back and gently rubbed it.

“So… you uh… wanna go on a date?” “You’d go on a date with me?” Before you could respond he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a side hug. “I’d love too!” “Okay! But, uh… I’m not sure what to do. That’s actually what I was thinking of before you got here. This is the first time in a long time I had a day off from work, and now that I have it, I have no idea what to do with it.” “I can see that. Modeling work is demanding, you probably don’t have much time for yourself.” “Yeah.” “Want to just hang in my dorm room and play video games or just read? I’ve found some good books on my travels.” “That… sounds absolutely lovely.”

Quickly your mind wandered to the days ahead. Sighing in defeat you leaned your head onto Rantaro’s shoulder. “Although, if we start dating you know we can’t spend much time together, right?” He pulled you a little bit closer. “I know. Doesn’t make me like you any less.” “I just want to make sure. This can’t exactly be a typical relationship.” “Even if you weren’t a model this still wouldn’t be. I’d still be traveling, retracing my steps, trying to find my sisters. Finding them…” He paused for a moment truly considering his next words. They were true, without a doubt so, he shouldn’t hold back. “That’s my top priority. What kind of big brother or partner would I be if I left only you to work hard, trying your best to find them.” Your blush darkened hearing him call you that. “I travel a lot too for photo shoots. Even if we stay in contact, we’ll probably be in different time zones.” “Likely…”

You didn’t see it, but Rantaro looked down to you, his expression twisting to something serious. “But I’ll find a way. I have too this time.” You noticed the new tone he took on, the power, that deep rumbling in his voice. “This time?” “… I’m not that great of a guy. First, I lose my sisters, every single one, and then I lose you too.” “Hey.” You sat up and look him directly in the eyes. “No pity party. That’s just pathetic. We both lost contact with one another. The burden is not entirely yours alone.” “Y/N, you had work. Work you didn’t even like, but you kept at if for my sisters. You were busy trying to reach out to them the best way you thought how. I at least could have let you know I was supporting you.” “Rantaro. Stop it. This is just annoying!” You placed your hands on his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length. “Don’t dwell on the past! All we can do is move forward!” “You’re right. And moving forward, I won’t let go of you again. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. I want you around, I want you in my life. I could have before, but I just didn’t. But not anymore. I’m not going to lose any more people I care about.”

You smirked taking one of his hands into your own. “So, that’s your birthday wish.” “… Birthday wish.” “Oh my fudge, don’t tell me you forgot your birthday.” “… I did. But! Even if I did remember, that would not be it. This is a declaration. I will do this. I’m not going to lose you again. And… if I find my sisters, I’m not going to let go of them either.”

It was then those bells chimed.

You stood up, dragging Rantaro up with you. “You say you’re not that great of a guy, but you want and are trying to improve. I think that’s admirable.” You quickly straightened out and unwrinkled Rantaro’s uniform before picking a leaf off his head and tidying his unruly hair. “And don’t act like we’re in a competition to find your sisters.” You intertwined your fingers with his. “Let’s work together this time. On searching for them, and improving our communication skills, alright?” “… Yeah, I’d love too.”

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch10

Two brothers for the price of one tonight.  It turns out it was almost harder to get a decent photo of my sketchbook that it was to do the sketches themselves and I still needed the help of @willow-salix​ to do something with the lighting.  She has many talents and I am abusing them all.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Ten

Jeff dialled his son’s number for a third time that day and yet again received nothing but a voicemail message.  It looked like Gordon was once more going to be the cause of a tension headache for him.  He tossed his phone down and dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his temples in an attempt to stave it off.  When he did finally get through to Gordon he would have to have severe words about the importance of staying in contact.  Yesterday he had been prepared to overlook the lack of a phone call to check in at the end of his journey, one of the few courtesies he expected when his sons, but to still be out of reach a day later was not acceptable.  None of the others would have shown such a lack of respect for the rules but Gordon seemed determined to push the boundaries.

He glanced at the papers on his desk, reading through the details once again.  It really was a very generous offer and rather more than he felt Gordon deserved, truth be told, given the boy’s current lack of enthusiasm for anything other than swimming.  Wilbur Dandridge had thrown Jeff a lifeline that would give Gordon a solid start in a prestigious internship at his company, Gazelle Automations.  The offer meant Gordon would need to move to New York but Jeff was more than willing to finance an apartment, just as he had for the others for their college studies.  

Ever since college Jeff and Wilbur Dandridge had been firm friends, making a point of checking in every few months and keeping up to date with each others lives. Jeff hadn't meant to burden his friend with his family woes but he supposed it had been inevitable, Wilbur had always been the observant type and an empathetic listener.  Wilbur seemed to have this innate ability to sense the needs of others,  something that helped him in his work and allowed him to design products that people sometimes hadn’t even realised they needed.  On this occasion he had come up with the offer of an internship for Gordon.  The only problem was Wilbur needed a decision imminently and for that Jeff needed to get an answer from Gordon.

After three failed calls it was obvious he wasn’t going to have any luck getting hold of Gordon directly, he would have to take a different approach to track down the cause of his frustrations.  He picked up his phone again and hit speed dial 2.  This time the phone connected almost immediately, Virgil answering before the third ring had finished.

“Hi Dad, how are you?” 

“Fine, fine” he said impatiently. “I just need to speak to Gordon, can you put him on.” 

“Gordon?”  There was a slight pause.  “He’s not here.”

“Well when he gets back from wherever he's hiding, tell him to call me immediately.  And get him to charge his damn phone.”

"Why would he be here?  He’s grounded, isn’t he?  He told me he wasn’t allowed to come.”

This time it was Jeff’s turn to pause as his son’s words sank in.  Just the day before he had watched Gordon leave for the airport, bag in hand, ostensibly heading off for a few days in Denver.  Now it would appear that same son had never arrived.  He hadn’t grounded him.  He'd watched him leave for the airport where the driver had reported that he'd dropped Gordon off outside, only leaving once Gordon was inside the terminal building as per normal. He was supposed to be in Denver, but it appeared that his son had never arrived. 

“When did he tell you this?”

“Yesterday morning.  Dad, what’s going on?  Isn’t Gordon there with you?”

“No, and I don’t know where he is.  Look, if he gets in touch with you just let me know.”

“Of course.  And Dad, if you find him first please tell me.  This isn’t like him” the worry in Virgil’s voice was clearly evident.

“Of course I will.  Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

Jeff hung up, his stomach churning.  In the space of a few minutes he had gone from angry to worried sick.  

Of all his sons he had always found Gordon the most challenging but he would never have predicted the teen would run away.  There was no denying that relations had become increasingly strained but he hadn’t realised it had gotten that bad. 

He looked at the clock; his son had been missing for just over twenty-four hours but with no evidence of foul play the police probably wouldn't be interested, Gordon was nearly an adult after all.  Well, just because the official authorities wouldn’t do anything yet didn’t mean he had to sit passively by.  For all the frustrations he caused, all the arguments and heartache, Gordon was still his son.  To the outside world he was a hard headed business man, distinguished astronaut and accomplished military leader.  Few people got to see the other side to him, the paternal side, it was part of the reason why he kept his children out of the media.  He wasn’t prepared to just wait for yet more time to pass, he would have to do some investigating himself. 

Jeff logged in to his Air Terrainean account.  He knew Gordon had made it to the airport but he had to have gone somewhere. By checking to see if his ticket had been used he would know if they needed to search Denver or there in Los Angeles.  When the travel history screen finally loaded the word on the screen left him reeling.

Marineville.

It might be the home of a different force to that in which he had served in but Marineville was famous as the largest WASP base on the western seaboard.  it was a military town with nothing else for miles around; if Gordon had boarded a flight for Marineville then there could only be one intended destination.  It was time to make some more phone calls.

xoxoxox

Commander Shore looked up from his screen in surprise as the phone on the corner of his desk rang, the sharp trill cutting through his concentration.  Calls themselves were not unusual but most of them came through the internal switchboard system, even his own daughter was unable to reach him directly but the distinctive ring indicated an outside line.  Only a handful of people in the world had this number and he wasn’t expecting a call from any of them.

“This is Commander Shore” he greeted the caller.

“Colonel Jeff Tracy, Commander.  I believe you have my son.”

Shore wracked his brains.  Colonel wasn’t a designation within the World Navy and he could see no reason why anyone from the World Army Air Force or the domestic armed forces would be calling him; especially about their son.

“I’m sorry Colonel, but I don’t quite follow you.”

“My son, Commander.  Gordon Tracy.  He is at Marineville.”

Commander Shore waved over his assistant and hurriedly scribbled down the name on a piece of paper.  He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but he hadn’t been given command of Marineville by being phased by the unexpected.   Within moments the assistant had checked the Marineville logs and found a match for the name.

“Ah yes, Colonel.  I can see that Mr Tracy is currently a participant on one of our selection courses”

“Well he shouldn’t be.”

“Excuse me, Colonel?”

“My son is seventeen, a minor.  He does not have my authorization to be there and I want him home.”

Commander Shore was feeling decidedly on the back foot, dealing with irate parents was not normally part of his job description.

The assistant returned a second time and slid a piece of paper in front of him.  The sheet bore the public resume of Jeff Tracy.  No wonder Shore had been feeling the nagging prickles of recognition at the name; the man on the other end of the line was one of the richest and most influential in the country and had the ability to make life very difficult if he so chose.

“I have a copy of his permission form in front of me.  I can assure you WASP takes these allegations very seriously…”

“This is not an allegation, it is hard fact.  Your shoddy systems have allowed a child to waltz onto your base unchallenged.  I will be sending someone to collect Gordon this afternoon.  Just consider yourself lucky I’m not inclined to get my lawyers involved in this blatant disregard of protocol and maladministration.”

The line went dead.

Commander Shore leant back heavily in his chair.  Technically everything that happened at Marineville fell under his jurisdiction but he wasn’t normally involved with the recruits.  Heck, if his assistant hadn’t been so quick off the mark he wouldn’t have even known there was a selection course running, let alone who was on it or if any of them were under age.  

Gordon wasn't the first person to try and join WASP against their family’s wishes and probably wouldn’t be the last but evidently this time the family was not going to just sit back and let it happen.  Jeff Tracy was a formidable man and if he decided to make waves Shore wasn’t too sure how much support he would receive from his superiors.  The very fact that Colonel Tracy had somehow accessed his direct line showed that the man had friends in high places.

Commander Shore passed the unenviable challenge of locating the missing Tracy son to his assistant.  Marineville had a population of tens of thousands and covered several square miles; the selection course could be taking place anywhere.  He just hoped they could find the boy before whoever Colonel Tracy had tasked to collect him arrived.

xoxoxox

Scott pulled into the visitors’ parking lot outside the Marineville security gate that stood guard over the base and screeched to a halt, slamming the door closed behind him.  Of all the ways he had envisaged spending his day off this had not been part of his plans.  A long run had been a possibility, maybe catch up on the stack of unwatched movies he had built up before heading into town to watch a band with a couple of the guys from his unit and, if he was lucky, pick up a girl. Instead the only thing he would be picking up today was a little brother.  

His own Air Force base was about an hour east of Marineville and as the nearest family member he had been sent on a trek across the state to find Gordon and ship him back home on the next available flight.  Instead of calming down on the journey his frustrations had built up further.  The phone call from his father had ruined his day.  It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his brothers, it just rankled that he was expected to drop everything to sort out the mess.  Jeff didn’t ask, he demanded.   There was a clear expectation that he would do as he was told and Jeff left no room for argument.  He wasn’t sure who he was more mad at; Gordon for engineering this whole situation or his father for still managing to dictate his life even from afar. 

First Lieutenant Tracy on a good day was formidable but on a bad day he could be terrifying.  Despite technically being off duty he had opted for his dress uniform and he cut an imposing figure in the dark blue, standing out starkly amongst the grey of the WASP.  The man that strode across to the guard house had the aura of one who was used to being obeyed despite his relatively junior status and it was no surprise he was climbing the ranks so quickly.  

“Can I help you, Sir?” the guard on duty acknowledged his approach.

“Scott Tracy.”  He flashed his identification card.  “I’m here to collect Gordon Tracy, I believe you are expecting me.”

“Very good, Sir” the guard said, after examining the waved credentials.  “If you could just wait here a moment, your transport will be along soon.”   

The memo, issued by none other than Commander Shore himself, had already come down regarding the Tracys and the instructions were clear, do everything to keep them sweet.  Even after the briefest of interactions the guard was quite thankful he would not be involved beyond greeting the visitor.  He certainly didn’t envy the Tracy who was the cause of all the trouble, the man in front of him looked stormy to say the least. 

One phone call and five short minutes later and a jeep was approaching the guard house.  Without waiting for an invitation, Scott climbed in and he and the driver were soon crossing the sprawling expanse that was Marineville.  Before many more minutes had passed the jeep was rolling to a stop at their destination; a massive obstacle course that stretched away into the distance, the many elements looking like they would pose a stiff challenge to anyone tackling the beast.

“He’s not here” stated Scott bluntly, surveying the crowd of hopefuls waiting their turn.

“Sir, the timetable states that your brother is part of this group.”

Scott’s frown clearly showed his opinion on the record keeping abilities of WASP however he had little option but to follow his driver over to the officers in charge of the group.  The two assessors acknowledged their approach, looking curiously at the out of place Air Force officer, but continued their job; one observing a cluster of participants out on the course through binoculars while the other jotted down the notes.

“Can I help you?” 

Scott was saved from answering by his chaperone.  “We have been alerted that there is an unauthorized minor in your cohort.  First Lieutenant Tracy is here to escort his brother home.”

“Yes, but I can’t see him”  Scott’s frown deepened as he took a closer look at the waiting group.  “It looks like your information may be flawed.”

“He might be out on the course.”

“Might?  Surely you know who you have out there.”

“WASP uses anonymous observation.  Participant details are held by Central Control, we only know them as numbers to avoid bias” the assessor indicated the numbered armbands worn by each participant.  “If your brother is listed as part of this group and is not with those waiting he must be one of the four currently on test.  This is a group task so you will have to wait until they finish.  It won’t take them long, they are making good progress now they have realised they they have to work together.”

The officers turned their attention back to the course and with nothing else to do Scott found himself also watching the progress of the group, not that he could see much.  The course was massive and the participants were just four indistinct figures in distance.  All he wanted to do was get Gordon, get out of there then head back to his own base; each passing minute was eating into his time off and he could feel the resentment building.

“So how are they doing?” the assessor making notes asked the observer with the binoculars; they still had a job to do and participants that needed grading.   

“6 is looking strong and 3 is also putting in a solid performance.  10 is a borderline fail though unless they buck their ideas up.”

“What about 14?”

“Still leading the way and carrying the rest of the group; that lot wouldn’t be doing nearly so well without him.”

“He’s the one that figured out they had to work together?”

“Looked like it; they certainly all seem to be deferring to him now.  He’s wasted in junior ranks.  If he keeps up this level of performance I’ll be recommending him for the officer stream at the end of the course.”

“I know what you mean.  Him and 5 have been the leading the way in all the tests and are both natural leaders although 14 put in a much stronger performance in the pool.  I’ll be interested to see how 5 gets on out there when it’s his turn.”

“Well concentrate on these four for now. 10 is still lagging, I don’t think he would have made it over that last gap without 6’s help.  6 has certainly got the strength but is happy to let 14 lead.”

“And 3?”

“Keeping up and doing what he is told by the look of it; good balance and strength but a follower rather than a leader.  You would think 14 had been doing this for years though, not faced with it for the first time.  He is a quick thinker and the others are respecting his decisions.  Definitely officer material.”

Scott listened to the conversation with vague interest.  Participant 10 sounded like they were in trouble and might not make the cut but 14 must have made an impression going by the judgements being made.  He valued those that could use their own initiative and wished he had few more like that in his own Air Force unit.  Of course the military needed its followers too otherwise the whole structure would disintegrate but good leaders were hard to come by; he was tempted to try and have a quiet word with number 14 and see if he could sway him towards a life in the skies.  

He wondered how his brother was faring; remembering his own military selection course and the desperate desire to make the grade.  The distant figures were too far away for him to even work out if one was Gordon let alone make out their numbers, perhaps the family swimmer was the solid number 3, the good strength and balance sounded fitting.  Not that it mattered though, their father had made it clear that Gordon was to be returned home immediately.

