#there’s just a lot of obstacles and I can’t make movie watching a habit in my room because it simply will spiral out of control

[itspileofgoodthings]

There is a kid in my class who asked if we could watch Lord of the Rings in my room after school in half hour chunks and the way I came so close to saying yes.

[enbylucy]

some established/living together nalu headcanons cause i miss them

one thing about them? they make everything an adventure. everything is a fun little outing.

gotta get groceries? let’s all go together and get lunch too. gotta stop by the guild? cool we should take the scenic route. cleaning the apartment? turn on the music and we’ll do it together.

they are INTOLERABLE together in public

constantly whispering and giggling and nudging each other, sharing inside jokes, lost in their own little world. it’s sickening

lots of petty arguments. it was your turn to do the dishes, who finished the last of the snack, you’re hogging the blanket, you got to pick the show last time, etc etc

the petty arguments usually result in lucy stomping around and huffing and natsu glaring at a wall for ten minutes before they both fold and start talking to each other again

they can’t watch movies together bc lucy always accidentally spoils the movie by making eerily accurate predictions. it pisses natsu off

natsu has a terrible habit of leaving all of his shit all over the house

shoes in front of the door instead of on the rack, clothes strewn across the floor, backpack in the middle of the living room, etc etc

lucy hates this cause she’s already clumsy by nature and the random obstacles on the floor just make it worse

natsu, early riser, waking up at 5am vs lucy, night owl, going to bed at 5am

also lucy who wears contacts/glasses and has negative vision vs natsu who could probably spot a bug from 20 miles away without squinting

lucy drools and natsu snores. a lethal combination. they’re terrible to share a bed with. happy hates them

they take bubble baths together sometimes. natsu doesn’t rly like them cause he hates the feeling of his skin getting all pruny but does it cause he likes making lucy happy

lucy loves bubble baths w natsu cause the water never gets cold!!!! it’s like her own personal hot tub

lucy always gives happy a lil kiss on the top of his head before bed and natsu started to demand them after awhile cause he felt left out

[antiodote]

she can’t finish and they fight.

warnings: smut (18+), angst

•••

stress was coursing through her veins at every waking moment.

she had been feeling like this for the past two months. scoring a promotion at work meant a lot of things. it meant she got paid more, sure, but it also meant that she had more responsibility than ever before.

ever since her days at school, she craved validation; she needed somebody to tell her that she was doing good, that her efforts were not going unnoticed, that she did the right thing, and that she was good. she never quite figured out where that need came from, but she had an inkling that it must have something to do with the way her mother had raised her.

she, also, never quite figured out how to deal with it healthily, which is why all of her friends knew her as the archetype of a workaholic. she was working all the time and rarely had any time for herself, but she loved her work, so it didn’t seem like a big deal to her.

it was a big deal to harry, though.

harry, who was also a self-proclaimed workaholic, saw how much it was tearing at her and could practically smell the burnout from miles and miles away. it didn’t help that her boss didn't believe in words of affirmation and just piled on more work for her to do every chance she got. harry knew that it was eating away at her, he knew that her way of coping, which was not at all, would eventually come back to bite her in the ass. in any other situation he probably would have done something. he keeps telling her to take a break and to rest a bit; the hypocrisy of it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them, though. truthfully, harry was also as busy as ever. with the release of his new album, movie promotions and public appearances, he rarely has time to rest himself.

before their lives got all too complicated, they had plenty of time to spend together, even with their already busy schedule. they’d go on hikes and cook and watch movies; they were a proper couple. happy and unbothered. shielded from any and all obstacles. maybe they both knew, deep down, that their honeymoon phase was coming to an end. to them, however, that seemed like it was light-years away.

and yet, here they were.

it was the umpteenth time that she had returned from work at an ungodly hour, even later than harry. he usually left to go to the studio after making breakfast for the both of them, and usually, neither of them would end up eating most of it. harry used to playfully bug her about her eating habits. he tried reminding her of the importance of three meals a day, every day. she brushed it off then and it was fine; now, however, it worries and agitates harry to no end. this morning she had left without so much as looking at it, once again. she bid her rushed goodbye and chose to forego a peck on the lips. she had forgotten so much lately that harry began to wonder if it had been on purpose, but since he isn’t the kind to ask for affection he guesses he will never know.

they meet for what feels like the first time that day in their shared bedroom. she comes in with her bag in tow and exhaustion written all over her features and it pained harry to see her like that. however, he too was feeling more than exhausted. it became harder and harder to feel sorry for her if he was being honest with himself. not when he felt like it was preventable.

“hi.”

“hello.”

silence.

“I’m sorry for coming home late again. I know it’s been happening too much. I don’t mean to…” she tried explaining herself as she did so often. harry understood and he wasn’t mad, but the defeat in his demeanour was palpable.

“it’s alright, came home late myself. how was work?“

“same old. how was the studio?”

“fine.” a lie.

harry had been having trouble writing as of late. everything he did write was either too sad to release or just not good at all. apparently, the way their relationship was falling apart seemed to directly affect his creative writing process. it was a mess, truly. he didn’t have the heart to tell her that though. he didn’t want to make her feel more guilty than she probably already did.

“okay, good.”

harry returned to reading his book, albeit halfheartedly, while she was busy looking at him - really looking at him - for the first time in ages. she is shocked to find him looking so… defeated? she wants to beat herself up for not noticing the prominence of his under-eye bags, the dullness of his skin, and even the way his hair looks unkempt and tousled. does she also look this restless? she realises, then and there, that they haven’t made proper conversation for the better part of 6 weeks, and she can’t help but feel like it’s her fault. she knows they have both been very busy, but had she made an effort to do something to at least save her relationship? she doesn’t think so.

“so, uh, we haven’t talked in a while, huh?” she sets her bag by the door and moves to her side of the bed, her side facing him while she removes her jewellery. harry sets his book down as well, hoping they would finally be able to break the cycle. the moonlight shines brightly into their bedroom window, illuminating the side of her face. if the situation was different, he might tell her how beautiful she looks, despite her visible fatigue. he doesn’t know what’s stopping him if he’s honest. what he doesn’t know is that when she faces him and sees how the warm light from the lamp on his bedside table illuminates his features, her breath oh so subtly hitches, too. she thought he was beautiful, always. like the sun, always illuminating. unfortunately, his light seemed dull lately.

fire and ice; the sun and the moon facing one another. that’s what they represent. so close, yet so far away. they used to dance in unison, but they seemed to have forgotten how to dance. why? what happened to them? it felt like they both knew, and yet? they didn’t know what to do.

except she thought she did.

she moved closer to him, fully sitting on the bed now. her blouse pulled out of her trousers, her hair down and her glasses thrown aside somewhere. facing him, she took the book out of his grasp and bent over his stretched-out legs to put it back on his nightstand. she made sure to let her chest graze over his crotch. she wanted to dance again, in a different way. a way they used to have perfected. the last time they danced was way too long ago, though, but she hopes they still remember the steps.

he held his breath, not quite knowing what to do just yet. where was this going? he wasn’t entirely sure and he didn’t want to risk fucking it up. this was the first time she had been close to him in what feels like forever and he missed her touch so much that it hurt. she moved back into a seated position, facing him.

“tell me something. anything. I miss your voice.”

he looks at her, puzzled. what could he tell her? he wrecked his brain for something, anything to tell her. something that wasn’t too boring or too sad. he found himself feeling insecure, for whatever reason. so, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he decides to listen to his heart and let his mind stop working for a bit. this was his love, he would be fine. he knew how to talk to her, he was fine. he was fine.

he opens his eyes again and speaks.

“well, mitch and sarah might want to try for another baby. they’ve been loving parenthood, it seems. I think it really suits them, too. and, uh, jeff and I have been talking about tour dates, which is always a hassle, as you know. oh! I might have to go to italy to reshoot some scenes for the movie. um, yeah.” his monologue was cut short by the sheer fact that he doesn’t know what else to talk about. the oxygen in the room seems to lessen by the second and his throat feels tight. why was he like this? could he not just act normal right now? why did he feel the need to talk to her about how he felt like they were falling apart? and how that was scaring the hell out of him? losing her seemed like such an unrealistic concept not too long ago, whereas now it feels like it’s just around the corner. he feels constricted and he hated every second of it.

“that’s nice, hm? mitch and sarah having another baby? god, I hope it works out for them. it would give you more godfather duties.” she tries to lighten the mood and it works, if only for a second. harry wants to ask her about her day, as well. however, listening to her work struggles right now would be sure to set him off, so he decides against it. and thus, silence falls heavy upon them, once more.

“what happened to us, love?”

he spoke up, his voice sounding uncharacteristically little. he voiced his fear.

here we go.

“I used to be able to talk to you for, what, hours? without any problems. but now it just feels so…different. why?”

he faces her and finds an apologetic look on her face, probably mirroring his own. they felt defeated. lost. what did happen to them?

she sighed heavily, not even trying to deny anything. “I…I don’t know, harry. I don’t know.” a beat of silence lingered again. “I miss us. I miss you, all the time. I don’t like what happened to us, it’s like we drifted apart, don’t you think?” he says. his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest at any given moment with how nervous and stressed he felt.

“do you still love me?” he asks, knowing just how pathetic he must sound. she replies instantly. “of course I do, harry. always. do you still love me?”

“yes, I do. so much.”

her fear turned into desperation. she had to do something, and she had to do it now. she moves closer to him, their faces now mere inches apart. she laces her hand into his own, slowly and carefully, afraid to do something wrong. she looks at him once more and tries not to wince at how dull his eyes looked. if she dwelled any longer on how it might have something to do with her, she might collapse. so, urgently, she moves their joined hands onto his lap.

“good. let me show you how much I love you then. please, can I?”

their hands apply pressure on their resting spot just over his crotch, clearly sending a message. he closes his eyes and relishes the feeling. he felt like they should talk first, to work through any of the problems they might be experiencing. he couldn’t bring himself to do it, though. because right now, the only thought in his mind was how he needed to feel close to her, immediately. he felt selfish, but couldn’t bring himself to care. so he nods. “please.” and in an instant, she moves closer.

their lips attach. relief floods him.

there she was. his moonlight.

heat surrounds them, quicker than they’d care to admit, and everything felt good, for once. the world stopped, and it was just the two of them. nothing else mattered. he was feeling her again, and it was good.

she moves to sit on his lap with her thighs surrounding his own. her hands migrate to his scalp to tangle them through his hair, the way she knew he liked. he moved his own hands to her blouse, desperate to take it off, desperate to feel her. he undoes the buttons and slides it off her shoulders, removing her hands from his head in the process. their mouths move in unison, their movements are rushed and desperate. they needed this. they needed to feel connected like only they knew how. in a rush to feel her skin, he peels off her sports bra, leaving her in nothing but her dress pants. his hands find her chest and in an instant, he starts playing her like an instrument, gaining a plethora of sweet whines from her. she grinds down on him, feeling the growth in his trousers. everything is hot, rushed and filled with need; their arousal growing by the second. she detaches her mouth from his to take a breath, a string of saliva connecting them, still.

“fuck, harry. please, please. I need… I need, god-“

he didn’t wait for her to finish before attaching his mouth to her nipple, sucking harshly. a high-pitched whine leaves her and she grinds down harder, making him groan. he uses his other hand to play with her other breast, and when he moves his head to lick a bold stripe in between the valley of her chest, squeezing her tits in his way, he wonders if this is heaven. this, or the treasure between her thighs. as soon as the thought enters his brain, he detaches himself from her chest in an attempt to move them into a laying position.

“need to taste you, angel. please, let me-“

“no, harry, please. need to feel you. need to feel you inside, please. need to feel full.”

they make eye contact and he contemplates her words. “you can taste me whenever else you want, honey. just need to feel you in me now, okay?” she says, with her hands in his hair once more. he closes his eyes and basks in the comfort she radiates. she was truly remarkable. and truthfully, he couldn’t possibly think of a better sensation than to be berried deep within her walls.

“yeah, okay angel. let me make you feel good, hmm?”

“yes, god yes. thank you, thank you, thank you.”

she lifts herself from her position on his lap and steps off the bed. they simultaneously remove any remaining articles of clothing, leaving nothing but naked skin in sight. she kneels onto the bed once more, resuming her previous position. harry's hands roam all over her body, squeezing her behind and finally resting on her love handles.

“you’re unbelievable. so fucking stunning, god. kiss me, please.”

she grants his wish momentarily, letting his tongue roam freely. they were in ecstasy, purely and utterly consumed with one another. she blindly reaches for his length underneath her, gripping him at the base and gifting him a few languid strokes. her thumb finds his tip and she starts spreading any and all precum around, preparing him. he moans, no, whines into her mouth, his eyes screwed shut in utmost pleasure.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. please, baby, I can’t take it. let me feel you, now.”

she smiled, kissing his nose. she loved his eagerness and how he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry, baby.”

and so, she moves to sit down and truly, she couldn’t wait to feel him, as she had really, really missed it. terribly so.

she guides him inside, preparing herself mentally for the highest form of pleasure she had ever experienced-

or…not?

“ah, fuck! wait, hold on-“

she couldn’t get him inside, but not because of his size. no, she just so happens to be bone dry. no arousal was surrounding her, not even a little bit. this had never happened before, and it left her at a loss. she looks down again, just to make sure that she was feeling it correctly. and there it was, nothing. she should be dripping by now, especially with how turned on she was, but alas, the contrary seemed to be the case.

she looks at him now, helplessly, and at a loss for what to do.

“what’s wrong, you okay? not feeling up to it? we can stop-“

“no! no, absolutely not. I want this so bad, you have no idea. I don’t know what’s happening, honestly. I- I- maybe I can- or we could-“

he grabs her by the jaw, grounding her for a moment. his eyes search for hers, offering reason and calm, and relief floods her as she sees how his eyes look more alive than they did a few minutes ago.

“hey, hey, calm down. you’re okay, petal.” a kiss. “let me just get the lube, yeah? don’t worry about it.” she takes a deep breath. “yeah, okay. thank you.” another kiss.

he reaches over to his bedside table, opening the little drawer underneath. located in-between packs of condoms, some melatonin tablets and an emergency pack of cigarettes, he finally found what he was looking for: the small bottle of water-based lube. neither of them exchange words, just glances, as he shuts the drawer, opens the bottle, and squirts some of the product on his hand. once the bottle is closed and set aside, he uses his clean hand to guide her slightly upwards, freeing him from the delicious confines of her thighs. he then spreads the product on and around his length, wincing slightly at the cool temperature. once he feels like he’s coated himself sufficiently, he guides her down once more.

“tell me if it hurts and I stop, okay?”

she nods.

deep breaths. shaky hands. unsure glances.

and then…

“oh my god.”

euphoria.

“holy shit, baby. fuck. so fucking perfect for me, aren’t you? jesus.”

she sinks all the way down his length, filling her up to the brim. her head is thrown back and her mouth agape in pleasure, not a single sound escaping her for the first few moments. that is until he starts thrusting up and into her.

“good god, harry, fuck!” the delicious stretch of her walls made her want to scream, a feeling that she doesn’t think she could ever get tired of. “please don’t stop, oh my god!” her words only encouraged him more, making sure to keep his pace steady and to hit her spot every single time. with her head still thrown back and her jaw slack, harry took the opportunity to just stare at her pleasure-filled face, which only got him off more. she always looked beautiful, but like this? she was unbelievable. he thinks at that moment that he should probably write a song about it.

a particularly hard thrust made her snap forward. “fucking hell, I feel you in my tummy.” she laced her hands around his jaw and rested her forehead against his own, staring deeply into his eyes and stealing the occasional kiss. harry took this moment to steady her hips and thrust up into her with such vigour, that her eyes rolled all the way back into her skull. she had to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hug him close to stabilise herself. and then, something weird happened.

usually, with the way he was pounding into her and with how he was moaning straight into her ear, she would be done in seconds. however, now that his face was no longer in her line of sight, her mind started clouding itself with other images.

“make sure you get this back to me by the end of the day. no more slacking off.”

she squeezed her eyes shut. this couldn’t be happening, not now.

“you have to do this over entirely, this is not what I had in mind at all.”

god, no. no, no, no!

“this is unbelievably sloppy, you cannot be serious, right? you’re staying late today, this is unacceptable.”

what the actual fuck was happening?

“baby, you okay?”

her eyes opened wide in an instant. he tried prying her arms away so he could look at her properly. she, however, only hugged him closer.

“yes! yes, I’m good. so fucking good.” she made sure to make her voice extra sultry, grinding down on him to make it all more believable. she cannot let him know that she got ridiculously close to having an anxiety attack in the middle of what was supposed to be mind-boggling sex.

he couldn’t help but groan at her actions, however, he continued. “you sure? your heart is beating very fast. do you- ah!- do you need some water, maybe?” he tumbled over his words as she made sure to squeeze her walls tight to shut him up.

“I’m okay, I don’t need anything. just need you to make me come, please.” she continued squeezing him, both with her arms and her walls until he was putty in her hands. no more words left him as he started thrusting up into her once again, moaning at the sensation her delicious pussy was giving him.

“you feel fucking unreal right now, angel. how do you feel, tell me? please, god, tell me.” he was begging for her, another thing that could usually make her come in an instant. right now, however, she really didn’t think that it was going to happen anytime soon.

how was she feeling? well, for starters, she was feeling embarrassed and confused because somehow, she didn’t get wet when her hot shot of a boyfriend practically devoured her tits and called her angelic, especially because she thought she was super turned on to begin with. and as if that wasn’t enough, she was now drowning in mental images and intrusive thoughts of her workplace and her bitch of a boss, which was the very thing that is currently tearing at her relationship. and she worried, that if she doesn’t get her shit together immediately, she might not come at all. so, fake it till you make it, she guessed.

“fuck, harry, I feel so fucking good. y’make me feel so. fucking. good.” slurring her words and repeating simple sentences; that should be enough to convince him that it’s genuine. she was trying to get into it again, but so far, nothing. she made sure to grind down and twist her hips how she knew he loved. on top of it all, she nibbled at his neck, jaw and ear to really get him going. and she knew it was working when his whines got louder with each thrust.

“shit baby, you feel bloody fantastic. please, god, tell me you’re close, need you to cum f’me.”

he was begging and whining for her like that was his sole purpose in this life, which made her feel all the more guilty for how her body was not reacting at all. he could very well be stroking her thumb right now, and it’d probably have the same effect. but she was determined to make him feel good, both physically and mentally, because he deserved it. the last thing she wanted to do was to make him feel guilty about something that he had nothing to do with.

so, she did what any other stupidly in-love woman would do: she faked her fucking orgasm.

“harry, god, fuck, I’m so close- I-“

“yeah, angel? let go f’me, get my cock all wet, c’mon.”

and that’s exactly what she did, or at least, tried to make him believe.

“god fucking- ah!”

and with all the core strength that she had, she squeezed her walls incredibly tight around him. she even tried to put some pressure on her bladder to maybe release some fluids, just to make it more believable. she was all too aware of his eyes on her, staring in awe at her alleged release. and just like she hoped it would, it triggered his own release just mere moments later.

“baby, fuck! that’s it, good god, that’s- oh!”

warm fluid filled her to the brim and she thinks under any other circumstances, the sheer intensity would’ve had to trigger her own orgasm. and yet, there she was.

shame was making her blood run cold, goosebumps littered her skin and she had this sudden urge to get out of the room to forgo any awkward conversation, but she knew she wasn’t going to be that lucky.

“you okay?”

he ripped her out of her thoughts in an instant, and suddenly he was facing her. his face was soft with pleasure, a post-orgasmic glow etched his features and a tired smile was gifted to her. he looked relaxed, comfortable and most of all he looked really, really happy.

she could not mess this up.

“yeah, I’m good. you?”

“very much so, angel.” he moved his hand to her cheek and oh so very softly moved any stray hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. the silence around them felt heavy, almost deafening to her. to him, however, it was pure bliss.

they stared at each other until it became unbearable for her, so she tried to move but his hand on her waist stopped any movement in its tracks.

“wanna cuddle for a bit?”

it became apparent to her that he was holding on to this sliver of positive energy they had created. she felt flattered over the fact that he wanted her around. the feeling however quickly dissipated and was replaced with guilt, shame and fear. she had to be by herself for a bit, she needed to get her head straight.

“let me just do my thing in the loo really quick, okay? i’ll be back before you know it, darling.” she reasoned. he nods, gives her a chaste kiss on the lips and nose, and lets her go. a hiss leaves both of them as she removes herself from him and she makes sure to keep the mess to a minimum. without looking back, she quickly walks to their shared bathroom, locking the door behind her. as soon as her bum hits the toilet seat, the tears flow and the shame begins to manifest itself into a big, green monster in her mind. how could she do this? how could she lie to him about something as stupid as this? more importantly, why could she not come? as the questions multiplied, the answers came short. she never wanted to be this person, and yet, there she was. does she tell him? does she keep the lie going? does she pretend to be so tired and fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillows? she doesn’t want to do any of those things. instead, she selfishly wants to bask in the warmth radiating from her boyfriend, now that he is in post-orgasmic bliss. maybe she’ll be selfish for once if her mind allows it.

“oh god.”

frustration is now emanating from every pore of her body and she decides then that she has to leave this bathroom before things start looking suspicious. so, she finishes up, takes a deep breath and does not dare to look at herself in the mirror as she leaves.

she comes back to their bedroom and is momentarily confused when she finds him in his boxers and surrounded by a cloud of smoke. his back was facing her as he leaned over the railing of the balcony, shoulders visibly sagging with every breath.

“h? why are you smoking? everything okay?”

harry is by no means a smoker. he’s the kind of person to only reach for them when he is going through heavy emotional turmoil. he wouldn’t even smoke when he drank, so this scene was more than upsetting to her. especially because she already had an inkling of what could have possibly caused this action of his.

he turns around, the lazy smile no longer to be seen. instead, his eyes look even more dull than before and his cheeks have a rosy tint to them, almost like he just finished crying himself. she felt her heart sink and suddenly becomes increasingly aware of the severity of the situation.

this was bad.

“why don’t you tell me who you’re cheating on me with, darling.”

•••

a/n: hiiii, i’m back! sorry it took so long, i’ve been super busy with preparing for my move and also seeing harry in hamburg (and getting covid </3) anyways, this needs a part two, but that isn’t quite finished yet. this is also very different from anything else i’ve ever written before, so any feedback is truly appreciated!!!

