#this long-ass ramble was inspired by the fact that I just spent a day with my friends after only a day's warning

[billiuspendragon]

Okay I'm kinda talking out my ass/projecting my own autism onto Saiki here but:

Though Saiki is an unreliable narrator and truly loves his friends, I think some of his resentment over hanging out with them is real, and I can understand it.

I am a person who can readily admit I love my friends, and I do like to socialise, but I need plenty of warning beforehand and time to recuperate afterwards, because socialising takes effort. When I'm invited to do something or hang out with friends, I almost always feel a shadow of resentment about it - even if it's a thing I want to do and with people I like. It still feels like I'm losing out on a day of doing jack-shit. Cancelling on doing jack-shit is still cancelling on plans, even if those plans were just "wake up, write fanfiction, draw pictures, etc." and it throws me off. I feel like I can't enjoy spending time with my friends unless I give myself time to get excited about it, and if it happens too suddenly I find myself shutting down or floating away a bit.

Now, if we look at Saiki, who's friendship with all these people was pretty much built on these kinds of interactions, and add those to his deep-rooted belief that he doesn't deserve friends, that resentment and anxiety must be even more strong. I think the fact that Saiki obviously grows to care for his friends really shows his deep desire for connection, even more so if we go with the interpretation that some of his negative feelings about them are real.

My point with this ramble isn't to say "Saiki really does find the others annoying and therefore doesn't like them" but rather the opposite. On some level, Saiki is "tolerating" being out of his comfort zone, but the fact that he's willing to do this for his friends shows that he really does care about them.

[duck-in-a-thrift-store]

Personal rant bc we haven't gotten my official results yet but we did get a very stressful phone call about it, and because adhd has been kicking my ass lately. This is going to be long and rambly and all over the place, and if you're anti self-dx, I wouldn't suggest reading further (or interacting with me in general). It also sort of becomes just me psychoanalyzing my own behavior and infodumping about it

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

For context, I'm autistic and adhd, and I went and talked to a psychologist a couple weeks ago and had some testing done

Personally, I don't really feel the need to have an official diagnosis for autism. I'm confident in my informed self-diagnosis (technically it was actually my parents who first suggested I might be autistic but I've learned a lot about it since then and now I'm pretty sure I'm more convinced than they are) and I just don't think a doctor's note will do much for me (totally understand and support anyone who does want to get diagnosed tho). Adhd however is another story. If I want meds that will actually work and accommodations with my school, they need proof, and as things are I am desperate for some help.

So the appointment I had a couple weeks ago was supposed to be for adhd testing, but apparently he also lowkey tested me for autism while we were there. Which like, fine, whatever, it would be sort of nice to have that validated I guess, but when we checked back in with him on the phone earlier this week he started using outdated and problematic terms like high-functioning and aspergers and I'll just say that it did not exactly inspire confidence

But that can of worms aside, let me get back to (mostly) adhd related ranting

I feel like there could be an essay about how the diagnostic process for adhd is flawed and doesn't work all that well for people who have an internalized notion that their worth as a person is dependent on their academic success and task performance and therefore spent their childhood and adolescence funneling all their efforts time and attention into school and generally being seen as a good well-behaved bright kid out of desperation to have value (and it worked- I've always made good grades, but what people don't see is the days, weeks, months of paralyzed procrastination, the anxiety-fueled mad rush in the end to get things done late, and the grace I'm inexplicably shown every time, without which my grades would be much worse)

I'm scared, that I'm going to be determined "too high functioning" to be diagnosed even though I'm currently doing basically nothing with my life outside of college and yet I'm technically failing like half of my classes right now, that they're going to say "well the signs weren't there when you were younger" even though there's a variety of explanations for why that might be, not the least of which being the fact that for some folks with both autism and adhd the traits of the two have a tendency to "hide" one another

Apparently he also ran an iq test on me, and he broke down the 5 scores to us; I scored in the upper average/above average bracket in all but the 4th, processing speed, in which I'm below average. And like yeah, I'm well aware that I'm slow, but I guess it's official now-

Anyway, my main point with the iq thing was that while he was telling us about my high scores in the first 3 areas, I'm sitting here getting more and more uneasy, bc I'm like yeah sure I'm intelligent or whatever but it isn't worth shit if I can't motivate myself to actually do anything with that potential, and the conditions under which I was tested just don't reflect my day to day life closely enough to give an accurate reading, in my opinion.

Basically I'm afraid this guy is going to look at the results of some tests- tests which I was really focused on bc of the intrinsic fear of failure that plagues my existence (even though rationally I know you can't fail a psychological evaluation) and bc I know it's a bitch of a process to even get tested in the first place and I wasn't going to waste the opportunity goddammit-

That he's going to look at them and decide that I'm "too smart" to have a learning disability, when, again, all the brains in the world wouldn't do me any good if I

1) don't have the ability to self-motivate and direct them at what I need to be working on, even if I've been beating myself up about that pile of homework or my disaster of a room for weeks or even months, and

2) have such a loose grasp on the concept of time and priorities that I have on multiple occasions found myself pulling all-nighters on personal projects or reading for pleasure or scrolling on my phone only to realize oh shit I have to get up for school in like two hours, oh fuck, I'm going to be exhausted all day, what happened to "let's go to sleep early this time, I'll just do this for like 5 more minutes and then call it a night"

or realize after one of those all-nighters that what was actually a period of about 10 hours feels more like 10 minutes to me ("man wasn't I literally just here to get dinner" the next morning, passing the caf on my way to class on exactly 0 hours of sleep and still having managed not to get any of my actual class work done in all that time)

And also just that tendency in itself is significant, to get so deeply hooked on something once it does manage to get my attention, that I often feel like I can't stop until outside forces demand it- staying up until 4am on a school night painting my phone case and texting my crush (14 or 15), making bracelet after bracelet at the kitchen table at ungodly hours of the night because I couldn't sleep and now that I'm on a roll I don't want to break the momentum (18, a few months ago), throwing horrific amounts of time at reading fanfiction of whatever series currently has my interest when I have so much work that needs to get done if I want to have a chance at passing my courses this semester (18, basically present), making a last minute birthday present for my aunt and being so caught up in the rush and the craft of what I was working on that I ignored my body's needs until I ended up pissing myself (12), etc

The fact that I've been meaning to catch up with my high school friends for weeks or months, literally something as simple as a "how have yall been" in the group chat, yet for some reason I still haven't gotten around to it

The fact that for all my alleged intelligence I still haven't learned to ride a bike or drive a car or apply for a job or develop a work-life balance or play any of the instruments I want to or have a thriving social life or feel like a person (I think these are more autism-related but I'm throwing them in anyway)

The fact that minor (or even just mistakenly perceived) disapproval or judgment or teasing or having a text left on read can send me spiraling into anxiety and convinced that everyone hates me and that I'm worthless or obnoxious or stupid (rejection sensitivity is a bitch)

The fact that when I try to read I have to make a constant conscious effort not to jump ahead and all over the place and I often have to reread the same passage multiple times to understand it because I realize that I wasn't actually paying attention the first couple of times, my mind elsewhere and my eyes wandering

I know even if I do get diagnosed they'll say it's inattentive, not hyperactive or combined, because the majority of my hyperactivity is either fairly subtle movements (because I'm socially anxious and clumsy and don't want to draw attention to myself or run the risk of breaking or disturbing something) or just straight up in my head. Like sure I'm not a nine year old boy who can't sit still in class and is constantly bouncing around all over the place and getting into trouble and driving his parents and teachers crazy (bc being seen as annoying and unruly by authority figures would have broken me), but there's always so much noise in my brain, it's always talking or playing music in the background or thinking about the 47 different projects I need to be working on and the media it wants to be engaging with instead and the 1000s of things there are to worry about in a day; sometimes I'll get stuck in a loop where I'm mentally repeating a word or phrase over and over and over again until I feel like I'm going crazy

All of this is stuff that this guy doesn't see, and that worries me when it comes to the validity of his assessment

But basically, what I'm trying to say is, I swear to god if the people around me don't believe that there's clearly something not neurotypical going on here I'm going to fucking riot

And, ranting aside, I want to end this post with a note to all my fellow neurodiverse folks who are waiting for answers or treatment or validation or support or whatever.

I feel you. Hang in there. You have my well wishes in your endeavors. And remember, it's ok to be happy with or proud of who you are and what makes you different, it's ok to embrace your neurodiversity while also acknowledging how difficult it can be to live with and the fact that you might need extra time or support with things that seem to come easily to other people. It's ok to admit that it's fucking hard sometimes, and it's ok to ask for help. Take care, mates

[imfearlessfics]

Chapter 2: The Beginning

Song: No Celestial by LESSERAFIM

Pairing: Yunjin x female reader

Genre: Fluff, funny, romance

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and panic attack, explicit language

Word count: 1.2k

3 years earlier …

Holy shit. 

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit, that’s Huh Yunjin. 

Can bi-panic be a thing? I guess that wouldn’t make sense if I like men and women because liking a man is to be expected but so is liking a woman, but I’ve never dated a woman so would this classify as bi-panic? I mean if I really break it down - 

God, even my internal ramblings are insufferable. Pull it together, y/n.

But honestly, how can I? Has there ever been a more perfect human? She’s stunning. I’m halfway across a giant building, and I can see that clear as day. The long brown hair with just the right amount of wave to give it an “I-woke-up-like-this” look, but I know it took at least two stylists to make it curl like that. The cute bags under her eyes that make her that much more precious. The button nose that scrunches up when she laughs. And that smile. 

My goodness, that smile is everything. Bright and perfect and angelic and … can a smile even be angelic? I’ve never seen an angel; How would I know what their smiles look like? Do angels smile? I mean I say I’ve never seen an angel, but looking at her, I just - 

God dammit, there I go again. 

How can she make me this flustered from across the room? I’ve never even met the woman. 

Wait. I’ve never met her, but I very well could! I’ll be working in the same building as her. What if I bump into her in the hallways? What if we lock gazes in the cafeteria? What if we like to go on walks at the same time every morning and we end up awkwardly running into each other every single day and then -

Stay cool, y/n. You didn’t come all the way to South Korea to have a meltdown on the first day. 

I haven’t always wanted to travel. In fact, I spent most of my life preparing for the ordinary. Mortgages, tax returns, sensible footwear … But after COVID, I got an itch I just couldn’t scratch. There was so much world to see, and despite sometimes feeling invincible in my 20’s, tomorrow is never promised. So I dove right into the deep end. I started taking Korean classes at the local university, did mind-numbing amounts of research, and just did the thing. 

As simple as I try to make it sound, though, I’ve never done something more challenging. My self-esteem was buried six feet under for the longest time. I took up as little space as possible, spoke quietly and only when spoken to, and I just felt stuck. My insecurities were chains that kept me trapped in a cycle of hopelessness. I fell into a funk and almost gave up on the whole thing. Korean was kicking my ass, applying for jobs in a different continent was so confusing, and I constantly questioned if I was good enough to make content for such a big company.

And then I heard LESSERAFIM for the first time, and everything just clicked. The powerful lyrics, their work ethic, the transparency of their journey - I saw myself in them, and I got a new rush of inspiration to follow my dreams. 

It’s been two years of non-stop grinding, but I am now standing in the lobby of Hybe (holy shit), getting ready to start my first day as a content creator for Source Music. It sounds too good to be true, but trust me when I say that years of hard work, dedication, and -

Oh my god, why is she closer than she was a couple of minutes ago? Oh my god she is walking in my direction. My direction? It’s not really my direction, I don’t own it or anything. The direction that I’m in? Towards the general vicinity? 

Y/n, shut up and focus. 

“Annyeonghaseyo” Did she just say hi to me? Why are my lips not fucking moving? Say something - anything! What was the point of all those Korean lessons if you can’t say one freaking -

“Annyeonghaseyo. Mwohsseul deulilkkayo?” Why is someone asking me what I want? Oh …

Her (gorgeous) smile is for the barista. At the cafe. That I’m currently standing right next to. I forgot I was grabbing a coffee before the introductory meeting. I also forgot to pick my jaw up off the floor as she walked by, so I probably look like I’m losing oxygen right by the freakin’ latte machine. 

I love when I play it cool. Just love it. 

I quickly grab my cup that’s been sitting there for goodness knows how long and shuffle to the elevators. Dying from embarrassment wasn’t on the list of things to do on my first day, but we love a good plot twist. 

The ride up to the 4th floor is agonizing. I don’t know when the nerves started kicking in, but I can feel it building in my chest. Come on, y/n. Not today. Please not today. 

I’ve had anxiety since I can remember, but years of therapy have helped me come up with ways to lessen the blow when my brain decides to have a cortisol rager. Deep breaths, counting backwards from 100, tucking my knees to my chest. They’ve all worked to an extent, but the thing that brings me back to earth the quickest is something my mom taught me when I was young. 

“Put your hand over your heart, y/n. Close your eyes, and say ‘I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe.’ Think of the things that bring you peace, and don’t stop until you understand that you’re not in danger.” Years of therapy, and this works better than just about anything. 

I look at my reflection in the elevator doors. Brown, curly hair, brown eyes, and a whopping 5’4” - average. That’s what I always thought about myself, but I’m starting to realize the beauty in my figure. I have thick thighs with beautiful stretch marks and a tummy that sticks out ever so slightly. “That’s a full belly, sweetheart. And it’s beautiful,” my mom used to say. My hair is just as stubborn as I am, with curls that get tangled if someone even breathes near me. But my favorite feature is my tattoo. A red snake that runs the length of my right arm. It’s easy to think I got it just cuz I’d look badass, and while I absolutely do look badass, it’s more than that. Red is the color of passion and love, and snakes represent transformation and creativity. I spent my whole life doubting myself - doubting that I’d ever amount to anything great. But in the last couple of years, I’ve realized how much power I truly hold. I refuse to spend any more energy believing that I’m not worth it, and this tattoo represents that growth. 

Existential thoughts in the Hybe elevator … take it down a couple notches, y/n.

I place my hand over my chest just like my mom said, and repeat the mantra. “I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe.” I’m interrupted when I hear the ding of the elevator, and I cautiously step out. I’ve officially made it to the first day of the rest of my life.  

__________________________________________________________

Hi everyone! Hope you like chapter 2:) It's not super exciting, but I wanted to give some backstory to the main character!

[bukojuiice]

— when they read self-insert fanfictions of themselves

ೃ pairings: (izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, and shoto todoroki, x gn! reader)

ೃ  tags: headcanons, tooth rotting fluff and a lot of fanfic cliches

ೃ warnings: none

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

ೃ inspired by the wonderful @leafydraws self-aware bakugo and todoroki art that gave me the serotonin boost to make this! 🥺​

KATSUKI BAKUGO: 

- katsuki knows. he's read it all. mutual pining, enemies to lovers, amnesia fics, fairytale aus, soulmate aus... name it and he's read them at least once. behind your back of course. simply because he’d be too embarrassed to even admit it anyway.

- he’s secretly a hopeless romantic. it's a cute quirk of his that he doesn't want anyone else to know and has become one of the qualities that you absolutely adore about him. his mother's fascination for rom-coms and romance novels (which, according to him, he had to "suffer" through when he was a kid) fueled his hidden interest in shoujo mangas.

- he reads them because of the beautiful art and the "cool and bad-ass" male love interests that he wants to portray in real life to impress you. but alas, your man just outright exposes himself when you catch him reading Ouran High School Host Club and My Little Monster, two manga series that feature adorkable and care-free male protagonists whom are the exact opposite of everything your boyfriend stands for.

- and so, romance fics are not a foreign concept to him. he's especially interested in mafia aus because he is absolutely enthralled over the fact that people headcanon him as a sexy mafia boss or in royal aus, where he’s this hot and bad-ass king of a prosperous kingdom. you bet he reads them at 3 in the morning on AO3 with his phone's brightness on the low. sometimes, he tries to sniff away his tears because how are these writers able to write him damn good? it’s the ✨characterization and hurt/comfort for bakugo ✨

SHOTO TODOROKI:

- your icy-hot cutie has absolutely no idea what fanfictions are. in fact, he doesn’t even know how (y/n)/reader-insert fics even work or how you’re supposed to read them.

- fanfiction is a very foreign concept to him. well, it isn’t necessarily your traditional book or novel that you can find on your shelf or in the bookstore like harry potter or percy jackson, so you understood his naivete on this particular subject very well. when you introduced shoto to the concept of fanfiction and it’s online community however, it was as if he had opened the doors to a new world.

- “what does (y/n) mean?” he innocently asks one time. (oh god he’s truly a pure and sweet cinnamon roll who could do nothing wrong in this world.) “it means your name.” you reply promptly, quietly giggling at your boyfriend’s curiosity.

“oh... so should i read it like this? shoto gazed into shoto’s heterochromatic eyes..?”

“shoto babe, t-that’s... not how you read it love.”

- shoto is a fluff connoisseur through and through. baby fics, friends to lovers, sharing a bed, and coffee shop aus are some of his all-time faves. he likes to read fics that are easier to understand and read ones that can bring a quick smile to his face. but, there are times when he gets too invested. one of those times was when he became a little too immersed into a 50k word angst fic (a genre he barely reads by the way) and his pretty eyes are so glued to the screen that when he finished it, he spent half of the entire day being consoled by you because of how emotionally hurt and affected he was. that fic truly made an impact on him and it was going to take a long time before he could gain the courage to read another one soon.

IZUKU MIDORIYA:

- you’ve always known how bookish izuku is from the very beginning. how observant he is, how he tends to ramble and talk about things passionately and in detail are truly some of the traits of someone who reads a lot. it’s no surprise though. izuku is quite a nerd and a fanboy, so him reading stories online about All Might or of superheroes he sees on movies and comic books were not far off.

- in fact, he reads the fics with you. it’s like having a little ol’ book club but only you and your seaweed-haired boyfriend were the only members. magic aus, cross-overs, canon divergence, historical aus, or just anything story-heavy and detailed are his most read. slow burn fics is also where it's ar for him! what’s even better is that you read some of these long ones with him sometimes and its cute to see him so immersed and you just want to pinch his cheeks.

- izu’s really into reading multi-chapter fics. one that can rival actual existing books and novellas. 50k words? that wasn’t a challenge for him. he’d read through everything and he’d ponder over them right after. discussing them with you and just a lot of cute little rambles coming from him that make you fall for him even more.

- when izuku finally gathered the courage to read self-insert fics of him, his flustered expression and shy composure had no end. he was blushing all through out when he read his first drabble (which was only composed of 300 words by the way) because he’s so in awe and so grateful over the fact that people write stories about him and now, it feels like he's part of those same famous people and characters he used to read stories of.

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34 ​  @lovelytarou ​ @ramunegoddess ​, @serossimpy​ @laudthingcat @f0leysgurl

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch. 2

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 4,000+

Masterlist

————————

Sounds of horns and shouting filled the air outside as you stood on the packed bus. Cramped in from every side, it was hard for you to tell where you were going. Not as if you were paying much attention anyways.

“Okay, you left fish and pasta in the fridge… he could use the tv or read a book for entertainment while you are gone…what about…” You ramble incoherently to yourself.

Even though the storm hit Athens hard yesterday, your studio art professor was still having classes today. Forcing you to leave Triton alone at home. You shouldn’t be nervous. There was no reason to. After all, Triton is a god, he was hundreds of years old.

But…, he was still a child. No matter how old or what type of being he is. He could still possibly injure himself or get into trouble. And that single fact alone made you feel sick to your stomach.

“Is this how parents feel leaving their child alone for the first time…?” You groan to yourself, leaning your head forward so it hits the window in front of you.

“Now Approaching *Athens International School of Art*. I repeat, Now—“ The robotic voice announces over the intercom. At the familiar name of your college, you squeeze your way through the other patrons on the bus to make your way to the doors.

Sweet, sweet air, you think to yourself as soon as you exit the bus. It was starting to get way too cramped in there. So much so, you wondered if it was a safety hazard. Though it wasn’t as if you were one to talk, you left a little boy alone—

“Argh!” You scream out, slapping the cheeks of your face. You needed to stop thinking of Triton. He was going to be completely fine. But, what if…

“I’m getting too attached already…” You groan to yourself. It had only been a day. One singular Day. But you were already smitten by the blonde haired child. “It doesn’t help that he's absolutely adorable as well…”

“Who’s adorable?” A voice calls out from behind you, making you jump in surprise. Whipping around, you let out a sigh once you identify who it was.

