#turns out I might write faster as a planner...

[storm-angel989]

hiii! it's my birthday but I'm having a really bad day. can I request a like,fanfiction where it's Valentino's teenage daughter's birthday but he forgot till it's like,an hour before it's over? thank you in advance!!

Hi friend,

First of all: Happy BELATED Birthday! All the joy and love for many, many more days to come! I’m so sorry you didn’t have the absolutely fantastical day you deserve, but I do hope this story makes today slightly brighter. 

Story time before your story. I was working on another piece when I got your request- and dropped what I was doing to work on this. My brain fizzed a fizz right away- that never happens! Unfortunately, we also got hit by major storms last night- a tornado touched down a few miles from here and completely knocked the internet out. So I wrote this story as I did back in my early days of writing - offline, and on what battery I had in my laptop! But I did it- I wrote it all out on the power I had left with hopes the internet would be restored before bed. As I write this at the end of the night, knowing I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to edit and post, know I’m thinking of you and sending all the good vibes your way. I share this with you in hopes that you see that even on not the best birthday, someone cares and is so happy to celebrate another year of your life! 

<3 Mandy 

Valentino knew he had circled the date on his calendar for a reason, but as he sat in his office, wracking his brain he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. He knew it was midway through the month and had to pay his dues to Angel. But that couldn’t be the only reason why the date was circled. 

A knock on the door pulled his attention to his first client of the day and with reluctance, he closed his planner. He figured if the date was truly that important, it would come to him eventually. The events of the day rushed on around him and he found himself completely caught up and focused on his work. 

Six filmings. And to end the day, kissing the only whore that came between him and his wife, a trail of red salvia tainted with the drugs he swore he would one day no longer be in charge of. But at the moment, he was bound by the contract. It was the second their lips touched that he felt his blood run cold, and not for the usual reason. The date. His daughter's fifteenth birthday. How the fuck had he forgotten? 

“Oh, not yet big guy, I still haven’t had my fix,” Angel purred beneath as his hand pressed to the back of Valentino’s neck, pulling his face inches above his. “Of course, you could fuck me- might be faster. Get that red juice pumping.” 

Valentino gritted his teeth. A younger Vaentino would have gladly done so- at Angel’s invitation or not. But that ended the day he told his wife, “I do.” and Angel knew it. Valentino bent his head down as he pressed his lips harder against Angel’s, willing the crimson liquid to drip down into the eager addict. Valentino could feel his heart racing, anger and frustration at the predicament he found himself in. He shouldn’t be here, in this position, especially not when he had such pressing family matters. He angrily shoved the palms of his hands into Angel’s shoulders as he pinned him down under the weight of his body. 

“Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore,” Valentino snarled. In his anger, his hands fell to Angel’s throat as his tongue snaked its way into Angel’s mouth. Carefully, he listened for the high pitched, drug induced moan that was Angel’s tell. 

The second Valentino heard that note, he dropped Angel like the worthless slut he considered him to be. Wordlessly, Valentino turned towards his office as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. He took a deep breath as he tried to refocus his attention on the situation outside of the studio. Behind him, Angel’s moans of ecstasy grew louder and it was all Valentino could do to tune out the sound. 

 Family and work. Family needed him. Work was done. 

He picked up his phone and did a double take. Twenty seven missed calls from his wife. Six from Velvette. Two from Vox. And a single text from his daughter. 

Hey, Dad. I know you’re busy. It’s alright that you can’t make it tonight. Mom and Uncle Vox are really mad though, so I guess just be on the lookout. I miss you, Daddy. Maybe I’ll see you later? 

Somehow, her forgiveness and understanding hurt more than if she was angry with him. Fury at himself, at his job, at his life bubbled up inside and he wasn’t aware of his fist going through the wall. Fuck the rest of the day. Fuck Angel Dust. In that moment, nothing else mattered. He had to make this up to her, somehow. 

Somewhere inside, Valentino knew any amount of tangibles couldn’t make up for his fuck up. But that didn’t stop him from frantically scanning over his daughter's wish list and sending every item on it to be wrapped and delivered to his upstairs office within the hour, along with cake and decorations. A post party surprise, just with family. That would be his excuse for being late- not that he thought his wife would buy it for a second, but his daughter might. And that was all that mattered. 

 He quickly shed his signature glasses and jacket, opting for his contacts and a more discrete jeans and black V neck. He jammed his wallet into his back pocket and checked his wife’s location. He sent her a quick text and without waiting for a response, or for the limo, Valentino swung his leg over his black and silver motorcycle and took off towards the restaurant. 

To his mortification, he glanced around at the crowd. Was this supposed to be a big party? Had he forgotten that too? As quietly as he could, he parked and made his way inside the restaurant just in time to see his daughter surrounded by friends and family as she blew out the candles on the cake. Embarrassment flooded through him as he stayed behind the crowd, singing quietly along. 

She should be furious with him. How did he make such a terrible mistake? How could he have possibly forgotten the day he became a father, forgotten the day that changed his life for the better? Part of him wanted to walk away, to take a deep breath and save his own face from the public shame he was sure would come when she noticed him. But he couldn’t do that. He deserved whatever she had to give him. 

No sooner than the first slice was cut did his eyes meet hers. The anger he expected to receive was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by sheer joy.

“Daddy!” She yelled as she booked it across the room. 

To his surprise, she jumped into his arms. He caught her and pulled her to a tight hug.

“I knew you wouldn’t forget my birthday!” She squealed. “I just knew it!”

Through the crowd, he could see his wife’s disapproving face and the livid expression on Vox and Velvette. He would have to figure out some way to explain later, but for the moment he held his daughter. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late mi amore,” he said softly as he kissed her forehead. “Go. Enjoy your party. I’m here now.” 

He watched as his daughter's entire expression lit up. He released her and he watched as she mingled her way back through the crowd. Behind him, he felt a familiar arm slip around his waist. 

“Nice of you to show up,” his wife whispered furiously, “honestly, Valentino. Is Angel really worth this?”

Valentino swallowed back the guilt. The answer was no. But she couldn’t know the real reason why- the intimate, gritty details of the contract that bound Angel’s soul to his. For the second time that day, Valentino bit back his pride and instead, kissed his wife’s cheek.

“You have every right to be mad. But I…I threw together a surprise for our daughter. Hopefully she…”

“As long as she ends this night overjoyed,” Valentino’s wife replied with a grumble. “But you always have been good at covering your tracks.” 

She didn’t even know half of it. 

An hour later, his daughter perched on the back of his motorcycle where his wife once sat, and a grand entrance later, reader sat amongst the presents and balloons that cluttered Valentino’s office, nibbling on her second cake of the evening. 

“Daddy, I really thought you forgot about me- I’m sorry I ever thought that,” reader said as she wrapped her arms around him.

Valentino could feel all three sets of angry eyes on him as he wrapped his daughter back in a hug. 

“Bebita, I’m sorry for ever making you feel that way. I love you, you are the most important thing in my life. Next to your mom, of course,” he replied. He planted a kiss on her forehead and smoothed back her hair. “Happy birthday, baby.” 

“I don’t mean to be a party pooper, but someone has a big day tomorrow,” Vox said as he collected the dirty paper plates. “That is, if you’re still planning on playing in the game and not playing hooky like I suggested.” 

“No way Uncle Vox, my team needs me!” Reader exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around him. “Love you, goodnight.” 

Valentino was the last to bid her goodnight. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could.

“You’re coming to my game tomorrow, right Daddy?” She asked.

Valentino could hear the hope in her voice, see it in those bright blue eyes of hers. Flashes of work, of his schedule burst into his mind. He could see her expression start to fade in the heartbeat of silence.

“Of course baby, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And we can go out after for lunch to celebrate- make up for my tardiness to your party.” He replied quickly. 

“That sounds amazing! You’re the best, Daddy!” She said excited as she gave him a final tight hug. 

Of that, Valentino wasn’t so sure. He watched as his entire world walked down the hallway towards her bedroom. As soon as he heard the door close, he turned to the other three. 

“Guys, I…”

“Save it, Val,” Velvette replied with an eye roll. “No excuses. You fucked up. Big time. You better not fuck up again tomorrow.” 

“You’re really lucky she brought your little story,” Vox added. “And that we covered for you. And really, it was only for her sake that we did.” 