4.7k words, not proofread (sorry!), lowercase intended

[trashyswitch]

Patton's Sugar Addiction

Patton has become way too addicted to sugar, to the point that Thomas is becoming affected mentally. And Logan is not having that. So, he comes to Patton's room to try to talk some sense into him. But...there's only so much sense you can explain to an impulsive little child who becomes childish and teasy when he doesn't get his way.

For Garcello (Hi!), @kanene-yaaay and forgetful-dortio

This was a fun fanfic to make! And...It's based on a personal experience...Without the tickling though, and not nearly as much sugar. But I did pig out on hot and cold creamy chocolate. And I have no regrets. ;)

If there is one thing Logan has always been good at, it’s identifying other people’s quirks and habits. And one quirk Logan knew all too well was Patton’s obsession with sugar.

From the time Patton was little, to when Patton started baking his own goods, Patton had grown increasingly more obsessed with sugar. At first, it start off as a little treat once a week. Then it grew to everyday desserts, to multiple sweet things a day. Soon, Logan had lost track of how much sugar Patton took in on a daily basis.

Logan didn’t fully know how much sugar he took in. But what he did know was that it was most likely too much. Even a tablespoon of sugar was too much for the human body. And Patton had already overtaken that obstacle long ago.

Now, Logan wouldn’t be looking at this issue as a problem if it weren’t for the effect Patton was having on Thomas...

One night, Logan had gotten up to go to the bathroom. As he walked to the bathroom, he noticed that Patton’s light was still on. It was currently 11:25, which wasn’t terrible...It was questionable at best. Logan walked to the door and placed his ear against it. It sounded like mumbled giggling and movie watching. Logan was gonna leave him alone when he realized something:

Mumbled giggling...Mumbled? Is Patton eating something?

Logan decided to do something he rarely does: Barge into his room. Logan walked into his room, took one look at Patton and shrieked!

Patton was eating a FULL TUB of cookies & cream ice cream, covered in caramel and chocolate sauce, mounted with whipped cream! It was a mountain of PURE SUGAR!

Surrounding the moral side was a big mug of hot chocolate, and 3 half-eaten chocolate bars.

“AAAH-” Patton coughed on his ice cream as bits of the liquid cream went down the wrong pipe. “Logan! Oh my goodness you scared me!”

Logan was staring at him, making the sugar calculations in his head. P-Patton-”

“Sorry Kiddo, I don’t think I heard you knock!” Patton put his tub down. “What’s going on? Do you wanna talk about it?”

Logan looked at the sugar pile. “Are...you feeling okay?” Logan asked.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, why?”

Logan pointed to all his chocolate. Patton turned around and looked at the chocolate. “Oh! Right.” Patton pushed all the chocolate bars and the tub into a desk drawer. “That’s nothing. Just felt like pigging out tonight.”

Logan walked into the room more and closed the door. “Your version of pigging out...is much worse than most people’s pigging out.” Logan told him.

Patton looked down guiltily. “I know that Lo…” Patton held his hands. “I’ve been...getting more sad and annoyed when I run out of the food that makes me happy. So I started buying large amounts of it to...help me get satisfied and full.” Patton explained.

“Patton...Do you realize how much sugar you’re taking in?” Logan asked.

Patton looked at the drawer with his half-eaten tub of ice cream and chocolate bars. “I...I lost count.”

Logan shook his head and walked closer. “I’m doing a sugar bust.” Logan declared as he opened the drawer.

“No NONONO WAIT-” Patton yelled, slamming the drawer shut. “No!”

Logan frowned. “Patton...let go of the drawer.” Logan ordered.

“No way!” Patton yelled back.

“Why?” the nerd asked.

“Because you’ll take it away from me!” Patton reacted.

“Yeah, because I’m worried about you.” Logan told him.

Patton sat his chair against the drawer to block it off. “If you love me, you’ll let me have this!” Patton told him.

“If I love you, I’d be doing this for the good of your health.” Logan said back.

“I’m a side! I can eat whatever I want without needing to watch my diet!” Patton argued.

“You are not stable like this!” Logan shot back.

“AND YOU ARE??” Patton yelled. “Mr. I feel no feelings?!”

Logan was taken aback. Did...Did he just insult him? Patton was NOT being himself at all.

“Organization makes you feel happy. And chocolate makes me feel happy! I never went around destroying your binders or paperwork!” Patton continued.

“You’re being ridiculous. I will not tolerate this unacceptable behaviour from you, Patton.” Logan said sternly.

Patton growled and tackled Logan right down to the ground. Logan yelped in fear as his back flopped against the ground. “PATTON LET GO OF ME!”

“You’re doing something that’s uncalled for! So now I’m gonna do something that’s uncalled for.” Patton declared before he started digging into Logan’s ribs.

Logan gasped and clenched his teeth tightly to prevent himself from givng Patton a chance to win. But oh boy...Patton was really going for an instinctive spot he could only control so much! And yes, Patton’s move was quite uncalled for. But it was also quite clever for Patton. Patton (unfortunately) knew exactly how to break any side. Even Logan.

Logan shook his head. “P-PAT THISISRIDICULOUS!” Logan shot at him through his clenched teeth.

“So is apprehending my stash of goodies!” Patton replied. “Now don’t make me go for the spot…”

Logan widened his eyes to the size of donuts. “You-youwouldn’t!” Logan reacted. He really wouldn’t, right?

“Ohohoho, I would. And I just might!” Patton declared.

Logan covered his armpits almost immediately to prevent Patton from getting to them. But Patton knew he would do this, and went for his neck instead.

“eEEEEHEHEK! Pahahat nohohoho!” Logan giggled.

“But Pat YES!” Patton leaned into Logan’s ab muscles, and blew a big raspberry: “PBBBbBbBFFBTBFT”

Logan finally couldn’t take it anymore. That raspberry threw Logan into enough of a frenzy to finally start laughing. “AAAAHAHAHAHAhehehehehe!”

Patton smirked to himself as he listened to the nerd’s laughter. It worked! Now to keep it going! Patton started skittering and scratching on Logan’s upper ribs and lifted up Logan’s arm. “I’m gonna getcha!” Patton teased.

“NOHOHO THIHIS IS UHUHUNCAHALLED FOHOHOR!” Logan yelled.

Patton only laughed evilly as he skittered his fingers slowly into Logan’s exposed hollow armpit.

Logan squeaked and fell into a fit of squeaky giggles. “Pahahahahat! Plehehehehehehease! Yohohou’re beheheing meeehehehehean!” Logan told him through the cute giggles he was letting out.

“Me? Mean?! Who was the one trying to steal from my precious stash a few minutes ago? Cause it certainly wasn’t me.” Patton reacted as he sped up the tickling to rapid speed.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOHOHOUR HEHEHEALTH PAHAHAHAT!” Logan yelled through his newfound laughter.

“Yeah, what about it?” Patton asked.

“IHIHI DOHOHON’T WAHAHANT YOHOHOU TOHOHO DIHIHIE!” Logan yelled.

Patton sighed. “Again...we’re sides. We don’t die.” Patton muttered out loud.

Logan was laughing up a storm with squeaks and giggles mixed in. This was so unfair! Why was Patton tickling him over his own sugar addiction? “BUHUHUHUT THOHOHOMAHAHAHAS!” Logan yelled.

“What about Thomas?” Patton asked, stopping his fingers.

Logan went limp, save for his one index finger that was raising up. “Thom-Thomas…*huff* ihis...behecomihihing...*huff*...un...unhealthy…*huff*...” Logan explained.

“Because of me?!” Patton reacted, placing his hand on his own chest. “How could that be?” Patton asked.

Logan’s hand flopped onto the carpet he was laying on. “Ihit’s...because…” Logan let out a big breath of air. “You’re increasing Thomas’s...craving for sweets.” Logan told him.

Patton tilted his head. “Am I?”

“Yes, a lot.” Logan explained. “Thomas has been ignoring my suggestions of something healthy due to ‘his cravings’. But...I can see why these cravings are coming up so often now.” Logan continued. “It’s you and your sugar addiction.”

“I wouldn’t call it an addiction...It’s more of a...taste preference.” Patton explained.

“A taste preference that you’re choosing so often that Thomas can’t keep himself together without a cookie or 20 to help him along the way.” Logan added.

Patton widened his eyes and covered his mouth. “Oh heavens…” Patton sat himself down and hummed as he looked at his butt. Patton stood back up and grabbed the item from his pocket.

Oh good lord it was another chocolate bar.

Logan noticed the almost cat-like look Patton developed when he saw the chocolate bar in his hand. “Paaaat...Paaat no!” Logan ordered.

Patton took one look at Logan and slowly ripped the top of the wrapper off the bar.

“Patton! I swear! You’ve had enough!” Logan reacted.

Patton slowly split the wrapper in half, and slowly separated the wrapper from the chocolate bar. “No I haven’t.”

Logan finally sprinted up to Patton. “GIVE IT HERE-” Logan skidded to a halt and rubbed his nose. “Did...Did you just shove the whole thing into your mouth?”

Patton stared at him and looked around with his cheeks more puffed out than a chipmunks cheeks of nuts. “Mm mm.” Patton hummed, shaking his head even though it was completely obvious that Patton had shoved the chocolate bar into his mouth.

Logan crossed his arms. “This is getting too far. Even for you.” Logan reacted. “This is more dangerous than Maleficent...Than- freaking SATAN! You’re being more dangerous than the devil right now!” Logan reacted, referring to his ‘and when I feel dangerous...eat a second cookie’ quote.

Patton narrowed his eyes and even hummed an offended sound. “How THARE-” Patton coughed a bit and started chewing. Half the chocolate bar was probably melted in his mouth by now thanks to the natural heat his mouth created.

Logan sighed and just let him chew. “Patton...I’m not gonna take the chocolate. But...I am going to try and help you control your urges to eat so much of it.” Logan told him.

Patton looked at him with a ‘you’d do that for me?’ kinda face and started to swallow.

“Just give me a chance to come up with a couple things. And...I may even start buying you your chocolates. Just...maybe have some variety.” Logan suggested.

Patton nodded as he chewed and swallowed.

“For example: nuts or berries. That way you’re getting some sort of valuable nutrients out of your snacks.” Logan decided.

Patton nodded as he swallowed his last bite with a sigh of content and a lick of the lips. “Mmmmm…”

Logan couldn’t help but snicker at this.

Patton turned to him. “What?” He asked with a smile.

“Nothing.” he put his hands up, with a small smile.

“Nothing? Nothing you say? After all of that?” Patton asked with an evil smirk on his face.

Logan’s small smile dropped into a look of pure nervousness. If he so much as said one thing, he was gonna die.

“Ooooooh...Thought staying silent would help you out huh?” Patton teased, sneaking closer. “I wonder...Which armpit would tickle more?”

Logan squeaked and covered his mouth as Patton moved closer and closer to Logan’s body. But then, things became even more flustering for Logan when Patton lifted up his arm again. “NO! NO NO NO NO PATTON!” Logan yelled. “STAAAAAAAA-”

Patton sighed and covered Logan’s mouth. “Get ahold of yourself.” Patton told him softly.

Logan stared at Patton.

Then Patton smirked and said a word:

“lee.”

Logan growled and covered his face.

Patton giggled and blew a raspberry into Logan’s ribs.

“AAEEHEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Logan screamed, laughing into the side of his own arm.

Patton tickled up and down the ribs, specifically focusing on the upper ribs and armpits the most because...That was Pat’s favorite spot to tickle on Logan! Logan was a mixture of laughter and giggles with squeaks thrown in as well. “Awwwwww! You’re so cute when you’re being tickled!” Patton reacted. “Wanna know what my favorite raspberry spot is?” Patton asked.

Logan shook his head. “NOHOHOHO! NOHO RAHAHASPBEHEHERRIES!”

“Well too bad, I’m gonna tell you anyway:” Patton leaned in and blew a raspberry on his belly. “Right on the tum tum!”

Logan wheezed and snorted at least 3 times in a row as his laughter started back up again. His laughter was so solid, strong, and yet quite soft to listen to! It was a beautiful little combination, if Patty did say so himself.

Patton soon gave Logan a break to allow the man to breathe for a while. Logan went limp on the ground for a bit, and lifted his head up. “Hey Pat?”

Patton smiled at him as he ate another spoonful of melting ice cream. “Yes?”

Logan wheezed as he saw Patton eating the ice cream yet again. “If you label the ice cream and put it into the freezer…” Logan looked down in slight embarrassment. “I’ll...let you tickle me more.”

Patton couldn’t refuse such a delicious deal such as this!

Patton was gone and back in 5 minutes or less, and was back and ready to tickle even more of Logan with his slightly cold hands. “I hope you’re ready for the tickling of a lifetime, young man!” Patton teased.

Logan gave him a wobbly smile. He hoped he was ready for it too...

[prettywordsyouleft]

To Be Continued - Part 7

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

Word count: 2198

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

It was as if you were writing a new novel. Instead of focusing on how Charli Evers would finally get with her battered beau, you were at the peak of experiencing all the emotions and excitement that came from a new romance. You were enjoying playing the main protagonist for the first time in your life as well.

“What are you doing?” Brian asked with a hint of amusement in his tone. You leaned in even closer, already entangled together on the couch after watching a movie, and lifted your index finger.

“Counting.”

“Counting what?”

“How many lashes I gave you,” you murmured, your gaze honing in on one eye. You let out a whistle when you finished. “I gave you so many! Why are you this perfect?”

“I don’t see myself as perfect at all. You sure made a point of that in my creation, too.”

“How? You’re handsome, protective, honest, playful, charming, sensitive, and did I mention handsome?”

Brian’s lips curled up some from your description. “I think you might have said it twice.”

“Because you truly are that good looking!” you surmised, and Brian chuckled.

“Is being handsome all that matters to you?”

“Well, no.” You blinked a couple of times whilst trying to come up with an answer that didn’t make you feel shallow. The truth was, you really did enjoy looking at him a whole lot.

Over the past two weeks, that was what you had done an awful lot of. No matter what mundane task Brian did, he looked exceptional doing it. His laugh was music to your ears, and his voice made your heart flutter constantly. Any time he smiled, you worried your knees would give way, and on the rare chance they actually did, the way he caught you so easily with his strong embrace had you swooning further.

You wondered if this was all a dream. Instead of Brian coming out of your laptop, and your novel, perhaps you had died from your illness. That would explain why everything lately had felt so heavenly at his side.

Either way, you didn’t want to wake up or move on to the next realm. This was where you wanted to remain forever.

Especially when he kissed you. Leaning in to break you out of your reverie, Brian’s luscious lips pecked yours twice, a chuckle vibrating out of him when you realised you had zoned out again. “You’re too adorable.”

“Hardly.”

“If you keep calling me handsome, I’m allowed to call you how I see you.”

You sighed heavily and attempted to pull away from the man. “I don’t want to be just adorable if you’re handsome, Brian.”

“What do you mean?”

“Charli Evers is beautiful! She’s stunning and successful and has a body that would make any male swoon over her. She’s a goddess, and I’m just adorable.”

“You’re really adorable when you’re jealous,” he mused and shook his head, reaching out to pull you back in close to him again. “Charli isn’t real like you are.”

“What if she comes to her senses and finds out that you’ve left that world. She could come here, and it would be no competition between us!”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t be. Because I’d choose you over her every time.”

You scoffed loudly and pulled yourself away again, going over to the kitchen to get a drink of water to cool down. It was hard enough having insecurities as a person, and when you had lived alone, you barely thought of them, too busy up in worlds like Captivated to truly care. Your flaws, at points, made good fodder for some character traits, but you never wrote yourself fully into a world. You had come close in Destined, but even the main protagonist there was far more charming than you were to hook Park Jinyoung as she had.

Brian’s arms slipped around your waist, and he dropped his chin onto your shoulder. “It’s all about perception. You see Charli as superior to you. But she’s the type of woman you see in a magazine. Flawless, beautiful, and whilst you no doubt have made her relatable to your fans of the series as a person, as she does have a good soul, you are real. You aren’t sculpted to perfection. You aren’t going to star on the front cover of any Vogue or Marie Claire. Instead, you are starring as my leading lady.”

“I’m not sure if I’m flattered or not,” you mumbled, turning around to face Brian. “Maybe I want to be on the front cover.”

“It’s not in your personality to stand out like that. You much prefer this lifestyle. Domestic and homely and comfortable.”

“So she’s sexy, and I’m homely,” you deducted, whilst Brian groaned loudly.

“Can’t we go back to the part where we were thinking of just us? I don’t like you comparing yourself to someone else.”

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, lowering your gaze from his. Brian had a habit of making sure you were always looking at him, and he easily fished out your gaze again, smiling gently when he caught your eye. You sighed. “I guess whilst I made you to be the dream guy for me, and those who read my series, I never quite realised the impact you would have on my world if I actually had you.”

“If I have to make a point of telling you how much I appreciate and adore you daily, then so be it.”

“You shouldn’t have to though,” you pointed out, going around him and heading into your office. Brian followed you and leaned against the threshold as you sat down in your chair.

He nodded his head. “No, I suppose I shouldn’t. But isn’t that what makes a relationship work? I support you, and you support me. When one of us feels lower than the other, then it’s important to make sure they feel cherished and loved.”

“Loved?” you repeated, your eyes widening at his choice of words. Brian cleared his throat noisily, looking around your room as opposed to keeping eye contact. You smirked. He was cute when he was embarrassed.

“Isn’t it time to write, Miss Writer?”

“Perhaps I just got some inspiration for my starting point of Eternity. I mean, in the story, Charli Evers is cherished and loved by Brian Kang, isn’t she?”

“Have your fun at my expense.”

“It’s all those good lines I breathed into you. No wonder you make the world swoon, Brian. You’re full of the perfect lines to make any girl weak at the knee,” you told him as you opened your document for the final piece in this story. Admittedly, it was blank and had remained that way for some time. You knew it was because you were too busy with Brian in person that you couldn’t possibly think about writing about him as well.

However, you had received notice from Lily earlier in the day about your next deadline, and so you had promised after one movie tonight, you would end your evening with starting the next novel.

Glancing over at Brian who was still in the doorway, you smiled, and he nodded. “As long as you know it’s your knees I want to make weak every time. Have a good session, my love.”

However, two days later, you were still staring at a blank page. It wasn’t without trying, of course. You wrote, only to erase the sentence immediately. You told yourself to just let the words flow out and not edit them until you were done. Except nothing but a trickle of nonsense made it onto the document each time and after every gruelling session, you found yourself exhausted, mentally, and from simply staring at a blank page.

In all your years of creative writing, you had never been as stumped as you were now. It made no sense! You were living and breathing your own romance in life. Surely, the amount of affection Brian poured over you would easily inspire you enough to write it out. And generally, when you stepped into your office to write, it came from feeling inspired and uplifted to write about a world where love conquered all.

As soon as you were in front of your laptop, however, words failed you.

You had tried everything, from changing your writing schedule to practising with unrelated scenes. That had you hopeful. Every time you wrote a drabble about something outside of this series, you were capable of penning an entire world. In fact, you had now written a series of short stories about random characters and scenarios with relative ease. The success you felt from doing these was short-lived as soon as you opened Eternity, however. Nothing formed, nothing came to mind.

Nothing.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to share Brian with Charli,” you wondered out loud, immediately shaking your head. Whilst the Brian you were falling for fast, was that of the same Brian Charli would risk her all for, inside your literary world, you felt no need to keep him to yourself. You wanted Charli and Brian’s story to wrap up with a neat bow after their final tribulations of proving their love would outshine the obstacles in their way. You were determined to gift your readers what you had planned all along for the star-crossed lovers. And you needed to send Charli off on her merry way with a confirmed end.

Whilst your story with Brian continued.

“Just write something, Y/N!” you instructed yourself to do, poising your fingers above the keys.

It was a struggle, but they began to move, and you hoped this time would be the official start of your novel.

“So, what do you think?” you asked cautiously, staring at Lily as she read over what you had sent her.

Your editor didn’t say a thing, and sometimes that was a good notion. You had rendered her speechless yet again.

However, you knew better than that. She wasn’t speechless, she was in disbelief. Lily finally looked at the web camera on the video call and blinked several times. Pulling off her glasses, she wiped at them before placing them back over her eyes. And then she screamed incoherently.

“Lily, I can explain.”

“You better, and fast,” your editor stated back, trying to recompose herself. “This isn’t your writing.”

“Well, it is,” you told her, attempting to smile. Her laser glare wiped it off your lips, and you groaned. “So I think I’m having a writer’s block.”

“But you don’t suffer from writer’s blocks, you overcome them before they get to that level. What have you been doing for the last month that this is all you can turn in for me to look over?!”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” you announced, rocking back and forth in your chair. “And it’s sort of been hard to write.”

“I don’t buy it. You love to write.”

“I mean, I have been writing,” you agreed, grinning sheepishly. “Just not on what I’m contracted to be doing.”

“Y/N!” she whined, and you sighed heavily. “How are you going to make up time if you don’t even have a first chapter formed?!”

“I don’t know exactly, but do you think delaying the third story, especially since my second one is only at the publisher’s now preparing to print, can happen? I’m sure we don’t need to bang this series out one after the other. The hype from the wait will make it only more worthwhile for the fans!”

“Not if you plan on producing this type of rubbish! There’s no life in this part you’ve sent me! It’s as if Brian’s soul was sucked clear of this world and only Charli remains.”

You choked on the drink you had reached for, and this alerted the man in the adjacent room, your hands waving him off inconspicuously before Lily saw him.

You didn’t know what your editor’s reaction would be to find out your writer’s block stemmed from you dating someone. And you certainly didn’t want to find out either.

“That’s it, I’m coming over!”

“Lily, that’s unnecessary. You don’t have to!”

“Oh, but I do. My star writer is fumbling around and not focusing enough on what she needs to be doing. Boot camp is on its way.”

“I could help her,” a new voice added to the conversation and you clamped your eyes shut as you heard the wind being knocked out of Lily entirely. Brian crouched down at your side and smiled at the camera. “Lily Morton, correct?”

“You know my name.”

“Of course. You’re an important figure in my life.”

“I… I am?!”