“Bryce… how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that…”

Bryce Kroger. He was studying abroad at Athens International School of Art for a year just like you except he was instead an architecture major. You met him by coincidence while taking art history so you didn’t know much about the guy, the only thing being the few stories he told you about his home country of Australia.

“Oi! It’s not my fault you're so skittish!” Bryce banters back with a huff.

“Whatever…”

“Eh? Wait, where you heading?” Bryce questions as he watches you walk away, “I thought you had Studio Art on Fridays?”

“I do. I’m heading to the library first though.” You yell back to the tall male who stayed put where he was standing. Not even bothering to follow you.

“You need to stop studying so much!”

“Shut up!”

“IT’S THE TRUTH!”

“SHUT UP!” You scream back with one final huff before storming off. So what if you studied so much. You just wanted to get good grades in the classes that counted. It’s how you got here in the first place. By working your ass off.

Unconsciously, you feel your hand twitch as you open the library door. So what if you spent hours studying. So what if you didn’t go out with friends that often. So what if you didn’t have a social life. So what—

You feel yourself pause, your expression turning sour. Lonely. That’s what you were. You were lonely. A miserable lonely girl.

“Miss!”

Startled out of your thoughts by the sudden call, you realize you were no longer standing at the front door but instead standing in front of one of the librarians. You must have unconsciously walked up to the front desk while you were lost in thought.

“A-Ah. Sorry, I was just looking for books on Leonar—“

You feel your voice trail off at the end as a book on the counter catches your eye. It wasn’t the gold detailing nor the leather texture. No. It was the simple words of “Greek Mythology: Tales of Zeus” printed neatly on the front.

“…Actually, Do you perhaps have any books about Poseidon?”

You just found something better to do with your time.

—.—.—.—.—

“Damn… this is extremely confusing…” You mumble to yourself as you glare at the pages of notes in front of you. Each book seemed to be a little bit different from the last. “Perhaps I should recap…”

Okay, so what makes sense to you is that Poseidon is the second eldest of three brothers and is the ruler of the seas. The things that don’t make sense are… practically everything else…

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream out of frustration right now.

According to the books, Poseidon has had many consorts over the years. One of them being Triton’s mother, Amphitrite…

“My mother… can be quite mean to other women. Even to some of the female servants around the palace. She believes that they are trying to seduce my father…”

…but that doesn’t match up with what Triton mentioned last night. According to him, it sounds like Amphitrite scared away any women that would even come near Poseidon. This also leads to another flaw in the mythology books. You doubted that Poseidon would be able to have an affair with any other women with Amphitrite antics, nevertheless have 10 other children with them.

“Triton also never mentioned having any other siblings…”

Letting out a groan, which you seemed to be doing a lot today, you banged your head against the table. It seems like these mythology books weren’t going to be of any help after all. Though…. you couldn’t help but wonder why the books were so off in the first place.

Lifting yourself back up from the table, you glare down at one of the book covers. It was blue, almost silvery in a way, with a giant black silhouette of Poseidon right smack dab in the middle. Or, at least, what Poseidon might look like…

“Well, my father is extremely strong and handsome. All the sea nymphs stare at him with big heart eyes half the time. Oh! B-but, father doesn’t pay any attention to them. Father is not a cheater like uncle Zeus…”

“…Is Father…? Oh. He’s alright… He’s nowhere as bad as my mother. He’s never hit me or anything. He’s just… cold. Extremely cold. He really just ignores me half the time…”

“…I do love my father…I just wished he would at least spare me a glance…you know?…Acknowledge his own son…”

“God damn jerk!” You hiss out in anger as you push the book aside. Your blood practically boiling at even the slightest thought of Triton’s father, Poseidon. He doesn’t deserve to have such a good and nice son like Triton.

However, as much as you want to curse out Poseidon more, you realized class would be starting soon and you really had to get a move on.

“Shit. I can’t afford to be late again.”

—.—.—

“Ugh. Why did the professor have to assign me this type of painter…?!” You whined to Yuri. Class had already ended by then with the professor long gone. The only people left were students that were conversing with others or trying to get a head start on their paintings.

“Well, it didn’t help that you barged into class late for the second time this week, (y/n).” Yuri explained with a sigh as she continued to set up her palette, not even sparing you a glance.

Yuri Saito, Or rather Saito Yuri, was an abroad student from Japan. She was the closest person you knew at the college as you both were similar in many ways. Especially since you were both homebodies.

“I get that but at least I showed up in the fir—“

“(Y/n)!” A voice shouts out interrupting your talk with Yuri. You turn around to see Bella Woods, a student apart of your major, approaching you. “(Y/n). You were part of your student council back in high school right?”

“Uh, Yeah. Why?” You answered hesitantly. You weren’t sure why, perhaps instincts, but you were already having a bad feeling about this situation.

“Well I need your help on something…” Bella explains, her voice trailing off at the end as she grabs something from her bag. It’s a piece of paper, a flier to be exact.

“A…A Cultural Festival?”

Bella nods her head at your words, “Yeah. The college wanted to put something on for the public to show what our art school is all about and Mrs. Yamamoto suggested this. A-Apparently, it’s something schools and colleges do back in Japan.”

“B-But how can I help? Wouldn’t it make sense for someone like Yuri to do this? Since she’s from Japan and all.”

It was the truth. You didn’t know a single thing about japanese culture festivals.

“Hey don’t drag me into this, I’m busy.” Yuri counterbacks with a glare before returning back to her painting.

“Well… you see… The school wanted to change Mrs. Yamamoto’s idea a bit since they really didn’t know anything about Japanese Cultural festivals either. So it’s like a Cultural festival, kind of not.” Bella rambled. You could tell all this information was scrambling her brain as well. “Basically, it’s like a Greek version of a Cultural festival where each major picks a Greek god and plans an event or booth around it.”

“…Okay… So it’s just like a school festival in a way?” You questioned cautiously. This was a lot for you to take in at once.

“Yes. Precisely. We are just taking inspiration from Cultural festivals.”

“Okay. Okay…” You answer as you rub the back of your neck, “I still don’t understand why you need me though?”

“Well, I kind of… kind of saw you reading the mythology books in the library today and we need more people on the planning committee…” Oh, god. It seems like everything is coming back to bite you in the ass, “…Just. Please (y/n), We need your help!”

You let out a small sigh as you watch Bella give you a pleading look, “Fine…”

“Yay—!“

“But…“ You start cutting off Bella’s cheers, “But I’m taking care of something really important right now at home so I can’t always make meetings and things like that. I can help with planning but that’s it. Okay?”

That was correct. As much as you wanted to help Bella and your department out with this festival, Triton was your top priority right now. His care and needs were above all else right now, even your own. So if this would get in the way of that then you would drop this project instantly. Instantly.

“Of course! Oh, thank you (y/n)!” Bella cheers, her body visibly relaxing now that a stress has been taken off your shoulder, “Well, I’m not sure if you're busy right now but… the committee is currently planning two classrooms down… so if you could…”

“I’ll go…” You sighed out. Damn, what’s with you lately. Less than two days ago, people hardly approached you. Now you are as busy as a bee. A person magnetic… Well, more like god magnetic as wel—

Wait, a minute. You feel yourself tense up as a thought flies into your brain. If Gods could travel and spend time on earth, could they live here as well? Just like how Triton wants to?

Shit. What if some that live here are able to identify Triton? You could be in big troub—

“(Y/n)? Are you coming?” Bella calls, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Y-yes.”

It seemed you would have to worry about that later. Not that it mattered right now, you could always just ask Triton when you got home. And even if he didn’t know the answer you would just have to be careful bringing him out of the house. Yeah… you would just do that.

“Guys, I would like to introduce you to (y/n). She’s a fine arts major just like us and knows about mythology. I think she would make a great addition to our group.” Bella introduces you as you enter the room. As you looked around the group of only 4 other people, you realized you really didn’t know anyone.

That is until everyone started to introduce themselves. You never heard of the first three—Brian, James and Kyle—but you found the last name, Marissa Samudra, quite familiar. You wonder if she was that Marissa.

Who you were talking about was Marissa, the hottest girl in school Marissa. Well, at least that’s what all the boys in your major told you. The girl in front of you at least seemed to fit the part. With white silk like skin, light green eyes and dyed coral pink hair, she truly was a sight to see.

“Okay. So shall we get started.” James suddenly spoke up, seeming to want to get the meeting started. You nodded your head in agreement before taking a seat next to Holly. As well as across from Marissa. “Well, I think we should first decide which god we should do. Culinary, Music, Visual performing arts and architecture already have chosen Aphrodite, Hades, Ares and Zeus. (Y/n)…”

You lift your head up at the call of your name.

“…as you know the most about Mythology, who do you think we should pick?”

“Well,…” You feel yourself pause, your palms growing sweaty out of nervousness. You really didn’t know that much about Greek Gods, only the class you took last year and the books you skimmed this morning. You also didn’t expect so many of the main gods to be taken already.

“…How about…”

You needed to think of someone fast. Someone that would satisfy all parties here. Someone that would bedazzle people coming to the festival.

“…Poseidon…?”

Why… Why was that what your brain had come up with? Poseidon? The very god that you were cursing out this morning. Wishing near death upon.

“Fish man?” Brian questioned, letting out a small chuckle at his own joke, “You really want to go with Fish man as our god? Isn’t there anyone better?”

“I think Poseidon is pretty…cool.” You feel a shiver go up your spine as you compliment the man. It was official, you might actually puke. “…He’s the king of the seas. It gives us a lot to work with for his character. Especially since most Fine Arts students are good at realistic elements, we could really do well on painting or using sea life.”

“True… but—“

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

You are shocked as you hear Marissa cut Brian off. When you first sat down, she seemed totally uninterested in the topic at hand. Caring more about her hair and nails than anything else. But now, now, she was paying attention to every little thing. You couldn’t help but wonder why. “Oh sorry. I really like the sea. It holds a special place in my heart… you know?”

Oh, that makes sense. You totally forgot Marissa’s paintings were mostly about the ocean and sea. Never drifting off to other topics.

“N-no. That’s actually pretty cool. You know what, we should totally do Posedin… or whatever the dude’s name is. He sounds really cool.” Bryan agrees as he bashfully rubs the back of his neck. Gross, could he make it any less obvious that he was smitten by her. And not in a nice way either.

You feel yourself shiver as you watch him sneak small glances down at Marissa’s chest area. Disgusting pervert…

“Well, with that decided let’s move on…”

…Great… You could already tell this was going to be a long meeting…

—.—.—.—.—

Again, for what felt like the hundredth time today, you banged your head against the wall. This time however it was against the door of your apartment.

“Seriously… a Café…?”

Yes, a Café. That’s the brilliant idea your group came up with. An under the sea type themed café.

In hindsight it didn’t sound all that bad. You could have a couple of students paint some props and decorations. Then another couple of students who know how to cook plan out the menu. Maybe even borrow some culinary students if you were lucky.

But,… there’s that.

Outnumbered three to two, the boys of your group insisted the girls that are serving customers should wear togas. Togas. They stated it was to bring in more customers but it was pretty obvious they had other intentions behind it. Especially since they didn’t even bother waiting a couple of minutes afterwards to ask if Marissa wanted to be part of the waiting staff.

“Poor girl… I feel bad for her.” You mumble to yourself as you pull out your keys, finally unlocking the door to your apartment. You wished you could just beat all those men senseless with a baseball bat. “That’s actually not a bad idea… Could I bring a wooden club and say that it's part of the character? They seem to not know that much about—“

“Miss (y/n)!” You hear shouted as something comes barreling into you. Knocking you onto the ground right as you enter your apartment. “O-oops I meant to only say (y/n)…”

Even though you got the air literally knocked out of you, you still let out a small chuckle as you reached up to run a hand through the perpetrator’s locks. Triton’s blonde locks. “It’s okay. I only told you this morning to stop referring to me so formally. It will take time for you to get used to it.”

Suddenly, you wince at a feeling of pain as you move slightly. Triton sure was strong. You, honestly, wondered if he held back some strength when he jumped at you. If so, you wondered how strong Triton was nonetheless an adult god.

Speaking of an adult god…

“Hey Triton.” The boy lifts his head up at your call, “Do any gods live on earth?”

The boy seemed to take a moment to think, “Well kind of? Not really Greek Gods though. Most of them are too proud to live with humans.”

“Oh well that’s goo— Wait, a minute! Other gods are real as well!?”

Triton nods his head furiously, “Yeah pretty much all gods. As long as it is considered as one, it exists. There’s Nordic gods…, Indian gods…, Oh! Even Buddha. I like Buddha, even though I’ve only met him once. He introduced me to salt water taffy! It’s delicious.”

“I-I see…I’ll try to get you some then. Another time.” As much as you wanted to hide your surprise you couldn’t. Learning that Greek Gods actually existed was one situation but learning that All Gods existed was a whole nother ball game. Did that mean demons existed as well?

“Hey (y/n). Could I ask you a question?” Triton asks, suddenly seeming bashful all of a sudden.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Could I…” Triton pauses for a moment, “Could I call you…”

You leaned closer to Triton as his voice slowly got softer and softer at the end. His ears and cheeks were bright red as he waited for you to answer. However, you couldn’t answer him as you didn’t hear the last part of what he said.

“I apologize. Could you repeat what you said, Triton? I couldn’t hear the end of it.” You felt bad for asking him to repeat it as his face only seemed to get even more red when you asked.

“I-I… Could I call you… Mom?”

It was silent as his question, or rather request, fell upon your ears. You thought about it for a moment. Especially whether it was morally right for you to have him call you ‘mom’. Even if his true mother was a terrible person, she was still his mother.

Though, then again, She really didn’t act like his mother. Especially in all her hundreds of years of existence of having him. At least from what you’ve heard from Triton. She’s had plenty of chances to show her love for him and she never did.

“Of…Of course you can.”

You feel yourself smile as Triton’s face lit up. And you knew, Deep down inside, that you did the right thing. You would show this boy the love he deserved.

“Hey (Y— Mom.” You giggle at how Triton seemed to practically beam with happiness once the title left his lips.

“Yes, Triton?”

“Could we have dinner right now?”

You feel yourself jump up a little in surprise. Since you stayed later than what you usually would, due to the meeting, you didn’t have anything prepared ahead of time for dinner.

“Ah, yes. Do you think you could wait in the living room while I prepare it?”

“Of course!” Triton answers as he scrambles up off of you. As you make your way to the kitchen—which was technically in the same room as the living room—to start dinner, you find yourself drifting off into your thoughts.

You realized you really hadn’t thought this through. Taking care of Triton and all. Your apartment was small, he didn’t have his own room, he seemed to eat a lot more than a human boy his physical age and so much more.

You wouldn’t be able to buy a bigger apartment right now. Going through college and all. But you could take more shifts at work. After all, it was literally down the street. You were also good friends with the owner of the toy shop next door. You bet he would allow Triton to play with a couple of toys while you worked.

As you continue to list things you would need to take care of Triton especially if it was long term, Triton was watching cartoons on the couch.

“…Wonder cats will be right back!…”

As the show goes to commercial break, Triton feels himself let out a sigh. Television sure was awesome and all, much better than the plays and coliseum matches used to entertain gods, but he despised ads more than anything.

“Who in the world created such a malicious thing…”

Triton’s voice trails off at the end as the ad changes to another. As he stares at the screen, he feels a shiver shoot down his spine. As quickly as he could, Triton changes the channel to another before shakily dropping the television remote. A cold sheen of sweat breaks out all over his skin as he collapses back onto the couch.

To anyone else, the commercial before looked like any normal hair dye commercial seen on Tv. But not to Triton. Especially when he saw something oh so familiar.

“T-that hair color…” Triton feels himself shiver at the thought, “L-looked too much like Aunties. Mom’s…No…

…Amphitrite’s Sister.”

Author Note: Ahhh this chapter contained so much but I knew I couldn’t split it up. Especially if I was doing posting Tuesdays and Thursdays. I was worried that the time frame in between would mess my readers up. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this Chapter. I know there wasn’t a lot of Triton moments but I wanted to get the ball rolling on the plot so that things and certain characters (*cough* Poseidon *cough*) will appear soon. Well that’s it for now, see you next time :)))

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq

[reyofluke-ocs]

Hello! You're on my bingo card and I have some questions for Odette ^^. 1. What's her favorite subject at school and which one she doesn't like ? 2. A song that reminds you of her. 3. What was her fitst impression of Peter and MJ? 4. Can you describe her fave outfits? 5. What is her fondest memory with her father? Have a nice day! Mabs.

Hello!!! Thank you so much for this (and for liking my own bingo gift for you! I was worried I hadn't exactly captured Aislin)!!! Also I'm sorry this is so long; I put it under the cut so no one is subjected to my ramblings anymore than they have to.

1) So after some quick research (read: google) I found that in the MCU, Midtown is based off of Bronx High School of Science, which while it primarily known for focusing on science and mathematics, it also offers humanities and social sciences. I'm going to have my version of Midtown be like it's real life MCU inspiration, so her favorite classes are usually the ones involving humanities and social sciences, particularly social sciences. Fun fact: I myself am in grad school to get my Master's of Social Work, and officially my Bachelor's diploma says I have a 'Bachelor of Science in Social Work' because despite being highly disputed, social work (for now) TECHNICALLY falls under the field of social science. Since Raimi!Odette is a social worker, and I can easily imagine Odette going down that same career path, her favorite classes are going to be ones that revolve around her future career choice. For the sake of brevity, I'm going to say her favorite class is psychology. As for her least favorite subject... I'm going to go with one of the sciences, probably biology, just because she detested having to do the dissection lab during the class.

2) Oooh, a song that reminds me of her... weirdly enough I've never thought of one until now. Hmm, I can see 'Ends of the Earth' by Lord Huron fitting her? Particularly these lyrics:

I'm on a river that winds on forever Follow 'til I get where I'm goin' Maybe I'm headin' to die but I'm still gonna try

Because part of what makes her Odette is that she's always going to stand up for what she believes is right, no matter what it costs her. In fact, Otto BEGS her to not poke at the Sokovia Accords, fearing what repercussions it could cause her, and sure enough, her staunch opposition bites her in the ass during the NWH arc, where she's arrested alongside MJ and Ned for aiding and abetting Peter.

3) I've already mentioned this, but MJ and Odette became friends in elementary school after MJ stood up for her to the class bully. Her first reaction was: holy crap. Because NO ONE had ever done that except Harry. It's not until shortly before MJ asks her to the homecoming dance that she realizes 'oh, i've fallen in love with my best friend'. As for Peter, she's been aware peripherally of him for awhile but never really interacted with him until Midtown, when she took to sitting with him and Ned at lunch, followed by MJ. Her first impression was that he was a nerdy and shy kid, and later on kind of cute (hence part of her and MJ scheming to create Operation: Ask Parker On A Date in FFH arc).

4) These are some of my favorite outfits for her (though more can be found on my pinterest for her)

5) Her fondest memory of Otto... oh that's hard. She's a total daddy's girl, regardless of the universe, and in the case of the MCU and TASM verse, it's been just her and Otto for so long since her mom died when she was still young - around when she's 9 or 10. Since Otto has such an odd schedule, always at the lab or doing some sort of science-y thing, her fondest memories are when they're both able to just hang out in the apartment, instead of Otto's lab or their favorite diner. Particularly when she fell very fill with the flu, not too long after her mother died. Otto spent the entire three days just hanging out with her in the apartment, even trying (and failing) to cook her food, so they instead got take-out and binge-watched a variety of Netflix, documentaries, and History channel shows.

[cupiiid]

i was asked by @youareacoolcat to do some headcanons based on this post:

but inspiration struck and this ended up being kind of a short story, enjoy! (this was really long so i decided to split it into two parts, sorry!! the next one should be up sometime)

Here's the thing, Neil and Todd don't fight often at all. Usually, the two of them are always on the same page, knowing when the other needs comfort or space. They'll have the occasional spat over something small when they're stressed or tired but even those are rare and resolved as quickly as they occur. There's only been two times Neil and Todd have truely fought, and when it's happened, everyone can tell. Their fights can get really nasty.

The first time they truely fought was when they were still at Welton. There was no real trigger really, just a series of unfortunate events. Exam season was upon the poets and everyone was cramming like mad, and although Mr Perry never found out about the play, he was still hell bent on making Neil's life hell, causing his mood to drop and him closing up to the poets, especially Todd. Todd's anxiety was skyrocketing due to exam stress and the fact there was something off about Neil which he wouldn't talk about.