His wife didn’t say anything. Instead, he watched as she silently left the room. He followed after her. Vox and Velvette he could talk to later, right now he needed his wife. 

“Do you think she knew?” Valentino asked the second they were behind their bedroom doors. “Honey, I’m so sorry.” 

To his dismay, she shrugged. “Val, she’s getting older. It’s only going to get harder and harder to keep what you do behind those doors a secret.” She pulled a pajama shirt over her head and climbed into their bed. 

Valentino joined her and in a few moments, she shifted her body closer. He exhaled a silent thank you as he held her tight to his chest. He closed his eyes and felt her thumb brush against the corner of his mouth, no doubt wiping away an invisible speck of red poison. 

“Valentino, it's not just her you’re going to have to talk to. You’re going to have to tell me the full story about Angel Dust at some point. This whole thing, it’s getting in the way of our family more than it ever has in the past,” she said softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’ve never let work interfere with your family before. Why now is that suddenly changing? Missed games, you missed her final recital. And now you almost missed her birthday. Where are you going to draw the line?”  

He felt the weight of her head on his chest and felt the bitterness of guilt rise in his throat. How would she ever understand the mistakes he made? The deal he trapped both himself and Angel in? The cruelty he inflicted? Who he was outside of their home? She knew, of course, his line of work. But she didn’t know the details, and the last thing he wanted was for her to discover the entirety of that part of him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally replied softly. “I’ll try to do better. I promise.”

“You need to,” his wife replied firmly. “For our daughters sake.” She closed her eyes, “And you can start by showing up at her game tomorrow, like you promised.” 

[threewaysdivided]

hi 3wd. i’ve tried to write before and i’ve never gotten far in the process, despite having many ideas im enthusiastic about. all your blogging about being a planner-writer has got me thinking i might have the same style of writing as you l- and a lot of the reason im struggling to put words on paper is because i don’t have a direction or fleshed out emotional/plot beats to write towards. what would be your advice to any fledgling planner-writers that don’t know where to start? how did you start writing with this writing style?

Hey nonnie 💜

It can be super frustrating to have a bunch of pieces you want to play with but not have them come together in a way that maintains traction.  Outlining could definitely be a potential tool to help sustain momentum, so let’s see if I can get some gears turning for you.

For me personally, the outline-approach is one I just sort of fell into naturally.  Part of it comes from my school days; we were encouraged to write dot-point plans to structure our arguments/ research/ storytelling for assignments ahead of drafting (some teachers even counted evidence of it towards the final grade), which set it as a habit early.  Fun fact: I actually outlined this answer before writing it; I do it for most long posts.  Another part of it is that I tend to come at writing from a very analytical angle - there’s a degree to which I try to solve or understand stories as I consume them.  One of my earliest casual jobs was working as an English/Lit tutor for high-schoolers.  I find a lot of joy in picking narratives apart, figuring out how they work and finding ones that hold up through several layers of examination, so as a writer I like to construct stories that way.

Part of it is also that, when I want to write something for release, I’m conscious of the fact that it will have an audience.  A question that hangs around in the back of my mind is “if I found this story and wasn’t the writer, would I enjoy reading it?”

There’s another aspect that has to do with respect, in a way.  I love the worlds and the characters that I use in my stories, and for me that means writing things that feel true to their spirit, giving significance to the times when that changes and making sure they have a meaningful journey (even if it’s not a happy one).

For me outlining suits this ethos, since having a map of future directions makes it easier to place foreshadowing fairly, identify themes, build character arcs and keep explanations/ lore consistent.

I’m also going to admit that I just got lucky with Deathly Weapons. There was a very specific emotional idea that I wanted to centre a story around, and the inspiration happened to come with both a starting premise and a concept for the ending.  Then I also had wish-lists; some tropes I wanted to play with, and some existing series whose storytelling structure I wanted to emulate and pay homage to.  Something I realised a few years after starting DW is that I’m a very project-and-output-oriented person.  In a way, Deathly Weapons’ came to me as a project brief where I already knew the end-goal and a lot of what I wanted to work towards.

With that said, let’s talk outlining:

The value of having a plan

To me, an outline is a bit like having an itinerary for a road-trip.  It gives you an idea of where you’re going, how long things will take, what key things you want to do, how much it might cost and it helps you anticipate potential problems.  But, like an outline, an itinerary isn’t binding.  There might be some things that take more effort to change (distance to travel, bookings you need to cancel/ reschedule/ extend - key plot points that a story hinges around or that need more preparation/ payoff to be effective) but you can adjust as you go; take extra time to explore an interesting spot, add a detour based on local recommendations, skip things that turn out to be less compelling than they first seemed, take a shorter route to get to a key destination faster, extend the trip to see a few more sights or decide to cut things short because something came up.   The itinerary gives you the security of already knowing where you’re headed, letting you put down the mental burden of having to work out each stop as you go and enjoy the moment more. 

Ways an outline can help:

Reassurance: if you have a tendency to be anxious/ self-critical/ have high standards about characterisation, plot holes etc. then an outline can be a good way to workshop the story and get ahead of potential challenges, as well as to concept-test whether this is a project you feel like committing to.

Scoping: blocking out an overview can help you get an idea of the size and complexity of the project, and how much time/resources/teamwork it might need.

Motivation: having a plan of future story moments that you’re looking forward to can provide a goal to help you push through the less exciting parts (e.g. connective scenes) and/or help you re-find your enthusiasm if you’re returning from a break or are feeling creatively flat for reasons outside the story itself.

Iteration: if you tend to come up with stories primarily by exploring and assembling ideas, then an outline method can be a way to quickly put a concept on paper, examine it and then decide if/how you want to use it, without the restriction of needing to write it all out as polished paragraphs first.

Splitting up the steps: useful if you tend to think faster than you can type full sentences, find that you move between ideas non-sequentially or if prose-writing/ sentence construction is something that takes a lot of mental energy or stop-and-starting from you.  An outline can be a way to separate the processes of story crafting and story telling into more-distinct stages rather than trying to juggle both at once.  Find the story first, then write it.

Non-sequential writing: having a roadmap of your story’s structure and direction can give you more freedom in how you choose to approach it, letting you jump ahead to work on planned future sections/scenes where the inspiration is flowing rather than waiting for the next scene to “come to you”.

For a more direct comparison, Screenwriting Bibles are a form of outline for professional TV/Film production.  These “bibles” are key reference documents used by writers for information on the premise, characters, settings and other project elements, as well as to plan future episodes and seasonal arcs.  (This podcast transcript, article and template are good starting sources if you want to learn more about TV Bibles.) 

Much like a series bible, an outline can help you keep tabs on:

Consistency and continuity: this can be minor stuff like names of background characters or small details (running gags, item descriptions, character trivia) but can also be major stuff like character motivations, who has what abilities, event timelines or story-themes.

Direction: your outline can capture the overall arc(s) and conflict source(s) of your story and their intended resolutions, as well as mapping out how those conflicts are progressing.

Causality: whether planned events and character choices feel consistent and reasonable within the internal logic of your story.

If any of this sounded helpful to you then you might benefit from experimenting with an outliner/ planner approach.  There are a bunch of different planner techiques (here’s a link for some) as well as hybrid “plan-tser” methods that you could try. But for now let's talk about the general process, starting with a focus question:

What is it that makes you want to tell this story?

This might seem like a daunting place to begin but it can help with figuring out the core of your story and what you find compelling.

It’s okay if you don’t have a neat-and-clean answer straight away.  Sometimes inspiration just strikes out of the blue, and that’s fine.  Sometimes you have a vague directional pull but you’ll need to do some story-work before you can identify what’s calling to you.  However, if you did have a specific itch or passion that drove you to write then thinking about what and why that is can help you understand what you want from the story – and in turn what might connect with other people.

I also want to be clear that this is not about judging your motivations or their “artistic merit”.  I had a specific story to tell is fine, as is I wanted to explore this concept/theme/emotion/issue, or this was a gift/commission for someone else, and so is I wanted to try writing a specific genre, or I wanted to experiment with a specific medium, or I wanted to do my own version of [existing idea] or I am fascinated by this character/relationship/world or I needed some vicarious catharsis, or I was horny.  And a whole bunch of other things.