“I mean, you help Y/N with her stories a whole deal, so that’s a special role to have.”

“Y/N, who is this person? He looks far too familiar and yet I feel I haven’t quite met him in the flesh before.”

“It’s a--” Catching yourself from your stalemate sentence, you smiled. And for some reason, you felt compelled to introduce him properly to someone. Before you even realised it, the words fell from your mouth.

“You’ve kind of met him already, Lily. This is Brian Kang, the star of our series.”

_________________

Part 8

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[cheeriecherry]

Hello!! I read your adhd head cannon and it was so amazing I wanted to request more please! (If you don't mind of course). Please can I request head cannons for Todoroki, Midoriya and Shinsou with a SO with adhd? 🥰

Hecc yeah you can! As an avid adhd-haver, im gonna pour so much of my own experience into this, you have no idea lol

TODOROKI SHOUTO

-He doesn’t know what adhd is, hands down.

-And honestly, he’s probably not going to notice your symptoms and habits until after you start dating.

-He probably just figured that you’re a more energetic person than most, more chatty and more excitable.

-It’s not until you guys are curled up on the couch together watching a movie that he’s like ‘are you okay? You’re fidgeting a lot’. Upon which time you’ll have to tell him you have adhd...and maybe explain what exactly it is.

-He’s pretty chill about it, doesn’t think you’re weird or anything, or judge you for it. To him, it’s just a Thing, y’know? It’s a part of you, and he likes you.

-If you’re having a bad time, and you tell him ‘it’s the adhd’ he’ll be kind of surprised, because he still doesn’t know the depths of what it does. He probably didn’t know it could have such negative effects, too.

-That’s probably when he’ll start doing a little googling, asking basic questions to the internet about how adhd impacts people, and eventually he gets down to the really specific personal experiences that people have posted about.

-It’s a learning curve for him, but he starts to pay more attention to you and your stress, and give you more credit when you’re able to work through things that might set you off. He’s not patronizing about it, but he gives you light praise after classes and when you work with him to finish you homework.

-You’ll have to direct him on how to comfort you when you’re overwhelmed, since it can vary so much from person to person...and he’s not really the best at giving comfort anyways (at least not in the beginning). He’ll do whatever you ask him to, and he’ll get you whatever you need, but you’ll have to ask him for it.

-He gets better at it once he starts learning your tells, and what methods calm you down, but he’ll still ask you if something is okay for him to do (like hugging you, or turning on/off some music, shutting the window, etc).

-TL;DR he knows 0 things but he’s more than willing to learn, if it’s for your sake. He wants to know more about you, and your life, and the things you go through, and he’ll stick around to help you as best he can. Just be patient with him.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

-He might not know much about adhd, but he is, out of everyone, the most willing to lean about it. Arguably he’s got a few common symptoms of it himself, but he’ll probably never connect the dots.

-He’s observant and makes note of lots of small things, so even before you start dating he knows you struggle with things. Paying attention, sitting still, getting things done. He’ll offer to help you with homework if you need it, or he’ll volunteer to train with you if you need to burn some energy.

-Partially because it seems to help you a bit if you have someone else to do things with and keep you motivated, but also partly because he just wants to spend time with you.

-He’s definitely a friend before he’s your boyfriend, so you probably tell him about your adhd before you’re together. And he does what he can to help, but it’s not until after you’re a couple that he really goes ham.

-Spends several hours reading every article and account he can find about adhd, every scientific paper, every medical website, every personal story. Like he does with heroes, he’s really into learning whatever he can, to the point where his knowledge becomes more extensive than most.

-Ngl though, the first time he actually witnesses you having some kind of stimulus-induced panic, every single tidbit of information exits his head. Every coping strategy, every calming procedure, every breathing exercise. No thoughts, head empty.

-It’s something you both laugh about after, when he admits that he actually did a lot of research but he panicked when the moment came. You think it’s sweet how far he was willing to go for you, to know more about you.

-From then on out, he pays more attention to you than to the things he’s read on the internet. He learns about your tells, and your habits, and the things that you struggle with. 

-His favourite part of your adhd is when you’re excited about something and you info dump to him. He’s just so genuinely interested in what you have to say, and he admires the passion you have as you speak.

-He also thinks your excited fidgeting is cute, the way you can barely contain yourself when you’re looking forward to something.

-Plus, he thinks you’re a tough opponent during training. Once you’ve honed your skills a little, your reflexes are fast and your thoughts come quicker than most others’. You’re creative and inventive, after having to work around so many obstacles in your life already.

-TL;DR he goes out of his way to learn about you, and loves you as you are. He might not always know how to help you, but he’ll always try. He respects you and admires you, as both a person and as a hero.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

-Weirdly enough, he’s probably the one who knows the most about adhd. Like, more than the average person, and beyond the stereotypes.

-He picks up on your habits pretty early on, but he doesn’t say anything. Partly because it doesn’t concern him so it’s none of his business, and partly because he doesn’t want to be rude (you’re also just another obstacle for him, in the beginning, before he lets himself have friends)

-Ngl, he probably thinks you can get kind of annoying, before you start dating. But in that same thought, he doesn’t understand why he cares so much. Like, why can’t he just tune you out like he does everyone else? Everyone else gets restless sometimes, everyone else can be kind of loud, so why is he so focused on you???

-It’s because he likes you, but that’s besides the point.

-Once you guys end up together, he still doesn’t say anything, but now it’s more because he figures that you know that he knows. You don’t really make an effort to hide any of your habits, and he’ll take the time to step in and offer you help if you need it, so.

-But after you’ve had a bad day, and you’re breaking down and your emotions are out of control, you finally cry to him and admit that you have adhd, as if it’s some bad and terrible thing.

-He’s kind of just like ‘...I know??’ and you’re like ‘//surprised pikachu’

-But it makes sense, he always knows when you’re getting overwhelmed with something, and he tries to break your homework up into sections so it’s not too much at once, and he always takes you on walks at weird times of the day. You had no idea that he did those things because he noticed you were getting stressed or restless.

-He’s also really good at tight, comforting hugs. you’ll...probably have to ask him for them, but after he turns a little bit pink in the face, he opens his arms and tucks you up safely. If his sweater is big enough, sometimes he’ll let you squirm into it and he’ll hold you like that.

-He’s just chill about the whole thing, and he’s probably the most in tune with you and adaptable to your needs. He doesn’t make a big fuss about it, because it’s just a thing that needs to be constantly dealt with. He doesn’t judge you for it, and after getting close to you he stops being annoyed.

-Though he was never really annoyed because of your adhd, he was annoyed because he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

-TL;DR he’s the most adaptable out of everyone, and he helps you out in little ways that can reduce your stress and energy before you explode. In the event that you do bubble over, he’s good at comfort and good at finding quiet soft places to whisk you away to while you settle down. He cares about your wellbeing, but he’s not over the top when it comes to offering you help. He makes it seeming kind and compassionate, rather than patronizing, and you know that his actions speak loudly of his love for you.

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Supernatural-Jackles

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Jen

Age: 24

Location: Ontario, Canada

URL: @supernatural-jackles​ 

Why did you choose your URL:  I wanted a Supernatural theme for my blog when I started watching it and Jensen Ackles just happens to be my favourite on there so it became that.

What inspired you to become a writer: I’ve always enjoyed stories. I’ve loved the aspect of taking your mind to a whole other world and living in it. As I grew up and continued reading, my love for stories became stronger and stronger. I fell in love with characters and places. I wanted to always have a way to go back to those places and take other people to those places. I wanted to create stories for others to fall in love with the way I fell in love with them.

How long have you been writing:  I have been writing since I was 8 or 9.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc?  Right now, my Nintendo switch is a good friend of mine. Due to the virus, I spend a lot of my time inside when I’m not at work. I’m either writing, working, sleeping or playing switch.

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom?  Since 2012

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? I am in the Harry Potter fandom, and Marvel. I don’t write for them though. I don’t feel the same way about the characters as I do with the SPN Fandom. 

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it? I have been working on my novel for the last two years on and off. I just find a lot more joy in writing Supernatural fanfiction at the moment, so my soul focus has stayed on that. 

Favorite published author:  Margaret Atwood or John Green

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?:  There was this one book I read. I was about 18 at the time I believe. All The Bright Places by Jennifer Niven. A very triggering book, just so you know. I remember sitting there reading it and wondering why I’m putting myself through something so draining and daunting. The book was very upsetting and I found it didn’t tackle the issues at hand in a very tasteful and realistic way. As someone who writes fanfiction about mental health, it influenced me to be open and honest about the way reality is, but in a way that would shine more positively towards mental health struggles. I never wanted to be that person who ruined every mental health book for someone else like that author did for me. It was a negative impact, but I think it had some positive results.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc):  I enjoy all genres to be honest. It really all depends on the mood I’m in that day. It’s fun to switch it up every once in a while and enjoy the mixed emotions you get when you read or write said genre.

Favorite piece of your own writing: One and One Make Three or Just Want to Be Loved.

Most underrated fic you have written:  I might have to say More Than a Fling. It was the sequel to Summer Fling and everyone was interested in a second series. It soon went on permanent hiatus due to lack of interest.

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show:  Owe You One

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s):   @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @kaz-2y5imagines​,  @jawritter​ @mariekoukie6661​, @torn-and-frayed​

Favorite fic from another writer:  Breathe by @luci-in-trenchcoats​

Favorite character to write: Dean/Jensen

Favorite Pairing to write:  Undecided. I love reader inserts and I haven’t done many pairings other than that. I have toyed with Jensen/Reader/Danneel before and I enjoy writing them.

Least favorite character to write (and why):  Castiel. We only see so much of Cas and there aren’t as many complex layers of him so he’s harder for me to explore.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor?  @luci-in-trenchcoats

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing?   Finish everything I start, and be proud of every piece I create.

How many work-in-progress stories do you have:  Ummm probably upwards to the mid 60’s I want to say.

What are you currently working on?  I am in the very early stages of writing a Jensen x Reader Bodyguard AU series. Twisty and turny and very different from what I usually write, but still very me.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing?  I have the biggest influence on my writing for the most part. I always stick with what I want to write and what I’d love to read. That’s what gets me started on most pieces. My dear best friend who shall remain anonymous, has an influence on me as well. She mostly inspires me to write what I want to write and reminds me on a constant basis that I am doing good and to keep going with my ideas.

Best writing advice you've been given:  Don’t be afraid to get a little out of your comfort zone.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing:  Time management mostly. Deadlines are not my best friend, that’s for sure. I am often filled with a lot of self-doubt when it comes to getting things done on time. Then I wonder if it’s good enough for publishing or if I should wait.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? The research process for certain fics can be daunting. Especially if you don’t know where you need to start looking. Then fact checking, and making sure it works in the story. I have to remind myself that it will be worth it in the end. 

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why):  I am pretty open with writing most of the things I want to. Getting out of my comfort zone is something I regularly do. It’s always fun to challenge yourself into writing something you’d never think of doing. I certainly have enjoyed the things I was scared to try and it was worth it in the end.

What inspires/motivates you to write:  Any selfie/picture posted by Jensen. My best friend and the lovely people around me. @luci-in-trenchcoats is a big influence on me and she always keeps me going!

How do you deal with self doubt:  I constantly have to remind myself to get out of that headspace unless I am writing about being in that headspace. It’s a hard cycle to break. Reminding myself that what I am doing is making me happy. I’m making the rules. I’m writing this for me. I have to please myself first and that’s what matters the most. I know myself and the way I write, and that is enough. That’s what I keep on repeat in my head.

How do you deal with writer's block: Cry profusely? I’m kidding. Writer’s block for me, usually comes from something I don’t like that I have written. If it’s minor, I go back to the point where I was happy with where the story was going and delete everything after that. Give it a fresh new start and prospective. If the block is more severe, I take a break. Watch a movie and don’t stress myself about it. I get ideas anywhere, and it will come back eventually. Sometimes it’s just your brain's way of saying “hey, you need to take a break. Do that.”

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: Generally yes. I like to know where my story is going. Most of the time my outlines are more extensive rough drafts. It’s a way of processing my thoughts and writing them down so I don’t forget later. It’s a lot more fun for me to build on stories.

Do you have any weird writing habits:  I either have to sit in a silent room, or I have to listen to music. Lately it’s been more silent. It depends on the subject.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it?  I’ve received my share of hateful comments. Each one sucks, I’m not going to lie. Knowing that there is someone out there that hates the way you wrote something so much that they had to tell you isn’t nice. It kind of comes back to the self doubt thing. You have to remind yourself that this is one person’s not so kind opinion. You are the writer, you are in control of this story. This is you and you’re proud of this.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic?  Any feedback is my favourite feedback. Every heart, every “I love this”. Every “You’re my favourite.” I can’t pick a favourite. If someone can take the time out to say they’ve loved something I have written and that it meant a lot to them, then that's the best reward I can get.

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be?  Keep writing everyday! You don’t see it now but the more you write, the better you get.

[stardew-goblin]

If it's still open, Completely Random Prompt List - 1, #29 with Alex and female!farmer that has just as much trouble letting people in as he does?

#29 “We’re always fighting and I don’t know why.”

Alex x Farmer

TW: Mental health!!!! It doesn’t directly mention anxiety and depression but there are themes of it. If any of you are ever struggling with your mental health please never feel like you are alone. My inbox is always open. I love you all so much.

I drew from my own personal experiences with anxiety and depression though these mental issues don’t always manifest the same in everyone! My anxiety and depression directly correlate with each other. Just to give a little bit of background as to where Farmer is coming from <3

“Babe, come on.” Alex pleads with you. “I don’t want to do this tonight. Can we just have one good night? Please?”

You let out a long and defeated sigh. You and your husband had been fighting a lot lately, nearly every day. You missed how simple and easy being with Alex used to be. Every day felt like a new obstacle to over come and the broken expression on his face made you want to break down and cry.

“Okay. I’m sorry. Let’s just.. I don’t know. Do you want to watch a movie or something?” He perks up a little bit. Movie nights were always your go-to thing when you were dating, though the movie was seldom actually watched.

“I’ll go make some popcorn.” He says as he walks into the kitchen.

You sit on the couch and bury your face in your hands. Your heart broke every time you put Alex through this. You needed to talk to him about it but the words never seemed to come out. You hated how irrational you acted most of the time, you knew it was irrational, but you couldn’t help it. You knew you needed help and you knew that every time you did this you were pushing Alex away from you. Yoba, you were lucky he was so loving and supportive. The thought of him walking away from you shot daggers through your heart.

He walks back into the room with the bowl of popcorn and two glasses of cola. He sets them down on the coffee table and then plops down next to you on the couch.

“Are you crying?” His words are drenched with worry and you wipe the tears you didn’t even know had started falling.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. All other words evade you but you manage to get these two out and you hoped he could only understand just how much you actually meant them.

“Don’t even worry about it.” He slings his arm around your shoulder, a habit he picked up early in your relationship. You adjust yourself so you can lay your head on his chest. He gently wraps his other arm around you and the two of you sit like that in silence for a long minute. He rests his chin on your head and takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I miss you.” He whispers, so quietly but the sadness in his voice is unmistakable.

You start to cry again. Knowing that you’re the one doing this to him is too much. The corners of your vision start to darken and your breathing comes out more rapidly. You can feel your heartbeat everywhere in your body. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into the fabric of Alex’s shirt.

He wraps his arms around you tighter and you can feel him inhale a shaky breath. You look up and see that he’s crying too. That’s it. You had to talk to him about this. You can’t put him through this anymore.

You sit up, untangling yourself from his embrace and cradle your knees to your chest. He looks at you, his cheeks glistening with the fresh tears, and a sob threatens to escape from your chest.

“We’re always fighting and I don’t know why.” Alex says softly. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I just miss you so much.” He closes his eyes and wipes at his tear stained cheeks.

“Alex.” You almost choke on your words but you know that this is something you have to do. “Alex, I...” You take a deep breath. “Please don’t blame yourself. I’ve been... I’ve been struggling a lot lately.”

He looks at you, his eyebrows drawn together, puzzled. “Struggling with what?”

“I’ve... I’ve been having a really hard time with myself lately. Sometimes my head can be a really bad place and I take it out on you and I know I shouldn’t, I am so incredibly sorry that I keep putting you through this.” You’re crying again. You’ve never told anyone about your struggle before. You felt too vulnerable and everything inside of you told you to just run away, play it off as a joke, just something. You wanted to put your wall up again but you knew if you did that your marriage probably wouldn’t survive, that it wasn’t fair to the man sitting in front of you right now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He reaches out and grabs your hands in his and gently squeezes them.

“I though I could handle it on my own. It’s not your burden to bear, but I failed the second it started impacting us.”

He pulls you back into his arm and rests one of his hands on your head. “I know you’re strong, but I am too. Please let me be there for you. You don’t have to deal with everything on your own.” He whispers into your ear and gives you a tight squeeze.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that.” he replies. “I want to be here, I want to be with you. This is where I belong.”

He holds you like that, gently stroking your hair and rubbing circles on your back while the two of you watch a movie. Every so often he’ll whisper a funny joke in your ear or tell you that he loves you. You end up falling asleep before the movie is over.

You wake up to Alex snoring underneath you. Such a familiar situation and it’s comforting to know that some things don’t change after all. You close your eyes again and drift back to sleep.

[artificialqueens]

When We Went From Friends to This, Part 1: Week 1 (Branjie) - Writworm42

A/N: Fic summary: At the start of their first year of college, roomies Brooke and Vanessa have to quarantine together for two weeks. Fourteen days is a lot of time to bond, but it’s also a lot of time for things to get complicated.

For the lovely Ortega–merry super belated Christmas <3 Thank you Holtz for betaing & suggesting a song for the title, Bean for answering my questions about whether UK stereotypes are true, and Ortega for being patient fdhsjkf

Title from Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

TW for implied weed use

Day 1

“I still can’t believe you gotta go in-person to all these classes, you sure there ain’t a Zoom option?”

Vanessa snorts, and she’s pretty sure that Silky can hear her roll her eyes on the other end of the line. “For dance majors? Bitch, you know that ain’t gonna work.”

But Silky is too stubborn to be fazed by common sense. Instead, her voice gets a little more urgent. “We’re only first year. Start out with something that doesn’t need to be done in-person, then switch majors to dance once this is all over. C’mon, I can’t have my bestie dying Miss ‘Rona here!”

“Christ, you sound like my mom.” Vanessa huffs. “Look, the uni is being very careful, okay? Why else do you think I gotta quarantine for two weeks ahead of the start of term? Plus all clubs have been suspended and meals and showers are booked with time slots for each room. I’m literally seeing no one except the people in my classes and the bitch I’m sleeping next to.”

“But—“

“Listen, I’m at the dorm now, so I gotta go. I’ll call you later, alright?”

“Bye.” Silky’s begrudging send-off brings a flash of guilt to Vanessa’s chest, but only for a moment. Pushing her feelings aside, she hip-checks the door to the dorm building, trying to make her way inside without disrupting the large box she’s holding with one arm or the suitcase she’s trailing behind her with the other.

“Hi, I’m Vanessa Mateo, I think I’m supposed to be room 96?”

The suspiciously stoned-looking guy at the front desk barely looks up from the computer as he slides the keycard across his desk, and at first, Vanessa hovers, waiting for him to launch into a spiel about rules, but a moment passes without him saying anything, so she surges on. The building is a bit of a maze, its cement walls cold and drab despite the colourful posters plastered across it in a desperate attempt to make it more hospitable. By the time she finally reaches her room, she’s almost grateful that she’ll have to stay in it 24/7, given the impression the building and staff have left so far. No matter, though, right now, all she wants is to put down what she’s carrying and collapse onto her bed.

She shifts uncomfortably for a moment, trying to balance her box while also maneuvering her card towards the keypad, but the effort is unsuccessful–when she finally manages to tap the card, she’s met with another obstacle, having to actually open the door without any free arms.

It’s probably not the best impression to kick the door open and promptly drop almost all of your stuff before falling on top of it. Scratch that, it’s definitely not the best impression. Especially when Vanessa looks up at the owner of the voice that’s holding back laughter, asking if she needs help in a soft, calm twang.

Her roommate is tall, blonde, and nothing short of gorgeous. And even as she makes a motion as simple as offering a hand, Vanessa can tell that this girl is the picture of poise and grace.

“What’s your name?” The girl watches with piercing eyes as Vanessa dusts herself off, fighting off a fierce blush as she straightens up and catches her breath.

“Vanessa, but my friends call me Vanjie.” She extends a hand again, and this time, the girl seems rather shy as she takes it, nervously brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Vanessa. I’m Brooke.”

Day 2

Brooke, as it turns out, is the polar opposite of Vanessa–quiet and reserved, so introverted that Vanessa has to wrestle information out of her. What Vanessa learns about her is interesting - she’s a dance major too, she’s from Toronto, she decided to study here because she wants RAD training as well as to get trained in other styles. She plans to minor in costume design, having an affinity for and attraction to any pattern that involves leather or lace (a kinky detail that Vanessa, much to her shame and embarrassment, files away hungrily). She has two cats back home, Apollo and Henry, that she misses terribly. Everything else Vanessa knows, though, had to be acquired sneakily over their first night together, more observation and speculation than actually asking. Like how Brooke must be a fan of Schitt’s Creek , given that she put out a ‘ fold in the cheese ’ sign on her desk. Or how Lana is probably her favourite artist, because she has a weird habit of not checking if her air pods are actually connected to the school’s shitty bluetooth network and it’s always the first couple notes of Summertime Sadness that play from her laptop before she catches her mistake. Or how her ass is one of the best Vanessa’s ever seen, because Brooke has no shame changing in front of her–

She strikes that part from her mind almost as quickly as she thinks it in the first place. The important thing is, she’s got to spend two weeks with only Brooke to keep her company, and if they stay in this silence, it’s going to get very awkward very soon.

“So… How d’you like Scotland so far?” Vanessa starts, grimacing internally at how stupid the question sounds. But Brooke doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, she smiles kindly as she looks up from her computer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear again.

“To be honest, I haven’t really seen much of it… Pretty much came right here after I came off the plane.” Her smile turns apologetic as her face flushes pink, clearly self-conscious about the lacklustre answer. That’s okay, though; Vanessa can still work with it.