The four battling for their place within WASP had now reached the far end of the course.  They disappeared for a moment as they dropped off the top of the final wall then came back into view as they ran back the length of the course to the start.

The rapidly approaching figures began to resolve themselves into identifiable shapes and Scott was able to pick out the distinctive sandy blonde hair and muscular silhouette of his sibling.  It looked like he had been brought to the right place after all.  His gaze hardened as the object of his mission drew nearer.

The change in atmosphere was noticeable to the WASP officers as Scott stiffened and they watched with some trepidation as the four figures raced for the finish line.  Evidently the errant Tracy had been sighted and was not in for a happy reunion.  

The quartet made it to the finish.  One collapsed to the floor in heap while two more ended up bent double, hands braced against knees for support as they gasped in ragged lungfuls of air.  The fourth, however, stayed upright although it was clear to see that this was taking effort.  His breathing was strained as he fought to keep his body under control after his exertions on the course but there was an iron determination not to show weakness.

The two brothers faced off and the tension in the air became electric.  The WASP officers stood back and gave them space, this was a family moment and any attempt to intervene would likely see them ending up as collateral damage.  

Scott looked down on his younger brother but if he was expecting Gordon to be cowed into submission he was sorely mistaken.  Even after the recent abuse it had endured, Gordon was keeping his body under tight control, back straight and shoulders broad.  The toffee eyes that stared up at him blazed with a fury he hadn’t encountered before and Scott found himself drawing on every inch of his superior height to exert dominance.  Blue and brown locked in an unspoken argument that was ferocious in it’s silence.  Both men stood rigid, neither breaking the deadlock.

“Gordon, you’re going home.”

The instruction was measured and more deadly than any shout but Scott wasn’t entirely sure Gordon was going to comply.  This was no longer the little brother he frequently had to pack off to bed or send to his room to complete homework.  The man in front of him bristled with a hatred that radiated off him.  

Gordon stared up into the crystal blue eyes, forcing his body to obey him and stay upright.  The surge of rage that had swept in was helping in taking the place of the adrenalin that had ebbed after reaching the end of the course.  He refused to bow down and give the submissive apology that was clearly expected.  He also knew though that he was beaten.  The very fact that Scott was there showed that he held the trump card and his falsified permission form had been exposed.  

This was the end of the line for WASP but there was no point in giving Scott the satisfaction of winning; he would do this on his own terms.  With eyes still locked on his brother he carefully slid the elastic cuff from his arm then turned and handed it out to the assessors.

“I voluntarily withdraw.  Thank you for the opportunity.” With head held high, he stepped around Scott to the waiting jeep.

It was as though a spell had been broken.  Released from that burning gaze Scott was suddenly aware that all eyes were on him.  He took a steadying breath to regain his composure then also turned to the WASP officers.

“I’m sorry for the trouble my brother has caused.”  

The officers just looked at him, speechless, still unsure as to what they had just witnessed.  Their strongest candidate exposed as a child who had no right to be there.  As Scott turned to leave he couldn’t help but see the number on the armband, still held in the officer’s outstretched hand.  

Number 14. 

[punoy]

Blood of the dragons: A post-canon concept.

Lucina wanders the globe acting once again as a symbol of hope. Morgan desperately searches for a way to reunite their family. Marc is hiding they key to potential disaster.

This is just some musings I had thinking about what life could be like after the events of Awakening specifically for the children of Chrom and Robin. I don’t believe this is what likely what happens after canon, just concepts I found fun to play around with. This is a clean up of an exchange I had over discord, so it’s still a bit of a mess in terms of structure, but hopefully still comprehensible! It’s not really a fic, so I’m not too worried about the flow.

※ Chrom/m!Robin. This could really be for either, but it was written for the intent of m!Robin and as such will reflect in the pronouns. Marc is female!Morgan while Morgan is male!Morgan. They were both found at the same time and both have amnesia. In this timeline, Chrom and Robin only have Lucina. The first part is more Lucina-centric while the second part is more Marc/Morgan-centric.

Now that’s out of the way, let’s go.

Side: Lucina

Lucina doesn’t stay long after Robin disappears. She sticks around and tries to help stabilize Ylisse and to help the communities affected by the influence of Grima. To be by her father’s side helping the people she failed in her own timeline is one of the most treasured experiences she has. But that’s just it. She failed them in her timeline. And now that everything is returning to normal, she feels more out of place than ever. Walking the halls the perfectly maintained castle in Ylissitol feels absolutely foreign to her. Not to mention seeing a younger version of herself toted around and cared for. Chrom doesn’t beg her to stay, but he wishes she would. (He’s lost so many others, and he doesn’t want to lose her too, he doesn’t say.) Lucina wanders Ylisse acting as a mercenary and humanitarian, not being able to bring herself to leave the continent completely. She still loves her father and doesn’t wish to see him alone if he is once again in a time of need. Sure, he has her younger siblings, but they’re all but children. But, she needs to find her place in this world (and perhaps she is searching... searching for something she cannot yet admit to herself) and not let her be a shadow for her younger self. She fought for the her of this world to have the childhood she never got to. To live the life she could not. And so she keeps her distance.

Contrary to what Chrom, Marc, and Morgan believed, Lucina did return. It took her many months, but unannounced strolled their wandering princess. She’ll recount her tales across the lands and catch up with her family and friends. Some stayed in Ylisstol and joined the royal forces. Meanwhile, others set off on their own journey to distant lands. Lucina missed her cousin, but she couldn’t speak as she had nearly done the same. As quick as it she came, she left once again, back on her journey.  

This was how things were for awhile. Lucina would come back, they would be a normal family again, then the feelings of being a byproduct of a cursed time would bubble up inside again. Lucina would leave until she was able to face them again. Marc and Morgan especially had her anxious. She didn’t tell a soul more than she needed to as to not resurface bad memories, but the two fell under the influence of Grima after he had invaded the castle. She tried to escape with them, but she was unable to help.  If possible, she would rather meet her family outside the palace, away from the place he had lost them.

At the times Lucina was in Ylisstol, she tried her best to avoid her younger self. She isn’t quite ready for either her or this small child to face each other. How was she going to explain all of this? She didn’t want to pressure her younger self or act as some sort of aspiration. She wanted little Lucina to live the life she wanted, without some reminder of the failures she may become. So, for the time being, the few times Lucina was with her younger self, now old enough to talk and read and write, she was Aunt Marth. She looked quite passable as Chrom’s sister, no? Although, it was hard to hold her tongue and not address him as father.

Marc and Morgan had to get used to being the older siblings. They do recall Lucina from their time, and she was always the one taking care of them. Now, Lucina is ages younger, and they’re the responsible ones. They both grew into their own, Marc following in her fathers footsteps to becoming a tactician, while Morgan studied under Miriel to become a researcher of magic. But, they still made time to hang out with their little sister. It was hard not to project the Lucina of the future onto her, and they really tried. But, they couldn’t help but be a bit sad their sister was hardly ever around.

Robin returns five years later and Lucina rushes to Ylisstol as soon as word reaches her. She can’t help but feel frustration that she left partially in search of him, yet he was found the one place she could not look. She cannot contain her joy that her father is back, he returned to them, and she has the family she needed. Perhaps, she can stay longer this time.

Robin can’t believe the amount of time he’s missed. Lucina is a no longer an infant, but a young girl! He already feels regret missing out on the youth of the older Lucina, despite not having any control of that time. He doesn’t want to let another moment slip away from him. He is so proud of everyone. Ylisstol is stable for the most part, Chrom is loved by all, the tensions with Plegia have mostly subsided and they’re working towards a bond not built upon lies. Ylissians are sending aid to Valm to help their recovering nations. Not to mention his children, all blossoming in their own fields.

In the year that Lucina spends in Ylissitol, she doesn’t shy away from her younger self as often. They develop somewhat of an awkward sisterly bond. She tries not to say much about her past or compare herself to her. She truly is happy that child Luci gets to have this life, and now that she’s stopped running, she can have it too. Little Luci can hardly help but look up to her. This fantastic princess who roams the world to bring hope to others? What a dream.

Luci, now ten, has started to become wise to how dodgy her family is when it comes to their past. Marc and Morgan don’t seem to be able to tell her anything before she was born. Chrom always gets really nervous talking about his “sister.” Aunt Marth barely even seems to know her father. No one will answer why was Robin gone when she was really little. She vaguely recalled this loud man telling her stories and waving around his... his brand? She couldn’t be remembering that correctly. The only people that could be was Marc or Morgan but she swear it wasn’t them. Also... just how old was her parents when Morgan and Marc seemed so big now. Over the years she prodded for answers, not really suspecting much, just being a curious child. But, she slowly came to accept there was some truth to her family they were keeping from her. She knew enough it was probably better not to ask if they haven’t told her yet.

Luci gets to be a bit older and, ever the studious one, begins reading through some accounts of the war. As princess, she’s obligated to stay aware of current events to prepare her for the future where she may rule (which is becoming ever more a reality as her older siblings don’t seem that interested in the throne.) She begins with the war between Plegia and Ylisse. It seems so far away, the reality that her grandfather inflicted upon her parents and aunts. Then, she reads about the peace Emmeryn brought, wishing she could have met her one day. The resparking of the war with Plegia was next. She knew the toll it took on her father and the regret he felt causing all this loss, the trust of the citizens, lives of the innocent, his sister. She is about to call it a night before she gets to the war in Valm. She so happens to find a particular account that catches her eye though, a roster of soldiers enlisted.

Funny that. Someone with her own name appears on the list, fighting alongside her parents. Perhaps she was named after her? Marc and Morgan are here too. Strange, her parents couldn’t have been older than their twenties, so what were her siblings doing in the army? Now that she thinks of it, her fathers said Aunt Marth had served with them, but she’s nowhere to be seen in the reports or the rosters. She sets out to ask her parents about it soon after.

“Who’s Lucina?” “You, of course.” “No, I mean. She was a soldier in the army but she didn’t have any additional information on her in the log books. Did you know her?”

It was at that time, Chrom and Robin realized, perhaps their daughter was old enough to know. She generally knew of the Grimleals and their god, but never did she think her own father would be the key to this whole conflict, the vessel of a chaotic god. Not to mention her siblings were from a completely other time. And why everyone fell just short of saying “You remind me so much of your aunt.” 

Hanging out with Aunt Marth, now herself from another time, she knows, has become strange. There used to be moments when she would catch Marth about to say something, but not follow through, laughing it off as some joke she just remembered. Marth would be standing and watching wistfully from afar. She was always accepting of whatever she wanted to do because she couldn’t do those things in her youth. It all made sense to her now, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Little Luci continued to look up to her older self, but instead of feeling inspired she was left with feelings of inadequacy. How could she live up to one of the heroes that saved Ylisse? What if she didn’t grow up to be as strong or skilled as her? This is exactly what Lucina wanted to avoid and told her as such.

“I made my sacrifices so you could make your mistakes. Please, live for yourself and not try to live my life. This is the world we fought to make for you. Give it all that you have.”

Side: Twins

※ Takes place starting simultaneous with side Lucina and then after.

Marc dutifully takes up the the mission of becoming Ylisstol’s next royal tactician. She learned from the man who won a handful of wars and saved the world! She knows she isn’t as experienced as her father, he could easily best her in any manner of tactical thinking games and practice, but in his absence, she would have to make do. Chrom was competent enough on his own to be able to handle the military and command by himself, but it endeared him that his youngest daughter felt that prideful connection to Robin. He gave her all the resources and tutors he could, but they were no replacement for her father. 

Morgan dreamed to become a researcher, learning the causes of the universe’s phenomena. To understand just a fraction about the gods. With a focus in magical studies, he joined Ricken under Miriel’s tutelage. At first his intentions seemed to be very pure, to learn and understand what makes the world what it is, but he couldn’t help but wonder something very specific about his own past. The path he was taking might be the road to finding it.

He was always more curious about his and his sister’s amnesia. Robin’s was caused by Grima willfully wiping his memory, but what about theirs? From the accounts of him and his twin sister, he had begun to piece together something puzzling. Their memories contradicted Lucina’s own. Chrom and Robin died so young in her own history, just after Marc and Morgan were born. Lissa raised them until even their aunt and other closest allies fell. Then, Lucina was left to care for them on her own, all while leading a rebellion. She didn’t go too deep into what became of them, but given her grave expression, it was most likely not good. Meanwhile, the few memories Marc and Morgan could recount were rather happy. They were mostly of Robin, occasionally featuring Chrom or Lucina. They had memories growing up in the castle with their parents. Trips to Plegia and Ferox. Travelling with Robin and their sister. All the way up until they were in their early teens they could remember always being by Robin’s side. Morgan came to the conclusion that it was highly likely they came from another time, separate from Lucina’s and the other children. 

Their past was a bit of a sore subject between the twins. Marc had accepted her amnesia for some time. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little curious about her memories, but she never went out of her way to look for them. She was perfectly happy enjoying the life she had now, especially now that Robin was back. Morgan on the other hand, loved his family, but now believing that they were from another time, wanted to know what that was. They’re the only remnants of that world held within this one.

An argument sparks between the two over this.

“If it’s true we’re from another time, what happened to father?” - Morgan “I suppose he would probably be looking for us on the mountain we were found on.” - Marc “And that doesn’t bother you? We just left him all alone?” - Morgan “That isn’t our time anymore. Of course I don’t want him to be alone, but we’re here now. There really isn’t much to be done about it. We can be with the family we have.” - Marc “But what if we could do something about it. Would you?” - Morgan.

While Morgan hasn’t found it yet, he poses Marc with a simple hypothetical, if they had the option to return to their time, would she take it? Marc denies any furthering of the thought. She’s not planning on wasting her life thinking of the hypothetical of abandoning her family when she could be making the most of her time with them. Lucina didn’t go back to her time when all of this was one either. Meanwhile, Morgan is offended at the thought he’d be the one abandoning his family and the implication that he doesn’t care for them. They left Robin to be forever searching on that mountain top, unsure of where their children are. Robin and Chrom have Lucina at least and possibly them if they ever decide to have kids again. Their father only has the one set of kids. And in the case of Lucina, she couldn’t go back because there was nothing left for her there. There is a family waiting for them in their own time.

Eventually, he drops the argument and they decide not to speak of it or to tel their family of it. As they grow older, Marc stays in the castle working alongside her fathers. Meanwhile, Morgan embarks on a quest to discover the true nature of their time. It takes him mostly to Plegia and the Ruins of Time. Occasionally, he even saw Lucina who was out on her own journey. It was in one such time that he asks Lucina about her own world, and how she came here. She’s hesitant to go into the details at first, warning it’s dangerous and irreversible magic. Once there’s a rip in the times, it’s hard to close completely. She had originally assumed that’s what happened to the twins, following after her, but that had now proven to be false. Morgan promises that it’s simply for research, and that he wants to be able to prevent an abuse of time magic. She trusts her brother, and explains what sacrifices and hardships it took to create the portal here.

Marc is so concerned for her brother’s well being. She knows he most likely didn’t stop thinking about it, and she worries for what he’s getting himself into in that world. He wasn’t truly going to leave them, was he? Without saying goodbye if he found his way back? Aside from worrying about her brother leaving, she had questioned why. Why was it they were here? Their childhood seemed so normal compared to Lucina’s. She left out of desperation. What could have possibly happened that suddenly they were with their father on a trip and then they were waking up clueless in the Ruins of Time? She cam to the conclusion there had to be a reason, and she put faith in her father doing this for her own good.

When Morgan returns to the castle with Lucina, everyone is filled with delight. Luci missed her brother. Marc was glad he was safe. Lucina was glad to be home with everyone. It’s been ages since they had all been together. They stay at the castle for awhile, Marc off studying with their father and Morgan seemingly always caught up in his next research project.

One day, Marc notices something strange on her hand opposite her brand. A scar perhaps? Perhaps she had nicked herself while sword fighting, or scratched herself in her sleep. It was insignificant at first. Then, as time went on, she began to notice it take a faint but very distinctive shape, the mark of Grima. She alerts Robin immediately. It’s a major cause of concern, of course. It’s been over a decade since Grima was vanquished. Robin’s own mark had faded as well. Marc begs for Robin to keep this between them, and maybe Chrom for now. She isn’t mentally prepared for the implications of this until they find out exactly what it means. She’s not stupid, and knows that the others need to know eventually, but hopes, just for now, she can keep things to herself.