Knowing what you’re trying to get out of a story can help you decide what type of story you want to tell, as well as the overall scope and what medium/format/genre to tell it in.  Maybe it’s a single-scene character/aesthetic study, or a one-shot vignette.  Maybe it’s one long story, or it could be series of connected stories, or it could be a story-anthology centring on a common idea.  Maybe this story would work well as a comic, or art piece(s), or podcast, video, or something interactive like a choose-your-own-adventure or a videogame.

Understanding where you’re coming from can also help you answer the questions of what is your story about? and what happens in your story? which are related but not the same. 

What is your story about concerns the themes and thesis of your story, which can help you figure out the story’s tone, main emotional or thematic conflict(s), and how you want them to resolve by the ending.  Put simply, it’s the message.

What happens in your story is the synopsis of planned events, character actions, worldbuilding and other content.  Put simply, it’s the stuff your story has in it.

Let’s take my Deathly Weapons fanfic as a case study:

What made me want to write this story? Deathly Weapons started with me being unsatisfied with what felt like a gap in the Danny Phantom x Superheroes crossover fanfic space at the time.  There was a trend where stories would kill Danny’s friends and family to justify placing him with the crossover’s other hero team but very few of those stories felt like they acknowledged the emotional consequences of doing so; the ones that allowed him to grieve frequently using it for nonspecific angst about Loss™ or mourning the generic archetypes of A Love Interest™, A Sister™, Parents™ or A Best Friend™ rather than the specific characters and bonds from the series.  There were also some smaller itches around plot construction and mysteries that I couldn’t find many stories to scratch.  I wanted to try writing something to fill those gaps. What is this story about? Thematically Deathly Weapon’s central emotional arc is about grief and healing: in particular the uniqueness of the bonds between people and how grief reflects the specific hole each individual leaves behind, as well as the process of finding closure, making new connections and moving forward in the aftermath of loss. What happens in this story? A lot.  In my youthful hubris and overambition I planned out basically a half-season of a TV show.  For the sake of not dragging this section out by a mile, here’s an arc/mission plot teaser list I made a little while ago.

Since Deathly Weapons Arc II is deliberately structured to emulate a TV show, you can sort of see how that summary has accidentally ended up mirroring parts of a top-down Pitch Deck.  But, of course, that’s not the outline I actually use when writing.

Different levels and types of outline

Like a lot of creative terms, “outlining” covers a pretty broad umbrella’s worth of stuff. 

Methods-wise there are plenty of different approaches: from specific story-writing software (Scrivener, Campfire etc.), to word documents, to binders and notebooks, to honest-to-goodness sticky-notes, thumbtacks and string.  Personally I alternate between a documents folder on my computer and a physical notepad/sketchpad for when I’m on the go, but you should pick whatever format feels most comfortable for how you process/visualise information.

Functionally, I think it helps to conceptualise three main levels of outline: Brainstorming, Structural and Detail.  To be clear, you don’t have to do all three.  A short story or one-shot might be served by writing directly from a brainstorming or light structural outline.  You also don’t have to keep them strictly separate.  A brainstorming document might cover some early structure notes or test paragraphs.  A structural or detailed outline might have some brainstorming or research sections as you uncover and solve smaller questions.  Heck, you can have detail notes inside your initial drafts if they help you keep the story flowing.  These are tools you can use, not prescriptions you need to follow.

Let’s talk about the levels:

Brainstorming

Brainstorming is the least structured.  Like the name suggests it’s mostly about getting concepts down and coming up with ideas – this could include early notes for plots beats/ scenes/ character interactions, sketches, screenshots/quotes and possibly research questions for stuff you want to confirm or find out about (e.g. checking source material, or researching systems and potential setting-locations).  You could consider this like early research notes for a class essay – where you know what your subject is and might start with some initial thoughts or focus questions but are still learning and figuring out the broad strokes of your content and stance.  

Despite that comparison, brainstorming is probably the most creatively fun step in the process.  This is not where you worry about things like “quality”, “cohesiveness”, “accuracy/canon compliance” or “cliches” – this is the time for rolling with whatever inspiration strikes you, pouring out any idea you find interested/compelling/cathartic, asking questions, going down internet rabbit holes and generally just enjoying unabashed creation.  This is your raw material: you’re going to cut and shape it later.

Structural

Structural outlines probably have them most utility in giving your story shape and form, especially if your story is long or has a lot of components.  If you were doing an essay, this is the part where you’d figure out your thesis and start grouping each main argument and its supporting points into planned body paragraphs.  For a story, this is where you start sorting your ideas and putting them in order; deciding on your arcs, conflicts and resolutions, working out the order and causality of events, your character motivations and dynamics, where to place key foreshadowing, major scenes and the like.  This is the level where you’re going to try and solve potential story problems – to come up with in-universe explanations and identify possible plot-holes before you write yourself into them.  You’ll likely do extra brainstorming or research in this phase too but it’ll be more targeted – aimed at filling gaps, connecting dots or serving specific needs. 

For longer or more complex stories you might have multiple structural outlines tracking different levels of granularity; some providing an overview of the whole story/ series arc, while other focus on specific characters/ subplots or break things down into individual plot beats and scenes.  You might also spin some of your initial brainstorming into reference or meta documents – content that you aren’t going to directly cover in-story but that will inform or add depth/consistency to other elements.  If you enjoy puzzle-solving then this can be a very satisfying part of the process: there’s nothing quite like hiding a subtle piece of symbolism/foreshadowing, coming up with a sneaky red-herring or finding a rock-solid explanation to make you feel extremely clever.

It’s also worth repeating that you are not beholden to whatever structural outlines you first come up with – your outlines can and should evolve with you as you develop your story and come up with new or alternate ideas.  (Just last year I re-ordered two major subplots and added an extra character arc for Deathly Weapons).

Some stuff to think about for structural outlining:

Remember that, as the storyteller you have full control of the narrative and what happens inside it.  Like I said at the start of my case study on YJ: Invasion’s writing, even the rules of a fiction piece are made up: there is nothing physically stopping you from making the sky be a different colour every five minutes if you felt like it.  If you want something to happen then you can work backwards to reverse-engineer a specific scenario where those things would reasonably occur.  Start at Scene B and figure out what needs to happen to get there from Established Starting Point A.  If you need a character to act a certain way, then you can tailor a situation to trigger that response based on their established personality/ insecurities/ flaws.  You can manufacture specific story problems whose solutions play toward or against the skills and abilities of different characters, or create scenarios which situationally discourage characters from using skills/abilities/tools that might otherwise be overpowered. You can also make the call to deviate from what has been established in order to facilitate a scene or plot point - temporarily imposing a trait for narrative purposes (sometimes referred to as carrying a ball) or Rules Lawyering your worldbuilding to create a technical loophole.  This risk here is that this can feel artificial, jarring or unfair if not reasonably justified within the story logic.  There’s also a limit on how often/ how far you can push this before it risks breaking the story.  If things start to contradict or situations arbitrarily turn on a dime then your audience can lose trust that the characters and world will follow the expectations set by the narrative – they can start to feel narratively unsafe, until it reaches a point where the only way for them to reconcile the dissonance and inconsistencies in the story is to acknowledge that it’s all an artificial construct being externally steered by the hand of the author.   You can do whatever you want… provided you do the work to make audience to believe it.

That being said, try not go get too wedded to the specifics of your early ideas.  Sometimes an element is just not going to fit with the direction your story ends up taking; whether because it’s not compatible with the eventual trajectory of the characters/events/lore or simply because it would be hard to include without disrupting/diverting/distracting from the flow of the story at that point.  In some instances you can take the core of an idea and modify it to find a new place in the narrative; for example by repurposing a scene or piece of dialogue, repackaging information, rescheduling a conversation, fusing concepts together or deconstructing them and integrating the component parts across other scenes.  But in other cases you may decide that the potential problems (whether structural or narrative) introduced by including an element outweigh the value it could add – in which case it’s time to lovingly set it aside.  This is what they mean when they say kill your darlings.  Having a designated document for future story ideas and/or outtakes can help with this (or you could do what I did with Defining Moment and turn an idea into its own side-story).

This can be also a good place to consider more technical story elements, like pacing.  Think about the peaks and valleys of intensity (suspense, intrigue, action, character drama etc.) across the beats of your story; where you might want to ramp things up or down, and how you might use scene and/or chapter breaks to space out information, create breathing room or hold the audience at a certain level of emotion/anticipation.  (For a good short primer, try these videos about Pacing and Tension Cycles in games).