“Probably a long flight, huh? What’d you do to keep yourself entertained? Or are you a plane sleeper?” Vanessa adds with a teasing grin, and much to her delight, Brooke laughs.

“Nah, I can never sleep on planes. Unless I knock myself out with Gravol or something, at least.” Brooke chuckles, giving a small wink. “I just read a bit, then the airline showed The Notebook, so I watched that.”

“I love that movie!” Vanessa gasps, “I swear I’ve probably seen it, like, three thousand times. It’s just so–”

“Romantic!” Brooke finishes. “The poor guy next to me must have hated me for all the crying I did.”

Her eyes are alight with excitement, and Vanessa can’t help but pick up on it, because finally , the perfect topic, and Brooke likes Vanessa’s favourite movie, and maybe she likes other stuff that Vanessa likes, and they can talk about that together, and–

“So what’s your favourite scene?” Brooke asks eagerly, and Vanessa claps her hands over her face.

“That’s the worst question to ask me, bitch!” Vanessa groans, but grins behind her hands when Brooke laughs, a string of apologies flowing between giggles.

“Sorry, sorry, I should’ve known.” Brooke puts her hands up in mock surrender. “Too many to choose, right?”

“Right.” Vanessa giggles a little too. “Although…” she brings herself up on her elbows as soon as the idea hits her, and for some reason, her heart skips a beat as she formulates the question, a rare flash of nerves hitting her square in the chest.

“Maybe a rewatch would be a good reminder?” Before she can verbalize what she’s thinking, Brooke beats her to the question, blushing again and chewing on her lip.

It’s cute, how shy she is, and Vanessa makes a mental note that she’ll have to help her new roomie break herself of those habits.

“Yeah, lets.” Vanessa smiles warmly, sliding off her bed to grab her laptop from her desk. “Here, we can use my computer.”

She’s only just grabbed the computer and turned around when she falters, realizing with a sinking dread what decision is next.

Either she has to invite Brooke onto her bed, or Brooke has to make room on hers.

It’s just a bed, it’s just a bed, it’s not like you’re inviting her to snog, it’s just sitting down to watch a movie…  

So maybe Vanessa’s never had anyone but her friends lounge on her bed before, and her friends certainly don’t make her feel as nervous as Brooke does. Maybe Vanessa’s bed is a little small and Brooke is a little pretty, and the thought of being that close together makes her mouth go dry. And maybe the sudden uncertainty in Brooke’s eyes, too, is imagined, or else doesn’t mean anything that Vanessa thinks it could mean, rejection or reciprocation or suspicion of what Vanessa’s feeling. None of that changes anything right now, because Brooke is smiling again, tapping the space beside her bed to beckon Vanessa over.

“C’mon, let’s watch. If you want, we can even try to find the director’s cut.”

Day 3

Vanessa’s fast-developing fascination with Brooke’s ass isn’t helped by the sight of Brooke stretching on the floor that greets her as she comes back from her shower.

“Oh, hey!” Brooke lifts her leg up into a needle stance, peering between her legs before shifting her weight onto one hand and waving to Vanessa with the other. Her hair is still wet from her turn in the showers, and her current position is causing stray drops of water to trickle onto her arms, making it all too easy for Vanessa to give into temptation and watch as the droplets course over each one of Brooke’s muscles.

Bloody Hell. Vanessa’s got to do a better job of keeping her hormones under control.

“Hey yourself.” She tries to keep her voice casual as she grabs a pair of PJs from her bedside drawer, turning away from Brooke to change.

It’s strange. Vanessa never used to be as shy as she feels now, self-conscious of her nakedness as she drops her robe and begins to re-dress. A few months ago, this would’ve been no problem at all; to be honest, she’s not sure it would be now if she had a different roommate. But with Brooke next to her, watching her or not watching her at all (she can’t decide what’s worse, really), it’s different. She can’t help but wonder what she must look like, what Brooke must see if she’s actually looking. What does it feel like, being in Brooke’s head? What does everything seem, looking through Brooke’s eyes?

But Brooke is comfortable changing around her, and even though there’s no actual rule that says so, Vanessa feels obligated to feel comfortable, too. Partially because if it’s a non-issue, then feeling embarrassed about it might fade. And if that fades, then so will the way she feels every time she lays eyes on Brooke at all.

Right?

Vanessa whips around quickly, the sudden, eerie feeling of being watched making her forget that she doesn’t have a shirt on yet.

“ Christ! ” Brooke hits the floor with a thud, flushing beet red as she scrambles to cover her eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see–”

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.” Vanessa rolls her eyes and laughs, hoping that the light tone and faint smirk she forces herself to slap on disguises how secretly mortified she feels. And thankfully, the comment does work; the redness dissipates from Brooke’s face, and she giggles a little, though her gaze stays firmly planted on the ground until Vanessa slides on her t-shirt. Just like that, the awkwardness fades from the air, and things are back to business as usual as Vanessa begins to comb out her hair. Brooke finishes stretching, Vanessa goes to the half-bath to blow her hair dry. Brooke sits at her desk and types intently, Vanessa tries not to peek over Brooke’s shoulder to see who she’s talking to. Brooke stretches out on her bed to look at her phone, and Vanessa does the same to play around on hers.

“Oh, it’s our turn for dinner.” A reminder notification at the top of Vanessa’s screen alerts her to the time, and she shuffles up to slide on shoes and get going, only remembering what she’s wearing at the last minute.

“Gimme a second, we can go out like that together.” Brooke grins, swiping yet another strand of hair behind her ear as she drops her sweatpants and swaps them for a pair of pajama pants.

“Are you sure?” Vanessa frowns, but Brooke just shrugs, a wry smile spreading on her face.

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.”

Day 4

They do morning stretches together the next day, and Vanessa has to admit that lust gets pushed aside by jealousy the minute they slide into the splits. Vanessa can do them, even if she hates them–it’s not that she can’t. It’s not even that she’s inflexible, she wouldn’t have survived in dance up until now if she were. But Brooke? That girl is on a whole other level. She slides into the splits with no effort at all, falling into position almost instantly and yet extremely gracefully, then does the one thing Vanessa hates, because it’s the one stretch she can’t do. She grabs a high foam block and puts it under her front foot. And then, just when Vanessa thinks she can’t get shown up even worse, Brooke grabs a second block and slides that under, too.

God, Vanessa wishes she could hate Brooke. But Brooke is too sweet, too kind, and too encouraging to even hold her pretzel-like tendencies against her, especially when she turns to Vanessa and taps her foot, offers her tips on how to get herself to that level of flexibility.

Vanessa tries to tell herself that the way Brooke’s eyes seem to linger on her every few minutes is just that generosity, a teacher monitoring her pupil. But even after Brooke helps Vanessa slide a small book under her foot, elevating her leg just enough, the lingering continues, and it’s hard not to let wishful thinking–at least, she thinks that’s what it is–take over. And that feeling only gets stronger as they move to their next stretch, one where they’re toe to toe with their legs spread wide and Brooke is grabbing Vanessa’s hands to pull her hardly an inch away from her chest.

Is it just Vanessa, or is Brooke blushing? And is it just Vanessa, or are Brooke’s hands just a little sweaty under their softness, warm and gentle as if they’re trying to hold Vanessa with as much tenderness as they can? And is it just Vanessa, or has Brooke’s chest gone still, her breathing stopped until Vanessa straightens out again?

“Your turn.” Vanessa offers, pulling Brooke into the position she’d just been in, and from the way Brooke comes to a harsh, sudden, stiff stop, but her muscles don’t shake and her breathing doesn’t change, Vanessa can tell she’s holding back. Almost as if she doesn’t want to get too close.

Vanessa’s imagining it. She has to be imagining it. There’s no other explanation, not a heterosexual one, and Brooke is…

Come to think of it, Vanessa doesn’t know for sure. But she can’t ask, not now; it would be too strange. So instead, she pulls Brooke forward sharply, resisting the urge to giggle when the blonde grunts in surprise at her strength.

“No holding back.” Vanessa shakes her head, smiling far too warmly for Brooke not to know what this is really about. “You can trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Brooke smiles up at her, and then her muscles relax, and everything feels back to normal.

Day 5

“Truth or dare?”

Brooke turns to look at Vanessa, shifting to sit up as she smiles dubiously. They’re lying on Brooke’s bed together, pressed up against each other in an attempt to both fit in the small space of the double underneath the fuzzy, tickly cushion of Brooke’s top blanket. Vanessa rolls her eyes at Brooke’s skepticism, rolling onto her back to look up at her, grin wide on her face.

“C’mon, you know you want to. We can scroll Reddit later. Truth or dare?”

“Um…” Brooke crinkles her nose as she thinks, and Vanessa has to swallow the thought of how cute the blonde looks like that.

Although admittedly, the fact that she’s starting to hope Brooke keeps thinking isn’t just so she can watch the way Brooke’s brow furrows and muse quietly to herself about how seriously Brooke is taking this choice. Rather, it’s because she knows what she wants Brooke to pick, and the longer Brooke thinks, the more opportunity there is for Vanessa to hope she’ll pick up on the psychic signals she’s trying to send her.

Pick truth, pick truth, pick truth…

“Dare. But I’m not licking anything and I’m not going anywhere naked.”

Damnit.

Vanessa frowns, chewing on her lip as she tries frantically to think of a dare she can ask Brooke to do. It has to be appropriate, obviously, nothing too crazy like she might ask of Silky or her other, closer friends. But it can’t be boring, either—-if there’s one thing Vanessa doesn’t want to be in Brooke’s eyes, it’s boring.

Then, she thinks of the perfect thing. Something that might get at her truth question, that isn’t too high-stakes but definitely still has a bit of an ‘oh shit’ factor—exactly what you want from a dare.

“Dare you to prank call your last ex. On speaker. ” Vanessa smiles triumphantly, sticking out her tongue to tease her roommate. It’s foolproof—depending on the voice, Vanessa will know who Brooke has dated. And if she’s dating someone already, then surely she’ll say that, since admitting it is no problem.

Only, from Brooke’s face, there’s definitely a problem.

“I don’t want to play anymore.” Brooke heaves herself up off the bed, face becoming stony and cold as her eyes cloud over with something that Vanessa can’t quite decipher. Something mixed with anger, sure, but also something…

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. The magnitude of what Vanessa’s just asked of her new friend hits her like a train, and she feels like both the dumbest and worst person in the world at once. She called Brooke out, put her on the spot, and if she is queer? Pretty much just asked her to out herself. Which, unlike someone like Vanessa, who has a pan flag on her desk, not everyone is willing to do.

Brooke isn’t just feeling cornered, she’s feeling afraid.

“Aw, c’mon Brooke, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want—“

“I said I don’t want to play!” Brooke snaps.

There’s a beat, Vanessa’s own heartbeat the only thing she can hear amidst the crushing silence.

“Brooke—“ Vanessa tries again after a moment, her throat going dry as she tries to cut through the sudden tension, but Brooke just turns to her desk, scoops up her things and storms towards the door.

“I’m going for a walk. See you at dinner.”

She slams the door on her way out, and suddenly, getting an answer to Vanessa’s question doesn’t really matter anymore, because there’s no satisfaction in what a reaction that strong might mean. She drops her head in her hands, staying there for a moment before punching the mattress underneath her, rocketing up and grabbing her phone.

“Silk? Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry, I just… I fucked up.”

Day 6

They don’t talk about it at dinner, nor afterwards. They don’t talk about it the next morning, not during their morning stretches or at breakfast, either. It’s not that they don’t talk; they say good morning, ask each other questions about what time breakfast is, what time Brooke is going to be on a call with her parents. But that’s about as far as it goes; Brooke sticks to business, asking and answering questions in as few words as possible and avoiding Vanessa’s gaze at all costs. It’s torture, the tension eating away at Vanessa’s mind and stinging in her chest. She fucked up, and she fucked up bad , and despite Silky’s advice, she’s not so sure she can fix this.

Still, she supposes it won’t hurt to try.

Brooke is in the shower when Vanessa decides to sneak out, purse over her shoulder and mind ready for a mission. There’s a supermarket open within walking distance of the uni right now, and technically, she’s not supposed to leave campus at all except for emergencies. Which this is, so it should be okay, right? At least, that’s what she’ll say if she gets caught. She’ll have to be fast, and sneaky, and careful not to run into anyone who might ask where she’s going. Come to think of it, she hasn’t been for a walk on the grounds yet, not since arriving–how will it work? Will she have to plan a route? Give it to the front desk? Get a pass or something, to make sure she comes back within the allotted time? This could be dangerous, very dangerous…

“If you’re gonna go to the shop, can you get me a pack of cigs?” The stoner at the front desk doesn’t even bother looking up from whatever he’s doing on the computer as she tries to sneak by, stopping in her tracks at his voice.

Christ, really?

“Sure, whatever.” Vanessa rolls her eyes, a little irritated at how easy this actually is. So much for danger and adventure.

She comes back about an hour later, throws the guy his pack and launches that he owes her eleven over her shoulder, and skips back into her room with a jumbo bag of ketchup Lays in her knapsack.

“Peace offering?” Vanessa grins down at Brooke as the blonde’s mouth drops open first in surprise, then delight as she snatches the snack from Vanessa’s hands.

“Where did you find these?” Brooke squeals with delight as she tears the bag open, breathing in the sharp, slightly-sour smell that makes Vanessa’s nose wrinkle. Still, seeing the look of utter joy on Brooke’s face makes Vanessa so happy that she can’t help but smile, too.

“International aisle.” Vanessa sits on the edge of her bed proudly. “Figured you might like them, seeing as you always say you’re craving them.” She winks, and Brooke rolls her eyes, but giggles despite herself. But the moment passes as soon as it had come, and then they settle into silence again.

Come on, Vanessa. Just face the music. Apologize. She deserves that from you. Vanessa bites her lip, her hands curling into fists as she tries to force her heartbeat even again, because the longer the silence goes on, the more awkward it gets, the more she realizes that it’s now or never for her to make things right.

“Brooke–”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Brooke says quietly, her voice flat and lifeless and… scared, almost. Vanessa sucks in a breath, her chest sinking as she realizes what’s going on.

“Well… Do you want to?” Vanessa prods, but Brooke doesn’t even look up from the bag of crisps, which suddenly seem to be the most interesting thing in the world despite the dullness in the blonde’s eyes.

“Honestly, I’d rather we didn’t.” When she finally speaks up, her voice is barely above a whisper, and it’s enough to make Vanessa’s heart break.

Not just because she’s lost her chance to apologize–because she knows that tone, knows that look. Knows the hesitancy and caution behind it, the anxiety and the feeling of being trapped and overwhelmed. Knows what kind of revelation that voice and that look are hiding, and how the information Brooke is trying to avoid isn’t actually set in stone yet.

Jesus, she’s fucked up way more than she thought she had.

“Okay.” Vanessa finally nods, sighing deeply. “But if you do… I’m here, okay?”

Brooke hesitates for a moment, but when she does look up, her eyes are full of a gratefulness that’s surprisingly warm. “Okay.”

This time, when silence falls, it’s not awkward, but full of resolution.

“So…” Brooke finally breaks it this time, a slow smile spreading on her face, “They just put up the newest season of The Bachelor online, wanna watch it? We got snacks, after all.” Brooke waves her bag in the air, and Vanessa smiles.

“Shove over, mate. I wanna see what kinda mess the girls are this year.”

[umbrx]

roleplaying habits questions.

( 1 , 17, & 20 , please ! ) || @bulolity​

1. what’s a grammar rule you find yourself breaking or ignoring a lot? 

|| Honestly, this is a tough question.There are few that come to mind that are intentional. I sometimes begin sentences with a conjunction, sometimes I write odd sentence fragments, sometimes I write in passive voice. It depends on what I’m writing and how I want to convey a complete thought. And make it pleasing to the ear. ;)

17. what is your biggest obstacle to writing every day, if time doesn’t count?

|| My friends, or writing partners. I do tend to chat a lot about all kinds of things: threads, common interests, random everyday things, muses and OCs, etc. And when I do, I obviously can’t write because I get immersed in the conversation. If it’s DnD time or movie watching time, or we’re playing games together, I also give up on writing. I never regret those moments though, they make me happy so time well spent.

20. if you are writing a wrong reply that’s not working out, do you save what you have to be continued at another date, or do you scrap it and rewrite?

|| I scrap them and rewrite. If a reply is not feeling right in that moment, it means it won’t in the next one either. Obviously, if I’m not satisfied with it, it just means it’s lacking something that I deem crucial to the muse I’m writing, and tweaking and dancing around it won’t help. So, I delete everything, think more about it, and leave it for later.

[echodrops]

*Slides in on a office chair* Now that you shared some of your HaaH headcanons for Shiro and Hunk, can you do Lance and Lotor?

Didn’t want to post these until I finally had some time to update them a bit and trim out spoilers, but I got a second last night, so here you are:

HaaH Lance and Lotor headcanons:

(Under the cut to save everyone’s dash)

First, a warning: Neither one of these characters’ backstories or plot event headcanons remotely line up with the show, one because I originally wrote most of this stuff around the time season 2-3 was being released and two, because I stopped watching Voltron after season 6 and have no intention of watching the rest of the show due to my dislike for the directions the writing took. I went back and updated some stuff, such as the names of some of Lance’s siblings, to more closely match what came later in the show… but for the rest… I’m just gonna do my own thing and pretend canon does not exist.

Lance:

- The literal definition of “rich as fuck.” When relaxations on economic policy were passed in Cuba that increased opportunities for private business, Lance’s grandfather made a solid deal for three massive sugar refineries. Today, artisanal coffee houses across the world utilize the sugar refined in Lance’s family’s factories.

- Grew up in a giant villa on the peninsula just outside the town of Varadero, on a sprawling property that included a long stretch of beachfront and individual bungalows for visiting family members and the family’s several live-in staff members.

- The whole family is incredibly down to earth despite this. Lance’s aunt and grandmother insist on having a hand in every family meal, Lance’s parents always make time to be involved in the children’s activities, and Lance was taught from a very young age never to take advantage of people, regardless of their position in the world.

- Lance is the baby of his immediate family by almost ten years. He was an accident that occurred after Lance’s mother believed she was too old to become pregnant. Of course his parents never treated Lance like an accident and loved him, but still, Lance has never been able to shake the idea that he wasn’t planned—and therefore he wasn’t wanted.

- He has four older siblings, two sisters and two brothers.

- All of Lance’s siblings are extremely successful in their careers. Lance’s oldest sibling, his sister Veronica, is a captain of the Cuban Navy and commands the impressive warship Audaz. Lance’s second oldest sibling, his brother Yuniel, is a decorated conservational ecologist working to protect Matanzas’ native forests. Lance’s third sibling, his brother, Marco, is a famous solo folk musician who made it big in Cuba. Rachel, Lance’s closest sibling, runs an immersion-based cultural heritage museum that preserves the rich and complicated history of Cuba and its people.

- In short—Lance grew up surrounded by the rampant success of his older siblings, watching as they excelled at everything they pursued—which just bred a greater and greater sense of insecurity in him, as he feared he would never be able to measure up.

- On Lance’s eighth birthday, in an attempt to cheer up his very depressed youngest son, Lance’s father dragged the family’s telescope down to the beach so that they could watch a space shuttle launching from the cape in Florida. At first Lance couldn’t work up the slightest interest, but when he finally saw the huge plume of the shuttle, arcing off into the unknown depths of space, he had a Moment™. Lance knew, right then and there, exactly what he was going to do with his life, something that none of his siblings had ever achieved: he was going to go into space and explore worlds unknown.

- Lance decided that he had, absolutely HAD, to go to Galaxy Garrison when he grew up. This part worried his parents, who pointed out that Garrison was not only in another country but also a solely English-speaking school and extremely competitive. Nonetheless, Lance was determined that he would not settle for anything less than the absolute best.

- Was totally that space obsessed kid. Still thinks Black Holes are the coolest thing in the universe. His parents bought so much “Astronaut” ice cream that they probably kept that entire industry afloat.

- Lance attended Garrison’s summer Astrocamp in Arizona when he was nine. Quickly made friends with his cabin-mate, Hyrum Tava. The nickname “Hunk” came about from a slip-up when Lance tried to compare his new friend to one of his favorite American cartoon characters, the Incredible Hulk.

- Even after leaving the Astrocamp, Lance and Hunk stayed close friends, exchanging frequent emails and phone calls, which helped Lance stay on top of memes popular trends back in the states.

- Shiro was Lance’s cabin leader at the Astrocamp, and his kindness and exciting stories about actually visiting space(!!) made a huge impression on Lance. Lance… may or may not have had a celebrity shrine to Shiro made of photos and news clippings taped to his wall for several years. Whatever, every kid does it and he took it down eventually, gosh!

- Identifies as bisexual, but has never successfully dated anyone, male or female. Due to several bad experiences and close calls, Lance doesn’t talk about his sexuality or express any attraction to men except around people he is extremely comfortable with. Hunk has known for years, of course. (In fact, it was Lance’s struggle with his feelings that helped Hunk develop strong sympathy for LGBT people, despite the fact that his religion is very against it.)

- Never had a real kiss. Might be just a tiny bit desperate to have a real first kiss.

- Also might buy a bit too much into the idea of needing to be stereotypically attractive to fit in. Although his nightly beauty regime is now a comforting routine, it originally stemmed from Lance being extremely self-conscious about his looks. He’s more comfortable about his body than he used to be, but he still frequently compares himself negatively against others; do you know what kind of hell it is to have to share a locker room with people like Shiro?

- Cries at the drop of a hat. Sad book? Sad movie? Abandoned kitten? Dropped something on his toe? Tears times ten thousand. Lance was never pressured by his family to “man up;” in fact, he was always encouraged to empathize, so Lance is extremely sensitive to others’ feelings. (He and Hunk are a great fit in this regard.) He can perceive even minute changes in people’s emotions and is always ready to cheer up people who are down.

- He can’t read Keith for crap though. Not really his fault. Keith’s a literal alien.

- Lance’s extreme empathy actually backfires on him. Because being sensitive to others is second nature to him, it’s often hard for Lance to remember that not everyone is as perceptive as he is. Lance has, many times, mistaken the other paladins’ obliviousness for indifference. Everyone on the ship cares deeply about Lance and would never want him to feel bad about himself—but not everyone on the ship is perceptive enough to notice when Lance’s insecurities are affecting him.