The two boys had spent almost everyday before winter break studying. They barely had time for one another, they still loved each other dearly but the only time they got to spend alone was after lights out in their dorm and by that time, they were too tired to do anything but sleep, albeit in the same bed.

It all came to a head two weeks before winter break, just before exams. Neil and Todd had a massive fight in their dorm. They never yelled, but if you got close enough to their door, you would hear the venom in their voices. Neither of them remember what the fight was about or what they said, but they do remember that they spoke some pretty horrible things to each other, cutting deep into some insecurities and Neil swapping dorms with Meeks for two weeks.

All the poets knew they were fighting. Even the air around them was sour. They practically ignored each other until exams were over and it was the last few days of term. Todd was at his desk, scribbling away on a poem when there was a soft knock at the door.

'Y-yes?' the door opened revealing an ashamed looking Neil.

'Hey' Todd put down his pencil.

'Hi' Neil sat on todd's bed and turned to face him at his desk.

'Look- im just going to say it outright. im sorry. Im so fucking sorry, Todd.' He moved to the bed, sitting next to Neil.

'My dad has been on my ass lately and exams have been making me stress but i shouldn't of taken that out on you. Im so sorry.' He hung his head.

'Im sorry too, Neil. Exams have also had me freaking out and I knew you were off and weren't talking to anyone about it so I've been so worried and I just wanted to know if you're okay and I didn't mean to blow up at you.' He rambled.

Neil lifted his head and looked at him in that way that made Todd's heart flutter. Todd reached out his hand, and Neil took it, interlacing their fingers. He sighed and placed his head on Todd's shoulder.

'One day, we're going to be in New York and we'll never have to take chemistry exams again. Or talk to my dad. It'll just be us, Todd. You and me.' Neil lifted his head up off Todd's shoulder and looked at him. 'I love you.' He said.

Todd moved the hand that wasn't holding Neil's to touch his face. 'I love you too.' And then they were kissing for what felt like the first time in forever. It felt like warm tea on a cold day. Or stage lights and the scribble of a pen on paper. It felt like coming home.

(like i said, this has a part two that will be up sometime. also!! im working on some chris/ginny hcs because i adore them so look out for that. i hope y'all enjoyed :))

[tarithenurse]

Unsolicited

Starring: Avengers Loki x fem!reader, Sam Wilson Contents: Description of sexual harassment/lewd behaviour, hinting at violence and threats, fluff. A/N: Got inspired after a conversation with @maladaptive-ninja-returns​. Enjoy, hon! And nope: I didn’t proof this bc it’s 4:22 in the morning/night and I should be sleep but insomnia/anxiety is a bitch so you’re getting it raw ;)

...  Loki   ...

She groans as she tosses the phone aside with a disgusted wrinkle on her nose. How is that supposed to not make him curious? Naturally, he has no right to grab the phone when she leaves the room about an hour later, but as the God of Mischief...well, she really has brought it upon herself, hasn’t she?

Flicking through the various apps and tabs, he finally finds what must be the cause of her disgust: a message from a contact labelled “Jerk” with an image attached of his sorry excuse for a cock. Nothing in the preceding chat calls for such a picture. From the few lines, Loki surmised that [Y/N] must have exchanged numbers with the person last she was out partying and that she’s since come to regret it – a fact “Jerk” seems intent on ignoring.

“Someone should teach him some manners,” the god muses.

For months (though it feels like more) he’s been adoring [Y/N] from a distance, contending himself with the friendly stage in their relationship the two have found. The idea of pursuing it further, though tempting, seems an impossibility with the sins he’s committed in the past compared to her sweet innocence. Still, he will do everything in his power to make her happy and right now that requires ridding her of a nuisance.

Stuffing the phone in his pocket, he goes in search for the only person he is sure can help him with this particular task.

“Romanova!”

...  Reader   ...

It makes no sense. You’ve looked everywhere but there’s no sign of your phone – not in or under the couch where you’d spent most of the day, not on the coffee table (and you’d even removed every single magazine and checked in every mug left behind by your co-Avengers), pockets are all empty too, and after that you’ve tried every room you’ve been to. The kitchen was meticulously combed to check cabinets, fridge, drawers, even cereal boxes and the trash can...no luck. The bathroom is barren with the exception of the neat row of toiletries on the shelf. Bedroom? Nothing...but at least you ended up changing the sheets finally. Even your purse have been emptied out completely without giving a clue. By the time you stomp back into the living room to start over, it feels like you’re going crazy!

“Wassup?” Sam’s lounging in a chair with his own phone, making you miss your own all that much more.

Ass up and head on the floor to look under the book case, you mumble a reply.

“Wassat?”

“I am,” you groan as you sit on your haunches and dust yourself off, “looking for my fucking phone!”

“Tried calling it?”

You glare at him. “With what? Smoke signals?”

Man, he’s annoying when he grins like that. “You could just ask for help, girl.” His fingers are already flicking across the screen. “Is it on silent?”

“Nah, don’t think so...”

Still on your knees, you scoot over to see him tap your name on his contacts list. How long can it take to connect? It’s Stark tech! There’s a muted tooping from the tiny speakers and a moment later both of you swivel your heads in the direction of tinny sound of Chic’s “Le Freak”.

“I can dig that,” Sam nods approvingly.

You don’t care to answer, instead hurrying down the hall to the source of the music and as you skid around the corner you barely avoid slamming face first into Loki’s chest.

“Oh.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Hey!” Why does he have my phone? It’s right there in his big hand and even if the melody stops just then, there’s no denying it. “That’s mine! Where’d you find it?”

Hesitating a second too long, he hands it back to you with a sheepish shrug. “I took the liberty of borrowing it.”

What?! “Dude...you could have asked first.”

Borrow? Oh he better not have read my chats with Wanda! You’re fairly certain the witchy girl is the only one to know about your huge crush on the raven-haired god and you’d prefer if it stayed that way. For months, she’s been trying to coax you into asking him out and every time you’ve been building up the courage she’s nudged you on with quick snapshots of the man – all taken when he wasn’t aware and most favouring his jawline or ass. Nope, you do not want Loki to find out about any of that.

“I realize...however, when I saw what had aggravated you, I decided to act in your defence immediately.”

“Huh?”

Indignation burns in his eyes. “The aptly labelled Jerk and his heinous indiscretion.”

“The...the dick-pic...”

Loki nods gravely. “I went to Miss Romanova, seeing as she’s particularly adept with Midgardian technology as well as exquisite methods to get people to...cooperate.”

At least now the somberness is gone but it has been replaced by a wicked smile which you aren’t at all certain you want to know the reason for. Sure, you would have liked to strangle the offender, but a moment to calm down had been enough to help you shrug the attempt at an advance off. The jerk isn’t worth spending your energy on.

“Is...is he...alive?” It’s not that you’re worried per se, just slightly concerned if the handsome god is getting into trouble.

“He is, but rest assured that he’s learned his lesson,” Loki smiles, “he will never bother you or anyone else again.”

Something in the air shifts as he speaks. You can’t put your finger on what it is, you just know that it feels like you’re standing on a high cliff above the sea and a slight breeze could push you over the edge. More importantly, it’s a dive you know would be heavenly. To be held in a cool embrace, safe from the thrashing of the waves above as you ride a the currents the same colour as Loki’s eyes. Loki’s eyes. Loki’s oh shit I’m staring! Snapping back to reality, you decide it’s safer to look at your feet as you tug away your phone.

“I’m uhm thank you,” you ramble feeling the heat of embarrassment spread through your body. “Yes. Yes, thank you.”

Wanting to get away, you turn the door handle and hurry inside the room, closing the door behind you. Daymn, that was close. You back slides down the smooth material of the door as you let out a long sigh. Maybe he didn’t notice though.

A knock shakes you from your silent prayer. “[Y/N]? Are you alright?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine! Absolutely!”

“Good.” It doesn’t sound like he leaves, and sure enough: after a moment Loki’s voice comes through the door again: “How come you’ve entered my quarters then?”

“...”

You know right away that there’s no recovering from this as your eyes take in the surroundings sporting green and gold colours paired with dark furniture in a classical yet modern style. Oh, maaaan. Getting to your feet, you shamefully open the door for the actual owner of the room.

“...sorry,” you manage a whisper.

Turning to leave, a cool hand grabs yours to halt you. “You are welcome to stay...in fact...I’d quite like if you did.”

“You would?” I’mdreamingI’mdreamingI’mdreamingI’mdreaming!

It doesn’t feel like a dream when a finger under you chin tilts your face up, though.

“Very much. Perhaps, you’ll allow me to show you the proper art of courting a lady such as you?”

“I’d like that...very much...”

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read into Me Chapter 11: Love Story

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 4,771

Warnings: fire, injury-all end of season three things!

Author’s Note: Happy belated Strangers Things 3 Day! I wanted to get this up yesterday, but I didn’t have it in me to work. This is the end of the series, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a fun little ride!

Series Tag: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @jisungiesluv @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa @voidnarnia @anonymousonion33 @awkwardnesshabitat @darkcrystal-wolf @hannahrisacher

Paris was a lonely city. You’d arrived alone, having not seen Steve since prom and still desperate to see him one more time. You’d selfishly kept his sweatshirt, wanting a piece of him to take with you to a different country. Your mother hadn’t picked you up from the airport, having sent a car instead. She didn’t seem much interested in speaking to you after months apart; she was much more interested in redecorating her new condo and talking about her fiancé. You met him, a French fop named Jean-Pierre at least fifteen years her junior. He was nice enough, although a bit fruity for your liking. His interests were more on the modeling jobs your mother was getting him. She had no time for you, which was fine since your lessons at the salon began immediately.

You and thirty-five other young hopefuls spend your days locked in a studio with abundant resources and endless models and objects to sketch. And you hated it. You hated the long, rambling lectures from the artists who came to the salon to preach the values of the school and the importance of French art. They alternated between speaking in French and English without explaining themselves as they switched tongues. Your French language skills were nonexistent, so the lectures were exhausting and endless. The only time they ever seemed to help was when they brought you all to the Louvre to examining the long dead French men who’d made the museum possible. There, you could at least sketch out the greats and enjoy the beauty of the art. Inside the studio, you felt as though your head was going to explode. The lectures spoke too loudly and loomed over you without warning or word, you weren’t allowed your headset or Walkman in the studio to combat them, and the smell of various paints and clays made your stomach churn. The girl who’d taken up the easel next to you, a little German named Lisle, had taken to making clay pots and sculptures and the sound of her pottery wheel mixed with her incessant humming made you want to commit manslaughter. It didn’t help that the smell of the brown clay invaded your sinuses and made you sneeze violently. You dreaded the salon. But you dreaded being at home more.

Your mother had hired you a French tutor, utterly horrified by the fact that you hadn’t been practising. You tried to tell her that, despite her assumptions, Hawkins High had stopped offering a French elective two years before you started there.

“You cannot live in Paris without speaking French! It won’t do!” she moaned. Jean-Pierre was already on the phone, speaking fast into the receiver. You didn’t see what the big deal was. Everywhere you went, people spoke enough English to communicate with you fine. It didn’t occur to you till after dinner that if you were to study in the country, you’d need the language to understand your lessons.

So you got a French teacher, a short tempered older man who insisted on being called Monsieur Bérnard. His greying whiskers moved sharply as he spoke and he often spit on you as he taught proper pronunciation and conjugation. He ranted and raved all afternoon, disgusted by your apparent lack of an ear for languages and your doodling on the edges of notebook paper instead of working. You’d go from sensory overload in the salon to being bullied by a Freud-looking asshole each day with no room for a break or a breath.

You lived for weekends. Rest was very well thought of in the city so the hell spawn tutor didn’t work and the salon locked its doors. You were allowed to wander the city at your leisure, your mother glad to have you out of the apartment. You’d spend most of your days sat at a café near the Eifel Tower, a prime spot to tourists. Every day, you’d bring your sketchpad and try to draw out the profiles of those you passed you by. You spent two weekends working on a sketch of people sunbathing on the lawn in front of the tower. But it seemed you left all your talent in Hawkins. You’d spent so long drawing familiar faces back home, now that you were away from your nest, you found yourself without the skill to capture the faces around you. It occurred to you that you knew the faces of Hawkins far too well. They were engrained in your mind, your hand working like a stamp to put them on the page. France was full of strangers. You didn’t know how to understand them like you understood Hawkins. France wasn’t home. You couldn’t work out in a world of strangers.

You couldn’t work in the salon either. It was too much. Everyone was constantly showboating and trying out-do one another. You couldn’t work with people spying over your shoulder. You felt judged and insecure about what you could do. You didn’t want to be watched as you tried to make art. It didn’t help that you had no idea what to make. The closest thing you’d gotten done is that sketch of the Eifel Tower and that wasn’t something you couldn’t buy on the streets around the monument. You’d tried all the things that you couldn’t in your bedroom-paint splatter art, pottery, carving, paint pulling, mosaics. You never finished anything. The drive to push through wasn’t there.

When the loneliness and fear became too much to bear, you held Steve’s sweatshirt and cried. It still smelt like him; Irish Springs soap and Fabregè Organics shampoo and hairspray and a bit like sweat. It was nice though. You missed him. You tried to write him letters, but you knew that they wouldn’t get home before you did. You’d made up your mind that whatever the answer was, you were going home. Whether that meant deferring a semester or missing the first week of school you would go back to Hawkins. Still, you’d written over a dozen letters, all crumpled in your waste bin.

You waited until the last minute to finish something for submission. You’d tried to sketch your mother, to find who you knew in the fancy woman in front of you. With her bleached blowout and designer clothes, thirty pounds lighter and yellow gold jewellery glinting in the midday sun. She looked like the epitome of elegance, straight out of a magazine. The woman you remembered had greying roots and love handles, her only jewellery the wedding rings your father had given her. Europe had changed her into someone who you didn’t know and who didn’t seem to want to introduce herself to you. Nothing you drew seemed to capture the middle between who she was and who she is now. You realized in her profile that you weren’t a part of her life anymore, that she didn’t want you there. You were as strange to her as she was to you. You passed each other like ghosts in the hall, almost recognizable but hauntingly foreign.

The day before your final piece for submission was due; you got a letter from Steve. It only had one sentence.

“I should have asked you to stay.”

It was all you needed to hear to be inspired. You made your final project a tribute to him, mixing memories with unfinished letters building into his face. You used plain black ink to sketch his profile on the surface of the mess, building him into your loneliness. You only had your memory to recreate his face and your own letters to fill the canvas. Still, it was the only thing you’d done the whole time you were in the country that you were actually proud of. You didn’t finish it until the sun rose and you handed it off to be judged without a second thought, bleary eyed and exhausted.

You were on a plane home by the wee hours of July 4th.

Hawkins was a depressing place. After graduation, Steve found himself listless and at the hands of his father. He was a failure, a disgrace of a son. He was unready to start into the family business. His grades were pathetic. He had to get a job. Of course, with no job experience and late to the game, no decent place wanted him. The new mall only offered him one place of employment, Scoops Ahoy. And the uniform was embarrassing. Stupid sailor shirts and matching shorts, fucking knee socks and a corny paper hat. He looked like a certified geek. And his co-worker was a freak. Robin fucking Buckley did nothing but bug him all shift. It didn’t help that he had no friends without you, even Dustin had left for some nerdy science camp after the school year ended.

He was alone and lonely.

He tried to write you a half dozen times. But nothing seemed to make sense, nothing was worth telling you. What was he supposed to tell you? That he had become an even bigger loser overnight? He felt so utterly pathetic. He just wanted things to go back to the way things were. But what did that even looked like anymore? It wasn’t a life with Nancy, she’d dumped his ass, and it wasn’t a life with you, you’d left him for a different continent. He didn’t have a clue where he was going anymore. So he did what any lonely, practically friendless teenager did-he worked his ass off. Eight hours every day in the mall with smart ass Robin Buckley, waiting for the ground to suck him up. And sure, he tried to hit on the girls his age that came around. It was a good distraction from his broken heart. He’d made up his mind that he was ready to move on and try to date again. That he needed a girlfriend. That he needed to be cool again.

And then, Dustin came back and Hawkins started acting up again. He thought it was over. Those damn dogs were gone, the thing was closed, the kid was safe and acting like a kid. Everything had gone back to as close to normal as he’d seen it in awhile. But Dustin just had to find a secret code and Buckley just had to decode it and Lucas’s bitchy little sister just had to be small enough to fit into the vents and find a secret Russian elevator. And they just had to get stuck in it.

He couldn’t keep that damn kid from seeking out trouble. And yeah, it was kind of fun in a scared shitless kind of way, but it wasn’t worth getting drugged and beaten up and nearly dying for. And it certainly wasn’t worth getting tricked into thinking that he had feelings for fucking Robin. He could murder that kid for getting it in his head that he liked that girl. Robin was cool; he wouldn’t pretend that she wasn’t a decent friend to have at the end of the world. But he didn’t need the embarrassment of trying to ask out a lesbian. At least the reason for her rejecting him wasn’t that he was unattractive or lame, just that she didn’t dig dudes. He was cool with that. And at least he got to punch out a communist. If he could tell his father that without going to prison or being murdered by a Russian goon, he’d be proud. Fuck that, he was proud. He won a fight! He beat up a Russian spy! More than one, he beat some up while drugged out; at least he thought he did. He couldn’t remember much, other than watching Back to the Future with Robin. That movie was too confusing. And then he stole a car, he saved Nancy’s life, he set up that weird tower thing for Dustin-there was too much going on to even recognize how crazy he sounded. How crazy all of this sounded.

And then, the mall was on fire.

Your flight landed on the fourth of July at about ten fifteen in the evening. It took about forty-five minutes to get from the Indianapolis International Airport back to Hawkins. You were buzzing. Seven words had given you all the hope you needed to push you back to the states. Every fibre of your being was alive with energy, with excitement. You couldn’t wait for your grandfather to park the car, you jumped out as soon as you were settled in the driveway.

“Don’t you want to go upstairs and unpack?” your grandmother called after you as you booked it down the driveway.

You turned back “No, I’ll be back later!” you called. Steve’s car wasn’t in the driveway but you figured if anyone was home they’d know where he was. You bounded up the stairs, ringing the doorbell twice.

Mrs. Harrington came to the door in her bathrobe. “Oh, hello there…” she trailed off, obviously unable to remember your name.

“Y/N, hi it’s nice to see you, do you know where Steve is?” you asked, bouncing from your heels to your toes.

Mrs. Harrington narrowed her eyes “He’s at his job I assume. At the mall.” She said slowly.

“What mall?” you demanded. Mrs. Harrington’s eyes blew wide open and you realized that you were probably coming off like an insane person. “Sorry, I’ve been out of the country for about a month.”

“It’s where the Hawkins Laboratories were, off East Wood Road.” She pointed out the door towards the roads. You knew instantly that the fastest way to get there was through the woods. You ran through the backyards of your neighbours and into the woods. You didn’t like the Hawkins forests. They were dark and dim and poorly maintained. The county hadn’t been out to cut down potentially problematic trees on the few hiking paths in the woods.  Burs caught your socks and twigs scratched your legs as you hopped logs to try to get there faster. They’d carved a road through the woods, you’d found it halfway to the mall, deserted and blocked off. You could see the bright orange flames from a mile away.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Steve was in there. You could cry.

Instead, you hopped the blockade, running down the road despite the calls of passing fire trucks and police. You didn’t care if they tried to arrest you, although you doubted that they could. It would be a waste of time to bother with you during an emergency.

The parking lot was filled with emergency vehicles. Massive streams of water were attacking the building. Luckily, it seemed the mall was closed, judging by the few people who were milling around not in uniforms. You sprinted into the crowd, looking around frantically.

Steve had been ushered into the back of an ambulance and draped in a bright orange emergency blanket. It wasn’t that cold but he felt as though he was freezing. The EMTs had checked his vitals and disinfected the wounds on his face and knees. As for the remaining drugs in his system, he chose not to mention them. He knew that the high would wear off eventually. Robin was sat next to him, equally bandaged up and silent, save an uncontrollable shiver. Wordlessly, Steve took the blanket off his shoulders and placed it over hers. He wasn’t that cold. Moreover, he just felt numb. He’d had this happen so many times; his face beat in, an otherworldly thing trying to destroy his life and hurt his family, a major building destroyed-it all felt familiar. It made him sick to his stomach to know that it was familiar. If he had anything left in his stomach he would’ve thrown up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something running towards him. At first, he tensed. He didn’t know what it was and it could probably kill him. His heart stopped and then raced wildly. He held out an arm to protect Robin and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Steve!” you cried. He was in an ambulance. He was hurt. He was alive. You felt as if you could cry. In the span of fifteen minutes he’d gone from working to escaping a fiery building to missing in a fire to simply hurt. And hurt was just fine, you could handle hurt.