You may also like to use the structure overview as an opportunity to take stock of Tropes and Patterns.  Not to avoid them – you can’t really avoid tropes – but just to see if any are showing up and what they might be saying, even if you didn’t intend for that to happen.  (For a topical example: consider what tropes are showing up around different minority/minority-analogous characters - either in their depictions or how the story treats them - and what message that might be sending.  There’s a lot of bias to the way certain groups and issues have historically been portrayed in media, some of which have baked themselves into now-common stock plots and archetypes.  That isn’t to say you should never use them; just be conscious and careful, especially if your story intends to make some sort of commentary on those topics.)  On a more positive note, this can be another way to learn about what story mechanics you like, both in your own writing and others’.

Detail

Detail notes are the most granular level of outlining, getting down into the specifics of an individual scene or conversation.  These are the least strictly necessary – depending on the length/ complexity of your story, the granularity of your structural outline(s) and your personal writing preference, you may prefer to jump directly from a structural outline into a first draft.  That said they can still be useful, especially if you want to hammer out the fine details of action, dialogue or information-flow while staying a step back from specific prose.  This is where you get things like a bullet-point breakdown of each line/action/piece of narration (for when you have a detailed idea of what’s going to be said/done but not the specific words to describe it) or script-style notes (for when you have the character voices and lines but not the narration or action surrounding it).  As mentioned earlier, you can blend detail notes and rough drafting together – writing some sections out in prose as the words come to you, then breaking into note-form to keep the ideas flowing in sections where wording might be starting to stick. 

An example

Let’s look at my outlining system for Deathly Weapons:

Now, I want to make it clear: this is not the standard.  This is not even the standard for me.  Deathly Weapons got a bit out of hand, ballooning into a half-season of a TV show: it’s more a series of 12+ self-contained stories in a trench coat than your standard fanfiction.  However, it is a decent example of complex outlining.  I have multiple levels of structural outline – some covering the entire story arc, some covering the individual missions.  I also have quick-notes that I made as a consistency-reference from canon, and some worldbuilding meta I did as a thought exercise to develop one of the character-backstories (the one shown ended up published here on Tumblr).  You can see how I blend the outline types together in my detailed notes, as well as how my approach to outlines has evolved from more brainstorming-focused to more structurally-focussed as the story has solidified.  Again, this is not the standard, but hopefully it gives you an idea of what you can get up to with outlines for a complex long-term project.

Okay, so that’s the basic breakdown of outlining as a process (at least the version I use).  Hopefully it’s got some gears turning. 

However, I also know that it’s more of a framework through which to approach story-building; it’s an organisational tool that helps you set out current and future-planned content in a way that lets you take stock, identify things that need attention and keep track of important details.  On its own it’s not necessarily going to be able to help address the challenges it reveals; in the same way that knowing how to plan an essay won’t necessarily teach you how to research one effectively. 

In Part 2 of this series (yep it's a series now) I'm going to go over some concepts for story-building and editing that might help you during the structural phase. Click here to go to the next part >>

[susantbraithwaite]

My Unexpected Six-Month Break

Hi there!

Thanks for coming back to the blog after my unexpected six-month break. It’s crazy to think it’s been that long since my last writing-related post!

So, you’re probably wondering what the hell happened. Especially after everything was going so well. A quick recap of what was going so great: I’d finished writing Running the Asset way ahead of schedule, racking up insane daily word counts, and then I decided to dive straight into the editing stage.

Yeah, you’ve probably guessed what happened. If you followed my daily updates, you could probably see it coming.

Me, nope… well… even if I did, I ignored it.

The Dreaded Burnout

Until I burnt out hard, even though I didn’t want to admit it at the time. I’d pushed myself so hard during the final stretch of writing and editing that my body gave out. I had a major Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) flare-up that made it impossible for me to even look at my planner, let alone do any work. But, eventually, the flare-up subsided…

But I still couldn’t get the work done. No matter how the guilt of not getting any writing done ate at me, I couldn’t make myself write. Instead, I sank all my energies (the same level of energy I’d put into finishing the manuscript early) into the household things I’d put off or ignored when I’d been focused on writing. I was convinced that once I’d caught up on all the household chores I’d been neglecting, I’d be itching to get back to work.

But that didn’t exactly go according to plan.

The Worst Flu Ever and Etsy

My body had other ideas… enter the flu. I’d never felt so terrible in my life as I did during that bout of the flu. I decided that the best way to get better, faster, was to keep myself occupied for the month I was sick. I’ve always enjoyed using Canva (a graphic design app from Australia), so I played around with that… and might have gone a bit daft with it.

My Timing Sucks!

As much as I enjoyed working on the shop, my characters were calling to me.

I’d ask Siri to play music, and then bam, songs from the soundtrack to Running the Asset would fill the room. Teasing me. (Yes, I’ve got a soundtrack for the book. And, yes, it’s fucking awesome—if you love hard rock, metal, and a wee dash of alternative rock.) Or, I’d be looking for some lost notebook and find Adam’s character sheet staring back at me.

That was it.

I was finally mentally ready to get back to work.

I’d had enough time away from the story.

That’s what I’d needed, wasn’t it?

It was great. For the first time in years, I could leave work behind and focus on enjoying the scenery and the sound of the waves lapping the shore as we walked for miles each day.

The Worstestest Flu Ever

And then, just as I thought things were finally turning around, I got hit with the flu again. This time it was the kind that made that ‘worst flu ever’ seem like a mild cold. I lost all sense of smell and taste, and my hearing went with them. No amount of testing said that it was COVID, but I’ve avoided being near others.

I’m happy to report that I’m on my way out of it now. I can taste things with a strong flavour, and if something is shoved under my nose, I can smell it in one nostril, and my hearing is starting to clear up.

The Break is Over. I'm Ready!

During this time, I’ve come to believe the universe was telling me to slow down and take a physical break. That just changing where I unleash my crazy laser focus isn’t how to take a rest. So, instead of diving into a full schedule of rewrites and edits, I’m easing back into working on Running the Asset--allowing myself a bit longer to get each stage done and taking days off to physically and mentally relax and recharge.

Thank You

I’m going to end this post with a big thank you for your messages asking how I was while I was AWOL. They really meant a lot, and hopefully, I’ve responded to you all personally by now, but if I haven’t (I’m sorry), thank you for your messages.

I’ll be back with a new post on Monday. Remember to hit the follow button to get updates and to see my posts in your Reader feed.

Until then, have a great day! Susan.

This blog was originally posted on https://susantbraithwaite.com/2023/01/04/my-unexpected-break/

[frigginwriting]

Speedrunning my own impromptu Nanowrimo apparently

[trisofthewild]

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic? 🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write? 🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants? 🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success? ⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

SORRY IT IS TAKING ME A WEEK TO GET THROUGH THIS GAME

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

Yeahhh, I think most of my irl friends do. When friendships and fandom overlap! It happens. I'm also 99.9% sure my sister knows (and I am 100% sure that she has) but by unspoken agreement this is never acknowledged between us.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

Afternoon and evenings for sure. I definitely wrote a lot of my past fic in the unholiest hours of the night, but now that I am old I don't even like bringing my laptop in my bedroom, much less writing porn past my bedtime.

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

This is another way I've changed as a writer. Writing late into the night was part of my process when I was younger because I did not plan, I just surfed on waves of inspiration, which frequently meant writing entire short fics in one sitting--if it needed more time, I might not be able to catch another wave. I got a little better at writing stories across multiple sessions as I went along, but without real planning it was always really difficult and I think it ultimately contributed to whatever made me stop writing fic for almost a decade.

When I started writing fic again, I found that without meaning to, I had become a planner. (I always think this has something to do with all the papers and the thesis I had to write for school in those missing years.) I no longer like to even start writing anything down before I have the full story fleshed out in my head, and if I do, it's because I have some really strong ideas that I'll put down in bullet point form, knowing I need more bullet points to make an entire outline with. Sometimes my outlines ARE very vague, more like a list of scenes/beats, and sometimes they're very detailed (I like to choreograph every move of a sex scene, for example), but again, even the outlines usually aren't committed to paper/screen until I've thought the whole story through.

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

I try not to sweat kudos and comments too much, although that's a lot easier said than done. Focusing on the individual reactions--if any one person, especially a friend or writer I really respect, loves it--I'll probably feel good about it. It's also about whether or not I really like it. If I want to reread my own story and still like it after it's been posted, that's an important form of success.