- Wasn’t put in the cargo pilot classes at Garrison because of his flight test scores—most green cadets have zero flight experience and all do pretty badly at first. Lance was placed in cargo class because he scored too high on a combat sensitivity test, indicating that he was a poor fit mentally for becoming a soldier. Fighting monstrous looking aliens is one thing, but Lance would have coped very, very badly if he’d ever been required to kill another human being.

- Struggled to fit in at Garrison. After the crushing disappointment of ending up in cargo class, Lance also dealt with a lot of people treating him like an outsider because he was an international student. “Why is someone from Cuba trying to join the U.S. military? Are you a spy?”

- Couple that with the complicated student visa process and how his status as an international student might affect his ability to take part in Garrison-sanctioned internships and cross-border activities, and Lance felt utterly alienated at Garrison in his first few months.

- May… or may not have done exactly what his parents taught him not to do by looking for a scapegoat to take out his frustrations on. Keith, the lone wolf, ace pilot pretty boy who was too cool to even talk to the rest of the cadets (really thought he was too good to even make eye contact with Lance, huh?!) was an obvious target. Keith had every single thing that Lance had ever wanted in his whole life—the combat class, the talent, the prestige, the respect, the effortless looks—and he didn’t even seem happy to have it!

- Lance had never hated anyone before in his entire life, but Lance hated Keith—Keith basically came to stand in for every obstacle in Lance’s way, every mocking insult thrown Lance’s way, every harsh reminder from the professors that he’d never even be close to good enough, never measure up when someone like that existed… Lance started to honestly believe that the only way he’d ever be able to achieve his entire life goal was if Keith was taken out of the picture—something that proved unfortunately true when Lance was bumped up to combat class the moment Keith went missing from Garrison.

- Lance never actually said any of this stuff to Keith’s face before Keith left Garrison (Lance dreaded his parents finding out he’d been rude), but he would shit-talk Keith to anyone who would listen, a bad habit that was reinforced by people actually accepting Lance more when he started gossiping and spreading rumors than when he’d just tried to be genuinely nice.

- Even though he’d like to repair his relationship with Keith now that they’re teammates, Lance has no idea how to do that after so much time has passed. He really has no clue how to treat Keith normally after building him up into such a bitter rival. It’s… a work in progress.

- A big fan of RPG games and roleplaying. Definitely gets the most in-character when it comes to Monsters and Mana. His favorite thing about meeting new cultures is discovering nifty space items that look like key items from video games. Used to play old school RPGs with his cousins every afternoon. Playing with Pidge is extremely nostalgic for him.

- Has a host of other hobbies that don’t get much use inspace but are nevertheless impressive: he can surf, dive, and was part of a traditional dance group all the up until he left for Garrison. He doesn’t tend to think much of his hobbies as they’re not exactly practical skills you need every day in a space war, but the other members of Team Voltron are quietly impressed whenever they’re reminded of the cool things Lance can do.

- Lance has the strongest bond with his lion of any of the paladins. His connection with Blue is so innate that he can actually activate Blue’s abilities from outside his lion.

- The first one of the paladins to transform his bayard and the only one whose bayard can take three forms. And no, none of the three is a sword because what was the point of that, even??? Lance can wield his standard blaster, a long rifle, and dual pistols. The strength of theshots from Lance’s bayard can be consciously controlled—his thoughts and intentions determine whether a shot has the strength to kill or merely stun.

- Lance’s incredible aim isn’t a natural talent. Actually he’s spent hours and hours in a shooting range he found in the castle, working on perfecting his shot. Just like the gladiator levels on the training deck, the targets in the range keep getting harder and harder, but Lance is progressing very well. No one but Coran knows that Lance has been training so hard with his bayard, since Lance desperately wants to pretend his skill is all natural and has sworn Coran to secrecy. Coran covers for him by pretending he’s sent Lance off on absurd cleaning missions all the time.

- Is 1000% Coran’s favorite of the paladins. Coran won’t even try to lie if asked. Although Coran has never expressed it out loud, he sees Lance as an example of the brave, kind-hearted son he would have hoped to raise—if his son had survived the war. (On Lance’s part, although he’s also never shared this, Coran reminds him very much of his beloved uncle, who passed away when Lance was very young, but whom he still remembers well and extremely fondly.)

- After his uncle passed away, Lance’s aunt moved in with Lance’s parents permanently, and Lance essentially helped to raise his two very young cousins, Nadia and Silvio. Lance does have very good experience with children—unfortunately for him, what human children respond well to doesn’t always work for Galra kids!        

Lotor:

- Has not spent 10,000 years kicking about the universe. We’re not doing that weird “If he’s immortal because of the rift creatures then how come his governess is still alive?” plot hole song and dance routine from the actual show. Lotor was born after the war decimated the Alteans 10,000 years ago, but due to Haggar’s condition (aka being, you know, dead), he was essentially unable to live on his own and was placed in cryostasis very shortly after being born.

- Roughly 20 years before the discovery of the Blue Lion on Earth, Haggar used advancements in quintessence manipulation technology to successfully revive the infant Lotor. But she didn’t wake him for no reason—she has a very specific intention for her son, a long endgame plan, of which Lotor and even Zarkon are currently unaware.

- We’re also not doing that dumb “How could Haggar—the only remotely Altean-looking being in all of Zarkon’s presence—possibly be my mother?” plot from the show either. Lotor is aware that Haggar is his mother, although he has never been able to infiltrate her research facilities and therefore has no idea how an Altean scientist ended up where she did, looking like she did, and siding with the Galra against her own people.

- Because his parents’ past and his own origins are such a mystery, Lotor is obsessed with learning the truth of the war, the Alteans, and every hidden secret from that time period, including Voltron and the mysterious “rift.” He devours any information he can get on this period of history, and especially on Alteans, voraciously.

- But even though he’ll take any pieces of information he can get, Lotor’s real favorite obsession is mythology. He’s a deep lover of folklore and fairytales, bestiaries and local legends, and more than one assassin has traded a good story in exchange for having his life spared. Lotor may or may not hunt for space cryptids in his spare time. However, no single legend occupies Lotor’s mind as much as the legend of the mythical realm of Oriande, home of the ancient Altean alchemists. As practical as he tries to appear, Lotor has never given up his deep-down childish wish to be the one who finds the promised land of Oriande and prove it is real. But when he thinks back… Where was it that he first heard about Oriande, again? Who told him…?

- That entire thing with the hidden Altean colonies is just… not going to happen. The writers were bad and they should feel bad. Although Lotor has looked, after 10,000 years and plenty of centuries of hiding any Altean connections, distinguishing those who still have Altean blood has become essentially impossible.

- Part of the reason Lotor has looked for Alteans is that he was born with a bizarre grab-bag of Altean instincts and abilities and no guidance on how to deal with them, because he’s certainly not going to reveal to Haggar that he has unexplained talents like precognition and the ability to speak to planets. Growing up with half of his bloodline extinct has been ROUGH on Lotor.

- Speaking of growing up… Even though he remains the crown prince on official record, Lotor took the first opportunity he could to leave his parents’ sphere of influence, and he has not physically been back to Galra Central Command in more than ten years.

- Lotor is effectively a universal wanderer. Aboard his personal ship the Urbanus (a Destroyer-class star cruiser which has been heavily modified and improved by Lotor himself), Lotor and his generals travel wherever they like, both within the Galra Empire and outside it, dodging Haggar’s frequent attempts to re-exert control over Lotor and even more frequent assassination and kidnapping attempts from Zarkon’s enemies.

- Although Lotor has a very specific goal in mind, progress on this goal has been slow and painstaking, and he’s often left waiting for the next bare bones clue to chase after; this has resulted in the young prince having an unfortunate abundance of free time, which is dangerous for everyone involved. In between progress on his mysterious life’s goal, Lotor and his generals frequently get into trouble with small planets, local governments, militaries both official and off-the-books, giant monsters, and at least two hundred museum curators. They may or may not be wanted for grave-robbing in 13 different star systems.

- Basically he’s space Indiana Jones, if Indiana Jones was still 20 and also purple and also not being paid enough to be a good guy.

- All that said, as much of a devil-may-care rogue as he’d like to be seen, Lotor did spend all of his childhood under the thumb of the empire’s brutal authoritarian dictators, and he is therefore every inch a crown prince; as befitting one of his stature, he speaks eight languages fluently, flawlessly matches his formal dress to the occasion, knows exactly which piece of silverware to use when, can engage in political battles of wits and diplomatic machinations with the best of them, and has been training in armed combat since he was three years old. Lotor’s impeccable manners and steely leadership ability were literally beaten into him, to the point that now, even among trusted allies, he sometimes finds it difficult to turn off his cold, calculated princely persona.

- Not that his generals really let him get away with that kind of thing for long. Only those who have lived with multiple older sisters can truly understand the constant state of teasing and mortifying blackmail that Lotor lives in. On official record, Lotor’s generals are a crack team of terrifying bodyguards; in practice, they’re more likely to be dragging Lotor for all he’s worth than rescuing him. They might keep up formal appearances in front of others, but they’re effectively a close-knit family behind the scenes.

- It’s not a coincidence that all of Lotor’s generals are women; besides generally being awful, most Galra men make Lotor uncomfortable. From a human standpoint, Lotor is ridiculously tall and powerful; but from a Galra standpoint, Lotor is a thin, unhealthy-looking thing whose stature doesn’t command authority or respect in the slightest. It’s exhausting feeling like you have to constantly prove yourself, so Lotor prefers to spend time with a group that doesn’t invite negative comparison.

- However, it should be noted that a Galra man having only female friends has completely different connotations than a human man having only female friends—Galra women are, on the whole, considered more aggressive, bloodthirsty, and over-bearing than Galra men, so any Galra man who would choose to surround himself with that many women must either be out of his mind or incredibly badass.

- When asked what it’s like to live with four beautiful women, Lotor is basically ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ personified. Despite living together for years, none of the generals are romantically interested in Lotor and he’s not romantically interested in any of them.

- Many people have incorrectly assumed that Lotor and Axca are a pair, but Lotor helped Axca escape from a slave colony and she will never let another man touch her in her life. Axca is extremely grateful and loyal to Lotor, but given that Axca was Lotor’s first real friend, he’s just as grateful to her.

- If you think I’m killing off Narti, you’re out of your mind.

- Despite the fact that Lotor does not feel connected to the Galra Empire or the Galra as a whole, he’s somewhat more traditional and more likely to conform to Galra social standards than he wants to admit (even to himself). He insists that he has no interest in upholding the classic values of the Galra or meeting their expectations for how a prince should behave—but in truth, it’s impossible to fully kill that deep-down desire to just fit in. When push comes to shove, Lotor always finds himself falling in line with the Galra’s oldest and most deeply ingrained beliefs.

- With Lance in the “has never had a real kiss” club. Is not with Lance in the “wants a real kiss” club. Lotor is actually uncomfortable with being touched by strangers (36 assassination attempts will do that to you) and doesn’t make real friends, let alone anything closer, remotely easily. Some people are open books; Lotor is that one book from Harry Potter that bites people’s fingers off when they try to open it. Once you’re in his inner-circle, he’ll let you hang all over him, but before that, the space bubble is ten feet in every direction.

- Doesn’t actually put any special effort into his appearance. He just Looks Like That™.

- In fact, he actually kind of hates that stupid cowlick hair that’s always in his face but no matter how many times he cuts it off or slicks it back, it just keeps falling right back in his eyes. He’s basically given up at this point.

- His sword’s name is Eris and it was actually forged in the heart of a dying star.

- Kova the space cat hates Lotor. Lotor hates Kova. It’s a mutually antagonistic relationship. Somehow though, Lotor never makes any effort to get rid of Kova and Kova never takes the opportunity to leave. No one else understands it either, especially since Lotor gets along great with basically every other animal he meets.

- He’s not a pacifist by any means, but he is painfully practical and knows that, on occasion, sparing the life of one’s enemy nets more gain than indiscriminately crushing opponents beneath his heel. More manipulative than outright aggressive, he’s easily capable of twisting even the worst of situations to his advantage. Has an unfortunate tendency to be overly cunning—sometimes the tricks and twists he comes up with are unnecessarily full of flourish just because he thinks manipulating people like pieces in a board game is extremely entertaining. Riddles and mind games are Lotor’s favorite—the more convoluted, the better.

- Although most people refer to him by the basic “Prince Lotor” (Lotori Ahn in Galra), Lotor’s full name and official title is Lotori Kir Ahnja Avel i’ya ne Daibazaal, His Royal Highness Prince Lotor of the First Star. As the emperors and empresses of the Galra are said to be physical representations of the goddess, the firstborn children of emperors/empresses are always called “the first star,” after the supposed first creation of the goddess.

- Extremely competitive, but mostly about weird things—like sure he’s going to win if you challenge him to a swordsmanship duel, but challenge him to a staring contest? Your eyes will rot out of your head before this boy will blink. Do not think he will let you beat him in a spelling bee. More than once the generals have had to drag him away from getting involved in the bizarre competitions of the alien cultures they come into contact with. He was 1000% ready to learn to knit eight-armed sweaters with Rikrik fur, thank you. Would totally take up pig-farming JUST to win an Earth state fair.

- Likes to collect interesting artifacts and trinkets of lost civilizations by force if necessary. His ship is basically a floating museum at this point. The generals are starting to worry that they’re going to have add a whole ‘nother deck for all the war prizes Lotor wins himself. Lotor’s gathering hobby extends to games too—he’s a big fan of games that involve sets of items, like Renni, the Galra collectible card game. Would 110% be that Magic the Gathering nerd back on earth.

- In terms of other interests, Lotor is the picture definition of a Renaissance man. Although he’s not a flawless genius savant in every field, he is wicked smart and has studied a vast array of subjects; he’s a capable engineer, a skilled mathematician, a deft philosopher, a good scientist, and extremely well-read, and he is not going tolet you forget any of those things at any point in time. Lotor is always going to be better than you, please just accept your fate.

- Art is… another story. He might be able to sketch detailed architectural blueprints without breaking a sweat but ask him to draw a dog and you’re going to be in for some trouble.

And that’s more than enough for now I think! XD

[hamilton-one-shots]

Hamilton High School AU 105

A roar of shouts exploded from the living room as the game ended and Alexander was the winner.

“Hey, I’ve never played this game before,” John said in his defense.

“Yeah, but I still won,” Alexander gloated, moving to kiss his cheek and tutting as John moved away.

“No, you deserve to only kiss winners. As a person who just lost, that does not include me,” he proclaimed melodramatically before leaning against Thomas’s legs. “Your half of my kisses is going to be split between Lucy and Susan.” To prove his point, John leaned down and kissed Lucy’s cheeks, making her giggle.

“Yay! Johnny’s my boyfriend!”

“No boyfriends until you’re 30,” Thomas reminded her, though it was hard to keep himself from smiling at the situation. If someone had told him a month ago that he’d be there just laughing and freely enjoying himself with no hidden agenda, he would’ve laughed and thought about all of the wrong that he’d done, whether or not he would’ve recognized it as such. He knew just how lucky he was to have someone like John forgiving him and he was not going to ruin his chances. Not again.

“Alright, guys! It’s time for dinner,” George called out as he helped Martha set the table. “Thomas, you and Lucy are welcome to stay and join us.”

Thomas shook his head. “No.. Lucy and I have a long day tomorrow and it’s time for her to start getting ready for bed. I wouldn’t want us to just eat and go..”

Martha shook her head. “No, no, I insist! Especially with little Lucy there. Even if you don’t want to eat, she needs to.”

“Well..” Thomas looked down at Lucy, who looked back at him with pleading eyes. “Alright..”

“Great!” Martha smiled and set their places. “Wash up, then come on and eat.”

John was the first one to do just that and the first one at the table, digging into the beef stew and rice with Alexander close behind him.

Alexander wasn’t eating nearly as eagerly, but he was eating much better than he ever used to.

Lafayette and Hercules joined them next, sitting beside each other with their chairs pushed close.

Finally, Thomas walked with Lucy back to the table, helping her onto the chair before sitting in his own, letting his sister take the seat beside John.

Unfortunately, this gave her a close enough seat to see Alexander push some of his food onto John's plate, the latter completely accepting the offer.

"Johnny, Alex should finish his food so he can grow up and be big," she reprimanded, copying the words of her older brother.

John glanced between her and Alexander for a second, hoping to come up with the right words. "Well.. Alexander's a little sick.. He can't eat as much as me.." Alexander's serving was closer in size to Lucy's than to anyone else at the table.

"But won't eating more help him get better?.."

Alexander was eating more. He was getting better. But telling Lucy that would only lead to her asking how much he used to eat.

"What are you and Tommy busy with tomorrow?" John asked instead, hoping to distract Lucy just enough to push away the topic.

And it worked like a charm. Her eyes lit up and she seemed to sit a little bit taller in her chair. "Wash day! Tommy promised he'd braid my hair again!"

"Again?" John asked with a small chuckle. During the first try of their relationship, John remembered just how much Thomas had struggled with braiding Mary’s hair, at her request, with John and Martha’s help, so the idea of him braiding Lucy’s thicker hair seemed impossible.

“I can learn new things,” Thomas commented, playfully glaring at John. “Lucy isn’t big enough to learn how to do it herself and she doesn’t like other people messing with her hair, so I learned to do it for her.”

Alexander’s eyebrows raised in surprise, just a bit. He was still unused to seeing how good of big brother Thomas was. It reminded him of how good John was, but being sweet was something he could see from John, no problem. From Thomas, however... “I’d like to see that,” Alexander unknowingly muttered under his breath.

Lucy’s eyes seemed to shine with a new idea. “They should come over! I want Johnny to come over and you can show Alex that you’re nice because you’re a good big brother!”

Thomas choked on his water. That was the last time he confided in her. “Lucy, we can’t just take up their time.. I’m sure they had other plans for their weekend..”

Actually, Alexander had been curious about what made Lafayette’s hair so special that they put aside a whole day to wash it and he was sure that Thomas and Lucy’s hair was the same, so... “We didn’t have anything planned.. I think we were just going to sit and watch movies like usual,” Alexander added with a shrug.

And, for once, Alexander’s disagreement wasn’t such a bad thing.

John smiled a bit and nodded. “Well.. If he says so, I guess there’s no reason why we can’t go over.. That is, if we won’t be intruding.”

Thomas shook his head. “Sunshine, you two can never be an intrusion. You’re more than welcome over, if you really want to.”

“Sounds like a plan, then,” John said with a nod, squeezing Alexander’s hand under the table. He couldn’t have known why exactly Alexander wanted to go over, but he did know that it couldn’t have been easy to admit.

Alexander squeezed his hand back lightly, smiling to himself. “John?..”

“Yeah?”

Alexander didn’t respond, simply smiling widely down at his empty plate.

John smiled with him and kissed his cheek, making a mental note to give him a proper kiss later, before taking Alexander’s plate as well as his own to the sink, sighing contently. Things were good. There were a few complications, as there would always be, but... Things were going good. It was just a matter of hoping they’d stay that way.

That night, he and Alexander went to his apartment, Thomas and Lucy in their own next door, and spent their time quietly, enjoying the peace that they were seeing less and less of with every big obstacle life decided to throw their way.

In the morning, the pair got up and got ready to bother Thomas and Lucy for the day, taking quick showers and eating a small breakfast before going over, knocking on their door.

Thomas answered within the minute, smiling as he saw them. “Good morning, sunshine. Alex.” He leaned down and kissed John’s cheek. “Come on in, Lucy won’t let me near her hair without you guys here to watch.”

Said child ran out to greet them, her hair already out of the puffs that Thomas had it in before. “Johnny!”

“Hey, Lucy.” He smiled and leaned down, letting her hug him. “Alright, we’re here. Come on, Tommy has to help you do your hair.”

“I know!” she chirped, running around the apartment.

Thomas smiled. “She loves wash day.. It’s guaranteed quiet time with me and we get ice cream after, but I don’t know if we’ll have time for that, if she wants me to braid her hair again..”

“If it comes down to it, I’ll go get the ice cream, no problem,” John promised, stepping inside with Alexander close behind him.

“We’ll see.. If a certain someone can stay still, we can probably finish a bit sooner than that.” Thomas smiled as he watched Lucy run around and followed her into the kitchen, lifting her onto the counter and having her turn around before spraying her hair with a bottle labeled “Detangler.”

“So.. Can you explain this stuff to me?... I’ve been curious because of Laf’s hair...”

“Yeah, no problem,” Thomas hummed as he began running his fingers through Lucy’s hair. He explained the significance of each step as he went through them, Alexander listening intently. He wasn’t really one to care about that kind of thing - hell, he hardly took care of his own hair - but he couldn’t help but be curious about the way theirs was so different.

John simply watched quietly as the day went on. After all, Martha’s hair was similar, even if not quite as thick as Lucy’s. He’d helped her figure out her own hair routine when attempting to care for it the same way as John cared for his own hair simply wasn’t working.

Almost two hours later, the three guys were sitting on the couch with Lucy on the floor in front of them, her eyes glued to a cartoon on Thomas’s phone as he began braiding her hair.

“I hope you guys know that this is going to take a lot longer than the washing,” Thomas mentioned. “This’ll be at least three Disney movies, four if Lucy needs a break.”

Neither boy seemed to mind.

“It’s not like we were planning on doing much else today, anyways,” Alexander shrugged.

“Yeah, we were probably just going to do the same thing,” John added, pulling out his phone as it buzzed. “... Or not. Laf says they need my help with Francis.. Do you want to come along, Alex, or..”

He shook his head. “I’ll stay here. If Laf’s asking for your help with her, it’s probably make up related or something. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You’re never in the way.” John smiled and pecked his lips before getting up, stopped by a voice calling him back.

“Woah, woah, where’s my kiss, sunshine?” Thomas asked jokingly.

John rolled his eyes playfully and went back, kissing his cheek and leaving before Thomas could protest.

“That guy,” Thomas said with a tut before turning to the remaining boy in the room. “Um... If you want, Alex, we can order some food, my treat. It’s about lunch time anyways..” He wasn’t sure how Alexander would react to the offer, knowing that they both knew about his eating habits, but it was better than ordering and just assuming he wouldn’t eat.