“Oh my god Steve, are you okay? Are you alright? I love you so much…”You grabbed his face, examining the bruises. You pulled him tightly to your chest, trying not to cry or freak out. You knew it wouldn’t help.

“I love you too…” he breathed into your ear, pulling you close to him. He recognized you by the smell of your hair, the feeling of your arms around him. He could cry. He didn’t believe you were real. But when you pulled away and his hand came to your face. You were real. And you were here. And he was safe. He was safe and alive. Feelings of relief rushed through his body. He wanted to cry, but the shock was too overwhelming for a tear to even drop.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and hoarser than he’d ever felt it. “I thought you were still in Paris.”

“I came home early,” you chuckled, pressing a kiss to his jaw bone. “I didn’t get in.” That was the nicer version, the judges laughed at your final piece, they called it pedestrian. You should’ve been more upset, your mother was furious, but you couldn’t have cared less. You were free to go home. You could’ve thanked them for rejecting you.

Steve pulled away, looking you squarely in the eye. He wouldn’t have you give up on school to hang out with him in bum fuck Indiana. But you were telling the truth, it was written plainly all over your face. “Those bastards…” Steve murmured. You laughed, your eyes watery and throat thick. You were overwhelmed. You expected to come home and just see him in his element. You expected him to not necessarily want to see you. You didn’t expect a fire or Steve being injured or Steve to even be there at all. You pulled Steve back into your arms, you didn’t want to let go.

“I missed you so much…” you whispered. Steve’s arms came around your hips, pulling you in between his legs. He needed you here, to keep you in place for awhile.

“I missed you too…” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Did you get my letter?”

You looked up “Yeah I did…” you said “I wish I had written you, I tried so many times but I couldn’t find the words and-” Steve kissed you hard, stealing the words from his throat. He didn’t care if you didn’t write him back; this was the best thing he could’ve gotten from you. A letter wouldn’t do it justice.

You were lit up by his kiss. This is what you needed. No words could do the feelings he expressed in his kiss justice. You felt alive. You felt at home. Steve tried to pull away, but you pulled him back by his shirt, kissing him as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did. You couldn’t be sure anymore.

A loud clearing of one’s throat interrupted you and you pulled away to see Robin waving awkwardly. “Oh hey Buckley…” you muttered awkwardly. “How’s Samantha?”

“No clue, she never called me back.” The younger girl shrugged nonchalantly, hopping down from the ambulance deck. “I’ll catch ya later, Harrington.”

You turned your attention back to Steve, looking down at the material still in your fists. He looked ridiculous. “What the fuck are you wearing?” you asked with a laugh. Steve’s hands settled on your lower back, holding you in between his knees as if you’d run off if he didn’t.

“Oh this? This has been my whole summer.” He groaned “I’ve been captaining a boat on an ocean of flavours.” You couldn’t help but cackle, you had no idea what he was talking about but he seemed so serious.  

“And by that you mean?” you lifted the fake red neckerchief attached to his shirt, running the material between your thumb and forefinger.

“Ice cream store in the mall,” he pointed to the embroidered Scoops Ahoy logo on his breast.

“You’re kidding…” you shook your head as if to shake the idea out of your mind. Steve’s fingers trailed the raggedy edge of your sweatshirt. Well, his sweatshirt, his last name and basketball jersey number were embossed on the back; he could feel the textured design on your lower back.

“I like my sweater,” he chuckled, reaching up to adjust the length of the drawstrings on the hood. You looked away, a bit embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean to keep it I just…missed you,” You replied “You can have it back.”

“Nah, it suits you,” he smirked “Besides, I want my girl in my stuff, it’s cute.”

“Your girl?” you grinned giddily, elbowing him in the ribs. “Since when am I your girl?” You liked the idea of being Steve’s girl. It had a nice ring to it.

Steve smirked, squeezing your hips in his hands. “Oh come on baby, you’ve been my girl for awhile…”

“Oh really? Well, I wouldn’t know since you’ve never asked me…”

You heard a loud yell and turned to see a set of paramedics carrying a stretcher towards you and Steve. They were sprinting and bringing a badly burnt and unconscious Billy Hargrove towards the ambulance you sat on. You quickly moved out of the way. Steve grabbed your hand, allowing you to tug him from the ambulance’s deck.

You only got a brief look at the teenager, but it made your stomach churn violently. You felt ill. You felt Steve squeeze your hand. You turned to look at him and saw how hollow his eyes were. You wrapped your arm around his middle. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” you said, trying to stifle a yawn. You were exhausted from your flight and your run here and the trauma that had smacked you across the face.

Steve noticed anyway “Did you just get here?” he asked, lifting your chin.

“My flight landed at ten, I came to see you as soon as I could.”

“You should’ve gone home to rest, I wouldn’t have been mad at you.” You looked absolutely exhausted. He couldn’t imagine what he looked like.

“I missed you too much to not see you. And what if you had gotten hurt, if you hadn’t made it out then I would’ve never forgiven myself…”

Steve wrapped his arms tightly around you, shielding you from the scene, as more mangled people were brought out. The beast must’ve fallen apart once the brain was destroyed. It looked as though a bomb had gone off. Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to leave, but he knew that the FBI would be called and he’d have to talk to them again. He wanted you to go home, but that didn’t seem like an option now.  Selfishly, he liked having you there, it was comforting to have you in his arms, squeezing him under his ribs and keeping him calm.

“I’m not gonna get hurt, I’m okay…we’re okay…” You nodded roughly against his chest. You felt as if you were burning up and freezing at the same time. You saw blinks of red flashing lights and sirens as one of the ambulances sped past. You were so thankful that he wasn’t on that ambulance.

“Yeah, I know, I’m not gonna let you out of my sight ever again.” Steve lifted up your chin, raising an eyebrow at you. “What? Last time I did you nearly died and for what? A shit job in the mall?”

“Well, not just for a job, I was helping Robin and a couple kids who were with us,” That wasn’t the whole story. Steve knew he’d have to tell you eventually about everything, but for now he was more than comfortable ignoring the looming problem beneath their feet.

“What a hero…” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Something had been bothering Steve for awhile now and he determined now was the best time to tackle the subject. He turned away from you, folding his hands in his lap.

“Did you mean it when you said that you loved me?” he asked quietly. Truthfully, he wasn’t certain that you meant it. Or if he had even heard you correctly. After Nancy, he wasn’t sure if anyone actually loved him back. He’d given so much of his heart away only to have it tossed to the floor and tread upon like it was nothing more than a cigarette butt. He wasn’t sure if he could trust that you meant it.

You let out a small sigh through your nose, crossing your arms over your chest. You were a bit embarrassed. You were half hoping that he would forget about it. Your response brought all of Steve’s hopes crashing down. “Yeah, yeah I do,” you admitted, rubbing your arms, having suddenly gone cold. “I will admit, I hadn’t planned on saying that this early, feels a bit middle school to say that you love someone before they’re even your boyfriend.”

Steve turned to look at you once again, a bit surprised. Your face had gone red, adorably red, but still very red and your gaze had turned down to the asphalt at your feet. He reached out and took your hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “Good,” he said with a smile. You turned up to look at him; brow furrowed “I thought I had like imagined it.”

“Oh…no you’re good.” You said slowly. He looked like a little puppy dog, his whole face was radiating sunshine; it was almost hard to look at. It was harder to not match his energy, to get drunk off it. Then again, no one was stopping you from just enjoying the moment. You let out a small breath, not so much heavy with sadness or regret, but simply exhaustion. You let your head rest on his shoulder, smiling softly despite the scene in front of you. If it weren’t for the smouldering building and the emergency vehicles surrounding the pair of you, it would almost be romantic. The fact that you were even trying to find romance in the scene felt a bit silly, but maybe that was what this was supposed to feel like. Finding love in a burning building was a bit dramatic, it certainly not what you’d expected for your life, but you determined that no matter what you’d keep Steve safe. You had no idea what was going on at this scene, you had no idea what happened. But no matter how scared you were, you knew that Steve must’ve been even more scared. You knew that you couldn’t protect him, the same way that he couldn’t protect you, but maybe together you could keep each other safe for awhile.

“I love you too, you know,” Steve said quietly, his gaze trailed on the smoke of grey smoke coming up off the extinguished fire. The front of the mall had crumbled and the giant neon ‘Star-Court Mall’ sign shattered on the pavement. You hadn’t seen the mall before the fire, you didn’t know what it was supposed to look like, but a cavernous jagged mouth probably wasn’t the design goal. Still, you turned your attention to the side of Steve’s face. He couldn’t face you, the tips of his ears bright red underneath his flat, sweaty hair.

You swallowed hard “I know,” you say softly. Steve turned to look at you, examining your face with a nervous expression. You smiled and nodded reassuringly “I know.” Steve smiled and laced his fingers with yours. He squeezed your hand tightly in his and you squeezed his back, the feeling of his hand squeezing yours the only feeling left in your body beyond the giddy buzz. You didn’t know how any of this worked, you didn’t know if you were doing this right, if there was a right way to do it. The buzz under your skin was two parts anxiety and one part excitement. But you didn’t pull away. You were glued to his side.

“You know, I think that was one of the first normal conversations we’ve ever had,” Steve mused.

You scoffed loudly rolling your eyes “That was not normal.

Steve shook his head with a small laugh “Yeah, I know…”

[astrangeraccoon]

BNHA rambles (part 6)

So here are my thought on episode 6 and 7 outside ofthe battle trial on wich I’m making another special part

Episode 6 part 2

-the partnership between the school and an official company is a great idea, even more when you know what will happen to those specific student

-Izuku accidentally hanging up on all might in his panic is me

-Yes! Mama Inko being a good mom, recognizing she made a mistake, telling her son she’s proud of him, and APOLOGISING for her mistake! And that’s so great because it’s really rare to see an adult apologizing to a kid in anime or in real life.

-However, while it’s sweet of her to have made him a costume, it means that it can’t be up to norm and it’s no wonder it got torn apart so easily. The problem with that is that it could have led to severe injuries even outside of the context of fighting Bakugo since he doesn’t have the same protection as his pears

-Izuku reaction to seeing Uraraka costume is a good reaction of how boy should react at seeing cute girl. Yes, he’s flustered, yes, he probably looks at her body for longer than strictly necessary, but he doesn’t make any comment about it, doesn’t keep staring at her form and doesn’t do anything that could make her uncomfortable (in opposition to the grape boy who immediately make a comment that he definitely could have kept for himself).

-Everyone hero costume looks so great!

-I really love the little video game like animation to explain some things

-How does all might, who saw Izuku every day for ten months, not realize how terrified of Bakugo he is. I mean Uraraka does, and she’s known him for less than a day.

-Izuku being inspiring without realizing it give me life. Also, the fact that his notebooks don’t just contains quirk analyses but also battle strategies and that it’s implies that he memorized it (as well as Bakugo fighting style) is once again a great show of how smart he is

-Izuku starting to reclaim the name ‘Deku’ as his is so great, also Uraraka realizing that he’s quoting her on the new meaning of that insult must have made her so happy

Episode 7 (outside of the battle trial)

-Baby Midoriya and baby Bakugo are still so cute

-Bakugou already thought he was above everyone at 7 and that make me sad

-Izuku, baby, when someone treat you like Bakugo does to you have to stop idolizing them, it’s not healthy (at least he recognizes that Bakugo is on the wrong path)

-I’ll say it again, Izuku is extremely smart, he doesn’t have only his last notebook but at least the 3 before that one memorized, including which page contain the information. Has adapted his fighting style after seeing Aizawa act once and is able to analyses Bakugo fighting style and react to it on the fly.

-But he is also capable of strategizing outside of life and death situation on a longer term: he was able to predict his opponent most probable move and how to use it to end up in the best situation possible

-On a side note, can I say how I hate All Might qualifying Izuku analyses as a simple ‘fanboy knowledge’. This is clearly so much more, it’s something that he must have spent hours working on (reminder that it includes strategies for different kind of situation between other thing), so it really grates on my nerve)

-The fact that Bakugo was already spending all his time putting down Izuku before he was four and then gaining a god like complex at the first compliment he receive show that there was something wrong with him for and he should have been put in therapy to deal with it for a long time.

-I know this scene is serious as it affect their relationship from then on but the way he fell from that tree is so funny

-Yes you were fine ‘kacchan’ but you could have not been you egotistical idiot. Also, that face was called concern you dumbass

-Iida being excessive as always is hilarious but also it made Uraraka showed herself so it worked

-Kudo to the fabric Mama Inko used which mostly survived Bakugo full powered attack

-Iida running away with the weapon at the last second was pretty funny too.

-Alright I take back what I said about the fabric used for Izuku’s costume

-Also Fuck Bakugo.

-Did Uraraka really use a whole ass colon as baseball bat? What a queen!

Alright, that’s all for those two episode since I put a lot into my other post on the battle trial in itself (spoiler, there’s a lot of critc in it since I have a lot of problem with it.

Anyway, that’s all for now, Aya’s out!

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-three

Title: Prove it

Words: 6800

Warnings: Talks of pregnancy, mentions of vomit

Summary: A friend. A foe?

ST Rambles: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.

Okay. In all seriousness. In the five weeks that I have not updated, it has been chaos. School is absolutely kicking my ass this semester and I am not afraid to say it. Maternal-Newborn is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy. With this said, I know any further updates will be sporadic, BUT - and I say this to snuff out any doubt on the matter - I will never, EVER, abandon this story. However it ends, rest assured that it will, in fact, do just that.

I thank you all for your patience and encouragement. This story is something I care deeply about and it just floors me that others do as well. I love interacting with you all, either on here or tumblr or TikTok (if you've made one and I haven't seen it, please tag me! My fyp does not work in my favor lol).

Be kind. Don't forget to be a person. All you can do is try your best.

[MASTERLIST] | BANNER/@elmidol

Good afternoon,

I can only hope this correspondence finds you safe and well.

The Board of Physicians sympathizes during this time of displacement and potential grieving. There are countless variables to be considered during uncertain times like these, but those of your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance. In an effort to convey the depth of our understanding, a unanimous vote has approved the decision to extend the dates of the trial by seven days. Upon receiving this official communication, you should plan to arrive on Canto Bight a minimum of two days prior to the morning of the initial hearing. An updated outline has been attached at the end of this e-mail for reference and sent to all pertinent parties.

Per the initial correspondence, Commander Ren is to receive a new provider prior to the trial’s start date. This objective has been met with the solemn barrier of the diminished population of approved nurses and physicians which resulted from the recent tragedy of Starkiller Base. There have been additional unforeseen circumstances also working to lengthen and altogether halt this approval process. Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to ensure the trial proceedings occur in an organized and professional manner.

The emergent provider shortage, along with the unknown – and likely diminished – amount of surveillance retained from Starkiller Base prior to its destruction, has laid the foundation for the discussion of potential and probable employment during your time on Canto Bight. The discussions surrounding this issue are in their infancies. Should it be that you are to assume a care position during your trial, you will receive a further updated and in-depth itinerary. This would include the dates, times, and location you would be expected to work; this information would be accompanied by any specific limitations regarding your scope of practice while on trial.

Though you are encouraged to reach out to discuss any questions or concerns you may have pertaining to these new developments, the current agenda is to be followed with strict compliance. Should there be any changes, as stated previously, I will communicate these to you in a timely and conscious manner.

Respectfully,

Karmen Zag, Esq.,

Head of Communications,

The Board of Physicians

“Yeah, well, you can go fuck yourself Karmen Zag. Stupid ass name anyway.”

Not that anyone could hear you, nor that anyone would care, you could not help the petty jab. Karmen Zag, the faceless mouthpiece of the institution actively seeking your death, had little to do with anything. Karmen Zag was not the one who had carved initials into your body; that person was elusive to you now. Karmen Zag was not the one who kept you from sleep; that person was dead, killed by the trembling hands of the very survivor they’d created. Karmen Zag was not the one you were currently hiding from; that person, achingly kind and too ignorant to know different, still came to pick you up from shift every night.

Cramped in the corner of a supply room, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest and your datapad resting on your thighs, eyeing the vent at the bottom of the door to spy Mason’s tapping foot. In the seven days since waking up in the medbay, six days since returning to work to help with the increased patient population – or, at least that’s what you were telling yourself – you had found yourself with a desperate need to distance yourself from Mason. He was unaware of all that was haunting you, nescient to the fact he was at the epicenter of the majority of it. To see him was to remember the choice you’d made, to hate yourself for regretting it, to be morally ripped in half by the unwavering war in the back of your mind.

The first three days he would always sneak up on you, flurries of white lies leaving while you fumbled away from him and into the nearest room. I’m on call tonight was your favorite. No, you weren’t, though you had been staying in the on-call rooms to hide the fact that you no longer held a residence on this ship. No matter if you had not received official word on your employment status, you felt an unease when thinking of returning to Kylo Ren’s quarters. It felt too broken, like you’d be a stranger somewhere you’d once considered a home.

Eventually, Mason being an inherent creature of habit, you’d picked up on his timing. On the fourth day you’d decided to stake him out, finding he would spend exactly ten minutes waiting, send a message to your commlink, spend another five toying with his own as he waited for a response, eventually asking whoever was nearest to tell you to call him. You never did. It was despicable, watching his hope falter as the days passed and you were never there to leave with him; wretched, but that did not make it any less necessary.

So long as you were away from Mason, you couldn’t hurt him. If you could create a rift between the two of you so great as to discourage any further interaction, you could save him from all the suffering that came along with being associated with you. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in deferring any conversation with him. Avoidance may not be a healthy coping mechanism, but all the ones you’d learned of in school were useless to your set of circumstances; there was no talking this through, no way to speak of Snoke or Kylo or Robbie without getting someone else hurt. You were trapped in your own, sole company; whoever you had become recently, you were barely tolerant of them, let alone fond. It was growing increasingly difficult to recognize your own reflection. At some point you figured you might stop looking altogether.

Zag’s update had been present in your inbox ever since returning to work; with each read through – which, now, you’d have read a hundred times – you felt time pass by. Each night you spent time tucked away here, the cold tile permeating the scrub pants you now wore; the uniform you’d had on when you arrived back on the Finalizer had been too tattered to reuse. Not that you wanted to wear it; in those tattered, bloodied threads lay the obvious truth of how entirely you had failed at the only assignment you had ever been trusted with.

Trusted. The thought made you shiver. Yes. Trusted. Past tense. In every sense it could be. Thus, folded into yourself, away from prying eyes or well-meaning friends, you scrolled aimlessly up and down the message. Though its existence annoyed you, knowing full well that there was no empathy or genuine concern behind the decision to delay the trial, it also brought you ease to know this portion of your life was almost over. Again you were embracing the possibility of your death, only this time rooted in hatred for yourself, not Kylo Ren.

“Alright, well, can you tell her-,”

“Tell her to call you. Got it. Do every night.” One of your coworkers had grown exasperated with Mason – or was it with you? Either way, peeking through the vent slats, you spied Mason’s legs drag out of view. It made your heart fall, feeling more disgusted with yourself each day; it was this confusing combination of feeling a pull to run after him, to apologize to him with every breath you had left, only for that initial urgency to be swallowed by the knowledge that the action would be futile.

With tired eyes, not having gotten more than two hours of unbroken sleep since the sixteen you’d woken from, you looked to your left wrist. It was a routine gesture, pointless in the fact you had not worn the watch since finding it on your bedside table. Much like your uniform, only agonizingly amplified, the sight of the gadget inspired a hollowness in your chest. It remained in a pillowcase, hidden atop the bed you’d claimed. Each night you toyed with it, thumbed at the lifeless screen and wondered if it would ever offer another flicker; each night you caught the hazy reflection of two unfamiliar eyes, finding only the remnants of shattered promises staring back at you.

A sigh crept into your lungs when you stood, arms stretching and hands smoothing back your hair before going to activate the door. It hissed open without your indication; before you could question how, two hands pushed you out of the way and sent you flying face first into the storage shelves. Nose first, actually; the collision rang through your ears, pain throbbing in prominence as you stumbled for stability, arms widespread and eyes pinched shut.