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

TOO LONG. Here's what I'll say in favor of the inspiration surfing method from my 20s: I worked a lot faster than I do now. Nowadays I can maybe turn out 500 words per day. This doesn't count the planning/outlining stage, or rewriting (I rewrite a lot; most of what I post is at minimum a second or third draft), or editing. So... depending on length: weeks to months.

My current WIP (started about three weeks ago, though I lost about a week to heatwave) has about 4k words, almost all first draft, hundreds of which will doubtless be deleted. It also has several key scenes missing and a deadline less than a week away. Your thoughts and prayers, please.

THANK U FOR THE ASK MARINA ILU I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!!!!

[cuddles-and-kisses]

So The Cat's Out Of The Bag,,,

Another fanfic for Agapito (an OC that belongs to @yandereaffections) The story starts under the cut. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,908 Trigger Warnings: Subtle yandereness, I can't think of any others

It’s 11 pm. I’ve been avoiding schoolwork all day and I’m in no rush to fix it. I've been writing fanfiction, of sorts, for the past 3 hours. On the bright side, the first draft is done! My back hurts from sitting so long while my butt hurts because I’ve sat on a wooden stool this long. I need to take a break but what to do? Oh, what to do? My weekly planner is wide open on a bookstand to my right. I could be productive, or I could keep avoiding them... So the planner is closed now. I’ve reorganized pens in a pen cup for the seventh time. Is there a limit to how many times a person can adjust a desk lamp before going insane? There has to be something else to do but what? As if on cue, my phone lights up with a text from my Baby. We’ve been official for 6 months so our dates are a lot more casual nowadays.

“Angel, I want attention. Unlock the back door” I’m aware it doesn’t seem like it but this is how he asks to come over. He won’t come over until I respond giving the green light. “Bold of you to assume I’m home and not partying at a random frat house” We both know I’m not doing jack at 11 pm on a Friday. Nonetheless, it’s fun to pretend I have a flourishing social life. “That’s cute. Back door please” Alright, now to get up and- ow, fuck, ouchie, ok, hold on. *POP* There we go!

I should probably pick my room up real quick. I made my bed earlier today so that’s not a problem. The svallerup rug from Ikea collects dirt a lot faster than I expected. Although would he really notice? It’s not bright in here. My dresser by the door looks fine. The futon is in couch mode, so there’s not much left I don’t have to clean up for him. In reality, I’m not cleaning for him, I just like having a clean room. The last thing I do is turn on the fairy lights above my head then light a vanilla candle. I know he’s coming over to cuddle or really do anything involving him getting affection. I might as well make my bedroom reflect that, right?

I half-jog upstairs to unlock our back door. Why the back door? It’s not because I love Jesus. Let me explain. The living room floor creaks way too loud. Also, my parent’s bedroom is right next to that door. The side door alerts our dogs to start pitching a fit. How can they hear it from the opposite side of our house? I may never be able to understand. Moonlight drifts halfway across the backroom. Sparse nightlights cover the remaining needed light. I flick on the backdoor lights followed by opening a few blinds to let more light in. Their orange glow overpowers the moonlight near the backdoor.

For whatever reason, the moon is far brighter tonight. Or my pupils are hella dilated because I’m thinking about my Baby. Either way, moonlight dusts over parts of the backroom and kitchen ahead of me. One last light to turn on. An LED light above our kitchen sink smashes through most surrounding darkness, making it almost impossible to see into the living room. White cabinets outline our kitchen. None of the cabinets match each other in this house. It’s as if this house was built in parts instead of planned out from the start. The counter is occupied with things you’d expect; a bread box, knife set, fruit basket, coffee pot, and an air fryer. Yet, there's evidence real people live here. Crumbs from a snack, mail by the fruit basket, half-empty coffee pot, as well as children’s toys forgotten all about

Everyone else is snuggled up in warm beds, sleeping. I can pick out each person’s snoring pattern when they poke through tonight’s ambiance. There are moments where quiet feels like serenity, others where it feels like emptiness. I can’t decide which one I’m feeling because I realize I’m about to have a visitor. A cup of coffee sounds like the perfect way to waste a few minutes while waiting for my lover.

Coffee cup out of the overhead cabinet. A coffee spoon from beside the coffee pot. Fake sugar off the shelves. Room temperature coffee in the pot from this morning. French vanilla coffee creamer out of the fridge. And just like that, a proper cup of coffee is served. Light reflects off the glossy coating painted over our pale coffee cups. Mom considers it a priority to have everything match or look cohesive. Appearing put together is a source of pride for her. A cup is a cup however matching cups make her happy. My ears perk up at hearing his tires pulling into the driveway. My coffee creamer swirls in the cup as he walks up the driveway. The coffee spoon clings against the inside of my coffee cup simultaneously with the creak of our back gate. All that’s left is to wash off this week’s coffee spoon then put it back. I have only a few more seconds until my Love is with me again. I’m a sappy and hopeful romantic for him, get off my back. He’s learned how to silently open the back door and if I didn’t have good peripheral vision, I would’ve yelped.

Intimate hands snake around my hips as a tender kiss is pressed against my neck. I can feel the tender smile tugging at his lips after the kiss, he had a really good day? His body is pressed against mine as he murmurs “Honey, I’m home~” behind my ear; earning a soft chuckle from me. I turn to face him, wrap my arms around his neck, and greet him with a deep kiss. This time on the lips. “Welcome home, my Love.” He’s so close to me, I can smell the cigarette he had on his way over here. The absence of alcohol or weed stench affirms he didn’t have a bad day at work. I can’t wait until these interactions become a daily occurrence. This man is breathtaking under normal circumstances; but, under the glimmer of moonlight,,, I can’t form a single thought while looking at him. The raw admiration and love this man holds in his eyes? Who could stand a chance against him? Not me. Wrong choice.

His hands linger along the sides of my hips. I hold his arms in an attempt to keep him close to me, just a little longer. “I brought you a few things. I’ll go set them on your desk.” He knows gifts aren’t my thing in spite of that he claims I deserve the entire universe. I breathed out, “Ok, I’ll be down in a minute,” then started moving to get my coffee cup, as well as a few snacks to bring downstairs. He starts heading downstairs content with how flustered I am. WAIT A FLUFFING MINUTE THE FANFICTION IS ABOUT HIM!! I whisper yell ‘Baby’ until his head pops back around the corner. I threaten him to not touch or look at my laptop. It was a pathetic attempt considering what he does for a living. In my defense, I tried. I forgot he’s in essence an overgrown teenager who will do the exact opposite of what he’s told. Wanna know what he does? Grin. I’m so fucked.

Agapito dashes downstairs and leaves me in unadulterated fear. I’m frozen in place, trying to come to terms with my fate as his footsteps fade. It’s not smut or anything, just a simple night and morning routine imagining that we lived together. This is going to be so embarrassing. Please spare me this treacherous fate and undying embarrassment. Deep breaths, just take deep breaths. Get your coffee then snacks then, simply, accept what’s just happened.

With arms full of snacks, I shut my bedroom door as gingerly as I can. Setting the cup on the dresser right by the door to make this a little easier. He’s standing at my computer, reading through the last page. Oh hey, he brought me Rolo’s as well as 3 Musketeers. Nice! Oh wait, he’s done reading. His shoulders aren’t tense; his breathing hasn’t changed; all the same, he’s just standing there. “Why did you write this out instead of doing it?” That’s a good question tbh. My Baby’s voice sounds hurt, despite that, he’s trying to hide it. Ok, he needs a hug. Now to throw the snack on the bed. He needs a rib-crushing hug and you bet your butt I’ll be the one to deliver. I tug at his elbow so he’ll face me then pull him into me. His shoulders are right under my chin when we’re facing each other. I bury my face in his neck while my arms hug him as tight as I can. Except why is he upset about this?

His love for me is nothing to scoff at. He loves me the same way he wanted to be loved when he was younger. We’ve figured out he’s catching up from his pre-teen years and onward. So about 13 years without a stable romantic relationship. When he was trying to court me I had to call him out all the time for manipulation. I know he’s terrified I’ll think he’s not good enough. He has episodes of frantic attempts to meet all of my needs, even if it’s not asked for or needed. What is going through his head? Does he feel like he’s not good enough? That he’s not loving me enough so I have to turn to a fictional version of him? Does he think he’s not good enough for me to do this stuff with him? None of those are true, obviously. I explicitly stated that in the story he just read. It doesn’t mean he won’t get stuck inside his head. I need to tell him the truth. Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn’t, he’s a finely-tuned human lie detector. One more deep breath. Squeeze him a little tighter. Look him in his eyes and come clean.