“... Sure...” Alexander responded hesitantly. He didn’t want to force himself to eat in front of Lucy and especially not in front of Thomas, but what was his alternative? To just not eat? He was trying to get better at that for John and not eating was not the way to go. So, he just ordered some Chinese food, letting Lucy and Thomas give their input on what to get, of course.

As that was happening, John made his way to Herc’s shop, heading inside and smiling at his friends as he got there.

“What’s going on, guys?”

Lafayette smiled as he noticed John, pulling him into the back room. “Hey.. Sorry to bother you, but Francis wants to try wearing crop tops. The problem is, she only feels confident enough to try it if someone else is... Martha said she would, but she’s on a date and Theodosia doesn’t feel comfortable with them and..” Lafayette hesitated, still unsure of how to describe his own feelings. Sure, it was a nonbinary day, but feminine things still felt so.. Wrong. Not bad, but gross.

“You don’t need to explain, Laf, I’m glad to help,” John shrugged with a smile. “Thomas and Alexander should be fine by themselves for a while, especially with Lucy right there, but I’ll let them know I’ll be gone for a while.”

“You are the best!” Lafayette exclaimed with a wide smile, pushing a few hangers against John’s chest before pushing him into a changing room.

John chuckled and sent Alexander a quick message before changing, getting a response a little before he finished.

[Alex: Ugh, y is sum1 always stelin u?]

[John: Francis just needs someone to help her feel better about wearing girl clothes] [John: It’s worth it, I promise]

[Alex: Wut cud b betr tan havin u?]

John sent him a picture of himself in his plain black crop top.

[Alex: Undrstud]

John smiled and put his phone away before going out. “Alright, how do I look?”

Frances groaned. “Why do you look better than me?”

“I do not. You’re just not owning it.”

“And how do I do that, Lafayette Jr?”

John rolled his eyes. “I can’t explain it, you just do. Just know you look good and that nobody else can change that. What, are you going to let some asshole who doesn’t even think you should be allowed to exist judge what you want to wear?”

Frances thought for a second before nodding slowly. “I guess I see your point... Alright.”

“Also, and Lafayette did teach me this one, posture is everything. If you walk like a bad bitch, everyone will know that you are a bad bitch, simple as that.”

Frances snorted with laughter, but straightened up her back and lifted her head anyways. “Like this?” She followed John’s advice and strutted across the shop with enough confidence to even make Lafayette step out of her way. And she wasn’t even coming towards them.

“Yeah, you’re ready. Now, we can go.” John high fived her and grabbed Lafayette’s car keys before walking out.

“Hey, I didn’t say-”

“Bye, Laf!”

Lafayette rolled his eyes, but smiled. Eh, they could get John back for stealing their car later. Right now he was doing them and Francis a favor.

[star-spangled-eyes]

Winner Take All: Part 3: The Name

This alternate universe fan fiction uses characters created and owned by Pixelberry Studios. Character names, descriptions and likenesses are owned by Pixelberry Studios. The MC, Bragnae Bennett, and story is created and owned by this author.

Book: The Royal Romance (Alternate Universe)

Alternate Universe Theme: Senior Year of College for Drake, Leo, Bragnae and Madeleine in the United States  

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC / Leo Reese x MC (Bragnae Bennett – *pronounced Brawn-yah)

Warnings for this series: NSFW, Adult content, suggestive and strong language, sex

Series Description: Bragnae Bennett sought adventure when she first went off to college. Now, navigating through her senior year, she finds herself befriending two gorgeous guys, Drake Walker and Leo Reese, who engage in a seemingly innocent bet with her during a game of pool that leads to a surprising threesome.

Their intimate evening prompts deeper feelings than they all expected to arise, and Bragnae is suddenly swept up in both of their charms, unique to each man himself. Through the pressures of college, work and maintaining a social life, which man will prevail and win Bragnae's heart?

Master List

A/N: Oooh man! I am really enjoying this series so far! Why do I love Love Triangles? Sheesh! I really enjoyed writing this part and can’t wait for the next. I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for reading!

Warnings for this chapter: NSFW, Adult content, suggestive and strong language

Word Count for this chapter: 3567 

Setting for this chapter: Drake and Bragnae watch a movie together, and sparks fly…

Permatags: @burnsoslow @cora-nova @dcbbw @thorfosterlove @emceesynonymroll @edgiestwinter @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @msjr0119 @notoriouscs @drakewalker04​ @pedudley​ @desiree-0816 @choices-lurker​ @kingliam2019​ @loveellamae​ @drakexnadira @flutistbyday2020​ @indiana-jr​ @moonlightgem7​

Series Tags: @yukinagato2012​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​ @nomadics-stuff​ @ravenpuff02​ @texaskitten30​ @themadhatter1029​ @randomfandomteacher​ @queenjilian​ @princessleac1​

Part 3: The Name

Heat rose on the back of Bragnae’s neck as she looked at Drake standing in her doorway. He was so handsome in every way. Tall, muscular, hair casually styled but somehow still irresistible.

“Hi, Drake. Come on in.” She stood to the side to let him in, closing the door behind him.

“I, uh, brought some beer. Thought it’d go well with the pizza.” He took two out of the cardboard case, setting them on the counter before putting the rest in the fridge.

“That’s great. Thanks. Bottle opener’s in the drawer next to the fridge.” She walked over to the cabinet retrieving two plates. “I brought home a meat lovers. Figured that’d be okay.”

Drake popped the caps off of both beers, handing her one. “That’s actually my favorite.” His fingers brushed against hers as she took the bottle from him. A shiver went down her spine.

“Well, that worked out,” she said smiling as she clinked her bottle against his. “Cheers.”

He smirked before lifting the bottle to his lips for a swig. His eyes lingered on hers for a moment, a residual smile still hanging on his lips. Drake opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but looked away instead taking another drink. “Should we eat?”

So, it was awkward after all. Bragnae knew they might have to work through this obstacle after last night, but couldn’t help but hope they could roll right past it.

“Uh, yeah.” She put the plates and a few napkins on top of the pizza box and carried it over to the coffee table in the living room. Drake brought her beer over for her, setting it down on the table before taking a seat on the couch.

Bragnae turned the television on and immediately opened the Netflix app. “Any preference on what we should watch?” She continued to scroll through the options as she waited for his response.

“I trust your judgment. Whatever you pick is fine.” Drake leaned back on the couch. She could feel his eyes on her making her feel a bit tense. Not that she didn’t want him to look at her, but there was an undefined energy in the room between them, and it felt weird.

Drake had been her friend since last semester when they first met in their English Composition class. They immediately got along, and any time they hung out, things were easy going, playful and flirty at times, but it wasn’t ever awkward like this. Of course, she understood why it was now. Just 24 hours ago, he had seen her naked, kissed her, held her body against his as he intimately connected with her. Those were all things that would certainly shake things up.

Their friendship went in a completely new direction, and there was no coming back from it. Bragnae thought since Drake asked to hang out tonight that he had a plan for not making things awkward, or not letting what transpired between them last night get in the way of their friendship. Now, she had no idea what was happening. Maybe it was too soon to hang out.

Drake had given her carte blanche on the movie. She would pick something she knew, something safe. Something without any sex scenes or love to avoid any more uncomfortable tension than there already was. She spotted The Hangover, and decided a comedy would be best to lighten the mood.

“Good choice,” he said before opening the pizza box and grabbing a slice.

“Yeah, it’s a classic.” She pulled a piece onto her plate as well, and got comfortable on the sofa sitting cross legged. There was at least a foot of space between them.

Thirty minutes into the movie, they had enjoyed the pizza, nearly demolishing the whole thing while occasionally laughing at the movie. At the same time that Drake shifted to put his empty beer bottle on the table, Bragnae unfolded her legs making them touch. The split second physical interaction was still enough to give her goosebumps. He glanced at her quickly before clearing his throat and moving a few inches away from her.

Bragnae exhaled a somewhat frustrated breath. “Okay, can we talk about this?” She paused the movie, and turned to look at him.

“What?” His eyes full of alarm with the sudden silence in the room.

“The elephant in the room.” She paused only for a moment. “About last night. I assume you’re thinking about it, too?”

Drake sighed. “Yep.”

A breath of relief left her body. At least he was being honest about it. “It definitely… changed things. I mean, it’s usually not this weird between us when we hang out.”

“No, it’s not.” He wet his lips, turning away as his eyes dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“What do you mean?” She hoped he didn’t regret what happened because she didn’t.

He took a deep breath before pivoting his body on the couch to face her. “After last night… well, things did change for me. I… I really enjoyed being with you.” He swallowed, watching her reaction carefully.

“I did too, Drake.”

His brow relaxed hearing her words. “I wanted to hang out tonight so I could tell you that I didn’t agree to the three way just for some sexual conquest.” His eyes bore into hers. “I did it because of you. I wanted to know what it felt like to be with you even if Leo had to be there.”

An involuntary smile crept over her lips as she took in his words. “What happened last night was so not like me. I never thought I’d ever engage in a threesome with two guys. Like, ever. But you two were hard to resist.”

He looked down at the sofa, his forehead creased as he thought to himself. “It wasn’t my intention to disrupt our friendship over this, so I hope we can move past it.”

I wonder what he means by that. Did he get his fill of her, and now he wants things to go back to the way it was before they slept together? She wasn’t ready for that. “I’m curious about something.” He lifted his eyebrows, looking at her expectantly. “If you wanted to know what it was like to be with me, why didn’t you try to do something about it before last night? I mean, why wait for an opportunity where you’d have to share me with someone else?”

Drake sighed before pursing his lips together. “I guess… I never worked up the nerve.” His eyes searched her face, casually trailing down her body before rising up again. “When we first met, you were dating some guy. I liked you then, but even after you stopped seeing him, I wanted to give you space. And by that time, we’d been hanging out a lot, I introduced you to Leo, and I thought you saw me as only a friend. So, I didn’t push it.”

“That makes sense,” she nodded. “Can I ask you something else?” He gestured for her to continue. “Have you and Leo done something like that before with another woman? I only ask because you two seemed rather comfortable and organized with it all.”

A hesitant smile transformed his lips. “We have. Only once before. It was about a year ago.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t say she was surprised to hear that, but part of her felt like knowing his past made her experience with them seem less meaningful. She had to be real with herself. It was a threesome. She didn’t expect them to express their undying love to her. It was supposed to be casual and fun. But she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment that she was just another girl in a routine they had practiced before. However, Drake made it clear earlier that it wasn’t about the threesome itself. It was about her, but it still felt a bit… cheap.

“I hope you don’t think less of me knowing that.” He dipped his head down to meet her fallen gaze.

“No, of course not. I mean, I was a willing participant in a three way, too. How could I judge someone for doing that? It was… amazing, and fun. I can’t blame you for wanting to partake in something like that when the opportunity presents itself.”

“Well, it’s not something I make a habit out of. The first time we did it, we were both really drunk, and we had met this girl at a party who suggested it to us. Being guys, we weren’t going to turn it down.” He paused, his expression turning to something deeper. “And when Leo brought it up last night as part of the bet, I thought for sure you’d say no, but I was really hoping you wouldn’t. It wasn’t like the first time we did it. It was different, like I said, because of you. There’s a reason why I wanted you to face me, Bennett. I wanted that connection with you.”

Bragnae was taken aback by his confession. It meant so much to her knowing Drake looked at their sexual experience as more than just a chance to get off. She placed a gentle hand on his knee. His eyes were immediately drawn to her touch. “I wanted that too… with you. And I felt it. You were so tender and caring.” She swallowed. “It was really nice for me.”

Drake covered her hand with his. “I’m glad.” His hand slid up her arm, simultaneously pulling her towards him as he leaned in to brush his soft lips against hers. The stubble on his chin lightly scraping against her skin.

It felt like the night prior all over again when he kissed her. Normally, he was such a tough and rugged guy, but when he kissed her, there was a certain gentleness that poured out of his lips making her melt against him. She cupped his cheek as their kiss deepened. After another moment, he drew back slowly holding her gaze.

He smiled softly. “I’m going to grab another beer. Do you want one?”

“I actually wanted another kiss, but a beer sounds good, too.” She chuckled through her nose.

Lightly grabbing her chin, he pulled her into another quick kiss before getting off the sofa. “You’re something else, Bennett.” She watched him walk away, her eyes admiring how his legs and ass filled in his light-wash jeans. He grabbed two more beers from the fridge, removed the caps and headed back to the couch.

“Hey, why do you call me Bennett?” She asked, taking the bottle from him. For as long as she’d known him, he’d always called her by her last name. They were laying everything on the table tonight, so she thought she’d ask.

Drake laughed a little. “Well, it’s sort of embarrassing.” He sat down, closer to her this time, their legs brushing against one another as he stretched an arm across the back of the sofa in her direction.

“Well, I have to hear this. Why is it embarrassing?” She shifted a little closer to him.

He took a drink, grinning to himself before looking at her again. “If you’ll recall, we were paired up in English class to do that peer review for our paper. Mind you, I already thought you were hot, but I hadn’t had a chance to talk to you yet. So, when the professor assigned us together, I was excited because I’d finally get to talk to you and learn your name.”

Bragnae smiled, remembering the day he was describing. She was also thrilled the teacher put them together. After all, it had brought them to this moment.

He took another drink. “I was trying to be casual about it and not seem too eager, so I thought I’d just figure it out once you gave me your paper. And then… I looked down and saw the weirdest fucking name I’d ever seen.”

Bragnae laughed out loud. “Yeah, you can thank my parents for that.”

He smirked at her before continuing. “I had no idea how to pronounce your first name. Not even one clue. And in an attempt not to embarrass myself by trying to say it or worse, asking you how to say it,” he paused, giving her a look. “I know, I’m apparently an overgrown child who can’t ask pretty girls simple questions.” He shrugged as he continued. “So, I just decided to call you by your last name the next time I saw you. Bennett – easy enough. Plus, it sounded casual, and I wanted you to see me as this cool guy who didn’t give a fuck if you wanted to talk to me or not. Even though I really wanted you to.”

She shook her head, still giggling. “You are a complicated man, you know that? Didn’t you hear the teacher say my name before?” She looked at him incredulously.

His eyes widened as he shook his head. “Nope. I was either not paying attention, or didn’t quite catch it when she said it.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me Bragnae.”

Drake put the beer bottle on the coffee table, so he could rest his hand on her knee. “It just became a habit after that. But I will say this. When I heard how your first name was actually pronounced, I thought it was the most beautiful name in the whole world.”

She beamed. “Thank you. I love my name. It’s Celtic, super old, and the spelling is crazy, but it’s totally me.”

“It sure is.” His fingers traced gentle circles a few inches above her knee, his eyes concentrating on the path his fingers took.

Bragnae’s breath quickened and her heart beat faster as she reveled in his touch. A tingle warmed her core as the room felt very quiet, but comfortable all of a sudden. She took a subtle deep breath, adjusting her body closer to his.

He looked up at her again, his fingers still working a slow dance over her thigh, inching their way up casually. His deep voice was low and calm when he spoke. “Do you want me to call you by your first name?”

Bragnae put her beer on the side table next to the couch. “It depends. I don’t know what it sounds like coming from you.”

Drake leaned in, his face inches from hers. “Allow me to enlighten you then, Bragnae.”

A shiver shot down her spine as goosebumps covered her skin. There was something so sexy about hearing a man use her name, especially a man who she really liked. “I like it. My name sounds nice over your tongue.”

Drake broke into an irresistibly wicked smirk. His eyes flicked to her lips. “I can do other nice things with my tongue, ya know.”

Bragnae gently bit her lower lip. “Prove it.”

The hand that teased her leg moved to rest on her waist, while the other shifted to the base of her neck drawing her in as he met her halfway. Drake took her mouth ardently, pressing his lips against her in such a way that left her breathless. The passion of the moment prompted her to part her mouth to him. His tongue glided over her bottom lip before sliding inside to sensually stroke hers.

She ran a hand through his soft brown hair as the strength in his arm pulled her in close. As his tongue momentarily retreated, hers followed after. Drake closed his mouth around her tongue gently sucking on hers prompting Bragnae to moan in delight. As he released her, his teeth nipped at her bottom lip before pulling back.

Bragnae’s eyes took a second to open again as her mind left the blissful trance his kiss led her into. “You were right.”

He grinned. “Did you really doubt me?”

“If I did, that was a mistake.” She pulled him in this time, connecting their mouths once more. Heat began to rise throughout her entire body. Kissing him just wasn’t enough. Keeping their connection intact, Bragnae pushed Drake back against the sofa and straddled him.

He groaned as she rested her weight on top of him. His hands ran down her back resting on her butt, while she hungrily took his mouth. Her insistence captured his attention. She felt him pull her hips into him causing her to break their kiss as a gasping moan escaped her lungs. He placed hot kisses on her neck as she caught her breath. She could feel the stiffness in his jeans between her legs, and it reminded her of how wonderful he felt last night. And she needed to feel that again.

She panted his name before returning her lips to his. After another heated moment and just before Bragnae was going to remove her top, Drake pulled back.

“We should probably stop, Bennett,” he said breathlessly.

She blinked at him in confusion. “Why? I think the cat’s out of the bag, Drake.”

He swallowed, taking a second to look at her body on top of his with admiration. “Look, it’s not like I don’t want to – because I really do, but I just don’t want you to think this is just about sex for me. It’s more than that. And maybe we should take this slow.”

Bragnae sat back feeling rejected and like she did something wrong. “Drake, you’ve been inside me. And I liked it. So, why do you want to take it slow now?”

His expression softened as he raised a gentle hand to her cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Last night was a different story. I just think you deserve better. That’s all.”

Frustrated and still confused, Bragnae crawled back to her seat.

“Bennett, I’m sorry. I didn’t come here with the intention to sleep with you tonight because I didn’t want you to think that’s all I was after.”

She couldn’t help but feel dejected over this sudden change, but a part of her understood where he was coming from. She didn’t necessarily want a relationship based solely on sex. A meaningful, healthy relationship was what she craved, but she also intensely desired to be with Drake again. She already knew she liked him and his personality, so what was the big deal? The night was going so well. Why did this happen?

“It’s okay, Drake.” It took all of her strength to look at him without hurt in her eyes. “I understand why, and I appreciate your honesty.” She exhaled a sharp breath looking away.

He put his hand on top of hers in an effort to console her, which made her mad for some reason. Now, she felt like a person only in it for sex, and he was just letting her down easily. Rejection sucks. She thought she made it clear that she liked him too. Having him stare at her in this uncomfortable silence was becoming unbearable.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now.” She looked at him with no emotions, so they couldn’t betray her.

He looked surprised at first, but then nodded. “Okay. I guess I’ll head out, then.” He stood up and headed for the door. She walked with him not wanting Drake to feel like she was completely ignoring him. He opened the door and went to take a step, but looked back at Bragnae instead. “I… I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I promise my intentions were better than that.”

The sincerity in his dark eyes was hard to ignore. “I believe you. Thank you, Drake.”

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Can I call you soon?”

She nodded in agreement. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Bragnae.” She inhaled a sharp breath as he said her name before leaving her apartment. She closed the door and leaned her back against it.

She knew Drake was a good guy – very respectful, but she just didn’t understand why he wanted them to stop. She felt his desire for her, and she sure as hell wanted to be with him again. Why didn’t he just give into what he knew they both wanted?

Feeling overwhelmed with emotion and disappointment, Bragnae went to bed.

The next morning, she was awoken by a text. It was half past ten, and she had slept in. Blinking her eyes awake, she grabbed her phone to see a message from Leo.

Hey, pretty lady. Wanna meet me at the quad today? Say, around noon? It’s a beautiful day. Maybe we can practice some self-defense moves.

Bragnae giggled at the Kung Fu Panda GIF he’d sent with the text. She shot off a reply letting him know she’d be there, also noticing she didn’t have any other calls or texts from Drake. Remembering he was working this morning, she figured he didn’t have the time anyway. Or maybe he didn’t want to talk to her. She felt a bit embarrassed after last night, and regretted sending him home just because he didn’t want to sleep with her. How childish. She’d make sure to reach out to him later on to let him know how sorry she was.

But first, she needed to get showered and dressed to meet Leo. He always made her laugh, and she was in desperate need of that today.

[7-wonders]

Everything All At Once

Summary: Summers are supposed to be fun, not stressful. Whatever deity is pulling the strings in your life never got that memo, apparently.

Word Count: 3651

A/N: Sorry for how long it’s taken me to post this! Life has been crazy lately. Enjoy, and if you did I would love if you left a like, comment, or reblogged!

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE | Read Naked & Afraid (part seven) HERE | Read Ironically Alive (part eight) HERE | Read Blame It On My Youth (part nine) HERE

The process of moving, while normally quite stressful, is made simple with magic on your side. Boxes are packed according to room in a matter of minutes, dirty floors are cleaned with a glance, and the need for a moving truck is eliminated when items can just be transmuted to your new home. Even dealing with the bigger pieces of furniture that you no longer need, such as your bed and the couch, is an easy task when your new Antichrist roommate can just snap his fingers and send them to a thrift store in need. That last act is done much to Michael’s chagrin, who presents the admittedly tempting option of dropping them on your enemies. In mere hours, your once-full apartment is now completely empty. You’d be lying, however, if you said you were going to miss it. If anything, you’ll miss the certain sentimental value that your first apartment holds within its walls, but the cons of this place (a shower that never heats up, testy thermostat, that one time there was a family of mice living under your kitchen sink, and so much more) far outweigh any pros that could convince you to stay.

Adjusting to living with Michael full-time, however, proves to be the main challenge of your move. Just redecorating your room caused his face to turn a sickly shade of white, horrified that the once-pristine black and silver color scheme has been taken over by tapestries and fairy lights. It was especially painful for him to comply with your request to remove the large pentagram on one of the walls, but you suspect he did it because he doesn’t want to make you mad. He’s already aware of just how monumental a concession of living with him was, and he would rather not push his luck. Your new living arrangement, though, is going to be the only victory you give him if you have anything to say about it.

“No school for three months, then?” Michael had asked when you were hanging clothes up in your closet. 

“Thankfully.”

“So I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you since you won’t be darting in and out between classes.” His tone was all too hopeful, and you hid a smirk at the meaning that he wasn't doing a good job of hiding.