In an attempt to keep a sense of normalcy, Marc has tea with Lucina and Luci. Apparently Morgan was too busy to join them. Lucina starts sharing stories of her adventures with Morgan as he has been a bit too avoidant for Marc’s liking. It seemed relatively tame, nothing much to do with any kind of timeline hopping. Until Lucina starts reminiscing about her siblings. 

“You two always had your nose in your books, it was hard to get you to look five feet in front of you. You were such nice kids, in spite of everything. Morgan said this a lot, that he was planning on finding a way to save everyone, even though you guys were barely eight. Already looking out for your big sister. Look at him now, trying to set up precautions against other time travelers. I guess he’s finally fulfilling his goals.”

Marc stops her right there. She didn’t.... teach him how to time travel did she? And upon realizing that Morgan has been planning something this whole time, they go to find out what these experiments and projects of his really are.

They find him doing just as they had expected, trying to open a gate through time back to where he came. Before Marc could even get a word out about how betrayed she was, her hand stung with pain. She could feel a long dead god whispering to her, “You will not escape so easily.”

As Marc suspected, there was in fact a reason that they were in this time, but it wasn’t of their father’s volition, but Morgan’s. While she could barely recall more than a whisper of their past, something grave was about to begin, she knew.

Marc and Morgan come from a future where Robin managed to suppress Grima rather than outright killing him or putting him to sleep. Chrom and Robin try their best to keep the world at peace, but Risen are appearing at alarming rates, Grimleal are terrorizing the villages, eventually the chaos even reaching Ylisstol. Eventually, the capital falls and Chrom with it. Robin escapes with Lucina and the twins, desperate to keep the last of his family safe.

They travel Ylisse, fending off Risen, trying to figure out how to rid themselves of Grima’s curse. Eventually, Robin recalls words from Naga. Grima has to be defeated by their own hand in order to truly die. Robin had been able to suppress Grima’s influence to the extent their mark had vanished, but everyone in the family had the unspoken suspicion that it was not quite gone from their blood. Morgan or Marc must die by the others hand.

Robin is not very keen on the idea of letting his children kill the other. He vehemently is against it. They search for other methods for years, but they keep coming back to this. It seems almost like an inevitability to the twins though. Morgan can’t bare the thought of it, but Marc puts down her foot and demands they stop running from it before it gets worse. She volunteers. The mark has begun to manifest on her first anyway. She’s much more vulnerable to Grima, so it should be her to go. Morgan doesn’t see a way to escape this and accepts.

Marc and Morgan go to the ruins nearby to complete the deed. But, just before Morgan is able to go through with it, the Risen attack. Unfortunately, the came alone. They couldn’t let Robin and Lucina stop them. It would be no good if they died like this, and Morgan runs, dragging his sister behind him. And, instead of fighting back, he opens a portal to another time and falls through. And the rest of their days were spent with a father of a different fate.

Morgan and Marc are foreign entities to this world. They are viable vessels of Grima introduced to this world, and with the rips in time that Morgan has been creating, Grima has been slowly exerting his influence on them once again. Even to the extent the mark has rematerialized onto Marc. If he manages to manifest within one of them again, then what? What was all of this for?

Morgan closes the portal he made with the best of his ability. Little did he know, these rifts are not so easily sealed. His fallen father, wielder of the corrupted Falchion, and Risen King, finds his way through to their world.

The Risen King, barely a semblance of the man he once was left in him, still held fondness for his family. He would do anything to see Robin again, even if it means razing the world. Grima has told him, the only way for him to stay with them forever, is to convince Robin to take on his soul.

[This is where I start to lose the plot!]

Imagine the encounter between Risen King Chrom and the Robin of this time. He sees for the first time in years, a Robin that doesn’t fear him. A Robin that perhaps naively thinks Chrom is not a threat, if only they can get through to him. It’s heartbreaking for what’s left of Chrom, to see this young man he loved before his death, but there isn’t enough left of Chrom to pull back.

※  Finishing notes: I know that was a bit inconclusive, but this is all I have so far! As I said, this isn’t really meant to be a fic, just a concept in my head. Feel welcome to send ideas my way about any part of it. Alternatively, if you want to use any of these ideas in a fic, I would love to read whatever you came up with.

Side Lucina and Side Twins were two different conversations which is why they don’t really connect thematically, but in my head they were of the same universe and it felt strange to separate them.

[fallingin-like]

an aftg fanfic appreciation post

the other day at work i saw something about fanfiction writer appreciation day and told myself “ah i will make a post when i get home” and immediately Did Not Do That. so i’m doing it now! first, thank you to everyone who writes fanfiction! it’s such an honour to be able to read your writing and i am so grateful to the writers who spend so much time and effort into creating these stories. i do not deserve such amazing content and yet i have it. also thanks to nora for this wonderful series which has changed my life in so many ways. 

these are in no particular order. i really tried to tone down my ‘i love you so much and really want to be friends with you’ vibe but i don’t think it worked. this is a super long post and i still didn’t get to say everything i wanted to.

some  fics/series that need more love (aka they have under 350 kudos)

to the south by Morcai - this is a series (never to be caught and secret, safe, close to the door) that was really cool to read. it has elements of the Iskryne Series which i don’t know anything about, but apparently has to do with bondwolves. basically, neil has a wolfbrother who he can speak to telepathically which is written in a really unique way, through interesting phrases and scent-based nicknames for people. i’ve never read anything like these fics and i adore them

all that we see or seem by rorschachs - an inception au. need i say more? this fic flows well, has good use of flashbacks, and an amazing ending. it’s ~23,000 words but feels like much less due to nice pacing and an interesting take on this au

Travelers by @sunrise-and-death ​ - a series (Placeless Destination and Moving Towards) that’s a soulmate au. soulmates can interact through a pyschic bond that allows it to seem like the other person is there with them. neil and andrew meet when they are young and it’s so interesting seeing them get to know each other at this age. we also get to see some neil/mary angst and all of the terrible things happen to andrew. an intense series that manages to feel light-hearted at the same time. the second fic in this series is incomplete

atlas by @purearcticfire ​ / @pipedream-truths ​ - a magic au that features shapeshifters and a cursed neil, so immediately you know i’ll like it. this fic has some cool uses of italics, caps, spacing, etc. that creates a stylized story that helps build tone and gives the story a clearer voice. unfortunately, i can’t tell too much detail about my favourite parts because it they are *ultra spoilers* so i’ll just say, it gets so intense at the end. just trust me about this. ao3 says it’s incomplete (4/5 chapters) but it seems complete to me. also, at ~72,000 words, it’s a pretty hefty fic

Golden Keys and Gray Lines by @wouldyoulightmycandle ​ - just a feel-good post-canon fic that involves a road trip, an ice cream museum, and a bit of Working Through Rough Times. super cute! this fic is incomplete

some authors i just really love and appreciate (you probably already know them and if you don’t then idk what you’re doing)

all of these writers have serious talent that make it look easy to write fanfiction. it’s not easy. you guys have all of my love. all of it.

@nakasomethingkun ​ /  ephemeralsky - basically i just see their name and automatically click the fic without bothering to fully read the tags or summary. they have never let me down and i adore the way they write. everything they write is an easy read and i always come back to their fics. i was going to mention my favourites and then i realized i was going to list everything they’ve written for aftg and i’m not even kidding. funny, angst, fluff, everything you could want in a fic they have it. so so good i actually don’t know how to describe it. their fics break my heart and then put it back together a little bit different so that even after i am finished reading and continue with the rest of my life, i feel different. they make me hurt in a way i didn’t know that i could like. this quality of fic has me scrolling back to the top to reread it the second i finish. what in the world they’re so good.

@annawrites ​ / moonix - 50 aftg fics. that’s actually crazy. and all of them are so high quality and there is such a variety. flower shop/tattoo parlor au? one of my favourite series ever. high school au? of course it includes 4 fully complete fics. shapeshifter au? amazingly done. scott pilgrim vs the world au? so good that i went out and watched the movie for the first time (i am not even joking). i was looking through all the fics and just started rereading them, i just can’t help myself. they describe everything in a way that makes their stories unique, but doesn’t seem like they’re trying too hard. or at all. their fics flow so well and every sentence is a gem. i read and reread so carefully to make sure i don’t miss a thing, but always find myself catching new jokes and quirks.

@lolainslackss ​ / lolainslackss - i really don’t know where to start. once again, i just really love all of their fics. i started scrolling through their works too see if i had a favourite and could not even choose a top 5. their writing is so beautiful i can’t get enough. they always choose the best things to include. selective mutism and sign language? that’s a sure way into my heart. the suit shop au is adorable and pining andrew really is best andrew. i found exycast surprisingly late in my fanfiction reading and that is a real tragedy because it’s amazing and really cute. the soulmate timer fic is an old favourite and if i’m looking for angst, i know i can pull it up.

@gluupor ​ / gluupor - an absolute legend. with 54 fics for aftg, it’s amazing that all of them are outrageously funny, entertaining, and just really well written. a lot of them are fics adapted as an au for other fandoms (like their super popular brooklyn 99 au that i absolutely adore) and they are all hilarious. it’s so fun to search for familiar quotes or realize how similar characters from different fandoms are to the foxes and the quirks they share. these are fics that will definitely cheer you up. i love their sense of humour, it fits the characters so well and helps to shape the world they’re writing in. it’s always exciting to see them publish a new fic.

@idnis ​ / idnis - they have a really unique writing style, i’ve never seen anything like it in this fandom. every story has so much care and love in it that’s evident through the small details that you only pick up through rereading. their stories are stylized with spaces and formatting that help guide the reader and adds to the tone of their stories. i fell so in love with their cat!neil. they write such interesting stories, have original plots, and their fics read like poetry. before you know it, you’ve finished the fic without realising you should have gone to bed an hour ago. they also have some amazing original work that everyone should go check out!

@badacts ​ / badacts - so recently a lot of their fics were made visible to ao3 users only (a shame in my opinion) so if you haven’t read their fics, go make an account! or log into your account! you really don’t want to miss these fics. they have a kid fic where both andrew and neil are baby versions of themselves so it’s obviously one of the best things ever. they who made you/they made me too is so good even the title is enough to make me feel. there’s introspection and realization and it’s from aaron’s perspective. i love seeing the twinyards bond. and, of course we have to mention the terra firma series because i love injured!neil and this one hits me in a different way. i love the way the abrupt transition into injury for neil and being able to experience the confusion and not knowing what’s happening with him.

iaquilam - they have posted 2 fics for aftg and they are some of my favourites in this fandom. this has amazing characterization, neil and andrew and everyone feel so real and so true and i love them. a mouthy, raven neil is one of the best types of neil. they write from andrew’s perspective and i cannot believe have well they capture him and his thoughts. quotes that have stuck with me “there’s more than one way of getting what you want”, “’he hurts,’ kevin says. ‘it hurts”, “you will be afraid and you will do it anyway”, and “to keep living. until i don’t”. also i think that andrew with synesthesia in where everything is good fits so perfectly. the idea that andrew has something so unique ahh i love. “your voice was the first blue one i ever saw” makes everything around me go quiet.

@jemejem ​ / jemejem - first of all i am really loving the radio show ficlet that’s being posted on tumblr. i’m a sucker for breakup fics, especially cheating fics (because i need angst) so only was the find of the century. it’s a fic where no matter how many times i’ve read it, i still feel gutted and achy reading it. their recent fic, the sound, was really interesting and i loved the later chapters so much but can’t share because of *spoilers*

undertow - okay so they also only have 2 aftg fics but oh my goodness they are so good. tenuous is one of my most reread fics, i love the concept, interactions between all the characters, how i feel like i’m there with them, and their descriptions. one of my favourite lines are “The sink turns on; water smacks against the bottom of its metallic basin. It feels—well. It just feels.” ugh i don’t know why i like it so much i just do. it fits so perfectly. and i can totally imagine kevin and neil being super petty in their love song writing, this fic is such a contrast to the other one and yet still so good.

@broship-addict ​ / broship_addict - kid!au! oh my goodness ice cream au! ahh they’re so good at writing cute fluff that has such good characterization that they’ve adapted perfectly into whatever au they have written. and at the same time impulse hit me in a different kind of way. what a joy to read, i love witnessing the ways that andrew and neil come together in all of their fics. also i really can’t not mention their amazing artwork. so grateful to have them contributing so much to this fandom

@unkingly / vicariously kingly - bless these fics. i don’t know anyone that doesn’t love a good de-aged neil fic and this really does The Most for that trope. also can i just say that callboy!neil was a thing i didn’t know i needed in my life but now i don’t know how i lived without it. also mermaid!neil?? yes please. i adore the way they write andriel. their fics are angsty and never fail to make me feel something, often a little bit raw in a good way. latchkey child wrecked me. i felt like i had been scraped clean and felt a little bit off for the remaining night and day after. Say Golden, Pony Boy was eerie and just the right amount of mysterious. i was left feeling unsettled in my own home. these fics have delightful endings that leave you satisfied and yet wanting more all the same

@spanglebangle / spanglebangle - i really really cannot get over sunshine and moonlight. it’s such a soft version of neil and andrew’s relationship, i love the direction that was taken and how the boys grew and the changes because they found each other. i love the quote “you like the big gestures and ridiculous things i say. i’m in your head, remember, i know it makes you feel wanted” fox!neil is really so adorable and pure, but also feisty and protective and funny. i would love to see more of this fic. also the elementary au is everything to me. there’s a lot of content and it keeps me interested, but i especially love the later chapters with everything surrounding neil and then even later with andrew wrestling with his feelings. so well written.

@hopingforcoordinates ​ / crazy_like_a - if you haven’t read their fics then ?? i really don’t know what to say since they wrote 3 of the top 5 fics with the most kudos in this fandom. and if you have read their work then we both know why they are being mentioned. i have fallen in love with their take on raven!neil. their writing style feels so simple and natural, which is a real talent. if you’re looking for a more explicit post-canon fic, then lessons is great, just make sure nobody is reading over your shoulder hah

@fuzzballsheltiepants ​ / fuzzballsheltiepants - the iconic a mewment like this series is so funny, sweet, and angsty and features The Cats which is always a good sign. in particular, i loved the conversation about mark rothko and all of the art they looked at in the 6th fic. i don’t know what counts as spoilers so i’ll say thank goodness for neil ‘oblivious’ josten, trivia nights, and the good bad jokes that made this series such an enjoyable read. similarly, you can’t go wrong with the angst that’s sure to come with a fic where andrew gets hurt and doesn’t remember who neil is. or at least, this fic definitely went the opposite of wrong. 

and i really cannot make this post without mentioning the mind-blowing collabs of lolainslackss and moonix to create dating & other disasters and of moonix and gluupor to write No Place Like Home (incomplete). i literally don’t even have words for how excited i was for when i heard of these fics. these collabs are too powerful for this world and if you haven’t read them then i guess you don’t want to enjoy yourself.

as well, additional thanks from this little ace baby to everyone who writes ace!neil or demi!neil. you guys have a special place in my heart.

i tried to find everyone’s tumblr but obviously didn’t succeed. please tag them if i missed them or tagged the wrong account. thanks! i also did not take the time to research pronouns/names so i refer to everyone as ‘they/them’. i know some of the right pronouns/names but it felt wrong to have some of them and not the rest. some of my comments might seem incoherent or repetitive. my apologies for all of this.

also if you go to my ao3 and see that it’s a little bare/notice that i never comment just know that it’s because i am *ultra lazy* and most of the time i cannot be bothered to log into my account. probably commented as raelle instead. or just ‘a’ because i really am That Lazy. or i’m planning on writing an essay for your fic but haven’t gotten around to it and i’m just drafting it in my head every time i reread.