“Oh! You have to be kidding!” Copper crept down your upper lip, cascading over your sharp tongue, foggy eyes opening to blood-stained fingers. “Watch where you’re going, jeez!”

Away from you sounded the door as it shut, but that wasn’t the sound that alarmed you. Across the room, near the sink – at least you hoped it was near the sink – came the horrendous retching that could only indicate vomit. The longer you listened, though, all the while blindly searching for a package of gauze, you found it wasn’t vomit, but an attempt towards it; echoes of dry heaves wracked the room, vomit absent even as the stranger continued in their effort toward expulsion.

A spill of winces left you, a grimace following suit when you tipped your head back, blood draining down your throat. You found a box of gauze squares and tore it open, peeling away a layer and rolling it into a cone before pushing it into one nostril. Vessels pounded against the material, injury soaking into it as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice said, groggy and breathless. “The refresher was occupied, and the occupancy indicator wasn’t on.” She took another breath, gasping back spit. “I figured the sink in here would do.”

Another person you’d been avoiding. Talia. Sick. As she would be, of course. It was something you’d fought thoughts on; it was too confusing, too unnerving to put the pieces you’d been offered together. Hux had left her room, had been so distraught. Talia had seized and ended up in the medbay. Armitage. Stars, how that word haunted you in the way it left her paling lips. She’d been so disoriented, so scared. Glassy eyes and green pallor. And the person she’d asked for was Armitage.

With these thoughts, dizzying as they had become, came the image of the very thing that tied them all together: that square-cut, printed, glossy ultrasound picture. Between nightmares of Robbie and desperately trying to find any amount of sleep, you saw it clear in your head, remembered how you’d lost your ability to stand when you first considered the reality of it. It all made sense clinically; the symptoms, the tangible evidence showing a yolk sac, the patient identifiers framing the monochrome image.

But, when you remembered running into Hux, remembered the ghost in his eyes and felt the rather unsettling demeanor – one not marked with errant hatred – he’d met you with, it all started to blur. Jumble. Your mind rejecting the thought that Talia and Hux-

Talia mewled, your eyes opening to find white knuckles outfitting a vise grip over the sink’s metal edge. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling made it all too easy to see how sick she really was. Tears glinted down her cheeks, her hair dull in its tousled bun, a string of spit straying from her bottom lip; there was a suggestion of green just below the surface of her skin, exhaustion evident in the lavender drapes below her eyes.

A shaky breath left her before she rested against the sink, elbows bent and fingers rolling over her temples. For a moment there was a deafening silence, one that strangled you and emphasized the throbbing in your nose when you stopped breathing. It dissipated when Talia groaned, her head drooping and stance shifting.

“At least shift is done, right?” She sounded like she was talking to anyone. She didn’t know it was you. She didn’t know you knew.

Swallowing, dropping your hand from your face, you tried to think of anything to say. But nothing would come. And, considering how little time you had left to know her – execution or not – you saw no point in frivolous small talk.

“How far along are you?” It was a low rasp; frail in its existence yet bludgeoning the quiet that had preceded it.

She didn’t look up, but you knew she recognized your voice; her every muscle stalled, hair even stilling as your words sank into her. It was the first thing you’d said to her since she’d seized. In her silent shock it dawned on you that it had not been long since you’d been in a situation similar to this; the two of you, a pitting silence, a mess – obvious and blaring – surrounding you.

Only this mess was not something that could be cleaned. This mess existed outside all you had once thought to consider. Though this room was less gruesome in appearance, it held that same suffocated dread, carried with it the reminder that everything could change without a moment’s notice. Watching the color return to her cheeks, absentmindedly brushing your fingertips across the raised marks atop your thigh, it hit you how true that fact was.

A small sound – a swallow – filled the room, a sigh to accompany it. “Six weeks. I think, at least. Maybe more.” She stood then, crossing her arms and leaning against the sink. A wall stood between you and her, invisible yet so entirely present. “No one knows.” Her jaw fluttered at its hinge. The wall was for her; a façade, a crutch. She was scared.

The door lit cool shivers down your back, hands digging into your pockets, a weak attempt at a smile pulling at your face. “Congratulations,” you offered first, forgetting the circumstances before seeing her eyes fall to the floor. “Or not, I guess.”

She kept her eyes down. “I’m not showing, and I’ve been good about sneaking away to throw up, so…”

“Last week,” you said, her stare coming back to you, “after Starkiller. I fainted after arriving back here, and after I woke up,” I washed the Commander of the First Order’s hair and cried to his comatose body about how my life is falling apart, “I just had to know you were okay, so I visited you.”

“I don’t remember seeing you. I actually… How did you even know I had been admitted to the medbay?”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” You chewed your cheek, recounting any of those 48 hours made your pulse jump. “You weren’t well off when I found you, before they took you to the medbay, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me being there.”

Her brow dipped for half a second, a crack creeping into that wall. “I didn’t know you found me. It’s difficult for me to even recall most of that day.” Her shoulders dropped, stature less rigid now. “Thank you, though.”

You nodded, not entirely sure why she felt it necessary to thank you. “Yeah. So, you were sleeping and I saw the tests ordered on your board. And then I found your ultrasound on the floor.”

Her eyes were so distant, pupils housing a familiar ghost. “It must have fallen when I was sleeping.” Her lips parted with the whisper, egregious loneliness overwhelming the thought.

It felt like the floor would fall out at any second, the interaction so fragile. Watching her with intent, measuring her reactions, you charged ahead into territory you’d been afraid to enter for so long.

“Talia,” you started, buying more time to think on your phrasing. Her focus startled back from wherever her mind had taken her. “I mean, maybe this is ridiculous, and maybe I’m so far off base in even suggesting it…”

Her arms dropped when a hand reached to tuck a collection of stray hair behind her ear, nose sniffing, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She took her eyes from yours, breath picking up. That wall she stood behind was wearing.

You couldn’t stand beating around the bush any longer, sick of theorizing about it all. It fled out, no breath to separate any of it. “I’ll just say it: Hux was leaving your room when I came around. And he was being weird. So weird. I mean, he was being… would I say nice? Maybe just, less awful? He complimented me. And it was so weird, but I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt because, you know, he’d just lost a lot of men. But then it was you in the room and I.. he was so distraught? That is barely the right word, but I mean? He just wasn’t General Hux. And then I found the ultrasound and remembered how you’d asked for ‘Armitage’ earlier when I’d found you, and-,”

A weep signaled the destruction of the wall she’d thrown up, hands clawing into her eyes and lungs heaving full of ragged, desperate air. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t tell him! He can’t- I don’t!” Sobs rolled off of her between each exclamation. “I haven’t told him. I don’t know how. I- he’s so evil! I can’t believe I ever slept with him!”

Seeing her come apart, feeling the guilt she did in every word she cried, you could only think to take her into your arms. In your hold you felt her shaking and the pain roll off of her in thick, grating waves. It was familiar, like she, too, had been existing alone; you had not noticed, so buried in your own avoidance that you had not thought to consider hers.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so- I’m so sorry! It makes me so mad that- ugh!”

“Hey, stop. Slow down,” you soothed, hugging her tighter. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

“No, I have! I slept with my Master! And got pregnant! And he’s such a fucking jerk! He’s the whole reason you’re losing your career, you know? And I had sex with him! And I feel- felt real things for him!” A breath stuttered into her lungs. “I never meant for it to go any further than that first night, and then… fuck.”

It burned down to your marrow that you had the power to comfort her, knew everything she was feeling even if it wasn’t hatred that left you crying at night. She would be embraced in knowing you had also slept with your Master; it would minimize the guilt she now felt. To tell her you had fallen for Kylo Ren could help her know that she wasn’t alone.

Instead, feeling her tears accumulate on your sleeve, struggling to keep in your own, you kept quiet. She would not learn how you had burned so bright for your commander. It was selfish, but it was necessary. Self-preservation. She would be testifying against you, taking the stand right after Hux. Her not knowing would do no harm; it would keep her from having to consider or commit perjury. Talia now joined Mason, another soul to protect, another person you would lie to.

Several minutes passed before she stopped trembling, another few before the tears stopped staining your uniform. Humanity existed in these moments, and though you would hide how you knew the advice you would offer her, you knew she needed to hear it. A part of you did, too.

Moving your arms from her back and grasping both her shoulders, you locked eyes with her and forced her to see that you somehow understood her pain. “There is nothing to feel guilty about. Not that you slept with him, or that you got pregnant. Not that you felt things for him or that you still do.” Her eyes shut at that, a fresh streamlet dragging into her mouth. “You can still love him even if he has done awful things.”

“Gosh, how can you say that? He’s ruined your life,” she shuddered, grimacing before looking back up to you.

“I made the choice to take that blood. I had a choice,” your throat tightened, not knowing if you were reciting the words from their origin or from your dream, “I made the one I thought was the best at the time. Hux may be an ass in the way he has gone about the issue, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have reported me.”

She sobbed your name, confusion and hurt wrought in her features. “That blood saved that patient. You saved that patient. We both know that. You saved him and you’re suffering for it and I’m the one who wrote the incident report. He made me write it. Such a fucking bastard.”

Just like that, whatever weird internal truce you’d made with Hux disappeared. “Yeah, that is a dick thing to do, I will say that.”

She wiped at her cheeks, shaking her head. “I should have lied on that report.”

“And gotten both of us in trouble? That isn’t a solution.”

“If I had, you would be less alone in this. And I wouldn’t have to testify against you.” Talia’s eyes shot to the ceiling and back, frustration hot on her breath. “It’s just so-,”

“Unfair. I know. I have… I’ve beaten myself up about it too much not to know that.” This conversation was too similar to those you’ve held inwardly. It was becoming repetitive to keep sulking over something you could not change. But Talia, if she wanted, could change her situation. “We went through the same program, got the same schooling, I know you know your options here.”

She chewed her cheek, shaking her head. A long drag of breath found its way into her chest, releasing when your hands fell to your sides. “This is where you find out how stupid I am.”

It pulled at your heart to hear how hard she was being on herself. “You aren’t stupid. And if you are? Could’ve fooled me with your class rank and just general existence.”

A laugh, weak but not acrid. “Academics were easy. Career is easy. This life stuff? Messy. Complicated. I feel like no matter what I do, it will blow up in my face.” That earlier distance glazed over her stare, a glimmer of yearning present in the way her eyebrows pinched. “And what I want…think I want? I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“What do you want?”

Talia shut her eyes, capitulation and indignance set in her features, jaw flexed. “I haven’t spoken to him since that night,” she whispered. “He watched me fill out that report. I was sobbing in front of him and he said nothing.” A hand smoothed over her hair and clutched into her bun, lips quivering for a moment. “I didn’t even know until last week. I woke up for a few minutes and they started talking about all that had happened – fainting and seizures and blood tests – and they immediately wheeled me down to have an ultrasound to confirm the hCG results and urinalysis.”

She paused, growing in distance the more she shared. “Was it just your electrolytes that caused the seizure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She blinked back to the present. “Belkar actually said I was severely dehydrated and that my metabolic panel reflected that.” Talia was dancing between two timeframes; gentleness framed her face when revisiting that of the past. Something so delicate in her stare; adoration cusping on hope. “I always told myself I would never have children. It scared me seeing how sick they could become when we had our unit on pediatrics. I’d never wanted to feel so helpless as the parents I saw during clinical.”

It almost winded you to watch a single tear slip down her cheek, allowing her silence during her pause before she looked up at you, desperation drowning her eyes. She couldn’t find – or, maybe, did not want to believe – the words that overwhelmed her. “What changed?” You knew, but she needed to hear it for herself.

Her lips had become puffy, teeth pulling at the bottom one. She reached into the front pocket of her scrub dress, pulling from it that square print, only now with rolled, worn corners. “I know it’s early and there are so many things that can go wrong and I know I had been drinking before I knew, but…” A swallow bobbed her throat, a fond smile forming when she toyed with the scan. “When they handed this to me? Something just, I don’t know, came into view.”

A surge of immense pain coiled into you. In her reverie you saw yourself, realized how fortunate her situation was; she had something she wanted and even though it was complicated, she had a choice in the matter.

Again, her mind had wandered, distraction framing her tone; her brows pinched together for a second, a question sparking from her memories. “Have you ever wanted something so much, and maybe you didn’t fully understand it, but you just knew? For whatever reason, this was the thing you would do everything in your power to make possible? To have what you want, no matter how daunting or nonsensical it seemed?”

“Yeah,” you choked out, coughing against the new strain on your throat, “I think so.” Talia had that ability, though, and it cracked against your skull how helpless you were to go after what you wanted.

“You said that I could still love him if he’s done awful things,” she quoted, her attention returning to you. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I really know him that well. But…” She shook her head, shoulders shrugging and a puff of breath leaving her nose. “I miss him. It’s so dumb, but the bastard is nice to be around when he isn’t buried in politics. When he’s just a person. When he isn’t the General. When he’s just—” another smile, similar to her earlier one “—Armitage.”

“That has to be the strangest part of this whole thing.” A small laugh bubbled past your lips. It had been so long since the last one. “Armitage.”

“It was very odd at first. But I’m not going to cry out General, oh please General! when I’m cumming, so I got over it.”

Dumbfounded, all you could do was gawk at her candor. It warmed you, though, feeling like that first night you’d hung out with her. A good memory. Her cheeks pinked in your silence and the sight pulled you straight into a ruckus of laughter, tears – born in pain, falling from humor – and lightheartedness. It was short lived, but Talia joined in your fit; abashed giggles leaving her smile-tight face.

“I mean, I feel like it would be weirder if you were sleeping with Commander Ren.” Talia jabbed at your shoulder. “Calling him… Kylo? That just feels downright wrong.”

Instantaneously, your high fizzling into nothing before her, you found yourself right where you were when you’d said your first goodbye. Ky. It wilted your heart, shrouded whatever glimpse of happiness you’d just caught. Talia was too lost in the joke to notice you’d backed away from her, face turned so she couldn’t see the suffering rise to the surface.

“Ha, yeah. Wrong. So, so wrong.” You cleared your throat, brushing past the weak attempt at nonchalance, ready to be off this subject. “So you miss him? You miss… Armitage? Yeah, no. I’m gonna stick to Hux, if that’s alright?”

A final laugh lit from her chest, Talia waving you off. “That’s fine, of course. And yeah. I miss him.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think it could work? Me and him, and—” she gestured down to her abdomen, placing the scan back in her pocket “—this?”

This was none of your business, and you doubted anything you could say would help her, but there was genuine curiosity in her voice. There was respect in how she wanted your insight into something so intimate and personal.

A sigh preceded your reply, unsure if you were speaking to her or yourself. “I think… Just as you said earlier: no matter if its daunting or nonsensical or even completely impossible – if you want it and you are willing to do everything in your power to get it?”

Hope lit behind her eyes, bloomed in her chest at the suggestion. “It could work.”

Struggle hid behind a mask of hope. Of course she did not know how it pained you to offer words that would never exist for yourself, and it wasn’t fair to ruin her moment of clarity with the bitter bite of ill-placed jealousy. There was no part of you that envied her condition, but instead what it entailed; you coveted her ability to choose the life she wanted.

Talia shook her head free, a giggle warm on her breath. “We should get out of here. Night shift is gonna run us off soon. You have the time?”

“Uh, not readily available. But I’m sure it’s way past shift change.” You started toward the door.

“Hey, I noticed you’ve been staying in the on-call rooms?”

“Oh.” It surprised you that she’d noticed. The knowledge warmed you to your core, both from embarrassment and appreciation. “Yeah, I know you guys have been swamped down here with all the fallout from Starkiller, so I just thought I’d stay near to help out.”

She tsked, your name a mocked plead. “You are Starkiller fallout. You need to rest. Especially now that you can. I got an update from Zag about the trial. You’ve got, what? Three or four days before Canto Bight? Seven until the initial hearing?”

She’d done the same math you’d gone over at length. Hearing it from someone else’s mouth made it that much more real. Frightening. “I know. I do, I know. But what’s wrong with spending them here?”

“You know as much as I do that working constantly drains the absolute soul from you. Even just working these past three days I have been dying for my time off.”

“Yeah, but you have a reason to be tired.”

“I’m pregnant. You survived a planet exploding all the while keeping the Commander of the First Order alive. Are you forgetting that?”

Talia, I wish I could forget all of it. “No, I’m just-,”

“And I know you’ve been blowing off that McCarty guy. He’s a physician, right?”

Maybe you’d been less discreet in your efforts toward avoidance than you thought. It felt like being caught; this web of lies was becoming a strain, less of a benefit, a hinderance rather than protection. “He’s… Mason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Talia strode to your side, stern eyes on your own. “Look,” a breath softened her demeanor, “whatever happened on Starkiller, whatever you saw or felt – it’s affecting you. I don’t know what it is, and I’m not asking you to tell me – though, you can tell me anything – but at some point it becomes a choice to remain stagnant in grief.”

“Hey!” Talia had always been blunt, but her audacity now clawed at your patience.

“Okay, sorry, yes that was very harsh,” she placed a firm hand on your shoulder, “but you are the one who made me realize that. Here. Now.”

Tears threatened but remained stuck in your throat. “Like you said, I’m alone in this. I have to be.”

“The way I see it, you aren’t-,”

“Talia, I am.”

“You aren’t. Me being here and that physician coming here every night is proof of that.” You met her with silence. She shrugged. “You could have left me to deal with my issues alone, but you saw me and knew I couldn’t.” More silence on your part, her stare flicking between your eyes. “I see you. You can’t deal with this alone. I won’t let you.”

You fought to hide them, but one by one fell the tears you had not permitted before. For so long it seemed you had been shielding others from hurt, ensuring a safety they were not aware they needed. Talia was offering that to you, now. Rejection was the first instinct to kick in, feelings of doubt and thoughts of I do not deserve this blaring in urgency.

But then she spoke, naming what you had been too scared to confront. “Choose to not be alone. It doesn’t make you a bad person,” her hand left you, overwhelming assurance in her smile, “You’ve been strong for long enough, for so many others. Let someone be strong for you for once.”

The next breath you took was a million times lighter than any you’d had since seeing Kylo those days ago. She really did see you, more than she could ever know. It was imperfect, of course; you weren’t sure anyone would ever be fully aware of how much pain you were in, there was so much you could never share. It was her offer that brought you solace; it may be superficial for you, but Talia was in your corner, and she believed, knew, that it meant something. In her eyes, pooled with intensity, you heard her loud and clear: that oath, born in blood, was renewed here and now, its strength indelible even in silence.

“Now,” she activated the door, its hiss shivering down your spine, “I think Mason would love it if you caught up with him.” The two of you stepped into the hall, already beginning to part paths. “I’d invite you to stay with me but I, uh…”

“You’ll be otherwise predisposed?”

“…We’ll see,” rose bloomed in her cheeks, “I don’t think I’ll tell him. Not tonight. Not yet.”

“Ah,” you sighed, a yawn slipping past.

“Get some sleep! And maybe just… get some, you know?”

The joke registered too late, her paces halfway down the hall before you called out, “Oh. Oh. No, I’m not with- we aren’t anything more than friends.” Not sure if she even heard you, she waved behind her before turning a corner. Well. That’ll need clarifying.

Heat flared in your cheeks, several pairs of eyes weighing on your shoulders at the outburst. Would there ever be a day when you were not embarrassing yourself on this unit? Given this would be the last shift before going to Canto Bight, probably not. Eyes tracking your steps, deciding to surprise Mason instead of call him, you found your way to the on-call room where your entire world was set up; remnants of a past one, at least.

In it you gathered your belongings – a pair of back up scrubs, a toiletries bag, and the lifeless watch. There was a hesitance before placing the device with the other items. Six nights you had spent staring at its blank face, resenting the stranger you’d come to see. Glancing your face before placing it in the bag, you did a double-take. In the most minute details, barely there, you found a familiarity in the eyes you met; they were less dull, something like life or light peeking through the surface.

You dropped the gadget into your pocket, gathered your uniform into the bag, and took a final glance at the shelter you’d sought amidst a storm that had nearly consumed you. Even though nothing had truly mended, there was comfort in the absence of solitude; in the face of probable death, the explicit knowledge that you were not alone made it less daunting. Less impossible.