“The reason I didn’t just act these out is because, I didn’t know how to ask for it.” His expression shifts from confused hurt to understanding. I start rambling, “I want to have these experiences with you. I’d give anything to have that life with you but we've only been dating for 6 months and I just, wasn’t sure, how to phrase it.” I’m choking on my own pulse from emotions. I realize I was shifting my weight left to right when he pulls me in for another hug and kisses my forehead. We stand there in each other’s embrace for a few moments before he suggests I come to his house tomorrow night. We both know what he’s suggesting. I can’t help but adamantly agree. Excitement zips through my body thinking about tomorrow night. A smile pulls at my lips as I ask, “Do you mind if I wear this shirt tomorrow night?”

Tonight is about Netflix, snacks, and rediscovering the curves and contours of each other’s bodies. Though, not before I mess up his hair while calling him a butthead. It’s evident his insecurities are still tugging at him. Funny enough, his insecurities forgot they’re fighting against me for his attention.

[looonnamoon]

hi! could you do platonic shigaraki,toga and dabi & reader who is very smart but chaotic? idk how to explain this but the reader is very talkative and energetic but at the same time very smart and she is usually the one who makes the attack plans? the reader is 16-17 and you can use she/her or they/them pronouns! have a nice day and im sorry if this doesn't make sense at all(english is not my first language)

Omg this sounds cute asf

This is a nice change for me bc I've been pretty much only doing bakugou fics and I should probably expand my range on writing bc I also love the LoV ♡♡♡

Hope you enjoy sweets!

WARNING: this is long.

[Unedited]

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

- the League of Villans were a preposterous group of evil people; destroying property left and right and reigning havoc on everything that stood in their way.

- the only problem with this dangerous group was that dangerously bad planning.

- usually, Shigaraki would do all the planing alone, since the others wouldn't really have a lot to add onto the plan.

- Toga talks about blood, per usual, Dabi just "sulks around and talks about not doing this" [quote from shiggy], and twice... he's just there, doing his own thing.

- to be honest, twice is the only person who's helpful in this situation.

- most of the time, Shigarakis plans... somewhat work, I mean, they got the objective done [but not after destroying the whole place and leaving big tracks that lead heroes and police to them, but that's fine! We'll just move to a new location!]

- you can probably tell [everyone else does too], but the group overall is really bad at making plans.

- that's until they met you, an eager young thing that's really... good at this whole planning thing.

- you dropped out of highschool just before you graduated because it was far too boring and the career that you originally wanted became boring too

- not that you didn't want to disappoint your parents or anything, it was just that... your life needed a bit of spice!

- you did want to become a hero, but that also became pretty boring after you saw an interview with All Might and then he revealed the fact that there's a shit ton of paperwork, then the paparazzi, the uncomfortable amount of little privacy, and that just... rubbed you the wrong way.

- Oh, but being a villain? Sure, there's now the great possibility of getting arrested and humiliated in public, but it sounds SO much more fun than being a hero!!

- so, when Dabi, one of the members of the Lov, found you, it was a perfect opportunity to introduce yourself!

- at first, everyone thought of you as just some wannabe villain that would die the second they get out there with them.

- but then you suggested to stay here? With Kurogiri? And- make our plans?

- what? The? Fuck?

- Shigaraki was surprised to say the least, but, he accepted this proposal since four people were already going out, and Shiggy thought that if someone planned out their attacks already, their main plan would move much faster.

- and they did. Turns out, your planning was much more better than shiggys scribbled out in under 10 minutes planning.

- it was so...intricate and detailed, all down to the timing of their attack and set places on which person should go to ANALYZING EVERYONES QUIRKS!? [Yo is that you deku-]

- this, among many other things, brought you, Toga, Shigaraki, and Dabi much more closer together

- *best freinds level achieved*

- over time, you were the secret member of the LoV that no one knew about. Not even your closest freinds!

- now, THIS is what you were talking about, having a bit of spice in your life!

- in the daytime, you worked a regular job, lived a regular life, and overall, was a regular person.

- in the nighttime however, you were the main planner for the League of Villains attacks, and current best freind of all of the members!

.

- with Shigaraki, it took some time to actually become freinds with, or at least, someone he won't disintegrate immediately if they bother him.

- but, after learning his favorite video games and playing with him, he became more comfortable around you and talked with you more

- not just about the teams attack plans, but more, general things, like

"Who's your favorite video game character?"

"What part of the storyline did you like?"

"You like my hair?"

"Can you...help me apply this lotion on my face?"

- Shigaraki and you also get into very deep conversations about life and such, even though you grew up with a decent family, you could understand Shigaraki on some sort of level

- the loneliness, anxiety, and the bad thoughts that have inhabited in both yours and Shigarakis mind.

- after these long talks, Shigaraki may seem like he didn't want to do any this and is just purely uninterested

- but inside, he's happy to have someone to vent his frustrations to and just talk to them about whatever

- he's happy to have someone like you, he just won't say that out loud... that's for until you get up to level 79, and currently you are on level 55 [in shigaraki's standards lol]

.

- with Toga, the two of you became inseparable once she layed her cat-like eyes on you.

- you were just like her, energetic, fun, chaotic good, and overall, just plain fucking crazy [except the bloodlust]

- you two were the one to keep the bar quite lively with Toga and yours antics

- switching out Dabis liquor with apple juice

- trying to see whether or not yall could be Ghostbusters by using a vacuum on Kurogiri

- fucking up only a small bit of Shigarakis minecraft world bc u will be killed if you fuck up all of it he worked real hard on that house-

- basically, you both make everyday a new experience for the resident villains.

- you both LOVE to watch true crime documentaries and rate how shitty the criminals were

- there's so much more you guys do, but the best thing that you and Toga love to do

- is lay on the floor at three am, dead silent, lofi music playing in the background, having a mini mental breakdown

- yeah, yall have a great freindship

.

- with Dabi, the friendship that you two have is quiet, but comfortable.

- usually, when you two hang out together, it's just you two at the bar, drinking some unknown alchohol, and usually a comment or two here or there.

- at this time, you are at your most quietest, which is surprising since you talk almost 99.9% of the time you're with the League.

- but the 1% is reserved for Dabi

- it didn't take you long to figure that Dabi likes the quiet and when he wants to speak, he'll speak.

- when he does, it's casual conversation, carried by a low, gravely tone that always soothed your racing mind

- and he liked that you responded the same way as well, respecting his want for calm and peace in this shitty hole the league calls a bar.

- it only has some old ass Whisky and that's it tf

- the other times he wants to talk about something, like Shigaraki, it's a deep conversation

- and very rarely [like 0.000000001%], afterwards he'll smile softly at you, ruffle your hair a bit, and say,

"Thanks for talking, kid."

-yours and Dabi's freindship is a rare one, and a good one if you let it develop more!

- you never thought you would've become the League of Villians attack planner, or even become great freinds with the members, but you're sorta glad it came out this way!

[favefandomimagines]

Happens For A Reason 3

Summary: the day you and drew had been waiting for has finally arrived.

AN: ITS WEDDING TIME i’m so excited for this like so excited i looked up quotes from movies for the vows lol i didn’t think i’d want to make a part 2 or 3 but i love this premise

The day had finally arrived. You had been dreaming of your wedding day since you were 8 years old and you attended your older cousin’s wedding. You saw it as the most magical day of any person’s life and your own day was happening.

The pandemic made things very difficult for you. You had to get dresses delivered to try on from home so you didn’t have to leave the house. You met with flourists and caterers over Zoom and whatever you couldn’t sort out, your wedding planner did it for you.

Drew was more than supportive. He made sure you weren’t burning yourself out with the planning and work. So if that meant him picking a DJ while you got a few hours of rest, he was happy to do it.

Though it was going to be a rather small affair, you had a vision and it would finally come into fruition.

In all honesty, you thought this day would never come. And when you had imagined it, for a while you imagined it being with Rudy. But now, the only person you can picture waiting for you at the alter was Drew.