[shawnsvalentine]

business + pleasure : two

prologue - part one

description: shawn’s always been into older women but sloan is the exception that drives him wild

warnings: language, slight sexual content, a little angsty

word count: [2.4k]

author’s note: this is kind of irrelevant to this particular chapter but i just wanted to point out that my friend @cocoashawn came up with the name for this series! it was gonna be named after the song that semi-inspired it but she suggested “business and pleasure” when i sent her a lil snippet so here we are! also think i’m gonna stop adding chapter pictures 

Focusing on Shawn’s soft and supple lips had completely slipped Sloan’s mind on the walk back to her place. Her heart was beating so fast that she was sure it was going to rip open through chest. It felt like a twisted sign, being so careful around the office for as long as they had been, just for one of her nosiest coworkers to catch her in public with who was supposed to be their boss’s boyfriend. She wanted to shrivel up and cry, scream out in utter frustration at how things never went her way, but she didn’t: she didn’t need to burden Shawn with her emotional theatrics.

All that could be heard was the clicking of her heels against the pavement as she kicked it into high gear, speed walking as her cozy brownstone came into view. “Sloan, please, slow down. I’m sorry, I had no idea Kimmy would be there. The last thing I wanna do is shake the table.” She ignored him, reaching into her purse to grab her keys, kissing her teeth as they fell from her grasp and she had to pick them up. She just wanted the night to end already. “Sloan, stop.”

“Why, Shawn? So you can tell me it’s not that big of a deal? That you’ll fix it? Cassandra’s gonna destroy me.”

“I know Kimmy’s a pain in the ass, but do you really think she’s just gonna tell your private business? It’s not even like she caught us doing anything but walking.” He reached out to grasp her shoulder as he caught up to her on her steps.

“Don’t,” She shrugged his hand off, trying to ignore the slightest tingle that his touch left behind. “It doesn’t matter. She saw something and she’s gonna run with it.”

Sloan started to pull open the screen door and Shawn shut it with a quickness, his hand against the glass boxing her into the small space between it and him. “Look at me.” She turned around reluctantly, tipping her neck up to look him in his eyes. “I like you, alright? And every second we spend together I can’t for the life of me think of the reason I decided to pursue Cassandra instead of just leaving well enough alone. I promise you that as soon as we’re in the clear, this nightmare will be all over.”

“You can’t promise that. I might go into work tomorrow with my desk packed up.”

“You won’t. And if you do, I’ll be right by your side in the search for a new job,” His hands brushed against hers as he brought them up to her cheeks, thumbs soothing her cheekbones as her eyes lulled at the comforting feeling. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

She already knew what was coming next, and she had absolutely no wish to stop it. His eyes flickering between hers and her lips, the space between them slowly dissipating as he leaned in, giving her ample amount of time to duck away if she wanted to. Sloan finally swooped in to meet his lips, tender as she tested the waters. Her whole body was on fire as she wrapped her arms around his torso, dragging him in impossibly closer as his tongue slipped across her lip, moving on to dip into her mouth. A shaky sigh slipped from her mouth into his and he reveled in it, snaking his palms down to her neck as she sunk her teeth into his lower lip. He pulled back from her in a daze, lips pulled into a goofy smile. “Your lips are gonna drive me fuckin’ wild.”

Sloan had been downing coffee since she got to the office at eight fifty-six, nervously checking her phone to see an email from corporate telling her to get the hell out. Cassandra wasn’t in yet and she was always the first one in: it made Sloan that much more tense. Her night with Shawn had gone a bit further than she planned on after seeing Kimmy at the restaurant, and she knew that the deeper she dove in with Shawn the harder it would be to contain, but she loved every minute of it. The heavy petting and missing shirts, hair in complete and utter disarray. She had to cut things off the minute his hand crept past the waistband of her panties, practically shoving him across the room with all the strength she could muster up. “We have to take this much slower, Shawn. Like, molasses slow.” It was the exact opposite of what she really wanted to do, needless to say, but she had to stand her ground. He left with a kiss to the top of her head and a  very obvious— Sloan approved— outline in his pants.

As amazing as it was, it still wasn’t enough to fully distract her from the unmistakable click of Cassandra’s heels as she approached her office. Sloan swore that all the air had been knocked from her lungs at the sight of her, just as rigid as ever as she walked to the door of her office, pausing briefly so she could address Sloan. “Miss Spelman, can I speak with you in my office?”

Her blood ran cold, face losing its color as she stood from her chair. She knew exactly where this conversation was going and she’d been dreading it for the past ten hours straight. If she had a choice, she would’ve made a run for the elevator to avoid the inevitable interrogation. She could hear her heartbeat echoing in her ears, and it was the most terrifying sound— and feeling— that she’d ever had in her place of work. (Or anywhere else, for that matter)

Cassandra took her sweet time after locking the door behind Sloan, motioning for her assistant to sit while she got settled in for the day. Bag hung, coat laid out on the couch, accounts logged into. She even answered a few emails before turning her attention to Sloan. She knew that the younger girl was sweating out her anxiety surrounding the anticipation and she was basking in it. “I know about you and Shawn.”

She took a deep breath. “Kimmy told you?”

“Even before she left me two voicemails and bombarded me with it while bringing me coffee this morning… I knew. He spends too much time at your desk for you to be anything but a home-wrecker,” Sloan bit her tongue against defending herself, swallowing her pride even though she wanted to tell her off. “I just want to get one thing clear here: whatever you and Shawn were doing is over. I’ve given up too much in my life to let another bright eyed and spread legged girl like you to take what I deserve.”

Sloan gulped, “I broke things off with him last night. I’m sorry for ever messing with him.”

“And just in case in you didn’t, I want to stress the consequences of not doing so. Not only will you lose your job here, but I’ll make sure that the name Sloan Spelman is synonymous with everything an employer despises. I’ll blackball you so hard that you’ll be lucky if you can get a job working at a Macy’s in Kentucky.” Sloan felt like crying with every word her boss spat at her. She knew it would be bad but not life-ruining bad. Not over a guy.

She got up to leave, stopping as she gathered the courage to mutter back, “I didn’t know he meant that much to you.”

“He makes me feel alive again.”

Sloan excused herself from the office for real this time, trying to ignore the prickling feeling all over her face as air seemed to escape her lungs. She didn’t want to cry and be melodramatic even though that was exactly what she was feeling.

Sloan: We can’t do this anymore.

Shawn: What? I thought everything was fine last night?

I didn’t think slow meant stop

Sloan: I can’t talk about it. Just know we’re over.

Shawn: Sloan what the hell are you talking about?

(5 Missed calls from Shawn)

She couldn’t bring herself to talk to him, not when she knew she’d just end up crying frustrated tears and she had a Fairytale shoot to start planning for next month. Diving head first into work was going to be the only thing to keep her from spiraling into a pity party for at least the next few hours— the only problem was that it wasn’t working given her surroundings. She knew that Cassandra wouldn’t be checking for her anyway after her little smackdown, so she slipped away from her responsibilities and into the coffee shoppe in the lobby of the building. This was a problem only ranting to Alicia could fix.

Sloan called her best friend as fast as her fingers could manage, knowing she took the morning off for a doctor’s appointment. It was a longer phone call than she thought it would be, breaking down the date and her thotivities, all the way to just a half hour before with her boss threatening her very career. It was fairly one sided, just Sloan getting it all off of her chest while trying to make sense of it all but it helped. And Alicia was happy to oblige.

“I know I messed up by getting involved with him in the first place, but this? I couldn’t have seen this coming.” She looked up toward the entrance doors out of habit, her jaw dropping as she saw him storming into the lobby. The anger was written all over his face but she couldn’t tell what he had to be mad at. A few unanswered calls during her work day wasn’t grounds for the steam tumbling out of his nose. “I-I gotta go, I’ll call you later.” He didn’t even approach her, instead heading right into the unoccupied boardroom around the corner. She scrambled to get up and grab her coffee, following his path as quickly as her legs could carry her. He was absolutely fuming, slamming the door shut behind her and locking it before pacing around the table and chairs.

“Are you kidding me? Dropping something like that on me and then not answering your phone? Do you know—”

She put a stop to him immediately, setting down her things and holding up her hands to silence him. “First of all, who the hell do you think you are storming into my place of work like this to yell at me?”

“You had me worried sick, Sloan. Sorry if it didn’t bode well with me.”

Sloan scoffed at him, “You should be sorry! My job is in jeopardy all because you couldn’t keep your hands off of me.”

He rolled his eyes as his hand slotted through his waves. “Don’t act like it wasn’t mutual.” It wasn’t that he was wrong, it was just that she was aggravated. He was the reason she was stuck in this mess and it was driving her to insanity. It was just instinctual to project it on someone else.

“She gave me an ultimatum. A career in fashion, or you.”

His face fell as realization washed over him that she wasn’t joking. “That’s… that’s not legal.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re done.”

His eyes went wide, head shaking like he was twitching. “Wait wait wait wait—“

“We don’t even know each other all that well,  you’ll get over it in a week tops.” She picked up her laptop and coffee with a more aggression than she intended to, heading toward the door to get the hell out of there.

“Stop it, Sloan. Just wait a second, dammit.” His hand found her wrist just before she clicked the lock, tugging her back so she’d take the hint to turn around. “I really like you, I don’t wanna stop seeing you just because your boss is trying to bully you into leaving me alone.”

Sloan let her head fall back against the door, fighting the urge to kiss his stupid, pillowy lips. “I really like you, too, but I’m not giving up my career for you. Especially not after knowing you for all of two seconds.”

“What if we’re super careful? No more outings like last night. We’ll remain as low key as possible.”

“Shawn, that’s a lot to ask of someone you’ve taken out on one date.” She pressed her hands against his chest to push him back, but he wouldn’t budge. “It’s just not worth it.”

“Oh, it’s not?” He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head as he challenged her the back and forth he knew she wouldn’t accept. “You sure about that?”

His lips were on hers before she could even think about replying, the sweet mint of the gum he’d chewed on the way over reeling her in the accept the deep kiss. It was almost better than the one they shared outside of her apartment, if that was possible, his lips electrifying in every sense of the word. She knew that given their physical setting she should probably push him away, going back to communicating with words, but it felt too damn good. His hands snaking down to rest on her ass, giving it a tempting squeeze as she gasped into his mouth. He made her crave more even when she knew better. “We really should—” Kiss, “just call it—” Kiss, “quits.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun it that?” He left one more chaste kiss against her lips before resting his forehead on hers. “Come over tonight. We can order in or I’ll cook for you, whatever you want. Just don’t give up so soon. Please.” Shawn interlaced their fingers together, a move that normally would’ve felt a bit too intimate at this early stage, but it felt right to him.

“This seems to be a trend with us: you begging me for one shot and me agreeing begrudgingly.”

“So you agree? My place at seven?

Sloan rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically as she gave into her more primal desires. “Fine. Text me the address, rich boy.”

taglist: @shawnase , @normalcyisoverrated-beyou , @petit-funsize , @ilsolee , @mae-petite-etoile , @shawnsmoose , @softmendesss , @maximumcoffeesublime , @shwnmndsx , @particularmila , @tnhmblive

[signoraviolettavalery]

I’m new to the Roswell New Mexico fandom and I have noticed people,you, don’t really like the creator Carina and I was wondering why.

Ooooh boy. Would you like those answers in alphabetical order, chronological order, order of egregiousness, or order of how much they piss me off? 

I have a lot of issues with Carina, as do a lot of other people. Obviously, not everyone agrees with me, and some of my answers may be controversial (they’re the subject of biiiig debates in fandom). I have no intention of re-opening those debates, so what I write below is a summary of my opinions (many of which I know are shared by at least some others in fandom) for the purposes of answering your question. I’m also putting it all under a cut, because it’s a lot of negativity that some people may want to skip. 

I mention a lot of tweets and interviews in the answer below; I, frankly, don’t want to go searching for and linking to each interview and tweet (and also, Carina has me blocked, for reasons I’ll get into), but everything below has a source that I can find if you super want to read it yourself. 

So, here goes.

Firstly, Carina pisses me off because she is a white, straight woman who is writing about oppressed and marginalized minorities and, quite frankly, doing a bad job of it. She brags constantly about how progressive her show is, how much she wanted to include people of color and comment on things like immigration, how important the Malex storyline is to her, etc, etc, but doesn’t seem to be capable of (or care about) the delicacy, nuance, and care such issues require.

In a panel she did on Roswell (at ATX or NYCC, I think?) she talked about how she had qualms writing about marginalized people from identities she didn’t belong to; she said she was plagued by the question of “should I even be doing this?” Which she then immediately answered with, “but we’re doing it!” and that was that, and that seemed to me to be such a flippant way to answer the question. Like, you’re writing about people whose experiences you don’t share and your response isn’t “I’m going to do research and talk to people,” it’s “eh, I”m doing it anyway”? 

Then there’s the fact that when it comes to representation, Roswell has done a really really shitty job, engaged in harmful tropes, and thrown its characters of color under the bus. Carina insists that she consults with a lot of advocacy groups when writing about the experiences of undocumented immigrants and Latina characters, and yet. Liz simply forgives Max in the span of two episodes, even though he covered up her sister’s murder and was responsible for subjecting her family to racially-motivated hate crimes for a decade. Max, a white man, at no point acknowledges his privilege; he just pouts and whines when she rejects him until the Latina who was fucked over by his use of privilege just...forgives him. It is, in my opinion, incredibly indelicate and kind of insulting. She made the south Asian man (the only Asian character on the show, in fact) the borderline pedophile serial killer who violated Isobel for years, was creepily grooming both Isobel and Rosa, and murdered a bunch of women. She made the only black woman on the show (Maria) the plot device for an entire season: Maria had no storyline. She was there to give information to Liz when Liz was solving Rosa’s murder. She hasn’t known about the aliens all season and was thus excluded from the major show narratives. Her one defining character trait (her loyalty to her friends) was completely thrown away in order to make her a plot device for Malex (because let’s face it, Miluca won’t last and Malex will get back together). Narratively, she was thrown under the bus. 

And then there’s the queer representation, which...don’t get me started. She keeps talking about how much she loves Malex and how they’re her favorites, but she’s also very explicitly said that she finds happy relationships boring and that she uses fiction to work out her own trauma, which means that she’s essentially likely going to put the only same-sex ship on the show through an interminable amount of tragedy (because that’s what queer viewers absolutely need in this day and age). 

Plus, the idea of a straight woman using a fictional same-sex relationship to work out her own issue makes me really, really uncomfortable, because she’s made it clear that she fundamentally doesn’t understand the queer experience. She says she consults with advocacy groups when she’s writing queer characters (she won’t actually name these LGBT advocacy groups, which doesn’t make me sideye her at all), but I have doubts about whether she listens to them. I mean, she said, after the season 1 finale aired, that Michael going to Maria has nothing to do with her being a woman, even though she also explicitly said Michael wants something “easy,” and a same-sex relationship in Roswell, as it’s presented in canon, can never be easy. Roswell is canonically a homophobic, bigoted town, and Malex’s trauma stems largely from homophobia. Their relationship issues stem (not entirely, but largely) from them being the victims of homophobic abuse and a homophobic hate crime. Being with Maria means Michael never has to worry about any of those things, and the fact that Carina doesn’t seem to conceive of this is mind-boggling to me. 

Then there’s the fact that Maria...basically outed Michael to Liz, and this doesn’t seem to be a problem. Of course, maybe they’ll address it in season 2, I don’t know. But, Carina basically wrote a woman who has been best friends with a gay guy for more than a decade as casually outing someone (when she tells Liz that Michael is Museum Guy). The fact that this is a problem doesn’t seem to cross her mind for a second when she tells Liz, even though this is information Michael has never told her himself and they’ve known each other for a decade. It’s not something Carina’s ever mentioned in the numerous post-finale interviews she did. And frankly, it doesn’t matter who Maria outed Michael to; the fact that she’s capable of it when best friends with a gay guy in a town like Roswell, when Maria has been written as a loyal and understanding friend up to now, again suggests to me that Carina just does not comprehend the queer experience. 

(Also, technically, all the Isobel/Rosa hints, then it turning out that actually Noah was possessing Isobel, screams queerbaiting to me)

And then there’s the mess that is the love triangle. I’m of the camp that things that it’s complete and utter bullshit that contributes to the stereotype of bisexual people as promiscuous, though I know there’s people who think it’s good representation. It shows that she’s more interested in her particular (and frankly, kind of esoteric) storytelling preferences more than she cares about representation or continuity. The love triangle is, frankly, really badly written, and nothing about Maria developing “feelings” for Michael (or him for her, honestly) is in any way believable. Maria getting with Michael behind Alex’s back requires throwing out Maria’s only character trait (her loyalty and commitment to being a good friend). But Carina ~has~ to have her love triangle, characterization or continuity be damned. 