A final breath brought the door to a close, footsteps leading you into the vast expanse of the Finalizer. The change in air was nice, lungs welcoming the difference and cluing you into the fact you still had a gauze square shoved up your nose. It took a tug to pull it from its place, a sting pinching at the sudden release of pressure.

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling a new stream of warmth trickle past your lips. Two fingers pressed to your mouth, testing for a mirage but coming back with the real thing, red creaks splintering into the ridges of your fingerprint. Without thinking you wiped it down your scrub top, forgetting you were no longer clothed in camouflaging black, but instead unforgiving grey. “Fuck!”

“Wasn’t this how I left you here the last time?”

The airlock must have snapped, lungs solid, muscles frozen. Tension seized your ribcage, pulse plummeting, blood bounding against tuned ears. Every bit of moisture abandoned your mouth. Every bodily process you could think of stopped.

There was no modulation, each word raw, bare, and clear as the last time you had heard their founder. At least, the last time you’d heard it while awake. It was less haunted now, filled not with insidious rage but rather bone-chilling earnest.

“I suppose not, given it’s your blood tonight.”

He drew nearer, boots heavy and steps paced to perfection, the rhythm of his stride an echo of your heart. Kylo Ren was less than three paces from you and all you could do was endure the sensation of a singular ruby droplet following the line of your artery, dragging past your clavicle, and ghosting the skin over your sternum. The crimson trail began to dry, steps no longer sounding when you forced yourself to look up.

Chaos tore into the base of your spine, every nerve ending firing at the sight of his bare face, no helmet to veil the visage you had memorized. The black strip rested in prominence, striking through his features; in it you found a curious attraction, finding it fit him. The wound was less severe now, healing with time. He wore no helmet, but that by no means meant there was no mask keeping him at a distance only he knew the measure of.

“Where have you been, officer?” Cyanosis was a likely reality, breath still evading you as each word fell in baritone; petrified pupils not knowing where to focus. “Your services finally required, and yet you were nowhere to be found.”

Nothing. No words. No sound. No thoughts. Barren in every aspect of cognizance, you remained silent and still, only knowing to perceive him for what he was: superior.

A twitch at his brow, a narrowing of his eyes. Studying. Testing. “How unfortunate; starved for words when they would actually count.” His injury moved fluidly against his words, a beauty in the way it ebbed with each syllable.

A ping sounded at your waist, commlink buzzing in your pocket.

Languid, Kylo’s eyes dipped toward the sound. “You should get that,” he drawled, eyes twitching before conquering yours once more, “could be important.”

His tone haunted you, demeanor too suggestive. You swallowed against a dry throat, locked in his stare, knuckles brushing your watch when you took out your commlink. It trembled in your grip, shocked muscles heavy with weakness. His concentration had become adamant, palpable, an eyebrow prompting your attention to whatever message had triggered the alarm.

Concerning the defendant,

In the week since the previous correspondence, it has come to be that the defendant is to partake in nursing practice during her time on Canto Bight. This allows the Board of Physicians ease in collecting surveillance imperative to their final judgement.

Commander Ren’s decision to bar the defendant from external practice has been nullified as to not contradict this process.

In permitting the defendant’s practice while on trial, the objective to obtain a new provider has been benched. Due to this, the defendant shall remain assigned to her current Master while residing on Canto Bight…

At last, breath flourished your lungs, an inadvertent gasp thrusting a glutton of oxygen into your airway. Crazed eyes darted over the message for any sign of a mistake that would prove it to be falsified; the only thing you could find was finality, a document containing the proposed schedule attached at the end of the message.

A buzz washed through your brain, overstimulated by the information, everything around you suddenly all too close and bright. Jaw bound shut but still trembling, eyes low and unfocused, a familiar pressure flicked just under your chin. The Force tipped your face upward, pupils strict in their position, passing first over a tense jaw and landing at last on the challenge that lay behind Kylo Ren’s glare.

“I’ll see you on Canto Bight, officer.” A serpentine smirk slithered along his lips, one stride bringing him so his face was hidden, shoulder linked with yours, and fingers jut out to graze at the hidden permanence atop your left thigh. His voice, an onslaught of emptiness, a cold threat, suffocated all that surrounded you. “You wanted to give me more? Prove it.”

[twilightofthe]

So...about that Obitine Anidala rant. Also, you said something about how Sidious and Obi-Wan are foils. I would love it if you elaborate. (Also, I love your blog.)

Awwwww thank you anon!  I just be yelling on here!

*wheezes* okie doke!  Tho I stress that this won’t exactly be a rant because I adore Obitine and Anidala and rant kinda implies aggression towards them, this is more of just a long-ass ramble because while I love them, I don’t always love the way canon portrays them in the narrative, particularly in relationship to each other, because I often do not feel that what the show is trying to push us to think about them is accurate to how they actually act and come across.  Notably, the show attempts to draw comparisons to the two relationships that really don’t exist below surface level similarities.  Again, these are my own personal opinions, and in fact, I welcome discussion!  I truly do!  Please politely debate me on this if you disagree!

(god dammit it got long again, so long I’ll actually put ur Sidious and Obi Wan as foils part in a separate post)

I’ll get to why exactly the show compares the relationships very strangely in a moment, but first we gotta explore the reason why it does this in the first place, which is that the Clone Wars show has decided to make Obi Wan and Anakin narrative foils to one another.  Narrative foils, by the literary definition, are two characters that contrast one another.  They don’t have to be the protagonist and the antagonist, these characters can be on the same side, basically the thing is that they have “opposite” personalities where if one character is hot, the other is cold, if one character chooses to go right, the other will go left.  It’s usually used to show one character’s qualities as more favorable for the situation as opposed to anyone else’s.

TCW does this whenever they possibly can with Anakin and Obi Wan.  I get its reasoning behind it.  I do.  The reasoning is that while Anakin is supposed to be a main character, he makes questionable decisions quite often and for the kiddies watching, those decisions must be seen as Bad even if the hero does it, so they have Obi Wan, the unquestionable good guy, encounter the exact same scenarios Anakin makes his questionable decisions in, and then has Obi Wan make the Right(TM) decision to teach the kids a valuable lesson.  They turn Obi Wan into the voice of reason for the entire show, which turns basically almost everything Obi Wan and Anakin do into a constant competition in the narrative in a way the movies do not do (and I’ll get to the movies later).  I’m not saying it’s necessarily a bad thing, making them foils, but it’s definitely more of a show-only thing and it does it quite, quite often.

So yeah, TCW likes to compare Obi Wan and Anakin to the point that sometimes they try and use Obi Wan to diminish Anakin’s genuine trauma and struggles by going “well why didn’t you do it like THIS?” and I think that writing parallel plotlines for the purpose of shaming/criticism is kinda ://////, but that’s another rant for another day that again, if y’all wanna hear about, lmk

Anyway, the need to compare them absolutely made its way into their romantic relationships as well, as they acknowledge the similarities in the show, and Filoni and the crew explicitly compare the two relationships in interviews.

Basically my problem with how they try and draw said parallels can be boiled down to one quote by Filoni that a cursory Google search could not find but I know exists so y’all can take my word or not, that went along the lines of “Obi Wan and Satine are like Anakin and Padmé but better because they know how to stay unattached and let each other go.  They’re a success story.”  I disagreed with this quote so much it inspired me to write a whole-ass fic about it (Mutuals update: yes, it is coming soon, Darth Maul is just himself and therefore an utter pain in the ass to do a POV on and is fighting me like the bitchass he is)

My thesis that I will be arguing today is that while TCW tried to create Obitine as an Anidala parallel, they’re really not similar in the way the writers think they are.  Obitine is not a success story to Anidala, they’re a goddamn tragedy too; the real parallel to Anidala is that Obitine also ended in death and tears despite making all the “right” decisions instead of all the “wrong” ones, and that is what is sad about them.

Like, on the surface level?  Yeah, the crew-intended parallels are there.  A fancy politician and a Jedi get together after the Jedi is assigned as the politician’s bodyguard.  The first time they see each other in over a decade the guy’s first words are basically “damn girl you’re still hot”, there is Conflict(TM) and the choice to try and be together or stay yearningly apart because they are Forbidden(TM) to be together, and ultimately a Sith Lord fucks them both over because he’s obsessed with the Jedi and uses Politician Lady to his advantage, finds and exploits a vulnerability of hers, destroys her life’s work, and then lets her die to make Jedi Man sad.  The difference is all that one pair said “yeah we aren’t gonna break the rules to be together” and the other said “fuck it yeah we are, let’s do this”

But beneath all of that, they real similarities are different and not at all focused on by the narrative.  Obi Wan and Anakin are extremely different people, as are Padmé and Satine, so their relationship dynamics together will not be the same.  You want to try and compare Obi Wan and Anakin and then compare Satine and Padmé like the crew attempts to, and you can’t, they have the same job but not nearly the same life.  Namely, the funny coincidence is that Obi Wan and Padmé are much more similar in personality, while Anakin and Satine are also much more similar in personality, so the first time they meet again, it’s both Anakin and Satine as the one who’s been pining for over a decade and the one more actively pursuing the relationship, while Obi Wan and Padmé who are more like “uh, hi, wow, you’re hot and this is a Problem because I have a job to do pls don’t look at me like that but also I will Cause Problems On Purpose and flirt with you anyway because I can’t help it”.  I get the Corruption TCW ep with Sati and Pads was mostly intended just to help Satine pass the Bechdel test and also show how similar the two leading lady love interests are, but it was a genuinely creative episode that actually ended up showing how much Satine and Padmé compliment each other instead of mirroring each other, much like Obi Wan and Anakin do.

And, onto my next point, despite the character parallels being wrong, the parallels in the relationship are different too.  Like I said, the parallel isn’t that Obi Wan and Satine aren’t attached like Anakin and Padmé are.  The parallel is that Obitine is actively running from what that attachment means instead of embracing it like Anidala is.  The show would argue that since they try to avoid it, that they are able to live without one another, means they aren’t attached like the Jedi define it, but I argue that they definitely still are attached to a degree because they cannot give each other up.  They held torches for each other from a timerange of 15 YEARS.  Yes I know they spent an entire year together at a young and emotionally volatile point in their lives, but I stand that NO ONE is that hung up on their ex for that long unless there is some serious emotions involved.  Anakin was hung up on Padmé for ten years, and that was because Palpatine was constantly bolstering those affections and reminding him of Padmé.  Obes and Sati both-- or at least Satine, the show always makes Obi Wan’s feelings for Satine in return much more vague --held on to their feelings for five years longer without the influence of a Sith Lord.

And the thing is, they know it.  Obi Wan and Satine are both fully aware that they haven’t been able to shake each other off like they should and that that is a Problem, that’s why they’re both a mite venomous with each other beneath the flirting at first, they’re both extremely frustrated with themselves for not being able to get over this thing they have, and frustrated with the other for being there as an active temptation.

And yet, they still are attached to each other.  They try to avoid it, they definitely try, and that’s what makes them different from Anidala, but they are definitely still attached.  You can see it in Obi Wan’s actions in Voyage of Temptation when Merrik is threatening to blow the ship, the way he hesitates in attacking him because that would be “striking an unarmed man”.  Obi Wan Kenobi does not prefer violence, no, but he has never hesitated to cut a bitch before if it’s for the good of the many.  This is the man who stabbed someone with a fork and threatened to eat him just to maintain his cover as a dangerous criminal.  This is the guy who had no problem killing Zam Wessel for information to protect Padmé.  This is a pragmatist who prefers peaceful solutions, but he does not hesitate if he feels it is a justified offense.  But this time, when an entire shipful of people is at risk, Obi Wan hesitates.  Because he doesn’t want to upset Satine.  Because he’s probably thinking on how she told him that if he had killed the last terrorist they encountered, she wouldn’t speak to him, how she had criticized every time he used violence to escape Death Watch before.  He hesitates because he’s putting her happiness, just for a second, over the sake of duty.  Do I think that if Anakin hadn’t shown up to save their moral compasses, Obi Wan would have eventually taken out Merrik?  Absolutely; hell, I honestly think Satine might have done it.

But the matter was, Merrik could have pressed the kill switch any second of Obi Wan’s hesitation, and Obi Wan knew that, and was hesitating anyway.

I am calling this attachment solely because if the situation was reversed, if this was Anakin and Padmé in this situation, with Anakin not taking out a dangerous criminal because he doesn’t want to upset Padmé (lol ignoring the fact that Pads 1000% would have shot that bitch, and even if she didn’t, Anakin would because he is perfectly fine with hurting his loved ones’ feelings if he feels it’ll keep them safe), god, the narrative would have eaten Anakin alive.  

No, I won’t take criticism.  I know how the show handles the Anidala dynamic.  It would have shown Obi Wan popping up to take out the baddie as him doing the right thing and saving the day, and then Anakin would have been shamed for letting his feelings for his wife get in the way of protecting a shipful of people.  THAT would be the Vader foreshadowing, none of this “only a cold-blooded killer” shit, no way would they ever stick that label on Obi Wan.

So yeah, I’m going off of the fact that if that would have been classified as attachment for Anidala-- which, it would, then. it counts for Obitine.

And then Obi Wan and Satine continue to be hung up on each other for the rest of the eps they’re in, Satine saying in words multiple times how much she loves and cares about him and wishes things could be different, and Obi Wan performing it in actions, risking his own neck and political standing to help her even when she’s a fugitive, probably personally putting in to send his own grandpadawan to help her later.  Right up to the time when Satine decides that she is going to call Obi Wan when she is deposed.  Not the Senate.  Not any powerful politician friends.  Not even the Jedi Order or the Council as a whole.  She calls and addresses her distress call to Obi Wan alone.  And Obi Wan, as now revealed to us by TCW S7, defies Council orders and breaks a century old neutrality treaty to try and bust her, a convicted murderer in the eyes of the Republic and Mandalore, out.  He didn’t even know Maul had her.  Just knew she was in danger and came running to her aid.  He risks starting a potential war to come save her.  They acted so in love that Vizsla was able to guess from being around them for like five seconds, and was able to tell Maul exactly who he would need to bait Obi Wan.

That is where the attachment comes from.  It’s the fact that Obi Wan and Satine tried so, so hard to give each other up and do the right thing, but when it came down to it, they couldn’t lose the other one so they put them first when logically they shouldn’t.  And thus, Satine ended up dead.

Now I know most people will argue with me that actually Filoni means that since they didn’t stay together after the year on the run, THAT is what makes them able to give each other up, and also the fact that Obi Wan didn’t go dark side and murder everyone when Satine died.

But I still think that at least the murder front is a fairly low bar to cross, and anyway, that just because they could live without each other didn’t mean they weren’t still attached.  Anakin and Padmé were apart for 10 years and then even after that, they were apart almost constantly during the war.  Just because they could live apart or even past the other’s death didn’t mean they weren’t attached, as they both still had not let the other go mentally and also broke rules to try and ensure the other would not die, even if the rules said they should let it happen.

So yeah, that’s my big theory.  We can’t compare Obitine with Anidala by saying Obitine was a success story, we compare them by acknowledging that both struggled with attachments and letting the other go, but Obitine at least tried to the bitter end to do the right thing while Anidala didn’t really bother, and both ended up with dead women and broken men regardless, and that is the true sad parallel to me.

[mischiefandi]

Surprise! - Peter Parker Headcanon

A/N: Peter and Y/N are smol beans and they have a big ass crush on each other and they share a birthday enjoyyy (first head canon ever don't hate me if it sucks dkjgjfhdjgkfj)

Warnings: fluffyyy

Word Count: ??

gif credits ->  @underoos-tom​ <3

Peter and Y/N met in school

they were both in the same Chemistry class, in fact, they were lab partners

Y/N had stayed up all night painting with her new watercolors

so she was absolutely exhausted

so exhausted she ended up falling asleep in class

Peter was seated next to her

they’d briefly exchanged a few words before but they weren’t really friends

still, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, lying across their desk

he tried to pay extra attention in class that day, jotting down as many notes as possible

though he did get distracted a couple times

Y/N was pretty cute

after class he gently nudged her, trying to wake her up without freaking her out too much

she eventually stirred awake, much to his relief

she was embarrassed but he reassured her and handed her the entirety of his notes

Y/N was really touched by the simple gesture

this simple act eventually blossomed into a long-lasting friendship

the pair was inseparable, truly just two peas in a pod

Peter walked Y/N home every day without fail

and every time he smiled widely as he watched her run up to her front door

though he’d never do it in front of her

Y/N was really sweet and funny

she always made him laugh a ton

to the point where he’d choke on his water or fall off a chair

thus only amplifying the fit of laughter for the both of them

she loved hearing his laugh

there was no sound she liked better, it was like music to her ears

months after becoming friends with Peter

Y/N was talking with Ned in the cafeteria

the subject of birthdays arose

and much to her surprise, Ned told her Peter’s birthday was the 10th of August

she nodded but then did a double take, the new information settling in

“His birthday’s the 10th of August?? That’s my birthday too!” she exclaimed

Ned couldn’t help but laugh as Y/N excitedly started planning out a surprise for her friend

“friend”

“FRIEND”

he watched her jot down ideas on a pad and his eyes lit up as he came up with a surprise of his own

it didn’t take long before he told Peter he and Y/N shared a birthday

Peter was completely bewildered

what a strange coincidence

fate?

please, fate’s not actually real

is it?

Peter just couldn’t help but feel like maybe, somehow, this was a sign

a sign he should surprise her too

with a special declaration

maybe?

Ned helped him come up with a whole speech

he even gave him advice on what to wear for the occasion

months passed and both Y/N and Peter could barely contain their excitement

they were happy their birthday was coming up

but more importantly

they couldn’t wait to surprise the other

Peter memorised his little speech over and over again

terrified of messing it up

she deserved only the best

and when he was nervous

he rambled

a lot

and that wasn’t the best

Y/N on the other hand

she had spent hours in her room painting

it was what she did best

and Peter was worth the best

she couldn’t wait for him to see what she had so carefully crafted for him

Ned found the whole situation hilarious

both of his friends kept sneaking behind each other’s backs

Peter didn’t know Y/N knew

Y/N didn’t know Peter knew

make sense?

Ned felt extremely proud of himself

he was the mastermind behind the entire ordeal

guy in the chair’s a cool title, but mastermind’s even cooler

summer finally rolled around

and July flew by in a flash

finally it was the day

the 10th of August

the day both Y/N and Peter had planned for so long

Y/N shot out of bed, grinning from ear to ear

she celebrated with her parents, blowing out the candles at breakfast

Peter woke up in a pool of sweat

he was so nervous

today was the day

the day he was finally going to tell her how much he liked her

you know

as a friend

“fRiEnD”

after opening Aunt May’s gifts

and after giving her a huge bear hug

he got dressed, even added some gel to his hair

though it looked weird

so he washed it out

Y/N slipped on a lovely sundress, one she had heard Peter compliment when he thought she wasn’t listening

she smiled to herself as she remembered his blush

he was sure to love it

slipping her gift for him in her bag

she ran out of her house

the pair had agreed to meet up at Central Park

their usual hangout spot with Ned

speaking of Ned

he sent a text to Peter, giving him some final words of encouragement before the big moment

Peter shakily walked over to the bridge where Y/N was patiently waiting for him

this was it

“Peter!” she called out

he ran over to her, the corners of his lips curling into a grin at the sight of her

she always looked so pretty in that dress

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Yeah, do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait.”

“It’s your birthday.”

“And yours!”

“You knew??”

“I’ve known for months!”

the pair laughed, the sudden realisation dawning on them

Ned had played them both

“Happy birthday, Peter!” Y/N exclaimed, pulling him into a hug, and his heart swelled as he inhaled her sweet perfume

“Happy birthday, Y/N”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“So do I.”

“You go first!”

“No, no, you!”

Y/N smiled widely and reached for the present hidden away in her bag

she took it out and gave it to him

Peter couldn’t believe his eyes

she had painted him

correction

she had painted them both, sitting on a bench together, watching the sun go down

they were holding hands

Peter blushed a deep crimson and let out a warm chuckle

“This is amazing, Y/N. You’re crazy talented.”

“I wanted to paint you something, cus that’s how I express my feelings.”

“Your feelings?”