“Well yeah, when I’m not working.” You weren’t looking at him, but you knew that his jaw was clenched tightly.

“Why would you be working? You’re aware of how much money I have at my disposal; there’s no logical reason why you need to have a job.”

“How else am I going to pay you rent?” He breathed in harshly through his nose, and you buried your face is a shirt to keep from laughing.

“Excuse me? You--you don’t have to pay me rent, (Y/N), you’re my wife.”

“You’re letting me live with you, it’s the least I could do.”

“If,” Michael stopped, choosing his words carefully, “if that’s what you would like to do, then I suppose I cannot stop you.”

“Thank you!” you said cheerfully, going back to the task at hand while humming a song that had been stuck in your head.

It’s not like you’re that determined to keep paying rent now that you live with Michael. In fact, if this was any other person and not the Antichrist insisting that you don’t need to pay to live on their property, you would happily oblige. With Michael, though, things have to be made a little difficult for him. Ever since the contract negotiations during your first weekend at what you’ve come to refer to as Langdon Manor, you had remained adamant that nothing would change just because you were now bonded in unholy matrimony. For the most part, that has remained the case. It’s also just fun to see how mad you can make him before he needs to go be alone in his office, but that’s besides the point.

Nannying, although not glamorous work, pays better than any other job you’ve had. Getting to look after cute children is also a plus, and they keep you busy enough where there’s never a dull moment. The two kids that you nanny, sisters Maggie and Sarah, love going to the pool and playing make believe. They play so well together that you often find yourself just reading a book and keeping an eye on them while they decide to run a daycare or start a school. Easy work, even if the hours are sometimes less than ideal. Their parents, a doctor and a police officer, work odd hours and have a penchant for date nights on Fridays, which is often their only time off without the kids. It’s not an inconvenience to you; extra hours equal extra money, and the girls go to sleep early enough that you can just watch videos on your phone until they arrive home.

The only one who has a problem with your hours is Michael, of course. You’ve suspected since the house party three weeks ago that he’s been trying to figure out how to ask you out on another date, but obstacles have managed to shake up any plans he may have. He’s not the most subtle, asking you on every Wednesday what your plans are for Friday while trying too hard to look like he’s not invested in your answer. By this week, your third straight Friday date night shift, he’s over it. 

“But tomorrow you don’t work, right?” Michael asks from the speakerphone. Your phone is resting on the kitchen counter, the girls in the living room while you make a dinner of chicken and rice for everybody.

“Nope,” you say, leaning back to make sure the girls are still watching their movie instead of beating each other over the head. 

“We’re having a movie night tomorrow.”

The tone of finality in Michael’s voice makes you laugh. “A movie night? Michael, have you ever even seen a movie before?”

“Yes, (Y/N), I have seen a movie before.” You can almost hear how he’s rolling his eyes right now. “You can pick the movies, and I’ll worry about the snacks?”

“No. Knowing you, your snacks will be something like pickled eyeballs washed down with a tall glass of ice cold blood. I’ll be the one in charge of snacks.” You can’t resist slipping a joke in there, and Michael sighs heavily. 

“Fine. I’ll see you when you get home?”

“Yep, bye.” You hang up the phone curtly when the oven beeps, more focused on pulling the chicken out than crafting a sincere goodbye.

Turning around to put the pan down so you can slice the chicken, it’s not at all surprising to see the girls sitting at the table and staring at you. The two love to eavesdrop, especially when it comes to people talking on the phone.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Sarah asks, her blonde curls bouncing in her ponytails. 

“No, he’s not, and you shouldn’t be listening in on other people’s conversations.” It’s impossible to be serious, and a smile plays on your lips as you dish up three plates and put them on the table. 

Right as everybody starts to eat, Sarah gasps and bolts up from her chair. “I forgot Aunt Stephanie!” You look at Maggie for an answer as Sarah runs off, but the older girl just rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“Do you have an aunt coming over? Your mom didn’t tell me anyone else was going to be here tonight,” you ask. 

“No, it’s a picture that Sarah keeps in her room, sometimes she likes to have it with her.” Sarah comes back as Maggie explains her sister’s actions, clutching a framed photograph to her chest. Setting it down next to her, you see the senior portrait of a smiling blonde girl staring back at you. Her hair is crimped in some places and straight in others, reminding you of the 90s, and she’s wearing classic goth makeup. 

“She’s pretty,” you compliment, smiling as Sarah digs in.

“She’s up in Heaven, so we never met her,” Sarah replies in that easygoing tone that all young children use to reveal information in.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly, not really sure how to respond.

“Dad hardly knew her, either,” Maggie retorts. “He was little when she was killed.”

“Your aunt was killed?”

Maggie nods, smirking since she knows something you don’t (ten year olds are going to be the death of you), “uh huh, she died in that school shooting, the one at Westfield High School?”

“Well, at least you get to hear some neat things about her from your family.”

The girls both nod and go back to eating their food, but you just stare down at your full plate, pushing the food around with your fork as your hands shake imperceptibly. Like a puzzle, the pieces all click together. You nanny for the Boggs family, the patriarch of which had a sister named Stephanie, who was killed in the Westfield High massacre. The massacre that was perpetrated by the unwilling sperm donor from which Michael sprung, Tate Langdon. Everybody knows about the infamous Westfield shooting in the way that everybody knows about Columbine or Sandy Hook. You just didn’t know that the family of one of the victims was now employing you.

It’s something that sticks with you long after the girls have gone to bed, and even as you drive home after their parents (the Boggs’, you remind yourself) arrive back from their date. Whether Tate was influenced by the Devil or not, he is still ultimately responsible for the choices that he made. This legacy, the dark thoughts and the murders and the horrible things, extends far beyond Michael. Tate may consider Michael to be the penultimate evil, one who he could never be associated with, but it’s true when they say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

Michael’s still awake when you get home, having gotten in the habit of waiting up for you since you still lived at your old apartment and he would wait for your text to let him know you had made it safely. He’s sitting in the main living room (of which there are three), reading a book and petting your cat, who’s curled up peacefully on his lap. You toss your shoes and bag in your room before sitting down next to him, picking up your now-disgruntled cat and cuddling her to your chest.

“What are you reading?” you ask him, not able to see the cover that’s obscured by his hands.

“One of those Harry Potter books you told me to read. I must say, I am enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would.”

“Goblet of Fire, that’s a good one. I’m glad you like it.” 

Michael marks his place in the book, setting it down next to him before giving you his full attention. “How was your day at work?”

“It was...okay?” Michael frowns slightly, not pleased with that answer.

“Did something happen? Did the children finally act out with their parents gone?”

“No, it’s nothing like that, it’s just--something they said,” you trail off, picking the skin around your thumbnail instead.

“What did a ten-year-old and a six-year-old say to you that rattled you this much?”

“There’s no easy way to say this, especially when you’re looking at me with those eyes,” you mutter, looking up at him. “Their aunt, I guess, was killed in a school shooting. The Westfield High one?”

Michael looks at you seriously, your recollection of the girls’ words obviously catching him off-guard. “And that got you thinking--” “Not in a bad way or anything, you know I don’t blame you at all for Tate’s sins. It just...got me thinking, I guess.”

“About how much fate must hate us?” Michael laughs bitterly.

“Tate,” you ignore Michael’s last comment, too lost in your thoughts, “loves acting like he had nothing to do with you and that you two couldn’t be more different when, in reality, you’re more alike than he cares to admit. I mean, he shot up a goddamn high school and set his stepfather on fire years before you were born. It really should not have surprised him that he fathered the Antichrist, whether it was willingly or not.”

“I wouldn’t shoot high schoolers, that’s far too messy.”

“I know that, but what I’m trying to get at is that everything, in some sick and twisted way, all comes back to you. I can’t even go to work now without being reminded of you and the carnage that the Langdon name has wrought upon the world. The same name that I carry now too, I guess.” You laugh bitterly at your misfortune, knowing that you can never escape Michael wherever you go.

“You’re being too introspective for your own good tonight, (Y/N). You need to breathe, okay?” Michael takes your hands and forces you to focus on him, making you realize that you’re barely huffing out shaky breaths. “Like you said, you don’t blame me for Tate’s sins. While I have done bad things, they are all to serve a greater purpose. Tate--he was just a dumb kid who hated the world and wanted to kill people in an attempt to feel something.”

You stare at him, repeating Michael’s movements and taking deep breaths while trying to calm down. You’re not sure why this has freaked you out so much: maybe it’s because you’re married to the sire of this mass shooter, or it could be concerns that any future children that you may have with Michael (God forbid that ever happens) would carry a bit of that darkness in their souls.

“We’re having an impromptu movie night tonight,” Michael says suddenly.

“Why not wait until tomorrow?” Maybe it was a distraction tactic, but it certainly did its job. 

“You’re too worked up to sleep, and I worry about you being alone with these dark thoughts swirling in your mind. You need something to take your mind off of it.”

“But we don’t even have snacks.”

“Go check in the kitchen, the staff tends to overstock it with food I would never eat. I’ll pick the movie. Put on some clothes to watch a movie,” the thought of sweatpants calls your name at that, “and meet back here in ten?”

You nod, running your hands over your feverish cheeks before standing up and walking towards your room. As you throw on your favorite sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, you can’t stop thinking about your outburst. The knowledge that you were babysitting the nieces of one of Tate’s victims shouldn’t have messed you up like it did, and maybe it’s just you being overly paranoid. Whatever the reason, you’re more than eager to find some candy and popcorn and eat enough sugar to make your thoughts go numb. 

There’s plenty of candy hidden on one of the shelves of the staff pantry, and you leave an apologetic note explaining that there was an emergency and promising to restock tomorrow. The popcorn selections are endless, and you end up popping two bags when you can’t decide. Carrying the goodies back to the living room, you see that the lights are dimmed and there’s a nest of pillows and blankets on the couch. The movie’s already cued up on the television, and you smile at the familiar music playing through the speakers.

“Sorcerer’s Stone?” you ask, sitting down next to Michael and pulling a blanket over your lap.

“I’ve never seen the movie before, and since I already finished the book I want to see which one I like better,” Michael explains sheepishly, stealing some popcorn from you and pressing ‘play’ on the remote.

It’s easy to get lost in the magic of Hogwarts, even though Michael keeps making snide comments about how he doesn’t need a wand to do more impressive magic than that. You let them slide, not too bothered about it when you constantly point out differences between the book and the movie. You both finish the first movie strong, albeit with a lack of snacks, and eagerly pop in the second to continue the marathon. 

Throughout the course of the movie, you had inched closer to each other ever so slowly. Using the excuse of forgetting to move back after stealing a snack, or having to move in order to have an equal amount of blankets, results in the most awkward move you’ve ever seen someone pull. Michael, under the guise of shifting to get more comfortable, tries to sneakily slide his arm around your shoulders. You notice the ploy almost immediately, and smirk at him when he thinks he’s pulled it off.

“Really? What teen movies have you been watching lately?”

“You knew?” Michael asks, withdrawing his arm from where it’s sitting around your shoulders.

“Michael, that’s one of the oldest tricks in the book. Of course I knew.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks bright red as he looks back at the screen.

“Just because I called you out on it doesn’t mean that I’m not fine with it.” You’re not sure where this sudden streak of bravery came from, but you’re going to take it and run with it. Grabbing his hand, you place it in the previous position of being draped over your shoulders. Leaning into Michael’s side, your head rests on his chest as your eyes go back to the movie. “This good?”

“Yeah, this is--it’s fine,” Michael’s voice comes out at a higher pitch than normal, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

It’s a lot more difficult to continue watching the movie as the night wears on, and you find yourself more focused on just trying to keep your eyes open than on how Harry and his friends are going to figure out what’s petrifying the students. Michael can tell that you’re on the verge of sleep, nudging you gently every time you start to nod off. “I’m up,” you’ll always reply, “just resting my eyes for a sec.” It’s amusing, and he would send you to bed were you not so adamant that you’re completely awake.

“(Y/N)?” Michael calls gently, your tired eyes flickering up to him. 

“Hmm?”

“Do you think that...well, do you think that you could ever, uh, like me?”

“I do like you, dumbass. Why else do you think I’m sitting here watching movies with you?”

“I know you like me as a friend, but I mean--could you ever see yourself thinking of me as something more?”

“Is this because of what I said earlier, about your legacy?”

“Yes and no. This is something that has been on my mind for quite some time.” You’re awake now, and you sit up and pull yourself out of his embrace.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” 

“I’d rather we discuss it now,” Michael says carefully, knowing that you’re starting to get stand-offish. “(Y/N), you’re very aware of my feelings for you and that I believe what my father has told me about the two of us. I just want to know--I deserve to know how you feel about me.”

“Do you even know how hard it was for me to trust you after you kidnapped me?” you ask, standing up and clicking the TV off. Michael stands up with you, making sure you don’t run off before he’s gotten some answers.

“I thought we were over that by now!”

“We are, but--”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that you’ve been in love with me from the moment you first saw me, and I don’t even know if I can let myself have romantic feelings for the fucking Antichrist!” The anger in Michael’s eyes is extinguished, replaced with a crushing sadness.

“You told me that you didn’t blame me for how I was born,” he says quietly. You bite your lip, realizing you just hit him in his weak spot.

“I don’t, Michael, but you’ve also done a lot of bad things, you’re doing bad things, and you’ll continue to do bad things.”

“I would never do those bad things to you. Everything I do is to benefit the plan that my father has.”

“But what if one day his plan changes and you have to kill me?” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself to protect against the sudden chill in the air. “You can make all of the excuses you want, but at the end of the day you’re still the Devil’s son, murdering and plotting the end of the world.”

You should have stopped long before this, but the words just won’t stop flowing out of you now that you’ve spilled them. Michael runs his hand down his jaw, nodding slowly. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

He’s thrown you off, and you’re sure it’s obvious that he has. “What?” You’re expecting him to yell, throw things, and maybe slap you again. Instead, he’s eerily calm.

“I asked for you to be honest, and you were, so thank you.” He turns to leave, his movements stilting and robotic.

“Michael,” you reach for him, unsure of what you should do.

“Get some sleep, you’ve had a long day.” Michael smiles weakly at you, his hand resting on the door frame. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nod dumbly, mutely, unable to do anything but watch as he leaves. Suddenly, you’re entirely too aware of how he must have felt all the times he wounded you with only his words. It’s a bitter feeling, one that replaces the lingering sweet taste of candy with sour words you had spilled so recklessly. It’s a taste that won’t go away, long after brushing your teeth and falling asleep with the taste of salty tears on your tongue.

/////////////////////////

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[seblos]

is this home?

word count: 2,278

read on ao3!

Backstage was silent except for the voices of the actors on stage, a stark contrast from the jittery energy right before the curtain had risen. The show was going well so far, much smoother than High School Musical, and they were nearing Seb’s entrance once again right before ‘Home’. 

Carlos smiles, thinking about how proud he was that Seb had the courage to not only audition for Belle but actually go through with it when they had gotten the role. It was one thing to play one of the side lead females, and another to actually play the female lead itself. 

He remembers when Seb had first expressed their dream to play Belle. The two of them were hanging out watching Beauty and the Beast to prepare for Seb’s audition.

Originally, Carlos had been expecting them to want to audition for Gaston or even the Beast, but ever since they had come out as nonbinary, they had shied away from some of the more hypermasculine roles. It’s not that they couldn’t play such a role (Seb could play any role in the show and still be the biggest star to Carlos); they just preferred not to. 

Instead, Seb had expressed interest in playing Lumiere. So, the two had been watching ‘Be Our Guest’ when they had turned to Carlos out of the blue.

“Who do you think is going to play Belle?” Seb had asked.

It was abrupt, sure, but Carlos hadn’t thought anything weird of it. He had already been debating how the cast list might end up all week himself.

“I don’t know, honestly” Carlos admitted. “I know Nini and Gina are both auditioning again. Ashlyn was thinking about it, but I think she was leaning more towards one of the magical objects. Although she and EJ had been discussing playing Gaston and Lefou together if EJ isn’t the Beast.”

(He could see Seb growing more fidgety with the more people he lists, but he had assumed it was probably just regular pre-audition week nerves.)

“I think Kourtney is auditioning for Mrs. Potts,” he continued. “We tried to convince her to audition for Belle even though it’s her first show, but she said she’s not ready to play the lead yet.”

“So there’s a lot of competition?” Seb had asked, tapping one of their fingernails against the other. It’s one of their nervous habits, and it was ruining the light blue polish that Carlos had just applied on their nails.

He was about to reach for the nail polish again to touch it up when it had actually hit him. 

Was Seb nervous?

“Don’t be nervous,” Carlos had said instead of asking, already being able to identify the signs at this point in their friendship. He had proceeded to take Seb’s hands, which effectively stopped the tapping.

(They weren’t together, officially. Still aren’t. It’s been months of dancing around each other— literally and metaphorically— since that night at homecoming. Both were still too nervous to say anything about the situation. Small, affectionate touches like these, though, they could do.)

“Whatever role you do get, you’re gonna kill,” Carlos continued, and he remembers giving them what was hopefully a relieving smile. “Heck, maybe you should be the one to play Belle.”

“You think?” Seb had said, acting casual. Carlos had felt them tense slightly in his hands, though, and he could hear the same nervous-excitement in their voice after they first told him they wanted to play Sharpay. 

And suddenly, it had clicked.

“Do you want to play Belle?” Carlos asked carefully, and Seb’s face had dropped slightly. 

“Is that dumb?” they asked, and Carlos remembers the words making his heart tug at his chest. As if anything Seb did could ever be dumb.

“I know I don’t have to only play traditionally female roles,” they continued. “Which is why I thought I should play Lumiere, y’know? Since I played a female role last time, and Lumiere is pretty androgynous. And I still would love to play him, it’s just….” they had trailed off, and Carlos had squeezed their hand, urging them to continue.

They had finally turned to face Carlos, taking a deep breath before continuing. “It’s always kind of been a dream of mine,” they admitted. “Going onstage as Belle, under that single spotlight, and just belting out ‘Home’ to an audience made up people, and not of my stuffed animals.”

The last part made Carlos giggle, but everything else they had told him made his heart leap into his throat.

“So, why don’t you audition?” Carlos suggested because, at that moment, he knew Seb needed to. Whether or not they actually get the role, they needed to at least know that they have the ability to go for it.

Meanwhile, Seb was hesitant, like they were searching for an excuse to say no.

“Do you really think I should?” they had said finally.

“I really, really do,” Carlos said, squeezing their hand again.

“What will the others say, though? If I get it? Won’t they think that it would be out of bias because I’m telling you, and you work with Miss Jenn?”

“If I had any say in the cast list, then Ricky Bowen wouldn’t have played Troy Bolton,” Carlos assured them, which had made Seb laugh.

 “But, if I do get a say this time, I promise to do what;’s best for the cast,” he had said. “Let them think what they want, but at the end of the day, we all know that.”

“Okay,” Seb agreed, and that was that. The two had continued to study the movie that night, although this time with a little more attention to Belle’s role.

And while the rest of the cast was extremely talented, Carlos had known Seb was going to play Belle the moment they auditioned, the same way he knew they were going to play Sharpay before the cast list was even posted.

Months later, and Seb was finally on stage for opening night. There had been moments of hesitancy after receiving offhand comments to full-on backlash from ignorant students at the school, as well as some members of the greater Salt Lake region once word got out that Belle wasn’t being played by a girl.

The cast had been nothing but supportive to Seb, though. At the end of the day, it’s what pushed them to work even harder.

Now, they were approaching the moment Carlos had been waiting all night. Ever since Seb had mentioned wanting to perform ‘Home’, one of Belle’s biggest solos in the show, he had been attached to the performance. And after months of Seb perfecting it, he was the most excited for it.

Now was their time.

They had a few scenes on stage that lead up to the actual song itself, but that didn’t bother Carlos. Whenever Seb was on stage, he was captivated watching them in action. It was beyond memorizing to see them become a whole new person, even for a few minutes. If Sharpay hadn’t been enough, seeing them play the lead was damn near magical.

As soon as Ricky left the stage, (he had somehow managed to snag the lead, again) the opening bars began to play. Carlos feels himself take a breath, fixating on Seb as they begin to sing.

Yes, I made the choice.

For Papa, I will stay.

But I don't deserve to lose my freedom in this way,

You monster!

Carlos had already heard them rehearse it maybe 100 times, every time just as flawless. But this time, seeing them on stage with the costume, and makeup, and an audience, and that single spotlight.

It’s real.

More than that. Surreal. Like some sort of real-time fantasy.

As the ballad builds, it becomes more than a song. Maybe not to the audience, but to Carlos, and definitely to Seb.

He can’t imagine earlier in the year when they were doing High School Musical that they ever thought they would ever get to this point, and now here they were, living out their dream. It represents every obstacle they had to overcome to get to this point.

It was beyond inspiring, and Carlos feels so lucky to be able to experience it.

The longer the song goes on, the more vulnerable Seb becomes, and Carlos can see at least half the cast— including himself—on the verge of tears. (He feels bad for the girl playing Madame de la Grande Bouche, who has to make an entrance the moment the song ends.)

Is this home?

Am I here for a day or forever?

Shut away from the world until who knows when?

Watching someone play their dream role is always magical. Even more so now, watching Seb.

Build higher walls around me.

Change every lock and key.

Nothing lasts,

Nothing holds all of me.

The song ends with a surge of applause so loud that for a moment Carlos can’t hear anything, and so long that Kourtney has to pause before entering as Mrs. Potts for it to die down. (He’s pretty sure that it’s their family who is whooping and hollering so loudly.) Seb doesn’t break character of course, but Carlos can see their lips twitching slightly, the sign that they’re forcing away the urge to break out in a smile. 

Eventually, the scene does continue. It’s a short one though, and Seb exits onto Carlos’s side of the stage. Immediately, he envelopes them in the biggest, tightest hug he can give. (Which is a rarity for him; Seb is more of the hugger in their friendship.) It might not have been him on stage, or him playing his dream role, but Carlos’s chest is bursting with so many positive emotions that he can’t even name as he hugs them close. 

He loosens his arms around Seb after a moment, leaning back so he can see their face.

“You did it!” Carlos whispers, quiet enough so their mic won’t pick it up. 