Speaking of storytelling, Carina is kind of...a bad writer. Look, I love the characters on Roswell, and I love the world she created, and it had some truly beautiful moments. But let’s just admit the season 1 plot was a mess. There were so many plot holes. Who knows what? Does Alex know Liz knows about aliens and vice versa? Does Alex know about Rosa, or just about aliens? Why did they spend episode 9 establishing that Alex is taking over project Sheppard to find the alien serial killer, only to have him be missing from the episode (1x11) where they find the alien serial killer? Does Alex know that it’s Noah? If Michael’s hand got broken right before he went to cover up Rosa’s murder, why did Liz think it couldn’t have been Michael “because his hand was broken then”? If Isobel is an event planner (a busy and demanding job) how did they manage to cover up her being missing for so many weeks? If Malex went straight from the museum to the toolshed, when did Alex have time to tell Maria about Museum Guy? What is Alex’s rank? (it changes from the pilot to the show). I could go on. Like, I just don’t have a lot of trust in the narrative going forward, in character and emotional continuity, in a fulfilling story for the characters I love, given that Carina seems to have a basic inability to so much as google (”my entropy changes”? that makes no sense), let alone write a story that makes sense. 

Part of the reason she’s not a very good writer, though, is because she doesn’t seem to like criticism. She insists she listens to it from people who matter and whose judgment she trusts, but, um, the mess that is the narrative suggests otherwise to me. The fact that she wrote in the love triangle suggests otherwise; it screams to me that it’s something she just had to have, regardless of whether it made narrative sense. She also literally blocks fans on Twitter who give her any kind of criticism. I don’t mean hate and vitriol, I mean criticism. She complains about how she, a public figure, a showrunner with a show that has millions of viewers, wants to log in to twitter and only see positive things and have fun interactions with friends. And I get it, criticism can be exhausting. But her job is literally to bring viewers to the CW. It is to tell a good story, and, if she wants to be as woke and progressive as she insists she is, it is to listen to different people - including fans. If she wants to shoot the shit with friends on Twitter, maybe she should get a private account. But I personally believe that she can’t use queer and marginalized characters to work out her own trauma, with no understanding of those people’s experiences, and then demand that people only ever praise her for it. It reminds me of the debate about criticism in fic comments, actually: some fic writers don’t want any negative comments. Which is fine if you’re writing fic for fun. Carina’s a professional writer with a TV show, who is getting paid. Insulating herself from literally any and all objections from the audience she’s writing for is, in my opinion, stupid, and also incredibly self-centered if she’s writing about people who’s experiences she doesn’t share. 

Honorable mentions, probably not worth getting into: 

She has like, a really creepy crush on Michael Vlamis, and even though she’s technically his boss, she’s constantly basically...thirsting over him on Twitter and Instagram in very uncomfortable ways

Max’s little speech to Michael in 1x11 about how he felt “everything,” every part of the abuse Michael suffered, and how guilty he felt about it, was just absolutely horrifying and tone deaf. Max, a character with great privilege, basically making all of Michael’s abuse about himself and how guilty it made him feel and acting like he can in any way share or understand Michael’s experience was just in every way gross, but clearly intended to make Max ~compelling~ and get the brothers to start talking and become closer and it just again shows a complete misunderstanding of the experiences of people less fortunate than her. 

Which, in short, all means that I have absolutely zero faith in Season 2. I’m not in the least bit excited for it. I think she’ll completely let us down, and I expect a lot more of the same tone-deafness and lack of nuance in relation to complex issues and marginalized characters. I think she’ll put us through the wringer, emotionally, for the sake of writing angst rather than telling a good story. 

Anyway, hope that answered your question, anon. 

[randomorwhatever]

my manipulative/emotinal abuser ex-friend

ok, another story time : 

In light of some recent events, I decided to speak about this.

I had this online friend ( oh shocking ) born ugly doesn’t help with making friends irl ok anywho.

How did it start :

It was an online streaming service, I was watching this channel and interacting with the chat and stuff, and all of’ve sudden I get a message on my account, happy that someone noticed my existence ( i want attention who doesn’t human nature am i right ) , ok I'll try to look up how we started talking and what did we talk about .

so in search for the old messages, i found out they changed their user name to a girl’s huh interesting 

it was the trolly usual stuff degenerates talk about where u from Lada de la da da etc ...

and then he says this :

P:thanks for talking to me

P: im very lonely u know

P: i dont have friends

Flags bitch these are some serious red flags I did not know back then but now I do, i dismissed it as yeah it’s just a one-time conversation you know.and then he says THIS : 

P:  i dont have anyone to talk and that feels awful.

me: but like u have a friend or 2 right?

P: nope.

P: i havent talked to a real human in months.

me: like none ?

me: for real ?

P: nope 

THE LIES lol this is a total foreshadowing I’m getting there, YEAH, so we liked the same channels, we had the same self-deprecating jokes same type of humour, I was leaving and he wanted us to stay in contact so  I was like yeah and he added me on discord. 

Getting to know each other and the manipulation :

we continued talking afterwards and I found out I had more things in common with him, he told me about his story growing up and I felt sorry for him because he had it rough for real.(or so he made it be idk idk)

Fast forward to a month or so , he started hinting he liked more than just a friend , i dismiss it as per usual, and he had this thing where he would always call himself stupid and stuff , I tried to convince’ him otherwise and tried so hard to change how he viewed himself which is stuff I struggled with too but decided I was the bigger person and tried at least to make him feel better. 

I won’t lie when I was going through some shit he always had my back and kept encouraging me he was so” supportive”. 

BUT .... whenever i became distant because I do that sometimes; he threatens to kill himself and once I was feeling really bad i needed some time off he just went on a frenzy and cut his hair off (and got back to cutting) i don’t know if it’s real or not but that shit scared;me I was afraid to not be online and not contact him . 

 The next time he asked me to go out with him which is physically impossible because he was like 1000km I tried to explain to him why i don’t do that and i had  my reasons too , but he wouldn’t take it and started crying and was so miserable which made me feel super bad so I brushed that incident off too .

and since then everytime i say something like that upsets him or doesnt line up with what he wants he tells me he was going to cut or end it all . 

THE LIES UNRAVELED : 

i was going away for a couple of days and had no regular access to the internet so i told him;scared he would do something , and when i was away i would check up on his profile to see if he was online from time to time and i notcied somethign he told me he had NO FRIENDS, not even online firends, but i see he has been duoing with this person for quite awhile:lie numero uno .

and this is another event , he told me he deleted this game , and right after i check his profile and boom he played a game right before he told me of his decision and even after he was still playing lie numero dos

some stuff about him didn’t add up too, how he was starving himself for like a week and by GOD’S GRACE is still alive somehow: lie numero i stopped counting by that point because there were too many.

yeah, and did i mention that he told me his parents took away his phone and laptop and SOMEHOW i could stll see his recent games that were played after the incident .

weird i know , mind you he wasn’t going out so the fact that he might’ve been playing in pc bang was quiet unlikely .

Anyhow this was too long and too hard to write about , sadly this relationship or whatever it was came to an end over something stupid , he called me something i did not like i stopped replying he stopped contacting me and it was over just like that .

there were some good times too we had the same interests so we always watched tourney’s together and commented and had our own points and reward system , and the memes it was the best part tbh . 

I left some things out , but i appreciated what we had and miss it sometimes .

after we stopped talking i remember i chekced his profile and saw that he didn’t log in for like a week , i cried buckets i thought he  really commited sucied because he was addcited to this game so him not playing was a bad sign, i forgot that it was somehow an older version of the page and refreshed  and through some other means i found out he was still alive . thank god.

we don’t talk but the period that we did and the fear i lived was real imagine you’re being responsible for sombody else’s life . 

sorry for taking so long and the bad grammar and vocab but this wil forever haunt me . it fucks your mind forever. 

i’m not all there mentally so it just added up to whatver kinda fucked up i had , i still wish him happiness and to be a better human .

But i don’t feel trapped anymore , tip toeing my words and actions , you’re not supped to feel like that with a friend . afriend is someone who make you feel safe and loved .

[metalotaku-da]

MerMay Shance

Prompts stolen from @justshance. all pieces are up for grabs if anyone wants to take them further or rework them.

got to this one now. 

archaeologist shiro arapaima mer lance.holts and keith are with shiro's team. galra are the illegal loggers. allura is a human who visits with lance. she is fighting the loggers.

23. Lost city

Shiro was lost. And lost might be the nicest way to describe it. Getting separated from his team by his curiosity of a very brightly plumed orange bird, (it looked like it had a mustache so sue him if he wanted a picture to prove it) had been getting lost. Running into the illegal logging operation and being chased by those bastards deep into the amazon had turned it from lost with hope to not even knowing if he was in remotely the same area as his expedition. His hope at being in the correct area faltered even more when he literally stumbled into a wetland. Soaking him to the bone. He was lucky enough to get back out of the water onto a tree stump before he got bit by anything large enough to notice. But hey no accounting for the likelihood of parasites in the mouth full of water at the shock of it.

“What the hell else can go wrong?” shiro sulked at the sky from his back on the stump. And then the rainfell. Shiro found himself just at the end of his rope at that point and let out the most animalistic scream he could manage. Beating his arms into the stump. Till his prosthetic beeped and shut down. Battery dead. “poetic , i shall die here like my battery.” shiro griped to himself, before sitting up. He jerked back nearly falling in the water again as the sight of blue eyes and brown skin. A face peeking up at him from the water. Only a head of brown hair sticking out of the water.

“Uh, hello there. Uh, do you speak english?” Shiro asked the boy? Youngman? Was hard to tell from just a face. A cute face and wide eyes that cocked to the side. Wet locks dripping at the new angle. “*how about spanish?*” shiro asked in spanish. The boy cocked his head to the side the other way. “+maybe portuguease?+” He tried again.

The boy smiled at him, brightly, his teeth looked a tad odd, maybe a bit sharp even. Bringing shiro to lean back. The boy’s shoulders came out of the water, followed by his chest. “+hi! speak funny. Even human. Pale. different. Chop chop?+” The boy said rapidly. Following shiro’s spacing as he sat back on the stump blinking at the boy. Ok so his portuguease was more limited than shiro’s. But he could work with it. They could converse at least. Maybe he wasn’t so far from people as he thought. He could maybe even get a message to his friends to rejoin them to finish their search for the temple. If the illegal loggers hadn’t found it and bulldozed it yet. Chop chop?

“+No!+” Shiro leaned jerked forward understanding the usage. “+not, chop chop. Finder. Lost. I'm lost. The chop chop chased me. Attacked me. Bad people not with me.+”

The boy smiled even brighter. Teeth gapped, yes. They were sharp. Very sharp. Unnaturally sharp. He pushed himself more so out of the water leaning over shiro and dripping on him. He felt the boy’s hips land between his ankles. The weight not matching his lithe tan torso that was settled just above his thighs. Or the hands bracing him up on either side of shiro’s hips. “+lance, help. Lost human. Bad chop chop. Good pale human. Lance hide, pale hide.+”

“Lance.” Shiro said taking in the beaming smile from the boy. “+my name is shiro. Thank you lance for wanting to help me. Can you take me to your town? Or village? Home perhaps?+” Shiro made sure to use several words unsure of which lance knew.

“+shiro follow lance. Shiro swim?+” lance said sliding back into the water pulling shiro with him by the non prosthetic arm. The angle of the movement pulling shiro’s upper half over lance’s before his lower half receded into the murky water once more. Allowing him to see the… “fish… tail…” He gasped throwing himself back and out of lance’s grasp. He sunk below the water. Leaving shiro gaping on the stump. “Fish...man… mer…. Mermaid. A mermaid in the middle of the amazon?”Shiro shrieked. Barely catching sight of lance as he surfaced again. Shiro jerking away from him.

“+swim no?+” lance asked. Before pulling himself back up. His pectoral fins grabbing and helping him get more of his tail from the water. He didn’t seem distrubed by shiro gaping at him like a fish out of water. Shiro took in more of lance’s body now that it was in view. His inner scientist taking over his shocked and stalled brain. Overriding the fight or flight before it kicked in. the tan torso blending into scales transition darker and darker until half way they are speckled with a beautiful royal blue matching his eyes that became denser as it reached the vertickle fluke.

“an arapiama.” Shiro spoke alOud in english as he took in the shapr of the anal fin and dorsal. His thoughts flashing to some of the pictagrams they had discovered that he believed came from the missing temple they were looking for. Maybe the gaint arapiama engulfing a human at the river at the base of it, wasn’t so accurate. Maybe it was dipicting a creature like lance. Who obviously had some sort of contact with humans. With knowing some modern portuguease. His inner scientist also leading him to reach out and run a hand over the transition between his tail and torso, where the scale became thicker and defined. It got him a smack on the hand. Which he hissed and wagged at the wrist pulling it towards him.

“+No cheeky. Shiro cute. No treat. No touch.+” lance scolded.

Shiro blushed. He heard cute loud and clear. “+sorry, i, uh… it was wrong of me to touch you without asking. Shiro no cheeky. Shiro curious. Shiro wrong. I won't touch without permission.+” he apologised. Lance smiled at him giggling. He stopped and blushed himself at shiro’s words. “+lance is cute too. Pretty even.+”

Lance turned away coyly. “+shiro no swim. Shiro hold tree? Hand good?+” he asked. “+lance pull. Shiro hold.+”

“+yes, i can hold onto a tree? My protetic died so i can’t grasp with it but I can move my shoulder still.+” Shiro responded. He ignored the ruffling of bridge of lance’s nose at some of the words. But lance nodded before diving back into the water. Leaving shiro on the stump.

He returned a short while later dragging a log that floated at the surface. It was as long as shiro. “+shiro on. Hold. Lance pull. Home. allura help shiro. River way.+” lance said running his hand down the log. Shiro nodded to lance as the mer brought the log close to shiro’s stump. Lance even helped get him settled on it just as shiro’s stomach growled loudly. Bringing an embarrassed flush to shiro’s face and laughter from lance. “+quick. Food home. Feed shiro. Shiro wait?+”

“+yes i can wait to eat. Thank you lance.+” shiro answered cheek pressed to the bark of the log as he smiled at lance.

“+Shiro hold. Lance fast.+” the mer said with a bright smile before he took off through the wetlands dragging shiro with him to his home.

[cynicallystiles]

Beach Sunrises: I Don’t Even Know Your Name

Author: @cynicallystiles

Warning: Homophobia, slight gay-bashing, use of the words f*g & fairy, slight sexual harassment and physical harassment, and lots of LEGAL drinking. (Always have a DD)

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x Reader

Abbreviations: DD = Designated Driver

Summary: While on tour one day, Shawn sees a woman watching the sunrise by herself. Thinking that he’ll never see her again, he tries to forget as he goes on with the rest of his day. But, serendipity seems to have other ideas…

Notes: Things are finally starting to happen!! PLEASE REBLOG OR COMMENT if you like it! I always welcome messages and asks about my work! Enjoy!

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

Words: 5,374

First P.O.V.

As the wonderfully emotional and vulnerable song comes to an end, I lower my arms and look around at my friends. Xander didn't seem to notice my moment as he and everyone else is still engrossed in watching Shawn perform. I realize that the venue has gone rather quiet for a place packed with hundreds, no thousands, of people. So, I follow their lead and look back up at him on stage.

Weirdly, he seems focused on something in the crowd. Something in the direction of my friends and I. I tap Xander on the shoulder as several people are still chattering excitedly, waiting for him to close the show. "What is he doing? What's he looking at?" I ask curiously as I swivel my head trying to find what he could have noticed. Xander does the same.

"Y/n, I think he's looking at us..." He whispers to me in a concerned tone.

I break out into an amused smile. "Yeah, right. He's probably just spaced out while he catches his breath," I logically surmise. I look back up at him on stage. Actually, Xander has a point. He is looking in this direction, but there's no way to tell at who.