Y/N shyly tucked a stray hair behind her ear, avoiding his gaze

“Yeah…”

“Y/N, I have a surprise too”

Peter suddenly couldn’t remember his speech

but he didn’t need to

he knew exactly what to say

correction

he knew exactly what to do

he suddenly closed the distance between them, planting a soft kiss on her lips and Y/N’s heart stopped

he was kissing her

Peter

was kissing her

the Peter she cared about more than anyone else in the world

the Peter she couldn’t help but dream about

she kissed him back eagerly, slipping her fingers through his curls

after a while they pulled away, forehead against forehead

“that was quite the surprise.”

“it’s been a long time coming.”

Y/N giggled and Peter thanked his lucky stars

best

birthday

ever

A/N: hihi this was definitely not inspired by Peter and my birthday lol nooo, hope y'all like it :))

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[mrskurono]

what !!!! omnipotent being !!! i mean thank you sm ily2 you’re so sweet and i love ur writing too 🥺 but i don’t deserve such high praise it’s just my horny ass thoughts finally seeing the light of day 😭 but like honestly it’s only because u were so open to my ideas 🥺 like i’ve tried sending thirsts to other blogs but it never rlly turned out well, usually them saying they didn’t vibe or simply not answering (which could mean it never reached them at all !!), and‼️ i don’t blame them for at all ‼️ it’s completely ok to not vibe with an ask or ignore it it’s ur blog after all, but i’d be lying if i say that it didn’t make my confidence in sending thirsts go 📉📉📉. the last thing i want is to make other people uncomfortable :(. so like lowkey u were my last shot and if it was badly received again, i was just gonna give up on sending thirsts completely lol ✌🏼😗✨

basically just wanted to say that i rlly appreciate you liking my thoughts 🥺

- 🪢🥸 sorry this got long and rambly and kinda em*tional omg 🤢🤢 now back to our regularly 😎 scheduled 😜 fun jokes 🤪 and horny hour 🥵

YOUR THIRSTS ARE THE EXACT THING I NEEDED TO ACTUALLY WANT TO WRITE AGAIN OK LIKE- HOLD ON IM ALREADY PMS EMOTIONAL HERE LET ME JUST FULL ON HAVE AN (1) EMOTION OK-

Wait ima put it under read more sorry I went off .-.

My other writing blog was fun when it started. I mostly wrote for anyone (jjk) people sent in. So y'know 99% Gojo, Nanami, Toji and Sukuna (this was even before Geto got popular so it was hardcore those four and that's it) and the 1% I spent writing about Mahito and the other curses. Which is where my dark content side really started bc I loved writing that/felt inspired. Where the other shit felt like a job.

But I hated writing for the popular characters. It was the same thing. Every. Single. Ask. Fucking I'd have 12 asks "Sukuna with a short s/o that he loves uwu" I fucking hated it. I hate ooc crap and mischaracterizations just so it can fit what someone wants (crack content is a thing, pls do enjoy it, I just personally don't enjoy it) And finally I took a 2 week break after a Kinkmas event and boom. I didn't want to write anymore. I just didn't want to keep doing it.

Which was shit bc this is my only hobby now due to covid + having a baby. So writing for me is my only outlet. I can't go out and even do normal "first time mom" things bc of the raging anxiety of getting my son, or my wife or my elderly grandma sick. So I've basically been stuck at home an entire year (it'll be an entire year around March 15th ish bc that's when we went into lockdown) and writing was the only hobby I could continue bc the rest involved, y'know, outside world things. So when I didn't want to write anymore honestly I felt like shit (I almost was tired of jjk too, I loved the show but running a blog for it made me hate it bc of the fans)

Well then i branched out to hq bc it's a definite comfort show to me and one of my favorites so I thought adding it would help inspire me to write again. Truthfully I expect this blog to flop bc I've seen almost no femdom content on tumblr. Like- I've seen more anti femdom content from blogs than I've seen femdom blogs. So naturally I expected this to never go anywhere and I'd probably end up deleting it anyways.

But then you came along (and a few others from my old blog + newbies) and you guys have made this so much fun for me. And made me feel so validated by what I find sexually comfortable. I don't like to be sub. It makes me uncomfortable and it makes me not want to have sex. So the quantity of "cute little sub reader calling so and so daddy while he makes her cry" eww. Just. No. Eww. That's triggering you dumb fucks. I'm not small. I'm not submissive and I'm not a play thing. So I don't want to read it. And the amount of daddy issue having idiots who want to be beaten like white trash but turn their nose up at femdom bc its "gross" just drives me bat shit.

Your thirsts are amazing. Your content you send me makes my day I legit check for them when my son gets up to eat at night. They're the kinda things I wanna do bc to me thats arousing. The dynamics in femdom sub/dom are just so much different than the other shit and people just don't get it. The female is in control but with it there's so much unspoken consent always being checked and there's a side of caring that always is present unlike with the other shit I read. People ask why I like it and really all i can think to say is femdom tends to nurture a more caring dynamic between the two. You treat your sub well and the sub loves the dom. The two coexist to still take care of each other even if it's someone tied up and pegging them until they're drooling. Femdom makes consent and caring its main pillar that stems a good dom/sub dynamic. The shit people are out there doing right now with "Atsumu fucking you even if it hurts but you suck it up" or "Sakusa hits you all the time but its fine" jfc I get writing trauma but EVERYTHING is that. I don't know if yall need to collectively get off the internet and go to counseling or what. But daddy kink is not a personality trait and no everyone is into it.

Anyways shit sorry for the rant. The fact people hate your thirsts drive me crazy bc it's the same bias shit for writing femdom bc everyone is a God damn weak wristed pillow princess with daddy issues as their only personality trait and haven't ever had sex just fucked a poster of saskue or whatever the emo dude is off naruto. Just know I love your thirsts and everything you send me. None of it makes me uncomfortable bc it's the exact delicious stuff that I love. Minus mad passionate sex with Kageyama. I'm very vanilla with him but that's bc I'm stupid and in love. So ignore that. But babe ilysm pls always feel comfortable on this blog it's your home to be yourself I promise ♡♡♡♡

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office Series - The Sexperiment

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Four: The Double Date

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n is doing better than ever; she’s finally in a relationship with the man she’s been constantly thinking about, she has some great friends, and she’s thriving at her dream job. Except, there’s one problem: being in a relationship with one of your coworkers can get really steamy, and can cause a lot of sexual frustration. Her new pitch idea may solve exactly that problem, but will George be okay with it?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! **“The Sexperiment” is inspired by an actual Cosmopolitan article (here’s the link!) IM BACK BABBYYYYY thank y’all for being so patient with me, I truly needed a mental health break with everything happening, along with my finals going on. But I’m back now, so expect more coming!!! ;)

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s NSFW content..aka smut. You have been warned. Also angst :/ srry this is kinda short

I began to awaken when I felt something against my heat. The sensation was too real to be a dream, and I felt myself gently awaken, my eyes opening to see my legs parted, George’s face in the middle of them. His eyes met mine, watching me whilst his tongue slowly lapped at my flesh. I sighed at the euphoric sight and feeling, my back already beginning to arch as my hips began to buck against his mouth. He held my hips down, making it easier for him to accomplish his goal. 

My hands moved to his disheveled locks, raking through the curls as our eyes met once again, my nerves already unraveling, beginning to reach their peak. My legs flexed as his tongue moved faster, expertly drawing shapes on my flesh that made my breath hitch. Toes curling, I forced my eyes open to watch him, allowing my climax to take over me in spasm-like movements. He brought his face up to mine, allowing me to taste myself on his lips as we kissed. 

I wished we could have stayed like that, warm, bare skin flush against each other whilst we slowly kissed. I was reminded that I had to go into work, but I was grateful for my makeshift alarm clock. 

The windows casted the light of a newborn day, the sun still in hiding as the sky was painted in the dull colors of dawn. This meant that I had time to shower, that we had time to shower. His eyes still puffy with sleep, he parted his lips from mine, taking time to absorb my vulnerable groggy state before taking my hand and guiding me to his bathroom. Though being in the city, the world was quiet–quieter than usual, at least–at this time, and we didn't take it for granted. Our sex wasn’t exactly vocal, nor was it rough or fast. With the warm water running down our bodies, he’d picked me up and had my back against the cool tile wall, my legs wrapped around him.

His pace was slow, taking his time pumping in and out of me. The only sounds surrounding us were the water puttering against the tile and the shower curtain, and the shakiness of our breaths combined with the unholy noises of his length slowly burying in and out of my heat. My fingertips gripped his soaked, slicked back locks, trying to hold myself together as he only slightly quickened his pace. His parted lips rested against my shoulder, his own shaky breaths and curses warm against my wet water-droplet covered skin. My legs tightened around him as I reached my second climax of the morning, feeling him give a final thrust and still as my walls clenched around him. 

After that, we spent time shampooing each other’s heads and washing one another’s body, littering wet skin with loving, tired kisses. After drying off and returning to the bedroom, I hide to fight the urge to crawl back into his bed and let my drowsiness take over. But, I forced myself to change into my work clothes I’d packed, letting him help me by clasping my bra and zipping the back of my pencil skirt, his hands cupping my ass for a moment before reminding himself of the time. 

Our slow, loving morning routine made me wonder what our life would be like if we’d lived together, if we’d spend time loving on each other each and every morning. 

I wondered.

Throughout the day, I received text messages from my blond roommate, asking if I’d wanted to go out for dinner and drinks with George to accompany her and Faith on their first date. After asking George on lunch and him kissing the back of my hand with a “doesn’t matter to me, angel”, I agreed to the double date and climbed into the passenger seat of his car as gracefully as I could, though my feet were tired from attending meetings throughout the day with Dean. 

“You can get ready at your flat, then we can go back to mine and we can leave from there?” I suggested as he started the engine.

“Sounds good,” he confirmed, sending me a smile before turning his attention to the rear window, strategically pulling the car out of its spot and exiting the wide parking lot.

The radio was off, therefore the only noise that filled the atmosphere was the quiet road noise and the sounds of New York traffic that I often paid little to no attention to, as it was white noise to me at this point of my life. But I found myself eagerly wanting to make conversation, wanting to hear his velvety accent that I knew I could never grow tired of.

“This morning was nice,” I spoke up, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment as I began to overthink. “’Nice’ sounds too cutesy now that I say it out loud,” I rambled.

“Cutesy?” he asked, turning his face to me briefly with a raised eyebrow and a smirk of amusement. 

I buried my face in the palms of my hands, my cheeks turning more and more crimson by the second.

“You know what I mean!” I exclaimed.

He turned his face to me again for a moment, smirk still lingering on his lips.

“Do I?”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in defeat.

He rested a hand on my thigh, giving it a pat and rubbing circles over my skirt.

“I’m just playing,” he reassured me, freeing one of my crossed arms and bringing the back of my hand up to his lips before returning it onto my lap. “This morning was incredible.” he agreed.

When we arrived at his flat, I gathered all of my belongings, preparing them to bring back to my apartment while he dressed himself in casual attire. Once I got my things packed–and fought the urge to bring him to his bed after seeing his loose waves now more tousled and his rolled up sleeves exposing the veins traveling up his arms–it wasn’t long before we headed out of his flat, on the way to my own. 

We arrived fairly quickly, and he waited on the sofa whilst I freshened up and changed into a pair of jeans and a floral top. I slipped a pair of wedges on and tossed my hair around until I was completely satisfied with my appearance. I stepped out of my bedroom, finding Bree and George in the middle of a conversation as she fixed a pair of earrings onto her earlobes in the closest mirror.

“I’m just really fucking nervous, I haven’t been on a date in– Jesus, Y/n, took you long enough!” her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed.

My eyebrows raised in confusion at her physical state. She’d looked flustered, which was something Bree hadn’t been since college; she was always the go-with-the-flow type no matter what, which I think was one of the reasons why she wasn’t too keen on relationships. 

“Bree, are you...flustered?” I examined teasingly. 

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Our Uber’s here, let’s go,” she announced, nearly bolting out of the door, already sitting in one of the seats when we opened the door to the Subaru by the curb. 

The ride was brief and awkwardly quiet. I could feel Bree’s leg bouncing up and down and her eyes jump to the digital time clock on the radio of the car every few seconds. When we arrived at the restaurant, we were seated and ordered a few drinks whilst we waited for Faith’s arrival.

“Just be yourself,” I reminded her, watching as she nervously chewed on her plastic straw, her drink having been finished already within the first five minutes she’d received it. 

“I haven’t had to be myself for anyone else in a while,” she admitted, dropping the chewed plastic straw into the tiny glass. “When you’re just fucking someone, you get to skip all of the personal shit.”

I rolled my eyes at her raunchy language, my eyes growing wide as I peered over the booth and spotted the small ginger-haired girl walking in.

“She's here,” I whisper-yelled.

Whipping her blond hair, she checked if my observations were correct; confirming, she faced back toward us and shrunk in the booth, her hazel eyes anxiously wide. 

“Hi!” 

We all looked to see her in a skirt and top, gripping her purse that was slouched over her arm. Her blue-green eyes matched the vibrance of her hair, and her button nose and high cheekbones were sprinkled in adorable freckles. Faith was immensely attractive, and I found myself slightly jealous, due to the fact that she’d dated George.

Bree sat up instantly, moving over to give the girl enough room to sit next to her. 

“It’s,” she cleared her throat, “nice to meet you!”

I chewed on my lip, watching Bree nervously attempt to pull herself together. George and Faith exchanged friendly smiles before the waitress saved us all from further awkward exchanges, asking for our orders. Along with our food, Bree ordered another drink, making George and I cringe. 

“So,” I began, as the waitress left. “How long have you been in New York, Faith?”

George brought a hand over my lap comfortingly, making me relax as I watched Bree intently.

“I’ve been here for about five years,” she answered. “I’ve wanted to move here for a long time, though; I wanted to go to NYU, but I couldn’t afford it.”

My eyes lit up.

“Bree and I went to NYU!” I exclaimed, nodding my head toward my roommate. “That’s how the two of us met.”

Faith looked at the blond next to her, as if waiting for her to confirm this.

“It’s true, we had a literature class together,” Bree confirmed, her voice small.

I didn’t have to look under the table to tell that she was rubbing her sweaty palms onto her jeans over and over again; this was one of her signature nervous habits.

“Sheesh, you guys must be swimming in debt,” she speculated, her thin, auburn eyebrows raising. 

“Tell me about it,” Bree groaned.

It was true. Going to school out of state, not to mention NYU, came at a cost. And coming from a small town, I had to work full time as soon as I’d graduated. I predicted I’d be paying off my debt for another ten to twenty years, give or take. And, quite frankly, I wasn’t sure if it really was worth it. But, NYU gave me my friend for life, so I couldn’t complain. 

The waitress came back with our food, and Bree’s drink. As we began eating, Bree and Faith began to converse quietly amongst themselves, leaving George and I to do the same.

“You think it’s going well?” I whispered, as I shoveled food into my mouth. 

George shrugged, glancing across at them.

“Looks like it’s going alright.”

We began talking quietly about things that’d happened at work, before the girls included us in conversation again.

“Actually, Y/n is writing an incredible article right now,” Faith spoke up, gesturing to me with admiration. 

My eyes went wide and my body froze.

No, no, no, this can’t be happening.

Bree’s eyebrows furrowed, as well as George’s.

“You haven’t told me about it, Y/n, what are you writing?” she asked, her words slightly muffled from the pasta in her mouth.

My cheeks began to flush and I could feel my heartbeat in my ears as panic settled in.

“It’s an experiment, I’m sure George knows all about it,” Faith smirked, wiggling her eyebrows.

I wasn’t sure what to do nor what to say. 

George shifted next to me, concern taking over his facial features.

“No, I actually have no idea what it is,” he admitted, looking at me with raised eyebrows. 

I gulped, looking at Faith with wide eyes as she began to realize what she’d just done.

“Oh, um–” she stuttered, looking at me apologetically as her cheeks began to flush in embarrassment. 

“Why don’t we handle the bill?” Bree interrupted, clearing her throat. “You two should probably head home, anyway, and I could use another drink.”

Giving Bree a look of gratitude, George and I exchanged quiet goodbyes before exiting the restaurant.

My mind began to run through multiple arguments I could make, but nothing was right; I knew I was in the wrong this time, and I wasn’t sure what I could do to make up for it. We stood in silence, walking along the sidewalk in search for a cab.

“So, are you going to tell me what she was talking about, or am I just going to have to wait ‘till the magazine’s out to read about it?” he snapped, crossing his arms.

I gulped, pausing in my steps on the sidewalk.

“I–” I stuttered, pausing as I searched for the right words. “The, uhm, the lingerie,” I began with a defeated, guilty sigh. “I wore it to see if wearing lingerie could improve your sex life; it’s for an article, the experiment she was talking about.”

His eyes widened and his brows furrowed, displaying frustration and confusion.

“Was that– Are you implying that our sex life needed to be improved?” he interrogated.

I chewed my lip nervously, nodding to answer his question.

He scoffed. “And you told all of the journalists and editors this?” 

I wasn't sure what to say.

“I–”

“Do you know how embarrassing that is, Y/n?” he threw his hands up. “That’s our workplace! Telling our coworkers, my coworkers, about our sex life?!”

“That’s not what I meant–”

“And not even asking if I was okay with it first? Or communicating with me how you felt?”

I wasn't sure what to say or what to do, because nothing I could say or do could fix the situation. I’d fucked up completely.

As a cab pulled up beside us, I hung my head.

“You can get in that one, I’ll just wait for the next one,” I offered quietly.

He shook his head.

“We’re taking it together, so I can make sure you get home safely,” he stated.

Stunned, I nodded and got into the small cab, telling the man my address as George piled in next to me, his gaze to the window with his arms crossed.

The ride was uncomfortably silent as I awkwardly responded to the driver’s small talk. Once he arrived at my building, I took one final look at George’s appearance, still turned away from me, before thanking the driver and walking inside, trudging up the stairs.

I wasn't sure how I could fix this or if George would ever forgive me, and I felt guilty about even continuing to write the article. But I had nothing else to write, and the article was due soon. 

I’d reached my biggest fear, the fear I’d gained the moment I laid my eyes on his bright, kind smile and his perfect sandy locks.

I had to choose between my dream job and George.

[fictionalarsonist]

Meanie + #1 please!!

「 BAD CHOICES AND NEW BEGININGS — pt.01」

pairing ›_ meanie ; mentions of woncheol ; mentions of seungcheol ⨯ twice nayeon | content ›_angst ; fluff ; mingyu is good at cooking ; mild language ; cheating | rating ›_pg | word count ›_4.3k

―

premise ›_Mingyu had never been in a relationship before, but being with Wonwoo makes him want nothing else but. But, Wonwoo’s too attached to the past and it makes Mingyu’s too uncertain of his place.   ›  One-liners Inspired Drabbles  ― #1. “Sleep in your car if you don’t like it.”

credit to @mingyuistall for beta-reading this for me. ty, hun!

「 ao3 | masterlist | buy me a coffee | commission」

Mingyu rubbed his closed eyelids, his eyes hurt after being focused on that computer screen for so long, trying to see any and every tiny mistake that could possibly be done before he, as the manager of his department, could submit the project to approval. He knows Joshua is particularly sensitive to minor or any mistake, if he would say so himself, the little arrogant prick wants nothing but to give his word of approval after making his own signature adjustments to the project - as the department’s director - before presenting to the higher ups.

The phone ringing beside his keyboard robs his attention partially, causing him to reach his hand towards it and it keeps reading as his lips move with no sound coming out of it. In some illogical way, to Mingyu, mouthing his thoughts as he looks at the project on the screen would mute the sound and help him focus just a little more- Just enough, just a little longer for him to finish this one part… Unfortunately, the persistent sound doesn’t stop, Mingyu grumbled something unintelligible under his breath and glanced at his phone for the first time. Wonwoo’s ID brings a reluctant smile to his face.

“Hey!” Mingyu greets, his voice rather raspy for the lack of use over the last few hours he’s been focused on that computer’s screen.

“Are you busy?” Wonwoo asks at the other end of the line. Mingyu glances back to the computer’s screen with a half-smile as he leans back on his seat; holding back grunts of complaint when he feels pain on his back muscles.

“Not really,” he lies, looking away, “What are you up to?”

“I was wondering if you’re still coming over tonight,” Wonwoo replies.

“Of course,” Mingyu replies without a second thought.

Just a couple days before his replies would wait a second more or so of hesitancy before replying. Mingyu has never been the type to get into a relationship, he’s not used to this, out of nowhere calls that get his heart skipping a beat and puts a silly smile on his lips. He used to mock Jeonghan for it, now he’s the victim of all this and despite all his expectations, Mingyu finds himself enjoying all too much.