“Okay, Y/N, how are you feeling?” Madison asked you. “Yeah are you okay? Do you need anything? Do you want to run?” Madelyn added, hanging up your reception dress. “Madelyn.” Lilah scolded the blonde.

“No, I’m not going to run.” You laughed. “I’m ready for this, I just hate the waiting.” You added. “Well, we have about ten minutes until we line up.” Madison said.

Madison took charge in making sure everything was on time so you didn’t have to worry about anything on your wedding day.

“You’re going to be Y/N Starkey at the end of the day.” Madelyn commented. The room fell in an unbelievable silence as all of the women took time to process that thought. 

“I’m going to be a Starkey.” You said in a hushed tone. “Don’t cry yet! You’ll ruin your makeup. Wait until you walk down the aisle before you mess it up.” Lilah scolded you. 

You finished getting yourself ready, shaking the nerves out of your body every so often. 

At the other end of the aisle, Drew stood with his parents and your parents as the rest of the guests chattered. 

“Well, Drew, how are you feeling?” Chase asked. “I feel great. Excited. I just want to see her already.” He answered. “You have 5 minutes. Then she’ll be your wife.” Chase said.

Drew had a giddy smile on his face at the sound of you being his wife. Wishing time would go faster so he could see you walk down the aisle.

He got his wish though when music started playing and every quieted down. Your bridal party walked down one by one and Drew was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Then it was like he was watching every dream of his come true the second you began walking towards him. It was cheesy but he had never seen a person look so beautiful and timeless as he thought you did.

He told himself he wouldn’t cry, try to be manly or his brother would never shut up about it. But how could he not want to cry when the most beautiful woman was walking down the aisle?

You stopped at the alter next to him, giving him a wink which caused him to chuckle lightly at you. The usual, traditional ceremonial stuff went by in a blur and soon they were asked to recite their vows.

You and Drew had decided to write your own vows and he found it a difficult task to do so. He didn’t know how to describe his love for you in words.

The wedding officiant turned to Drew, signaling him to go first.

“Oh wow. Okay.” He started taking a deep breath. “Not too long ago, I fell in love with a girl. I’d fallen for this beautiful girl who was so much more than pretty. She was smart, she was funny, she was brave. She had a past that wasn’t all that lovely, yet she still put a smile on her face and never looked back. And as much as she likes to say she doesn’t deserve me, I often feel it’s the other way around.” He continued.

You gave him a teary eyed smile and gave his hands a squeeze, as you could see him getting choked up.

“Y/N, I love you. And I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms, now and forever. I promise to never forget that this is a once in a lifetime love. I vow to love you, and no matter what challenges might carry us apart, we will always find our way back to each other.” Drew finished.

You hadn’t even done your vows and you were already a mess. You had to look up at the sky to keep your makeup the same.

“Drew. You were the one person in my life who remained a constant from the moment I met you. I didn’t know you were what I needed until I found myself in a very dark place. You were the light that made the dark place not so dark anymore. And I have fallen more and more in love with you everyday since then. I vow to help you love life, to always hold you with tenderness, and to have the patience love demands. To speak when words are needed, and to share the silence when they’re not and to live within the warmth of your heart and always call it home.” You finished.

You could tell that your bridesmaids and wedding guests couldn’t help but cry along with you and your soon to be husband.

Soon, it was time to exchange the rings and you giddily slid Drew’s wedding band on his ring finger, him doing the same to you. “Can we get to the kissing now?” Drew whispered to the officiant. 

You laughed at him and nudged him slightly, hinting at him to be patient. 

“Drew, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The man asked. “I do.” Drew answered. “And do you, Y/N, take Drew to be your lawfully wedded husband?” He asked you. “I do.” You replied. 

“By the power vested in me and the state of North Carolina, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now, Drew, you may kiss the bride.” The officiant announced. 

“Thank god.” Drew muttered as he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply. After a few moments and to a standing ovation, Drew grabbed your hand and thrusted his fist in the air victoriously. 

The both of you walked back down the aisle together, giving smiles to your friends and family. When you were finally able to have a moment alone to yourselves, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. 

“I love you, Mr. Starkey.” You whispered. “And I love you, Mrs. Starkey.” Drew replied. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing that.” You said. “I’m never going to get tired of saying it.” He said back.

@y/n__: Mr. & Mrs. Starkey at your service @ drewstarkey

@drewstarkey: forever my girl @y/n__

[thefactsofthematter]

hi bestie <3 you said send in some requests, so i'm suggesting:

javid with, "it's not okay! you're not fine!"?

i hope you have a good day !!!

hi bestie <333 i had so much fun with this, i haven't done a short little fic in ages!! here's a 2.7k javid fic - a college au and a classic (emotional) hurt/comfort type deal, heavy on the comfort ;)

-

"Wanna come for dinner at my parents' house tonight?"

Davey is laying on Jack's couch after his last class of the day, since Jack's apartment is just off campus, and it's a ridiculously convenient place to go nap after a long day of school. He honestly spends more time here than at his own apartment that he shares with his sister, a short train ride away.

"I'd love to," Jack replies, his gaze still glued to his computer screen, "but I totally forgot I have an art history paper due at midnight, analyzing a painting, and I haven't started. It needs to be ten pages, and I don't even have an outline. I'm gonna sit here and write until my eyeballs fall out."

Davey laughs softly.

"That sucks. Do you at least have some research done?"

Jack turns to him with completely dead eyes.

"Not a single academic source."

Davey glances at the clock. Jack has seven hours to pull this off, which is doable, but... intense. It would've been a lot easier to spread it out over a few afternoons, and it'll be a painful squeeze to get ten comprehensible pages of writing done tonight. Jack can write decently fast, but his spelling and grammar are atrocious, so he'll have to factor in editing time too. Davey is not envious of these circumstances in the slightest.

"Shit. Good luck. That sounds awful, but I'm rooting for you. What's your prof's late assignment policy?"

Jack, entirely beaten down, leans forward to rest his forehead on his keyboard.

"He won't accept them past the due date without a good reason... which I don't have. I'm just an idiot and forgot to put it in my planner— thank god Romeo texted me today to ask if I was done."

Davey pushes himself up and walks over to where Jack is sitting at his little dining table, under the constantly-flickering fluorescent bulb. He wraps his arms around Jack's shoulders and kisses the back of his neck.

"You got this. I'll come back here after dinner and bring you leftovers, okay? My mom's gonna be sad you couldn't make it, so she'll totally pack up a plate for you."

"You don't have to come all the way here," Jack sighs. "Your place is closer to your parents, and this is out of your way— you have work in the morning anyways, so you should go home and go to bed. I'll be fine, I'll probably write faster alone anyways."

Davey kisses him again, this time leaning around to plant one on his cheek.

"If you're sure." Jack's plan is probably the smart move, since Davey's shifts at his stupid coffee shop job start ridiculously early, and coming here would mean staying up with Jack until he finishes, probably distracting him. "In that case, I'll see you tomorrow after work, and I'll bring the food then... keep me posted about the paper, text me when you finish. And make sure you eat something."

Jack turns back to look at him with a strained, stressed attempt at a smile.

"For sure. Go have a nice time with your family, and tell everyone I say hi."

-

"Aba, you're doing it wrong. You have to use your left arm."

It's getting late in the evening, dinner has been eaten, and Les is trying to coordinate the family to make a TikTok with him. It's not exactly going well.

"My left or your left?"

"It doesn't matter, we have the same left!"

Davey has thankfully been placed in the back row, both because he's tall and lanky, and because he's so uncoordinated that Mom used to make you wear one of those leash backpacks as a kid to keep you from wandering into traffic... which is true, but Davey isn't sure why Les even knows about that. He certainly wasn't around yet when that was the case, so he probably heard it from Sarah.

While Les tries once again to explain how this little dance is supposed to work, Davey's phone starts to buzz in his pocket. It's probably a spam call, but he's not particularly invested in the dance lesson so he pulls it out to check.

Incoming call: cowboy babyy 💖🤠

Davey frowns. Jack never calls him. It's always texts or voice memos, since he's got some kind of weird aversion to talking on the phone. If he's calling, it must be important.

"Hi babe," he says, pressing his phone to his ear and walking off to his old bedroom to get some quiet, while Les shouts at him in the background for not taking this seriously. "How's the homework going?"