After clearing my throat briefly, I circle my mouth with my hands to let out a very loud "Woo!", and begin clapping. This causes everyone to join in an uproar again. Shawn smiles bashfully at this second wave of cheers. He seems to have come out of his daze as he clears his throat and finally speaks into the mic.

"Oh...wow. Thank you guys so much for all the love," he says as he puts fingers from both hands to his lips and blows a kiss out to everyone. Everyone cheers raucously. Xander and I roll our eyes at how he milks the crowd, but we cheer nonetheless. "This has been a blast, you guys! And as you know, I'll be doing one more show in town in a few days before moving on with the rest of my tour..."

He pauses as he lets the cheers take over the airwaves and he laughs. Once it's gotten relatively quiet, he interjects again. "So, I hope to see you all there! There's a meet and greet the day before, and I'll be signing autographs! Details are posted on my pages," he says enthusiastically. How does he still have so much energy after all that? "Thank you all again, and have a wonderful night!"

Cheers, screams, and claps sound as he walks off stage. My friends and I included. I turn to Xander after Shawn has fully left the stage. "Alright! Which one of you is taking me back to the hotel?" I ask over the noise.

"What do you mean the hotel??" Xander screams back. "We're not done celebrating your birthday!"

I laugh disbelievingly. "Xander! What else could you possibly have up your sleeve??" I try to mask my uneasiness with enthusiasm as I didn't plan on being out all night. After all, I do still have huge assignments due tomorrow night that are only half-finished.

"You'll see!" He says as him and Anna drag me out of the venue and to his car. Once in the car, I begin my questions.

"Isn't everyone else coming?" I ask worried that all of my friends don't know about whatever is happening next.

Xander waves his hand dismissively. "No, no. This excursion is just for the Three Musketeers! Us!" He says, referring to our original group of just the three of us.

"How many times do I have to tell you that no one calls us that??" I say with a laugh. He shrugs. "Well, where are we going?" I ask impatiently.

Anna sighs heavily as she leans to the front from the back seat. "You'll see when we get there. Promise, you're gonna love it!" She squeals excitedly.

"Fine, but I gotta be home by-" I freeze in the middle of my sentence as I reach for my purse. "Oh...my...god..." I say slowly, my heart beginning to pound furiously.

They look at me worriedly. "What's wrong?" Anna asks.

"No. No, no, no..." I say as I turn the dome light on and begin looking under the seats and having no luck. "I think I left my purse in my seat!" I say incredulously as both hands fly to grip either side of my forehead. "I can't believe this..."

Anna and Xander's eyes widen as they look at each other and then to me. "Y/n, relax. Breathe. I'm gonna go back in and find it," Xander says calmingly and reassuringly. "Anna you stay here and lock the car doors after I get out. Who knows what kind of freaks are out there." Just like that, he's exited the car and Anna locks the doors.

I turn the dome light off. Not wanting to draw attention to the two of us sitting in a car by ourselves at night. "It's gonna be fine. Xander will find your purse and then we will be off to the second half of your birthday party!" She says cheerfully. I smile slightly at her, my heart almost returning to normal.

"Hand me my backpack, would you? I'm gonna get some studying done while we wait," I tell her quietly. She does as I ask and soon I'm reading the beginning of a very long chapter in my textbook.

She retrieves her phone from her own purse and scrolls through it mindlessly as we wait. Every few seconds she'll reach the phone up front to show me pictures or videos people took of the concert we were just at. I sigh and pretend to look each time. I love her but she's being distracting as hell.

After the fiftieth time, I close the book loudly. "You know if we're gonna sit here, can I use your phone to check my accounts? Just in case I have any important emails or something," I say as I raise my eyebrows at her.

"Of course!" She says as she quickly hands me her phone. Glad to have gotten the phone away from her, I begin checking my accounts. I start with email, Facebook Messenger, Snapchat, and then I move on to Instagram.

Upon logging into my account, I have a few red notifications. A couple of likes on some photos and one post notification. I click on the post and Shawn Mendes' recent post comes up. I have my IG set to get notified when he posts so I don't miss any music news.

I read his comment on the vid he posted before looking at the video. Yeah, I know I do things backward. Anyway, the comment says, "Such a beautiful city, with such beautiful locals. Lucky to have witnessed this moment." Okay, interesting. What did he witness? As I scroll up to look at the full video, my mouth drops.

Third P.O.V.

Xander hurries back into the venue, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent on y/n's next surprise. A security guard stops him at the entrance. "My friend left her purse in there and I need to get it. Look here's my ticket, she was right next to me. I'll go in and be right back out," he babbles rapidly.

The guard eyes him up and down while Xander holds his arms up to show that he has absolutely nothing on him. Determining that he was no threat, the guard allows him back into the venue. "You have 15 minutes before I send someone in to bring you out," he says intimidatingly.

"Yes, sir," Xander gulps as he sprints through the doors and down the amphitheater-styled rows. Reaching the row they were in, he darts over to the number on the ticket and begins his frantic search. As it wasn't in any of the seats, he immediately gets down on his hands and knees to be able to look under them.

The floor was absolutely disgusting. There were workers floating about, sweeping and mopping up the mess but they apparently hadn't gotten to this section. Not that any of the mess was theirs because they didn't bring anything but water into the show. As Xander reaches further under the chair to feel for the purse, he's startled by a sudden voice. So startled, that the jump causes him to hit his head on the underside of the chair.

"Is there something specific you're looking for?" Xander hears a kind voice ask over the speakers. He freezes where he his, not wanting to turn around for fear that he's probably dreaming.

He decided to risk it and slowly stands back up, rubbing the back of his head. As he looks at the source of the voice, his face is taken over by shock.

"Um...you good, dude?" The man asks again. It's Shawn Mendes. Shawn Mendes is talking to him through the still-connected microphone. Sounding like an angel. Xander was absolutely fanboying over this moment.

He opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out are half-stutters and strange noises. He nods rapidly to signal that he is fine but barely remembers the first question.

Shawn chuckles as he descends the steps from the stage and makes his way over to Xander. Upon making it to a proximity of about 20 feet, he stops. "What's your name?" He asks curiously. This is the same man that he saw from the stage and felt was familiar.

"Uh...Xander. Yup, my name is Xander. That is my name..." He fumbles as he responds and stands there awestruck.

Meanwhile, Shawn finally remembers why he's familiar. "Oh, Xander!" He's says relieved that he's finally cracked it. Xander looks confused and ecstatic that Shawn is so excited to meet him. "You work as a concierge at the hotel I'm staying at. Right?" This also makes Shawn realize that the girl next to him was the girl from the beach.

Xander's eyebrows furrow, having no idea what he was talking about. Surely, he would've noticed if Shawn Mendes were staying at his hotel. As he continues to stare intensely at him, he finally sees it. "Oh, my god. Oh, my god! You were the guy in the hoodie and the sunglasses!"

Shawn laughs bashfully at his outburst and nods. "Yeah, I am. I'm actually surprised that disguise worked," he confesses.

"Well, it was early in the morning and I hadn't had coffee. So, we'll chalk it up to that," Xander jokes, finally settling down. "Wait..." He says slowly.

Shawn raises his eyebrows as he sticks his hands in his pockets. "Yeah?"

"That means you were the guy asking about my friend," Xander realizes with a dumbfounded tone.

Shawn nods with a small smile. "Yeah. And that means that your great birthday present was my concert?" He asks with a small chuckle.

"Well, yeah. The first half of it was. Unfortunately, we won't be getting to the second half unless I can find her purse..." Xander trails off remembering that he was looking for it.

"Oh, I know where it's at," Shawn says with a shrug. Xander raises his eyebrows expectantly at the famous boy. "Right! It's up on stage. I saw her leave it and I kind of..."

"Stole it?" Xander deducts flatly as he crosses his arms.

A look of panic crosses Shawn's face as he explains. "No! I didn't want anyone else to steal it so I was gonna take it back to the hotel. Since she was there...” he trails off as Xander begins laughing.

"Dude, I'm messing with you. But, I really gotta get that purse and go," he finishes slightly serious.

Shawn jogs back to the stage to retrieve the purse. When he returns, he hands it over to Xander who tucks it under his arm protectively.

Shawn stands there awkwardly staring at Xander just as he did at the hotel. "So...where are you guys-" He begins only to be cut off by Xander.

"I'll tell you if you can answer one of my questions," he propositions. Shawn nods eagerly and Xander stares him down intimidatingly. "Why are you interested in my friend?"

Not totally surprised by the question, Shawn thinks about an answer. Why was he interested in this random girl he's never talked to? A girl he's never even seen up close?? So many answers popped into his head, but only one seemed like an honest one. "I have no idea..." He confesses.

Xander squints at him. He knows that Shawn is not shy about having one-night stands. That he always flirts with all of his fans. It's his brand. So, he doesn't care if he's famous. He will not allow this guy to mess with his best friend. Before he could open his mouth to say all this, Shawn continues speaking.

"I have absolutely no idea what her name is. What she looks like up close. What her voice sounds like. I know absolutely nothing about her..." Shawn smiles to himself as he shakes his head. "Except that she can stand on a secluded beach before the sun even rises and be content. Except that she feels music with the deepest parts of her. Except that she will feel what she wants to feel with no regard to how anyone else looks at her. And all of that makes me need to know everything else.”

When Shawn comes back from his moment, Xander his staring at him weirdly. "Soo..." Xander starts off cautiously. "We're gonna be at Midnight Metro," he says with a smile.

"What's that?" Shawn asks confused.

Xander rolls his eyes. "It's a small karaoke club. You know 'Metro' like 'metronome'? Anyway, it's not a big, popular place. But...we go there a lot to blow off steam," he explains.

"That sounds cool," Shawn says sincerely. "Would you...would you guys mind if I came?"

Xander's jaw drops. "Dude, That would make her whole surprise better! Yes, you can come! Can you figure out how to get there?" He asks excitedly.

"Yeah, I'll figure it out. I gotta work some stuff out, but I'll be there in a bit," Shawn says happily.

Xander starts walking backward as he says one last thing. "Don't take too long! She's not gonna be there past 2!"

Shawn gives a thumbs up as he turns away to get ready. He can't believe that he's actually getting a chance to meet this girl.

First P.O.V.

I log out of my account and hand the phone back to Anna. Pretending that I didn't just see what I saw. I mean...did I really see that? Did I really see a video of me posted on Shawn Mendes' Instagram account? I thought I was alone this morning. Which means...oh my god, Xander was right! That guy from the lobby was staring at me. And that guy was Shawn Mendes. Shawn Mendes is staying at our hotel.

I suppress all my flurrying thoughts, not wanting to get ahead of myself. Taking deep breaths, I begin to chill out. So, what if he took a video of me and posted it? It's not like he really knows who I am. He just saw something he thought was cool and posted it. Yeah, it happens all the time. Don't get carried away. But, he was looking in our direction at the concert. Does that mean he saw me? What is happening?

I jump as a banging on the window draws me out of my thoughts. Xander is back. I unlock the door and he hops in, handing me my purse. "You're a lifesaver!" I say clutching it to my chest.

"Yeah, you'd die without me," he teases as he restarts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. "So, what did you ladies get up to while I was gone?"

I stay silent, not wanting to make a big deal out of my discovery. Anna, however, chats away. "Oh, just y/n commandeering my phone because she thought I was distracting. You're such a stick in the mud! Why are you trying to study on your birthday night out?!"

"Maybe because I didn't expect to be out tonight and have school. Life doesn't just stop because you make surprise plans, Anna," I giggle at her theatrics.

She leans forward and kisses me on the cheek hastily. "Well, sorry that we love you and wanted you to have a great present. Oh, wait...I'm not," she giggles as she buckles her seatbelt.

"Love you, too," I say into the rearview mirror. I settle into my seat and roll down the window as we blast the radio on our way to the mystery destination. All the while, Xander is being uncharacteristically quiet as he drives. A huge smirk living on his face.

We pull up to the destination, and I immediately recognize it. Midnight Metro. Our little home away from home and local karaoke club. After showing our id's at the door, we find a table with elevated chairs to sit at. Someone finishes their song on stage as I take off my purse and hang it on my chair. I look around and it's the usual friendly people with a few newcomers.

A server walks by and Xander flags him down. "Yeah, we'll start off with three margaritas!" He says as he smiles charmingly. When the server walks away, I address him.

"Xander, what are you doing? I can't get drunk, I have to work tomorrow and do homework!" I say disbelievingly.

He puts on a face of mock surprise. "You don't want to get blackout drunk on your second night of being 21??? I'm shook," he teases me.

"I'm not saying I won't drink, I'm just saying I don't wanna have a hangover!" I can't help but laugh at his antics.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Okay! Okay! But, I told you I had our shifts covered so you don't have work tomorrow. You can spend the whole day studying to your heart's content," he explains.

"And what about your car? If we all drink, then none of us can drive home," I observe.

Anna speaks up. "Oh! I'm DD tonight! Don't worry about that," she says chipperly.

"Then, why did he order 3 margaritas?” I say as I laugh.

Xander speaks again. "Oh, the third one is for mwah. I'm not trying to impress anybody," he jokes. He smiles wryly and I shake my head, unable to suppress the smile forming.

"I guess it's all planned out then," I say calmly. They nod in agreement. The server comes back with the drinks and slips a napkin to Xander. "That's his number isn't it?"

He nods as he fans himself with the napkin and takes a sip of his drink. "Maybe I will try to impress someone tonight," he chuckles.

"So whose singing first?" I ask.

Anna shoots her hand up. "Me! Me and you are going first, y/n!" She giggles excitedly as she runs off to put our names down on the list.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need more drinks," I laugh as I flag down the server again. "Four shots of whiskey, please," I with a dainty tone.

Xander looks at me with eyes wide. "Please tell me half of those are for me! Jeez, barely 21 and already an alcoholic," he jabs at me.

"Hey! I'm just getting in the party mood," the server comes back and sets the shots down. He leaves with a wink at Xander and I roll my eyes.

Anna comes bounding over. "Okay so guess what, I just reserved the rest of the slots on the karaoke machine for us!!! No one else wanted them, I checked!!" She claps excitedly as she delivers her news. "C'mon, y/n. Let's go!"

"Bottoms up," I say as I raise my glass to Xander's and down the shot before Anna drags me toward the stage. "So, we are starting with the greatest duet we've ever done right??"

She looks at me with a knowing stare, as if I didn't even have to ask. We head up on stage and I'm not even buzzed yet. But, I'm about to kill this. We both take a microphone. I hold mine in my hand and she lets hers rest in the stand.

"Hit it!" She says as I point at the DJ.

The notes begin and Anna starts singing Rihanna's part in "Love The Way You Lie" by Eminem. All the regulars cheer, knowing what's about to go down. I dance a little to the beat and then it's my turn. Eminem's part comes on and I rap that entire verse perfectly. Xander is losing his shit, just like he does every time I rap. And I can't help but laugh in between my words, still trying to complete them. The whole song goes like that and eventually, it ends. We get a standing ovation as usual but it's Xander's turn.

I see him take his second shot before he leaves the table. As we pass each other we high-five, sort of like wrestlers switching partners. Once I'm at the table, I see that all of his first margarita is gone. I sip on mine as we watch him begin his first song of the night. Of course, he starts off with "Despacito."

Anna and I stand next to the table so we can dance but still have our drinks. She leaves to go to the bar for a soda. I hold my shot up to Xander as he sings in Spanish. He sings the word slowly and I roll my body to it. As soon as the music picks back up, I down the shot and begin dancing some weird made up dance to it.

I laugh as I dance around. That's the thing about this club, no one judges you. We're all here to have a good time. None of us are particularly great singers, but none of us are straight up awful either. When we came here before, I used to have a red band saying that I was underaged because 18 and older are still allowed in. But, I have a green band and I wave that sucker at Xander excitedly as he comes back to the table.

"Someone's feeling that second shot," he chuckles as he sips his second margarita.

I set my empty one down. "Nah. That stuff ain't even strong! Been drinking it since 17 so it doesn't really do anything bad anymore!" I dance as Anna goes up and sings "Can't Stop The Feeling!" I let out a cheerful "woo" as encouragement.