They nod, not being able to say anything, but Carlos can see them almost on the verge of tears. He can practically hear them telling him “I did, didn’t I?”

They stand in silence, arms still wrapped around each other, and Carlos realizes after a moment how close their faces are. If Seb’s mic wasn’t on, and they weren’t wearing makeup, and backstage in the middle of a show, nothing would be stopping him from closing the distance between them right then and there. 

He does have to let them go eventually to prepare for their next entrance, but the thought stays in his mind all the way until intermission. 

As soon as the curtains close, Carlos immediately starts to search for Seb. There’s nothing more that he wants in the world than to sit down with them and talk about that song for hours. Unfortunately, they’re on a time limit, and if Carlos wants to see them at all, he has to hurry.

Carlos finds him after a few minutes in one of the dressing rooms across from the bomb shelter. The room is empty except for the mirror where they’re reapplying hairspray.

The moment Seb spots Carlos, though, they’re back in his arms. This time not as rushed as it was backstage, but the same amount of excitement and sweetness and comfort that makes Carlos want to stay in this position forever.

And before he can get a word out, Seb kisses him. It’s quick, and he can feel the makeup rubbing off onto his face, but his hands immediately go up to cup Seb’s face

Seb pulls away (Carlos wishes they didn’t.) “Hi,” they whisper, smiling.

“Hey,” he says back, still cupping their face.

“That was for you,” they tell him, and Carlos can still feel waves of nerves and excitement coming off of them.

“The song or the kiss?”

“Both,” they say breathlessly. “Everything that I’ve done tonight was because of you.”

Carlos smiles, shaking his head. “That was all you, baby,” he tells them, and Seb blushes slightly from the pet name. 

Then, he leans back in kissing Seb even longer and deeper than before. He can hear chattering from the cast and the tech kids calling out warnings for intermission ending soon, but they’ll deal with that in a second. At this moment it’s just the two of them, both having lived their dreams tonight.

This time it’s Carlos that pulls away. “And that was for you. For your amazing performance, and everything else tonight.”

“Just tonight?” Seb asks slyly.

“For you. Always,” he corrects, and he knows they’re both blushing but it doesn’t matter. 

“You have lipstick on your face,” they giggle, reaching up to wipe it away.

“So do you,” Carlos says, mirroring the action. “You might want to touch up your makeup a bit before you have to get back out there.”

“Okay,” Seb says, but they don’t make a move towards their makeup kit. Instead, they lean in and kiss Carlos again.

“Okay,” they say again, this time actually letting go.

As much as he doesn’t want to, Carlos waves them goodbye. As much as he wants to stay in that room with Seb, they’ve been working on this show for months, and arguably is more important. He needs to check in with Miss Jenn before intermission is over, and he’ll see them backstage. They’ll talk more when the show is over at Denny’s, maybe skip the cast party to hang out together, who knows. 

(And no, he still has no idea what they are or what this means. That doesn’t really matter either though. He’s found a home with Seb, and that’s enough.)

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

Finally, the chapter is here. It took a while to get it done and it's been a struggle in some ways.

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it despite long waiting :)

Your comments mean the world to me even though I don't always have time to answer each of you. <3

BIG thanks to my beta @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur <3 She's truly a gem and has saved this chapter from miserable failure. I can't give you enough credits, Anne. But I'm glad to have you on this journey with me.

Part II will follow shortly after this one, possibly on Thursday :)

P.S. For the better atmosphere I recommend you to put on Dire Straits song "Romeo and Juliet" :)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJmER493F4U

A link for AO3.

Enjoy! ♥

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

                                   CHAPTER IV: Lovestruck. Part I

"I'm taking ye on a wee trip, Claire." Jamie stood in the doorway of the locker room, car keys in his right hand. "Ye need fresh air, ye look like yer about to fall down".

My mind froze for a second taken aback by his (dashing as always) appearance.

"Jamie, I can't. I -"

He did not let me finish raising his hand up, gesturing me to be quiet.

"There is no 'I can't' or 'No'. I dinna accept that." He stepped closer. "Maybe I am no doctor but I still can see when someone's worn out."

To be very honest he was right. In the last week, I’ve had ten major surgeries, several new patients to care for. I promised Terry to fill in for her and worked two additional shifts. And just thirty minutes ago I finished partial colectomy. I felt completely drained.

“But what about our… date?” I looked at him trying to find my keys buried in the depths of the bag. The word “date” still sounded strange, and sometimes inappropriate for me (I did not know if we were dating or having a friendship with benefits).

“A wee change of plan.” Jamie clicked his tongue, his hand laid at the back of my neck. “This will be our date then. Just ye, me and some nature.” 

He pressed a quick kiss on the spot behind my ear. That soft, tender one that made me wonder, could this be forever? Or will we end up staying just Claire and just Jamie having fun?

"Take her will ye! She willna listen to me," smirked Geillis. "I'll take care of yer wee cheetie while yer away. So dinna fash, lovies.”

I rolled my eyes. Jamie coughed clearly trying to hide a laugh.

“I promise I willna be angry at ye for ruining our cinema time tradition. Just next time it’s my turn to choose a movie”. And just like that, grabbing the house keys from my hands she was gone.

“Tell me there is a hot shower where you’re taking me and I can borrow one of your gym's t-shirts for sleeping?” My head dropped back, fitting perfectly in the space between his collarbone and jaw.

Jamie’s hands circled around my waist locking just above my navel.

“There is a bath, Sassenach. An improvement to yer wee shower.” He nuzzled his nose against my hair. “And I can assure ye, ye willna need a sleeping shirt.”

A habit of falling asleep almost anywhere was my superpower. After we got into Jamie’s crossover Peugeot with Tesco groceries for our breakfast I immediately dozed off. The last time I sat in his car was two weeks ago, exactly three days after our first real date as Jamie called it. 

Appearing at the hospital without any warning, he volunteered to bring me home after work. Though the GPS in Jamie’s phone had announced that the distance between Braid Road and Lauderdale street was just fifteen minutes I didn’t walk out of the car for at least thirty. I laughed needing to admit that sex in the car is not as comfortable as it looks on TV. Jamie frantically searched the glovebox for a condom while creating a mess of tissues, mints, and papers. I struggled with the front seat that didn’t want to go down. Though in the end, nothing was an obstacle. Later that evening as I prepared for bed, I welcomed the hickey starting to bloom bright purple on my neck.

I felt very much cozy in his car (despite previous activity here). Jamie had turned the seat warmer on (making fun of me for not handling Scottish weather “Ye English, weak creatures”). Shamelessly, I stole his coat to cover my always-cold-legs. The soft blur of Mark Knopfler’s voice on the radio and passing lights were the ones that made me sleepy. I awoke sometime later, noticing the familiar scenery disappeared and the darkness of the countryside had eaten all the electric lights. Jamie’s hand rested on my knee, his thumb drawing patterns that he only knew. He had a dreamy, faraway look about him. There was no GPS this time. Jamie knew his way, leading us through the Highlands where the history was almost palpable. Like that time (four days after car sex) when I had come back from a late shift at the hospital and called him.

It was the day I seemed to be annoyed with everything and everybody. I felt annoyed with Geillis and her endless discussion about her latest sexual encounter. With Adso for weeing on my fluffy bathroom rug. Even my touchpad on my phone betrayed me! Wasting my time on my coffee break with coffee that tasted like an old sock. Does it ever stop raining? And Jamie left for a four day trip to Broch Mordha. But most of all I was annoyed with myself for coming to the realization that I actually missed him.

I was exhausted. Too tired to cook, I ate three spoons of quinoa cold straight out of the fridge. Falling into bed, I felt each sore muscle in my back as I stared into the ceiling for minutes or possibly hours. I managed to get out of my clothes and just crawl under the duvet not showered, naked, with makeup on. Breaking all of my three own rules.

Jamie’s number was dialled in seconds without any hesitation (my fourth rule was broken as well). He picked up after five long beeps (I actually counted).

“Sassenach?” His voice deep with sleep.

Christ. What a smart one you are, Beauchamp. Normal people sleep at one am. He was asleep, clearly.

“Claire?” He shifted, readjusting position, sheets rustling in the background. “If someone abducted ye and yer calling me now to come and get ye, ye gotta let me know. Otherwise, I really would like to get back to my warm pillow. Of course, it’s not as nice as when yer with me but…”

There was banter in his voice but suddenly I felt ashamed, foolish for calling him like that. (Hoping for what exactly? )

"I’m sorry. I did not realize it was so late." 

The incoherent mumbling poured out of me then. I was telling him all about how annoyed I was all day, about the rug I probably would have to throw away, how can’t I sleep now and a million other things before he finally shushed me.

“I miss ye too, Sassenach.”

My mind stilled then. The warmth rising up somewhere inside, behind my breastbone and running down to my cold fingers and toes, creating the sun under my skin.

“Do ye want me to tell ye a story to sleep?”

He told me then all about ancient castles, about the brave Highlanders and the battles they fought, Jacobite rebellions, mythical creatures and tales of the mountains. He was a born storyteller.  Charming in fact. 

I had fallen asleep feeling his presence even though he was away.

Jamie looked like he belonged here. With the mountains and grassy moors. With Knopfler’s voice singing "You and me, babe, how about it?".

“I did not know you were Dire Straits fan”. The smile crept in and took possession of my lips as I whispered my silent observation. His eyes fixed on me for mere seconds but long enough to drown in the blue depths of them once again. He looked at me in a way that made me shiver, made me feel a growing warmth mixed with lust that went deep down to the marrow of my bones. The navy of his slightly slanted eyes dug inside and stamped a mark at the very bottom of my core. That same look he gave me when I sat only-knickers-on at his bed legs crossed some days ago.

I could feel the blue marks getting born under my skin at the tender layer of paleness on my thighs where he held me just minutes ago (the bitterness of vague pain as his fingers pressed onto the tops of my flesh and the hot wave of my release making my stomach turn). Jamie’s place was a small studio on the outskirts of Edinburgh. It felt half empty and lonely, screamed for a touch of coziness. He’d explained he stays mostly in Broch Mordha with family. After his mom died a couple of years ago there was an aching hole and need for them to be together.

Jamie fell silent when we stood in the shower, hot water washing off the memories of my own parent's death. We slept. Together, limbs tangled under the rumpled sheets, Jamie’s warm hands soothing the marks he had left on me. That morning I’d said to him I wanted it easy and fun. “I don’t want to hurt you or myself. I want us to live in this moment. Just Claire and Jamie. No promises no regrets.”

“ I wouldna wish to hurt ye, Sassenach. Not ever.”

Then he stated more than asked, “It’s just Claire and Jamie having fun, see where it leads us, aye?”

For two nights, I dreamt about him. Of touching him. Of his swollen lip from my kiss. Of the way his breath hitched when he whispered “Claire”. I was painfully, utterly aware of him, of his presence making residence somewhere deep inside me. I lived with his smell (sharp and clean, hay and crisp air) which seemed to be everywhere, in each cell of mine and at the back of my throat.

Now my life consisted of flirty texting nonstop (I did not know I was able to do that being 32 years old anymore), of occasional Skype sessions when Jamie was away to Broch Mordha (me with a messy curly bun and old pajamas, glass of wine in one hand and Adso snuggling beside me; Jamie bare chest, bloody furnace he was, with whisky and his nieces and nephews popping to the screen from time to time). 

One of those evenings young Jamie had asked his uncle who I was. (“that doctor lady ye talk a lot with, Ma says ye fancy her, is she yer girlfriend?”)

My heart skips a bit then waiting for Jamie’s answer. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to hear it (as if I hoped for something more, just drop it, Beauchamp). By now I’ve spent enough time with Jamie to know that his face could not hide any emotion. He would be the worst liar on Earth and there’s nothing that could be done about it. It was all there. Written on his face and easy for anyone to read. The tips of his ears became scarlet red as he shot a look to me on the screen and then back to his nephew who now was waving to me.

“Well, I do fancy Claire, aye.”

Before my smitten mind could conjure up any appropriate response wee Maggie was in the screen, climbing onto Jamie’s lap and pointing her little finger at me.

“Will ye marry her then, uncle Jamie?”

I choked on my wine and nearly spilled it on peacefully sleeping Adso.

“Should I call her doctor Claire, uncle Jamie?” Little girl shifted on Jamie’s laps looking up at him.

“Noooo, we should call her Auntie Claire!” Her brother grinned back.

“Yer wee devils, ye’ll make a lady uncomfortable and we dinna want that, right? Let yer uncle talk in peace. Jenny, mo cridhe?”

It was the voice of Brian Fraser. It was hard not to recognize as it had the same soft blur to it as Jamie’s. I haven’t seen him, neither the rest of Jamie’s family. Only his nephew and niece. It was a territory which was sort of forbidden to trespass. Because if we did it would mean we have something more than just a fling. The truth was we both did not know what it was between us. And what we wanted it to be?

“ C’mon. Get off yer uncle, the two of ye. There’s warm milk and shortbread cookies in the kitchen.” Jenny’s hands appeared on the screen helping the children off Jamie’s lap.

Of course, Jamie talked about me with his family. I did not know what he’d shared and how much they knew but I was grateful for them for respecting my private boundaries. I wasn’t ready to meet them but also there was never a discussion of such a possibility. It’s just that they knew about the existence of Claire Beauchamp as I knew Jamie’s family was very important to him. It was enough.

When we arrived at our final destination, it was pitch dark outside. On the way here I saw the sign that said Loch Lomond. We stood in front of the grey stoned cottage surrounded by mountains peeking out in the darkness. The stillness and quietness of the place was disturbed by the only sound of car engine still running on. A narrow stone walkway with shrubs of French Hydrangea and Azalea alongside led straight to a big wooden door. “Taigh Beann” it said at the very top of it, carved into the bronze plate that hung above.

“Gaelic.” Jamie explained setting our groceries bags down. “It means House of the Mountains.”

The inside reminded me of a house of my grandparents where I spent many summers until the age of five. It was filled with all kinds of vases and figurines, large, dusty paintings of nature in gold frames, books of all imaginable kinds. The old, burgundy patterned rug laid in the living room where I squealed happily to find a fireplace. In the centre stood big brown leather couch the kind I hated in the summer because it made my skin stick to it. In the corner where green velvet armchair nestled, we found an oak round table. The bedroom was small but light. The bed was centered under a glorious skylight offering the promise of a magnificent view of a starry night sky. But the main attraction was the bathroom. My mouth dropped open and I grabbed Jamie’s hand in excitement. What I saw was stunningly beautiful. The floor was lined with marble tiles, the windows extended from floor to ceiling and ran the length of the wall. Imagine what breathtaking scenery might be outside. The centerpiece of the room was a large clawfoot bathtub big enough for two.

“I told ye there’s an improvement to yer shower, Sassenach” Jamie winked leaving me to stand astonished by the view.

Sometime later I sat in the armchair that Jamie had moved for me to the fireplace (saying that I probably lived in Spain or Greece in my previous life). He himself retreated to the kitchen with a promise of dinner. I watched the flames dance and collide together all the same as we did. We’ve known each other for the past four weeks but sometimes it felt like a lifetime. 

Our days together consisted of talking about everything and nothing, snuggling up on my couch watching Netflix, of Jamie cuddling Adso all the time. Of me ordering takeaways and only cooking breakfasts in case if Jamie stayed for the night. We used to hit the pubs once a week and get obnoxiously drunk. Then, of course, there was sex. And some more sex. We were travelling back and forth between my apartment and his studio. Jamie had fixed something in my car after he had driven it once cursing that I could have killed myself and how on earth I did not hear that sound? His toothbrush that we picked up together at Boots now lived in my bathroom and my pink cat pajamas took a residence in his closet. At the times we were not together my phone buzzed every other hour. We talked so much that I had to consider having a second mobile phone not to let my private life intervene with work. And suddenly now it struck me. What is going on Beauchamp? What has happened to you?

“I don’t like it.”  My fingers typed a text hitting the button Send to Geillis.

Three dots appeared.

“What’s that?”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“Ye mean what he has in his pants? I thought it was all perfect till now…”

Before I could reply to her in a hateful manner another two texts appeared on the screen.

“Did he bring ye to a dark forest and now ye need help to escape? What was that movie about serial killer we watched..?”

“All joking aside, what’s wrong, Claire?”

My teeth sunk into the bottom lip as I tried to conclude what I felt. Control. There it was. I was losing it. Control over the situation, my feelings, over myself. Suddenly all my life always ordered and stable went down the hill adjusting to one James Fraser. I didn’t realize just till now how much I allowed him to creep under my skin in such a short time. Usual Claire wouldn’t let anyone take her away to some trip on a whim. At least I would have bartered with him or set my conditions.

A painful lump in my throat seemed to travel down and settle around my heart squeezing it. I thought there was actual physical pain. I knew what made me feel so insecure. It was the way Jamie made me feel. Safe, cherished, loved (?). He was always there. Ready to be my strength and help. My safe place to come back to, where all my masks would come off and my vulnerable self stands. 

Like the time I caught a cold but have been so busy I had no time even to take any medicine.

Geillis dropped a pharmacy bag on my lap with a smirk on her face. “That’s from yer laddie. I dinna recall Frank ever did it to ye.” Inside there was a box of paper tissues, lozenges for sore throat, a box of Theraflu, and a little jar that looked like a jam with a yellow sticky note on it.

“I’m sure yer to busy being wrists-deep into a human that ye dinna have time to get any medicine. Even Jenny heard yer cough over the phone yesterday. Btw, that’s her handmade raspberry jam, especially for ye. I couldna get it to ye myself, have business at the brewery. Take care. Xxx.”

I grabbed a tissue from the box pretending I had a runny nose but in truth, there was a swell of tears. Geillis only smiled and left me alone staring at the bag Jamie put together for me.

Or the time when I had to cancel our date being summoned to work.

There were times I felt confident in what I was doing. But there were moments when even years of studying and experience did not give me enough confidence facing the difficult surgeries. I was half ready for the theatre play we were going to visit when our plans got interrupted. I had to be in the surgery for repair of aneurysm. Calling Jamie and mumbling “Sorry” every other second I could not stop myself from letting him know that I was actually anxious.

“There also might be a loss of blood flow to the legs from a blood clot…”

" Ye'll do just fine, Sassenach. Dinna fash. Ye have done this before, right?” He asked softly.

“Yes. But you can never guess possible complications and…” I sighed getting into my car. “Do ye think I am a bad surgeon?”

“I dinna think that, Claire. I ken that yer an excellent one. And ye shouldna ever doubt yerself. How long will it take?”

“ Three to five hours.”

“ I’m verra proud of ye, Sassenach.”

Despite my worries, the surgery went smooth. The patient was sent to ICU and was stable. I felt if the train ran over me. It was 6 am by the time I finally made it out of the hospital. Jamie’s car was standing outside and I rubbed my eyes thinking I’m imagining it. I wasn’t.

“What are you doing here?” I asked when I reached the car. “How long have you been here?”

Jamie took a sip of coffee, handing me a paper Starbucks cup.

“About two and a half hours I suppose. Didna want to miss ye.”

“Oh Jamie” I bit my lip and locked arms around his neck, my head dropped to his chest. “You didn’t need to do it but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Aye, I did.” His lips softly brushed over my temple. “How did it go?”

“Very well.” I whispered feeling my eyelids burn with the exhaustion of doing surgery for four hours.

Despite my weak protests, he brought me home. Sent me into the shower and by the time I was done he’d made scrambled eggs for me, watched that I ate all of it, loaded the dishwasher, cleaned up Adso’s litter tray and finally put me to bed as if I was a child. On the edge of sleep, I reached for his cheek, cupping it gently. “Where did you come from? Surely you’re not real”

He chuckled catching my hand to plant a kiss on each finger. “As far as I ken Ellen and Brian Frasers are the ones to blame for my existence. Sleep now, mo duinne.”

Another text from Geillis popped on the screen.

“Do ye like him?”

There I typed something I was afraid to acknowledge, something I would not be able to say out loud. But something that my fingers managed to write down on a cold white screen.

“I think I’m falling for him, Geillis. And it scares me. It scares the hell out of me.”

Three dots appeared and then stopped. And appeared again.

“Oh yer my wee poor thing. I tell ye this. Go with the flow, dinna force things but dinna resist either. I bet the lad likes ye more than ye think. He likes ye, ye like him. Just let it happen, Claire. It will lead ye to something eventually. And if ye need my shoulder to cry on, I am always there for ye.”

* * *

James Fraser was never sure what love is or what it felt like. Of course, he loved his family. He loved his sister and his nephews. Jamie would have turned the world upside down for them. He loved Ian who was like a brother to him. At the age of thirteen, Jamie thought he was in love with the neighbour’s daughter Maryl. She was bonnie. Tall and elegant with long ruddy hair just like his. He loved the feeling when they kissed. But then Brian Fraser told his youngest son that when he would meet the right woman he’ll feel it. From that time on Jamie has always remembered his Da’s words. Every time he tried to catch that feeling but it never was right. Until the moment he met Claire Beauchamp. It was as a stab into his heart and she was the only one who could stop the bleeding. As much as he tried to understand how this woman can make him want to ravish her until there’s nothing left of her and at the same time cradle and love her as the most precious thing in the world he still couldn’t. But Jamie knew he was falling in love with her and she would be the end of him.

Jamie’s voice was soft and slightly husky as he murmured along with the music playing from his phone. The kitchen was filled with a delicious smell of the meat he’d cooked and I needed to smile at the candles he had put on the table. Who would think there was a romantic inside this big Scot. My heart shattered just a bit with a sound of old cracks in it with each step I took finally reaching him from the back.

“Sassenach.”

My hands circled around him, face pressed to his broad back.

“You want to know a secret?”

“I do if it is something yer willing to share”. I could feel him smile without a need to see his face.

“I fancy you, Jamie. Very much.” My confession mirrored his that was said days ago.

“Do ye now, mo ghraidh?” He turned then to me grinning.

“What does it mean? You called me that before.” Now I smiled being trapped in his arms.

“I tell ye sometime later.” Jamie leaned in to kiss me. For a second it made me forget about our dinner. But he pulled off before I could make further implications on him.

“I have a lot of excellent plans for us tomorrow.”

“Oh do you then?” I could not resist patting his arse.

He smiled.

“Oh aye. I do.”

The rain started to fall down washing the day off as well as my worries.