Mingyu never thought his last one-night-stand would end up like this, but Wonwoo was everywhere after that and… It’s not like he felt like going anywhere else. For whatever reason, if Wonwoo was there, then… It’d be him whom Mingyu would be drawn to. Wonwoo’s apartment was already a second home for him and he already could find Wonwoo’s things in his, at random places and it all just made him feel all the more anxious for not knowing if this is where things are supposed to head to. It’s partially scary and Mingyu tries to be careful not to ruin everything, if there is anything to ruin at all.

“Kim Mingyu?” Wonwoo’s voice is rather playful.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re not busy? I don’t want to-”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Mingyu says nonchalantly, “But… Umm… What, exactly, were you saying again?”

Mingyu hears Wonwoo scoff and is unable to wipe that stupid smile off his face. His eyes meet Jeonghan sitting at his cubicle and Mingyu grimaces and turns away. He doesn’t quite like the all-knowing look on Jeonghan’s face.

“I’m going home now, do you want something?”

Mingyu wonders why it feels so natural to have Wonwoo ask him if he wants something to be taken home, even if that’s not what the other is asking… It just feels like it is. Oh God, does this make him a creep? Is it weird to think about it?

“Uhm― What- What do you mean?” Mingyu asks, frowning as he presses the phone on his ear as if this would make him listen - without a doubt - Wonwoo’s true intentions, the true meanings of the words. As if it would answer a question that Mingyu himself doesn’t even dare to ask.

“What do you mean, what I mean?” Wonwoo asks in confusion, “I mean food, Mingyu. Food, beer, snacks, street food- just anything. If you want something, let me know,” Wonwoo spells it out, but to Mingyu it doesn’t seem like a good answer.

“Beer, I guess. Maybe some snacks,” Mingyu says for no particular reason, he’s not really craving any snacks or beer. But saying nothing would be awkward with the way he’s feeling― something that thrills on disappointment. It’s too uncomfortable.

“I’m not in the mood for cooking, so I guess I’ll buy street food for dinner, is that okay?”

Wonwoo sounds so casual. Mingyu can hear the sounds of the street in the background, it feels oddly satisfying, feeling like he’s part of Wonwoo’s life. But it’s also unsettling, not knowing if this would just be something Wonwoo would do for someone he’s seeing, does he do this for other guys too? Are there other guys? Mingyu never cares about this, but he can’t help but to think about it when Wonwoo is the one who―

“Forget it,” Wonwoo says out of a sudden, getting Mingyu by surprise, “Sorry,” there’s something in Wonwoo’s voice Mingyu can’t quite catch on, “You must be busy and I’m getting in your way-”

“Wait, no!” Mingyu replies a little too quickly, “That’s not it,” he adds hurriedly after ruining any aspect of coolness he intended to act with.

Mingyu limits himself to cursing mentally before hitting his head on the backrest of his chair, eyes closed to try to conceal the feeling of cringeness when Wonwoo doesn’t say anything back.

“I was thinking-” Mingyu starts again, nibbling on his lips, trying to deal with this newfound uneasiness and hesitation to speak up, “This time,” he hesitates, “I should probably try making something. As I recall, you already have your fair share of street food and leftovers, right?” Mingyu’s voice sounds too foreign to his own ears with all this awkward, unintentional softness that he desperately tries to mask with his usual laid-back way of talking to his usual hookups, “You should eat something homemade for a change. Also!“ he tries adding, ignoring how he keeps rambling, “This way the food won’t get cold by the time I get there.”

None of what he says is out of nowhere. Wonwoo’s too careless and Mingyu’s first hand testimony that his current… acquittance? Lover? Wonwoo, he is very attached to an unhealthy diet; MIngyu doesn’t even want to think of whatever there is inside his fridge right now. Though, judging by the fact that he wasn’t at Wonwoo’s place not too long ago, he considers just about the same thing probably remains in the fridge and cabinets with little to no alteration. Mingyu recalls a particular package he saw and can only imagine Wonwoo would be smart enough to not venture himself to eat.

“So, you’ll be cooking? I wonder if you’re as good as you brag to be” Mingyu likes Wonwoo’s amused voice.

“I- never bragged about my cooking,” Mingyu protests and Wonwoo laughs in his ears, causing him to smile.

“Is that so? Then… I must have imagined someone going on about how the perfect breakfast should be carefully made this or that way,” Wonwoo seemed very amused at Mingyu’s pathetic noises that didn’t make any sense, let alone be the excuse Mingyu wanted it to be.

“I wonder what I can do if it’s not good~”, Wonwoo provokes with a rather playful tone.

“You can sleep in your car if you don’t like it-” Mingyu retorts.

“Ah, okay. I get it.” Mingyu definitely liked the sound of Wonwoo’s amused short laugh, but he never saw it. Being too taken by his own thoughts, he loses a part of whatever Wonwoo started to say, but pay attention to whatever comes next, “I guess I’ll see you back h-” Wonwoo stops himself and the atmosphere from before shifts, “I guess― I’ll see you at my place, then.”

“See you.” Mingyu replies a moment too late with his pulse stuttering an erratic beat.

Mingyu swallows thickly, wondering he imagined the words that were about to slip past Wonwoo’s lips while listening to nothing but the background noises of the busy streets Wonwoo’s at. It kind of reminds him of two nights ago when he found Wonwoo drunk out of his ass, unable to do anything by himself. It was Friday night and Mingyu didn’t hear from Wonwoo, he was confused - much worse than he is now. Sooyoung invited him to go to this new club and he had no reason to refuse, Mingyu would lie if he say didn’t search for the familiar figure in the crowd, but Wonwoo was nowhere in there and after some self convincing he easily found himself with someone he now can’t recall the name or the face.

It was on the way to a hotel nearby when he stumbled on Wonwoo who seemed to recognize him right away, asking who he thought he was to come at such an inconvenient time. Like he was the one to ask that. Mingyu had no choice but to leave his previous company to escort Wonwoo home and tuck him into bed. Somehow he ended up tucked into bed too, with his arms around Wonwoo curled against him. It took way too much time for Mingyu to calm down and to be honest he didn’t have much sleep that night. Mingyu was too caught up in the way Wonwoo’s hand slipped under his shirt, against the skin of his back, but not in the way it did before. Wonwoo’s breath against his skin, calming and peaceful was nothing like the one he got to know the past nights they spent together and everything became all the more confusing than. That’s when Mingyu started to have these― seconds thoughts about Wonwoo and all of this.

Mingyu’s not sure how much time has gone by, but he knows Wonwoo’s still there, he wonders if maybe Wonwoo forgot to hang up, maybe thinks he did and Mingyu’s not sure what kind of creep he became by this point, but hanging there and listening. There’s something in the silence, Mingyu feels eager to grasp on whatever it is, but he’s not good at this.

“Mingyu―” Wonwoo tries and Mingyu hums softly in response because there was something to it and Mingyu wishes he was as smart to catch up on it as he was noticing all the tiny, little details in all these projects. But, there was this change of tone Mingyu’s too sensible not to notice and the next thing he heard was: “Call me, if you- change your mind”

“I won’t change my mind.”

“Good,” Wonwoo breathes

“Good,” Mingyu mocks, “See you, then.”

“See you.”

When Mingyu turns his chair around and places his phone back on the table, he keeps staring at the silent device as if it holds answers to all these questions he barely lets himself think about.

“Hey!”

Jeonghan’s assault to his daydreaming moment makes Mingyu feel slightly offended and he can barely hide it when he looks up, but Jeonghan doesn’t seem to care about it, leaning with his arms on the small dividers of Mingyu’s cubicle.

“I’m not interested in whatever you have in mind,” Mingyu speaks up before Jeonhan could say anything and gets a mocking chuckle as reply.

“Here’s the report,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly, throwing the stapled together pages on Mingyu’s table.

Mingyu spared Jeonghan a quick look before looking away, back to his computer screen.

“If that’s all, then just go back~” Mingyu complains in irritated annoyance.

“All right,” Jeonghan replies with a smile playing on his lips as he turns back to his cubicle.

***

Wonwoo bit his lip, looking at his phone as the screen went off. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. Not this time. Yet, Wonwoo’s not sure how it all came to this, when Jihoon pointed at Mingyu that night he said it’d be perfect. Mingyu’s known to be nothing more than a one-night-stand kind of guy, so how come he’s so willing to buy food and hang out in Wonwoo’s apartment instead of going back to his own place or going out for a drink with his friends after a long day at work- maybe end up with another someone the next morning. That’s what Mingyu himself told him that one morning when Wonwoo was busy cooking breakfast and Mingyu came, running his fingers through his bed hair as he sat at the kitchen table, watching Wonwoo prepare their breakfast. Mingyu looked so out of his comfort zone there, so Wonwoo avoided looking at him. It was awkward at first, but after that first or after the second time, things just… kind of felt natural when it wasn’t supposed to.

“That’s ₩12,000.”

Wonwoo snapped his head up at the cashier.

“Sure,” he mumbled, fishing his wallet from his pocket.

“Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo took this little time as he thumbed the bills before looking up at the voice he could just recognize anywhere much to his dismay. Seungcheol smiled at him, shifting the way on his feet, the basket with groceries swinging in his hands. Wonwoo wishes he could say that smile didn’t pull any strings for him, for that’d be a shameless lie. It’s still very vivid in his mind the way Seungcheol would smile at him like that when they were about to kiss or how this smile could be a prelude to a contagious laughter when they were goofing around.

“Oh, hi,” Wonwoo managed to say, “What are you doing here?” Wonwoo feels like an idiot as soon as he asks the question as his eyes fly to the basket in Seungcheol’s hand. “Oh. Right.” He smiled, despite himself, using the timing to collect his groceries from the balcony.

Sungcheol looks down at his basket as if just realizing it’s there before setting on the counter. The cashier couldn’t be less interested in their interaction, but Wonwoo felt like the stranger’s presence became an added humiliation to his embarrassment. Even though he could just wave goodbye and leave, he found his legs unable to walk away.

“How’s Nayeon?” Wonwoo asks, feeling his throat constrict as he tries to voice out the name of Seungcheol’s fiance.

“She- uh―” Wonwoo looks at Seungcheol, but he’s looking at the groceries being scanned. Wonwoo recognizes that self-deprecating smile on his lips. “She left me.”

She left him.

Wonwoo fought back a smile just to feel conflicted the next. He didn’t want to feel hope again, Seungcheol would never choose him and he knows it, Wonwoo knows Seungcheol would rather live whatever life’s easier than admitting and letting others know about his… preference. Wonwoo doubts Seungcheol would’ve changed, he knows he’s smarter than this, still…

“That’s why all the beers, then?” Seungcheol laughs in self-deprecation again.

“We had to call off the wedding and it’s been a long day,” Seungcheol admitted reluctantly. “Look,” Seungcheol hesitates, busying himself as he pays the cashier, “I really could use some company now-”

Wonwoo takes a sharp breath when Seungcheol looks at him and his eyes pleads for Wonwoo to accept him and Wonwoo would be lying if he never thought of this moment, except that he always thought this would be Seungcheol who would leave his fiance to be with Wonwoo and not… this. This feels like he’s the second choice, a permanent thing Seungcheol running back just because he needs something.

“I promise, we’ll just talk,” Seungcheol insists, clearly seeing the wheels turning in Wonwoo’s head. It has always been easy for him, anyway. Wonwoo was always too easy for Seungcheol to read and this is how he could never win. Seungcheol was always one step ahead. “That place across the street. Just- I need someone to talk to.”

Wonwoo licked his lips and laughed at himself. Maybe Seungcheol remembers how Wonwoo’s weak to the way he looks at him like that. Wonwoo wishes he could say no, it would give him a twisted sensation of satisfaction, but he can’t bring himself to. Not with the way his heart stubbornly pounds in his chest, screaming something completely different.

“Just order whatever you want, it’s on me today,” Seungcheol says when they’re settling on their seat and Wonwoo nods.

“I think I should be the one treating you to a meal,” Wonwoo says as casual as he can, placing his coat and groceries on the seat near him.

“Maybe next time,” Seungcheol chuckles, leaning back on his seat.

When Wonwoo looks up Seungcheol has his eyes fixed on him and a smile eases on his lips very subtly. It’s soft and meaningful and Wonwoo doesn’t want to believe in what Seuncheol is trying to convey to him. Wonwoo looks away, busying himself by calling the waitress.

As he sits there with Seungcheol something comes to Wonwoo’s mind. Just a few days later would mark the fifth month since they broke up. Wonwoo’s not sure when he forgot about it, he used to count the hours during the first couple of days, then he counted the days up to a hundred. Then he kept on counting to the first month as he tried to move on, the date just seemed to jump at his face every time he glanced at the calendar. Jihoon dragged him out of this trance and then he met Mingyu; it was enough to rob his attention and he stopped noticing. The date became just another uneventful day in the calendar last time he looked at it. Now, he can picture the calendar in his agenda and the plans he has for this particular day seems unimportant next to what it’s supposed to represent.

“I gotta admit, I missed the food here,” Seungcheol says casually. He starts picking on some of the side dishes and placing on his spoon, before shoving in his mouth right after slurping some noodles and soup. Wonwoo limits himself to a casual nod, it only occurs to him now, he only came here because Seungchol likes the food, him, on the other hand, is not that much of a fan. “I- haven’t been here since we…” Wonwoo steals a glance from his bowl to Seungcheol.

“Me too,” he confesses, swallowing around the food left in his mouth before going for some of the side dishes. Seungcheol reached to place one of Wonwoo’s favorite’s on his spoon.

“It’s your favorite, isn’t it?” Wonwoo sighs, leaning back once again and lowering his spoon. “Okay, okay.” Seungcheol acknowledges, “I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo swallows what’s left in his mouth and places his spoon down, the little pile of picked side dishes left untouched.

“Cheol, you- you can’t do this,” Wonwoo breathes out, his heart sounding loud and hurtful to his ears now. He thought he was over this phase, but the uncomfortable feeling of his eyes stinging on the sides tells him it’s easy to fall back into the pattern Jihoon forced him out of.

“I know,” Seungcheol replies, “I’m sorry-”

Wonwoo doesn’t want to look at Seungcheol right now. He was never like this before, but he never really loved before until Seungcheol came around and Wonwoo found himself being immature like a teenager in love.

“No, you don’t” Wonwoo shakes his head, tries to conceal the desperation pushing its way through his chest, up his throat; he doesn’t want to cry. Wonwoo’s sure he’s past this. “You don’t understand what you did-” Wonwoo licks his lips, too nervous to think of what to say next Seungcheol pulls his shoulders close in guilt, placing his spoon and pair of chopsticks on the table.

“Trust me, I- thought about it more than I’d like to admit,” Seungcheol confessed, looking for Wonwoo’s eyes. “Nayeon-” he scoffs, “She caught on it, I think-” Wonwoo watches him bite on his tongue, “I think she knew for some time. I’m- a terrible person, aren’t I? Hurting two people I care about like this,” Seungcheol reaches across the table for Wonwoo’s hand.

Wonwoo looks at how Seungcheol’s hand fits in his, Seungcheol pressed their hands together in a soft hold. Wonwoo bites down his lip and Seungcheol waits until Wonwoo’s eyes finds him again. The warmth of Seungcheol’s hand is the same, just like he remembers.

“It was a mistake,” Seungcheol said, “All of it. If I had to choose again, if I could do it all over again-” his eyes looked desperately for Wonwoo’s when Wonwoo finally looked up, “I would choose you.” Seungcheol makes a small pause and moves to the seat between them, “Don’t look around, look at me,” Seungcheol asks when Wonwoo looks around in panic, knowing Seungcheol doesn’t want others to notice.

***

Mingyu’s still grumpy, regretting the moment he shared the cab with Jeonghan. It’s annoying listening to all the remarks about how he looked during that call, all the questions about who it was when he knows it’s Wonwoo. Jeonghan‘s seen Wonwoo with him.

“Seriously, do you want to know what this looks like to me?” Jeonghan asked and categorically pretended not to hear the very clear negative reply he got, “You like him. It’s about time for you to admit that this is way past something casual like you’re trying to play it out to be. How many nights have you spent in his house?”

“Do you want a report?”

“I’m sure he’s just- waiting for you to figure it out by now.”

“It’s not like this~” Mingyu can’t hold back his annoyance at Jeonghan’s optimism. He, himself, doesn’t want to think about things like this, it’s too much and too complicated.

“It isn’t?”

“He’s just getting over this other guy who screwed up really bad,” Mingyu’s casual tone is nothing but a facade and he only notices when the bitter taste in his tongue scratches down his throat as he thinks back about what drunk Wonwoo told him about this Seungcheol guy.

When drunk Wonwoo shoved his phone on Mingyu’s face, he saw the photos saved in that gallery and Mingyu couldn’t possibly understand whatever Wonwoo saw in this guy. Just by looking at that static image Mingyu could tell this Seungcheol guy spelled trouble; Wonwoo deserves something better. Mingyu feels something in his pulse, wanting so badly to think that it could be someone like him, but- Well, anyone who knows him would never agree; actually it’d be a laughing matter to them. Maybe everyone but Jeonghan, but Jeonghan’s not someone to take all that seriously in this regard now that his friend seems desperate to push him into something. Mingyu’s not the type to deliberately hurt someone and Wonwoo’s definitely doesn’t deserve another asshole in his life so soon. Mingyu paid the driver, not minding the change.

“Listen, it’s Friday night and here you are.” Jeonghan said, sat by his side in the cab while Mingyu avoided looking at him like a stubborn toddler.

“Yeah, and we’re at your stop. See you Monday.” Mingyu complained and ordered the driver to stop even if they weren’t that close to the metro’s entrance.

“Fine!” Jeonghan conceded and stormed out the cab and when Mingyu thought Jeonghan could close the door and leave, his friend leaned down, holding the door open. Mingyu had moved close to the door and Jeonghan’s face came uncomfortably close to his, causing Mingyu to jerk back.

“Geez, Jeonghan!” Mingyu jerked back, looking away with annoyance, “What’s wrong with you? Just leave!” Jeonghan laughs at Mingyu’s glare, not a bit intimidated by his friend’s attitude.

“Just listen~” Jeonghan half whined with one of his all-knowing smiles and Mingyu grimace.

“I really don’t want to-” Mingyu complains once again.

“Stop being a brat. Listen,” Jeonghan insists and goes on, completely ignoring Mingyu’s grunt in protest or the driver’s impatience and reproval, “If this Wonwoo dude- If he’s letting you in his life is because he wants to try again and I think it’s time for you to give yourself chance and stop behaving like your whole life will be nothing but this, and if this Wonwoo guy is what you say he is…”

“I didn’t say anything,” Mingyu protested and Jeonghan laughed.

“That’s what you think. Out of four words you spoke, five were about Wonwoo.” Jeonghan scoffed, “Trust me, Mingyu. I’m sure he wouldn’t let you come so close to him if he didn’t mean it.”

Jeonghan words sounded like a broken record on loop. Mingyu went over it more than he’d like to admit and he wished he wouldn’t mind them as much as he does. But the idea of Wonwoo letting him stay, not because, to Wonwoo, Mingyu is like a spare tire, but because Wonwoo wants him there. It’s foreign, Mingyu wants this to be true, he really does and before he realizes, he’s smiling at the thought of it; but stops as soon as he sees himself reflected at the glass of the grocery store behind the cashier.

It’s only when he’s paying that he realizes what he bought includes ingredients to that foreign breakfast Wonwoo commented wanting to try and Mingyu reluctantly admitted to being good in the kitchen. Also, maybe he got a little more than he should for dinner, it should be something simple, he could just work with a little less than all of these without having to reach for any of those questionable leftovers Wonwoo has in his fridge; Mingyu figured Wonwoo’s the type to always have questionable- let’s just say “food” in his kitchen.

“I- want to return these, actually,” Mingyu pushes the extra ingredients to the side and ignores the cashier’s reproving stare. Wonwoo never said he could stay the night.

Cooking for Wonwoo, would that be too much? Doesn’t it make it seem like Mingyu’s trying too hard? But it’s not like Mingyu wants to try hard, what exactly would he try hard for? It’s not like Jeonghan is right; Mingyu presses his lips and looks down on all the grocery plastic bags heavily hanging from his grip, they seem to tell a different story from the one which he’s trying to convince himself of.