Xander seems distracted as he doesn't cheer her on. I notice that he keeps looking at the entrance. "Expecting someone??" I question him and he looks back at me surprised.

"What? No! Oh, look! Anna's almost done! Better get another drink before your turn!" He exclaims weirdly.

I turn and head to the bar. I lean on it, my butt sticking out slightly. Just after I order a tray of Melon Balls, a man I've never met speaks into my ear at a surprisingly close distance. "Hey, sweetheart. Why don't you let a real man buy you some drinks? I'm much better company than that fairy you've got over there."

"No thanks," is all I say as I stand up straighter. Not wanting to be provocative.

He brushes my hair over my ear and leans in again, his breath dripping with an acrid smell. "Oh, don't be like that. Everyone knows that a pretty girl don't get all dressed up and go to a bar just to dance with a fag," he says disgustingly as his hand drifts lower down my back.

The bartender comes back with the tray, so I pay quickly and grab it. As I turn to leave he grabs my elbow. I pull it out of his grasp, trying not to spill the drinks. I'm sick of this guy. "Oh, sweetheart. Everyone knows that pretty girls don't go home with men like you," I say my voice dripping with disdain. Before I leave I turn around one more time, "And that fairy, as you called him, is ten times the man you will ever be."

I hear him curse as I continue to walk back to the table, tray shaking in my hands.

Third P.O.V.

Shawn spent the better part of a half hour in his dressing room trying to decide what he should wear to this club. He wanted to look good when he finally meets this girl, but he also didn't want to draw too much attention to himself since he wasn't going to take his bodyguards in with him.

He decides on a pair of nice jeans and signature boots, finishing off the look with a perfectly fitted dark blue button-up with rolled up sleeves. Satisfied with his look, he grabs a leather jacket in case it gets cold and hops in the rental he had gotten for this city. Before taking off, he looks up the club and finds the address. As soon as he enters it in his GPS, he leaves the venue.

Before long, he's pulling up into the semi-full parking lot of the karaoke club. The name of it above the door in rainbow lighting. Shawn takes a deep breath as he looks in the mirror one last time. He grabs his jacket and makes his way into the club. At the door, the guard checks his id and gives him a red band.

The further he travels down the dimly lit hallway, the clearer the music gets. Right now it sounds like someone is in the middle of singing a JT song. Shawn nods his head appreciatively as he finally reaches the doorway to the club.

He hovers at the entrance, taking in the crowd and the atmosphere. His eyes roam to the stage where a pretty blonde is singing the JT song he heard from the hallway. Then, he begins to scan the crowd as he looks for Xander as his head bops to the beat. He would look for the girl, but he still doesn't know exactly what she looks like.

Finally, he sees Xander at an elevated table singing along to the song as he watches the girl onstage. With a relieved smile, Shawn begins to make his way to the table. Before he can get very far, he happens to glance over to the bar. This is where he sees a girl leaned over the bar making her order.

His eyes casually roam to her ass, which is sticking out slightly as she waits. Unfortunately, his eyes are not the only ones looking. Shawn watches horrified, as a middle-aged man who is clearly drunk begins to make a move on her. His grubby hands play with her hair and almost grab her backside. Before he does, she stands up straight and uncomfortably shrugs him off.

It's when she tries to leave with her drinks and the man grabs her arm that Shawn begins to make his way to the bar to help. Although, his help was not needed. He watches as she confidently tells off this scum. Damn. He thought. That guy's ego probably just took a terrible hit based on the look on his face right now.

Refocusing on his mission to get to Xander and meet this mystery girl, he turns back towards their table. To his surprise, and his excitement, the feisty woman from the bar sets down her tray of drinks next to Xander. Upon her return, Xander exclaims something and hugs her. They exchange a conversation that looks much like Xander trying to convince her to do something she's obviously skeptical of.

After another brief exchange, they each eat the ball of fruit from a toothpick and down the contents of the shot glass. With a giggle and a shake of her head, she walks towards the stage just as the other girl finishes. They high-five as they pass each other.

Shawn tears his gaze away from the woman and looks back at the table to find Xander looking in his direction. He jumps up and down enthusiastically as he waves Shawn over to the table. With a nervous laugh, he heads over to the table.

He's greeted with a clap on the shoulder from Xander and a very shocked expression from the girl. "Uh...hi. I'm Shawn. It's nice to meet you," he introduces himself as he offers his hand to the girl. Awestruck, she slowly takes it and gives a weak shake.

"I...I'm...Anna. And you're Shawn Mendes," she blurts out nervously.

He lets out a laugh as he rubs the side of his neck up to his hair. "Yeah. That's me."

She immediately turns to Xander who is as calm as ever. "How do you know Shawn Mendes. Why is Shawn Mendes at our club? Is this actually happening? Are you actually here right now?" She looks back and forth between the two.

It's Xander who lets out a laugh now. "Can you believe that she's the sober one?"

Shawn just smiles, not wanting to make Anna feel bad about her behavior. "I met Xander when he came back looking for a purse. He kindly invited me to come hang out with you guys," he explains calmly to her.

Her face lights up immediately. "Oh, my gosh! I can't believe you somehow topped yourself with surprises! I mean, only you could get Shawn Mendes to hang out with us after his concert," she gushes.

"Actually..." Xander begins with a sly grin. "I think it had less to do with me and more to do with her..." He finishes the statement as he slowly turns and points subtly at y/n.

She pulled a bar stool up onstage and is adjusting the mic stand to a comfortable height. As she leans over to mess with the lever, her hair creates a thin curtain between her face and the table.

Shawn immediately turns his attention towards where Xander points and gazes at the woman onstage. She's so lost in her own world that she doesn't know he's here yet. She finally gets the mic where she wants it, she sits up straight and flips her hair over her shoulder.

Finally, Shawn can see her face. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in all of her features. The dimples at the corners of her mouth when she gives a small smile to the crowd. The crinkle of her nose as she laughs at something the DJ says.

He especially admires the way her eyes light up with a spark of something he can't quite pinpoint. Is it excitement? Nerves? Is it that she's just having a good time? Or is it maybe that she knows just how amazing she is? That spark could be anything. Shawn knows instantly that he'd do anything to know what that one little spark inside of her comes from.

Shawn continues his admiring gaze as she finally tells the DJ she's ready for her song. His gaze does not go unnoticed. Anna sits quietly and glances at Shawn. She knows that look on his face. He is here for y/n. And that makes her uneasy.

Just when Shawn thinks that this girl couldn't possibly get any more wonderful, he hears the first chords of the song. It strikes him with a sense of familiarity. But, it's not until she starts singing that he realizes why. She's singing one of his songs. More specifically, she's singing "I Don't Even Know Your Name." Shawn looks over at Xander.

He has a smug grin on his face, and Shawn now knows that the conversation he saw earlier was him convincing her to do this song. "I thought it would be hilariously accurate if she sang this song," he confesses.

Shawn laughs as he looks back to her. "You're right about that. It's right on the nose. But, not for long..." he promises as he bobs his head to her singing.

[ra3lynn3]

Blind Date

Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks to @pip117 for beta-ing this and cleaning it up for me super quick. Also a big shout out to @everlarkficexchange for giving me a chance and posting my other chapters of my first Tumblr Everlark fic. 

Katniss tossed and turned most of the night, partly from physical discomfort and partly from a racing mind. As dawn broke across the horizon, she gave a deep sigh and got up from bed. While she brushed her teeth and readied for work, Katniss resolved to try harder to be nice to Peeta especially since it appeared as though he was making some effort to be kind to her. Just before she left she was tempted to log on to blinddate and see if MuffinM4n was on, but thought better of it knowing who was really on the other side of their chats. Although, she had to admit she liked the easy way they had together. 

As she walked up to the office building with her head down, focusing on traversing the city with a bum foot, she nearly ran into Peeta. “Good morning.” He said as he held the door for her. “Good morning, Peeta! How are you?” She replied, cringing inwardly at the her overly friendly tone.

Giving her a questioning glance he offered her a, “Fine, how are you?” As they boarded the elevator. 

“Ok.” Katniss replied, feeling the awkward silence take over between them.

“So I was thinking that-“ Peeta began as Katniss began to say something too. They each started and stopped again before Peeta quietly relented and motioned for Katniss to continue. Now that she had his full attention, she suddenly felt self conscious about her thoughts. 

“I wanted to say thank you for letting me take the lead on this account.” She offered quickly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Sure thing.” Peeta replied. “Like I said, it’s your genius at work here. Just tell me what to do.” He said with a tight smile as he exited the elevator. Katniss watched as he walked to his desk, part of her thinking of admitting to him that she actually really liked talking to him, and was sorry for being so difficult. But then the other part of her  rationalized that he likely wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with her anyway based on his behavior towards her all these years. Katniss figured he had been nice to her recently simply because he felt bad about how everything went down after their first ‘date’ (if you could even call it that). She shook the confusing thoughts from her mind and got to work, finding comfort in her routine. The din of the bar was starting to give Katniss a headache as she waited for Plutarch and Peeta later that evening. She massaged her temples gingerly as she searched the steady stream of faces for her cohorts. Finally catching sight of them, she gave a wave and made room at the small high top table she was able to snag before the crowd grew too large. The Hob was a popular hang out with the young working crowd in the city, especially on a Friday evening. Plutarch beamed at her, and she tried her best to plaster what she hoped looked like a genuine smile on her face. Truthfully she was exhausted after a long day of work, and very little sleep the night before. Peeta gave her a nod and a quick smile as he took a seat, looking around the place curiously. “Order whatever you want, you two are my super stars!” Plutarch said jovially as he scanned a drink menu. Katniss wondered if she should be drinking at all with her pain medicine; although she rationalized one cocktail couldn’t hurt, especially if it was free. Plutarch filled their evening with food, drinks and endless conversation. After a couple of rounds Katniss began to simply nod and agree with whatever her boss was saying. It seemed the more he drank and ate, the looser his lips became. Katniss didn’t miss the fact that Peeta was noticeably quiet. He would chime in here and there, but seemed to be spending most of his evening staring distractedly at his phone. She couldn’t help the curiosity that nagged at her,  wondering if he was talking with some other woman; someone new. She shook herself mentally realizing it was none of her business and she really had no reason to care. Or did she? As Plutarch excused himself to use the restroom, Katniss let out a sigh of relief. “Do you think he’d notice if I left?” Peeta leaned in and asked conspiratorially. Katniss leaned in to meet him, mere inches from his face. She noted how piercingly blue his eyes were and how he had a small patch of freckles that dusted his nose. “Hot date?” Katniss teased, giving a snort. She was definitely beginning to feel the effects of her alcohol-pain medicine-cocktail. “Yeah, three actually.” Peeta remarked dryly as he stood, seeming in a hurry. “Huh?” Katniss replied, struggling to piece together the logistics of going out on a date with three people at once. “My friend Annie is having her baby. I have to watch Chloe, Liam and George.” Peeta offered seeing her obvious confusion. “Oh.” She said simply. “Oh!” Katniss then remarked, suddenly realizing the importance of this moment. She glanced around the bar for Plutarch. “Did you want company?” She asked out of the blue as she saw their boss making his way back to their table. This clearly caught Peeta off guard as he stopped mid way pushing in his stool to consider her. Truthfully it caught Katniss off guard too. She wasn’t sure why exactly she had made the suggestion and was tempted to retract her question. She was even more surprised when Peeta agreed to let her tag along after a moment’s thought. The two gave a hasty explanation to Plutarch as they made their way to leave. They hopped into a cab and headed for the Odair’s brownstone several blocks away. When they arrived, Peeta walked through the front door calling Finnick’s name. “I’m here!” The man’s voice called back sounding some distance away. Katniss wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She suddenly felt very out of place as the circumstances of the situation sobered her. Peeta instructed her to stay by the front door, to which she happily obliged as he made his way upstairs. She was half tempted to slink away when suddenly a little voice greeting her caught her attention. Katniss looked down to meet two curious green eyes, and smiled as she took in the sight of a pajama clad girl with her untamed head full of curls. “Hi, you must be Chloe.” Katniss remarked bending down to meet her. The little girl simply nodded. “I’m a friend of Peeta.” She finished. This seemed to ease Chloe’s mind, as it set a smile to her face. “You’re pretty.” Chloe simply remarked, catching Katniss by surprise. “Thank you.” She replied, feeling a little self conscious under the girl’s stare. “What’s your name?” Chloe asked back, suddenly seeming more comfortable. “My name is Katniss.” She replied. The little girl looked at her for a moment and reached to touch the end of Katniss’ braid. “Wanna come see my room?” Chloe asked. Before Katniss could respond, a boy came barreling down the stairs toward them. He had the same sandy blond mop of curls on his head that the girl did. “Chloe, what are you doing? Mom said to stay in your room!” He chastised. Katniss caught his eye. “Who are you?” He asked looking suspicious. “This is Katniss, Uncle Peeta’s friend.” Chloe informed him before Katniss could even open her mouth. Suddenly all three of their attention was taken by the commotion at the top of the stairs. It sounded as if several voices were all speaking at once. Katniss looked up to see a very calm, very pregnant woman making her way slowly down toward them. She seemed to be reassuring Peeta and giving directions to the other man that was walking closely behind her with several bags in his hands. The woman’s eyes met Katniss’ causing her to stop suddenly. Peeta and the other man stopped suddenly too. Katniss felt her cheeks warm as all eyes were on her. “Who’s this?” The woman asked, a playful smile on her lips. Peeta suddenly looked uncomfortable. “This is...Katniss.” He said hesitantly. The woman broke out in a huge smile as realization seemed to dawn on her. The man gave Peeta a nudge and a sly look. “So this is Katniss, huh?” Peeta’s friend remarked. Katniss suddenly felt like she was the butt of an inside joke. “Hi Katniss, I’m Annie. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” The pregnant woman came forward and offered her hand. Katniss met her and exchanged a greeting. “Yeah, we’ve heard so much about you. I’m Finnick, by the way.” He said following behind Annie to shake Katniss’ hand. He looked over his shoulder and gave Peeta a thumbs up, along with a very cheesy smile. Peeta’s cheeks were rosy with embarrassment as he stood on the stairs. Katniss suddenly wondered what exactly they had heard so much about and why. “Don’t you guys need to be going?” Peeta said pointedly. Both Finnick and Annie gave a nonchalant shrug. Obviously after experiencing the birth of three children, a fourth was not a major cause for haste. “It was nice to meet you.” Katniss offered as she stepped out of the way of the front door to let the two pass. “You too!” Annie offered over her shoulder as she walked out of the house. “Hope to see you again soon!” Finnick said to her with a wink as he closed the front door behind himself. The four stood quietly for a moment. Katniss looked down at her feet. “Come see the fort Uncle Peeta made for us!” Liam suggested excitedly, much to his little sister’s joy. The two children went charging up the stairs, Peeta warned them not to wake their baby brother as he followed closely behind. Katniss brought up the rear studying the plethora of framed photographs the family had hung on the wall climbing the steps. Katniss smiled as she considered photos of Annie and Finnick, their families, their children, and their friends. She noticed one in particular of Peeta and Finnick, arms slung around one another’s shoulders, smiles wide on their faces. They stood on a beach in front of a vast blue ocean wearing nothing but bathing suits.  Katniss allowed her eyes to linger on the men’s toned bodies, curious if either still looked the same. She startled when Chloe’s voice called to her from the top of the stairs. The tiny girl took Katniss’ hand in her own and lead her to the toy room, taking her time as Katniss was still slow moving. As they rounded the doorway, she was impressed by what she saw as she entered the children’s play room. Apparently Peeta had single-handedly constructed what could best be described as a fort palace. “Wow, Mellark. This is impressive.” Katniss remarked as she bent down to investigate. Peeta poked his head out from one of the entrances and gave her a wry smile. Suddenly a foam sword whacked him on the head from behind, catching him off guard. He withdrew from his place as Katniss heard growls and laughter following shortly after. She couldn’t help but smile herself as she made her way inside behind Chloe. Her heart and mind were suddenly working at a feverish pace to reconcile with one another. This was a whole new side of Peeta Mellark that she was unfamiliar with. It felt so genuine and real. It was endearing and fun. Such a stark contrast to the man he presented himself as at work. He always came off as a no-nonsense, take-what-I-want-because-I-can kind of person. “I’m the princess and you’re the queen.” Chloe announced, looking at Katniss. “Uncle Peeta you’re the knight and Liam is the evil dragon!” She finished assigning roles. “What does the queen do?” Katniss inquired with a chuckle as she watched the little girl outfit herself with several beaded necklaces from a nearby jewelry box. Chloe then placed a few ceremoniously over Katniss’ head as well. “She bosses the knight around.” Chloe said matter of factly as she turned to gather more adornments. Peeta laughed out loud as Katniss gave him an ironic smile. “And does the knight boss the princess and the dragon around to remind them bedtime is in fifteen minutes?” He said crawling near and poking Chloe in her stomach with the foam sword. The girl giggled, then tried her best to regain her regal composure. “Only if the knight will read them a story in the castle.” Chloe negotiated. “With chocolate milk!” Liam chimed in as he poked his police helmeted head in to where the others were gathered. Peeta looked thoughtful for a long moment as the two children began to beg. Katniss smiled knowing full well that he would relent, although it was probably part of his plan anyway. “Ok.” He said simply. Chloe lunged to hug him around his neck. He smiled as his eyes met Katniss’. Her eyes flitted away quickly as she felt butterflies tease her stomach. Peeta cleared his throat then. “Go brush your teeth and pick out a book. I’ll meet you back here in 5.” He said to the two children. They darted off leaving Peeta and Katniss alone. “Want to help me make chocolate milk?" He asked after a moment. Katniss nodded and followed him downstairs. “How long have you known Finnick and Annie?” Katniss queried as she watched Peeta effortlessly move around the kitchen. “Finnick and I go way back,” He began. “We’ve known each other since we were little kids. Kindergarten probably. He met Annie our senior year of high school. They went to prom together, and have been inseparable ever since.” Peeta finished as he put away his supplies. He handed Katniss a cup of chocolate milk as the two made their way back upstairs. Chloe met them at the top of the stairs. She grabbed Katniss’ free hand, giving it a squeeze. Katniss smiled at her. The four settled on the floor nestling comfortably into the pile of blankets and pillows that made up the floor of the fort. Chloe wiggled her way under Katniss’ arm, resting her head on her stomach. Peeta gave Katniss a smirk as Liam settled in beside him. As Peeta began to read, both children gave a yawn and Chloe rubbed her eyes. Katniss couldn’t help the yawn that escaped her mouth too. She felt her eyes grow heavy, trying desperately to fight the effects of her long day. Peeta’s voice was soft and soothing, soon trialing off into nothing more than a whisper. Katniss looked to him as he closed the book in his hands. “They’re asleep.” He mouthed to her. She nodded, and tried to remain as still as possible as she watched Peeta scoop up Liam in his arms first. Leaving the room, he returned shortly after for Chloe. Katniss smiled to herself as she thought about how endearing the scene had been. “Hey.” Peeta greeted her shortly after as he laid back down beside her. “Hi.” She replied back. “All tucked in?” She asked as she turned her head slightly to meet his eyes, surprised by how close his proximity was to her. She watched as he turned to his side, propping his head in his hand. “Why did you ask to come here tonight?” He asked after he looked at her for a moment. Katniss shrugged. “I don’t know.” She admitted truthfully. “I mean, the bar was pretty horrible, and Plutarch was making me crazy...” she trailed off with her excuses. “Why did you agree to it?” She queried back after a moment. “I don’t know.” He said with a shrug. “I guess I can’t stand the thought of someone suffering.” He offered with a wink. “Even if it’s me?” She asked incredulously. “I thought you hate me.” Peeta rolled his eyes, “I don’t hate you, Katniss.” He replied as he moved to sit up. “You have gone out of your way to bother me and make rude comments to me literally every day for the last five years.” Katniss remarked. “What do you call that if not hate?” “Stupidity?” Peeta offered meekly, giving his cheek a rub. She scoffed at his remark suddenly feeling annoyed that she let her better judgement get away from her. She sat up and made to crawl out, but Peeta’s hand caught hers. The look in his eyes was pleading and she relented, sitting back down. “Listen, I don’t know how I can ever prove to you that I’m not that guy. I don’t know how many times I can apologize for being a complete idiot. But I will! I’m trying; I mean it. I just need you to give me a chance.” He begged. Katniss looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment. His pleading look was unchanging. “How am I supposed to trust you? I mean, you were nice to me a couple of times. And the online version of you is completely different. I’m not sure exactly how to feel or think about you.” Katniss confessed feeling flustered. Peeta nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t. The best thing I can think of is to give me time. Give me a chance. Let me prove I’m not completely juvenile. I do know how to treat a woman.” He finished. “Why does it matter so much? Why are you trying so hard?” Katniss asked giving him a curious look. She wasn’t quite done trying to get to the bottom of his motives. She wasn’t totally convinced of his innocence. It was Peeta’s turn to be flustered, “Because I like you!” He said exasperated, throwing his hands in the air. “You like online me.” Katniss retorted looking annoyed. “They’re the same thing!” Peeta said with a roll of his eye. “You know as well as I do, they’re not. Neither of us has quite sorted out the two! I know I’ve only ever been Katniss the cactus to you.” She said rolling her eyes back at him. Peeta looked taken aback by her knowledge of his nickname for her. Katniss gave him a smug look. “Tell me I’m wrong.” She threatened as she waited for a rebuttal. “You know what? Just forget it!” Peeta finally spat back, his look intense. “Fine! I don’t need this. Forget I-“ But before she could finish her thought, the soft insistent lips of Peeta crashed into her unsuspecting ones. Katniss’ mind swirled. She pressed her hand to Peeta’s chest pushing them apart after a moment. “What the hell?” She gasped, giving him a curious look just before she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his mouth back to hers.

[taeliciousdaelicious]

Instagrammable || kms

Genre: Fluff (’cause I’m a sucker for this kind of toothache)

Pairing/s: You and barista!Minseok

Description: You were out to meet your friends but unfortunately, your go-to bubble tea shop was full already. You were in search of a possible place to hang out in when you found this gem tucked away in the busy city—and it comes with its own cute barista, too.

Note/s: I have no other excuse except for I was lazy to start this fic just in time to finish and post it for Minseok’s birthday. But, better (extra) late than never, right? Also, this was inspired by a café my friends and I found by chance when we had nowhere to go and were on a budget. This is gonna be an extra short drabble so don’t expect too much—

Word Count: 2,155

“I’m free later. Are we going to meet at our usual spot?” While speaking on the phone, you squeezed into a soft, pastel yellow sweater, putting it over the Mickey Mouse shirt you wore since you were lounging at home. You decided the black leggings would do as you decided to spice up your outfit with brown, high-heeled ankle boots.

Your friend responded with an affirmative and you smiled. It had been a while since the four of you last saw each other. Ever since all of you officially became working women, there seemed to have been lesser opportunities and time to meet up. This made you look forward to today.

“Alright, I’m all dressed up. Remember the rule: whoever is the first one at the usual spot should inform everyone whether it’s full or not so we could decide what would happen” you reminded her. She merely scoffed and agreed, knowing everyone would follow it since the said rule had never failed to serve your group during instances like this. You said your farewells before grabbing your purse and stepped out of your apartment.

Your usual spot was a bubble tea shop with an all-day breakfast diner. It was a popular place for students since it was right next to a university. This was where the four of you hunched over your textbooks and paperwork as you studied late into the night or early in the morning. You’ve been regulars for so long that the staff only needed to greet your group upon entering the establishment before they start making your usual orders.

Riding a bus, you sat next to the window and thought about what would happen later. Would one of you rant about their insufferable colleagues? Or maybe a date gone wrong? What kind of stories would you share later as you caught up with each other’s lives? It made you excited all over again as you considered the possibilities. Since you were merely a bus stop away, the ride was short as you got off and started walking towards the familiar building.

Judging at the amount of people sitting by the windows, you already guessed that the shop might be full today. Still, you trudged forward and went in, the windchime tinkling to signal your arrival. The lady at the counter looked up and gave you an apologetic look. You knew already that they weren’t about to empty out anytime soon.

You walked up to her and flashed a small smile as you said, “Hello. Have my friends come here before me?”

She chuckled and shook her head no, adding, “If they were here, I would have known immediately, especially with how loud your group is. All of them are loudmouths except you. Sorry, sweetie. Shop’s full today. Best of luck in finding somewhere to hang out.”

Sighing, you nodded your thanks and stepped out into the sidewalk. You fished out your phone and sent a quick message to all of your friends.

Y/N: Usual spot is full. Head home or head out? (Sent at 5:48 P.M.)

They replied right away and the decision was unanimous. No one was going to let this day pass without seeing each other’s face. So, you started moving again, now in search for a place to meet them and be able to catch up.

Y/N: I’m on the move already. I’ll text once I found a place! (Sent 6:01 P.M.)

It took fifteen minutes of walking around aimlessly before you found the right place you’ve been looking for. None of the establishments you passed by appealed to you. They were either too mainstream, too expensive, too boring, etc. They just didn’t seem like something you and your friends would all like until you found the little coffee shop tucked in a corner, a street away from the main business center. Suffice to say, it was Instagram-worthy and you were sure your friends would swoon upon seeing it.

Its storefront was the timeless, grilled windows that were huge enough to allow passers-by to peek in to the interior of the shop. It was reminiscent of a classic, Western coffee shop found along a line of establishments. You found your feet directing you to it and your hand touched the cool handle, pushing it open to enter. There was also a windchime here that announced your entrance. For a moment, you thought you were alone—that is until a person jumped up from behind the counter.

“Good evening, miss! Welcome to Infallible!” he cheerfully greeted you. The sudden action made you yelp in surprise and stumble back for a few steps. You both looked at each other with wide eyes before you nervously laughed at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m easily surprised and, well, I thought this place was deserted or something” you said awkwardly, unconsciously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Now that your brain wasn’t ringing alarm bells in your head, you finally noticed how cute the barista looked. His uniform only made him even cuter and you had to make a conscious effort of not being too obvious with the staring.

“Right. I’m sorry. I thought there was a thief because I was busy fixing some stuff under the counter” he explained, laughing a little. “Anyways, I’m Minseok and I’m your barista for today. How may I help you, miss?”

“You’re open for business, right?” you asked. Then, realizing how stupid that question must have sounded, you quickly backtracked and said, “I’m sorry. I should have looked at the front door for any sign or something—”

His chuckle broke you out of your rant and he kindly said, “Calm down, miss. It’s okay. I’m happy to answer your question. Yes, we’re open for business.”

You nodded at him, unable to look at him directly out of embarrassment and shyness. “Um, okay. I’ll just... go sit in that booth over there. I’m waiting for my friends. We’ll order later once they arrive. Yeah. Sorry for bothering you again. And what’s the address of this coffee shop again?”

After giving you the complete address, you thanked him one last time and scurried to the booth. You focused your attention solely on your phone as you typed out your text message before sending.

Y/N: Hey guys, I’m in this coffee shop called Infallible. Here’s the address. Get you asses here in ten or else. Last one is in charge of buying the snacks. (Sent at 6:20 P.M.)

After sending it, you immersed yourself in logging into your social media accounts, scrolling through your feeds to pass time. You did anything to avoid looking at the cute barista who made you self-conscious. Soon enough, your friends started appearing and finally, you were complete.

Without any preamble, one of them said to you, “Okay, girl, why didn’t you tell us there’s a cuteass barista here? My hair looks like a bird’s nest from running all the way here just so I wouldn’t pay for snacks! I’m broke as fuck but holy hell, look at that gorgeous eye candy. I bet if we take a picture of him and post it online, it would become viral. Shame on you, Y/N, for withholding this vital piece of information. Shame on you.”

You laughed merrily before crossing your legs in a sassy manner. “Of course, I can’t be the only one who should make a fool out of herself because of a certain good-looking guy. Alright, we’ve stalled long enough. Time to order food and drinks for ourselves.”

You all stood up and went to the counter to quickly give your orders. Just like what the worker said back in the bubble tea shop, your friends were all loud—except you. When it was finally your turn, Minseok gave you a bright smile and said, “Hello again, miss! May I get your order?”

You smiled sheepishly at him and replied, “Hey again. I’d like a regular-sized, iced coffee, chocolate-flavored. Oh, and go crazy on the whipped cream. I apologize for my friends’ rowdiness, by the way. It’s been said that we bring a hurricane of noise wherever we go.”

He laughed as he started getting a plastic cup and a permanent marker. “No, don’t be. It’s exactly what this coffee shop needs. Better than being as silent as a tomb. What name should I put on the cup?”

“Um, Y/N” you told him and he swiftly jotted it down in neat strokes. “Here’s my payment.”

“Oh, thanks” he said, accepting it. He looked at you with curiosity in his eyes as he punched it in. You felt a little strange under his scrutiny before he finally spoke up as he handed you your receipt and change, “I’m sorry if I’m staring too much but I was wondering... uh, was that your real name? That name you gave me?”

You blinked in surprise and laughed a little. “Yeah, that’s my real name. Why? Are you going to stalk me now or something?”

He laughed as well, his cheeks faintly reddening. He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at you through his lashes. You couldn’t help but swoon at how great his features seemed at any angle. Just then, he said, “I just thought it’s a beautiful name, Y/N. I should probably start making the coffee.”

“Oh, sure! Sorry, I’m keeping you from working” you said awkwardly. You flashed him a smile and tilted your head as you told him, “I’ll go back to my friends now. It was nice talking to you, Minseok.”

You turned around then and hurried to your seat. You missed the stunned look on his face at the mention of his name but your friends didn’t, as well as the rest of your interaction. When you looked at them, they were wearing knowing smiles.

“What?” you asked dumbly, a defense mechanism that everyone seemed to have. This just made them smile wider.

“I think I know why Y/N didn’t tell us about the barista. What’s his name again? Ah, yes, Minseok” your friends teased you. You weren’t able to control your reaction when you flushed a little. They simply laughed at your reaction, to which you groaned in embarrassment.

“Shut up. I swear, I just forgot to tell you about him” she mumbled. They still didn’t believe you and kept on teasing you a little longer before they diverted their attention to another topic. Welcoming it, you started contributing your thoughts to the conversation and the flow went smoothly after that. It was fun while waiting for your food and drinks as you were able to exchange silly stories, memorable experiences and complaints that had all piled up since you last saw each other. There was something bittersweet about the entire thing. You couldn’t help but think about the amount of time you would have to spend without them again.

Suddenly, there was a hand outstretched in front of you. You noticed how muscular the arm was and immediately, it jolted you back to reality. You were met with your friends’ amused faces and Minseok looking down at you with a small, shy smile on his face. “Hi, here’s your drink. Sorry for interrupting your train of thoughts. I guess I’ll get going now.”

You mutely accepted the drink, feeling the coldness seeping through the stack of tissue paper wrapped around the plastic cup. Unconsciously, you followed his figure until he turned around and met your eyes. You froze on your seat, making him visibly chuckle behind the counter.

“I suggest that you better get his number” one of your friends said excitedly. You blushed at that while giggling.

“Nah, if there’s imaginary sparks, I would be more than embarrassed. I don’t want to risk sacrificing this gorgeous place for a gorgeous face” you said, sipping the coffee through the straw. You made a sound of approval before commenting, “Oh my god, this is it. Whenever our usual spot is full, we go straight here, you hear me?”

They laughed before falling silent. You all made positive comments about the drinks and the food, immensely satisfied with your discovery. You were about halfway through your cup when your friend sitting beside you said, “Hey, what’s that thing peeking through the tissue paper?”

Frowning in confusion, you checked it yourself. Gently peeling it off the cup, you gasped in surprise when you saw digits written with blue ink on the white surface, coupled with a smiley face.

“It looks like there’s no imaginary sparks and you don’t have to ask for his number. Damn, I should have started a bet” your friend murmured. The girls took turns in passing the paper around to confirm it to their disbelieving eyes, squealing and probably already planning how to dress you up for a possible first date. Smiling widely, you turned around to see Minseok smiling as well, looking straight at you. He raised an eyebrow, as if asking something. You merely breathed out a laugh before turning your head away.

“Alright, give me the damn tissue paper. Now, where did I put my phone? Oh my goodness, help me find it!”