Jack is quiet for a second too long as Davey toes the door shut.

"...Not great. I'm really frustrated." He pauses and sniffles a little, sounding almost like he's holding back tears. "I don't know why I called you while you're having a good time with your family, though. I shouldn't be bugging you."

"Hey," Davey breathes, "you're not bugging me at all, sweetheart. Is the paper not going well?"

"I just... I'm so bad at writing, and I don't know what I'm talking about, and I have no idea how I'm gonna get this done in time." His voice is shaking, and it's breaking Davey's heart a little. "I'm being dramatic, though. I just need to keep working on it."

Davey sits down on the edge of what's now a guest bed, his old outer space-themed comforter replaced with something more neutral.

"You're not dramatic, it's okay to be upset. Do you want me to come over and help?"

Jack's breath hitches softly, and it confirms that he's almost definitely crying.

"You don't have to, you're busy with your folks. I'm sorry for calling." He shudders a little as he must try to take a deep breath. "It's okay... I'm fine."

Davey sighs, almost exasperated with Jack's self-sacrificial sense of pride. He'll never ask for anything for himself, not wanting anyone to go out of their way for him, even when he seems to be having a panic attack of sorts.

"It's not okay; you're clearly not fine, Jackie," he replies. "We already ate, and I'm not busy. If you want me to come over, I'll be there... do you?"

Jack is quiet for a moment again, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"Yeah. I do."

Davey nods, though Jack can't see him.

"Okay. I want you to take a little break from writing until I get there, alright? Change into your pyjamas and have a glass of water. Try to relax a little."

"Okay... thanks Davey."

The call ends, and Davey rejoins his family while tucking his phone away in his pocket.

"I have to go." He kisses his mother on the head as he walks by. "Thanks for dinner, Ima."

"Is everything okay?" she asks, catching him gently by the elbow before he can get too far.

"Yeah..." he sighs. "Jack's just having a hard time with homework, I'm gonna go help him out."

His father ruffles his hair and gives him a quick hug.

"You're a good boy, David. Take him those leftovers— your mother's cooking can fix anything."

"For sure. I'll see you guys next weekend, and I'll try to bring Jack along then."

He waves goodbye to Sarah and Les, grabs the dish of food, and then sets off on a speed-walk to the nearest subway station.

-

Jack is sitting on the couch when he arrives, his knees pulled to his chest, looking very soft and cozy in pyjama pants and one of Davey's old hoodies from some baseball tournament. He's staring into space, and he hardly even moves to acknowledge Davey's presence when he walks in.

"Hey darling." Davey leaves the dish of food on the counter and crouches down in front of Jack to try and catch his eye-line. He carefully takes Jack's hands in his own. "Hanging in there?"

Jack finally looks at him and nods, but as he blinks, more tears slip out and roll down his cheeks.

"I'm only done two pages," he mumbles, practically whispering. "I don't know why it's so hard, but I just can't do it."

"Oh, Jackie..." Davey reaches up to wipe Jack's tears, cupping his face gently with both hands. "Hey, you still have three hours, right?" Jack nods. "That's lots of time. We're gonna figure this out... let's just sit here and calm down a little first. It's gonna be okay."

He climbs up onto the couch to pull Jack into a hug, and the moment he's settled, Jack wraps his arms around him and breaks, sobbing into his shoulder. Davey cards his fingers through his hair and rubs his back; he's never seen Jack this distraught, especially not over homework. There's a good chance the problem runs a lot deeper, and stressing over an assignment was simply the last straw.

"You're alright," Davey continues, since talking is what he does best, even in moments like this. Jack is shaking with the force of his tears, breathing so hard Davey worries he might hyperventilate. "Listen, it's just one assignment, my love... if you get a bad grade, or if we don't finish in time, we can deal with that. We'll hand in whatever we finish tonight, so at least you won't get a zero. Worst case scenario, you retake this class in the spring... even that doesn't sound so bad, does it? I know you could handle it, if that's what happens."

Jack nods a little, but his tears don't stop.

"I'm so tired of being stupid," he hiccups, after a long while. "I keep getting distracted, and I can't word things right, and I spell everything wrong, and- and maybe I should just drop out, because I'm clearly not meant to be doing this."

"Baby..." Davey sighs, giving him a gentle kiss on the temple. "You're so intelligent, Jack. You're almost done your degree— after this term, you've only got one year left, and it's not like you do poorly in your classes, is it? Even when it's something hard for you, like writing, you always do well when you put in the work. What did you get on your sociology paper a couple weeks ago?"

"Ninety percent," Jack mumbles, muffled by the way he's speaking into Davey's shoulder. "But I spent so long on it, and you edited it for me. I'm gonna fail this one. I can't do it in one night, and I can't write papers without your help."

"Well, I'm here to help now, aren't I?" He rests his hand midway through brushing it through Jack's hair and scratches his scalp gently, which makes Jack shiver and laugh quietly through his tears. "Right? And you can write, darling— all I do is fix up the spelling and grammar for you. The ideas and words are all you, just like when you give presentations and knock it out of the park every time. I sure can't do that."

Jack finally looks up at him.

"Yes you can. You get nervous beforehand, but when you do a presentation, it's always really good."

Davey smiles at him, now that they're actually looking at each other.

"It's hard for me, though. Just like writing is for you— but with lots of effort, you're really good at it. See my point?"

Slowly, a small smile spreads across Jack's teary-eyed face, and he nods. Davey feels rather accomplished with this development.

"I guess so." He wipes at his eyes and sighs. "Sorry about this. I'm such a mess."

"No apologies. I don't blame you for getting overwhelmed— you're in a tough spot here." He pulls Jack in for a quick kiss, which they both smile into. "I brought you dinner. Go heat it up when you're ready; I'll look over what you've written so far and see if I can come up with some more ideas to add on. We're gonna work together on it, okay? What painting did you choose?"

"The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew by Caravaggio," Jack sighs, looking almost forlornly at his computer on the table. "I have a lot to say about it, and lots of good stuff in my notes, but I just can't put it into paragraphs and sentences that make sense."

Davey nods, watching Jack as he stands up to go put the leftovers from Davey's family in the microwave.

"Well, I don't know anything about paintings, but if you talk me through it, I can help you put the actual paper together." He pauses as an idea dawns on him. "I'm gonna email your professor and ask about an extension— it might be a shot in the dark, but we should at least try. The worst he can do is say no."

"Sure," Jack replies from the kitchen, his voice still shaky. "He's a total hardass, though. Fingers crossed for a miracle."

Davey sits at the table, opens up Jack's email, and starts a draft.

Hi Professor Diaz,

Apologies for the short notice, but I'm wondering if it would be possible to have an extension on the analysis assignment, even if it's just by a few hours. I unfortunately mixed up some due dates in my planner, and I thought I had an extra week for this assignment; I only realized the mistake today, so I'm currently scrambling to get it done in time.

Would it be at all possible to turn it in a few hours late, just to have a bit more time to finish it up? I would really appreciate any amount of time you're willing to give me.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, Jack Kelly

He shrugs, sends it, and sincerely hopes a little professionalism and a decent (if slightly fabricated to make Jack look less forgetful) excuse will go a long way.

-

It's quarter to eleven, the paper is now five-and-a-half pages long, and Jack isn't crying anymore. He's in the zone, talking aloud about the painting while Davey helps him get his vague ideas into concrete sentences, and they're on track to have at least seven or eight pages by the time midnight rolls around— it might not get full marks, but it'll be better than nothing.

Jack's computer dings with the sound of a new email while they're taking a two-minute break— something they've interspersed every half hour, since Jack's focus is best in shorter bouts. He's in the middle of walking laps around the apartment to get his energy out and annoy his downstairs neighbours, but he scrambles back to the computer at the noise.

"We got a reply!" he shouts.

Davey is over on the couch, and he watches Jack's face closely as he opens the email. So far, so good... and then he slumps down in his chair in a show of what could either be defeat or relief. Davey can't quite tell, so he jumps up to go read it for himself.

Sure. Email it by 11:59pm tomorrow.

Sent from my iPhone

"Yes!" Davey shouts, grabbing Jack by the shoulders. "I told you it was worth a shot!"

Jack laughs, and then reaches up to pull Davey down for a kiss.

"You're the best, Jacobs. A fucking lifesaver." He rubs at his eyes, and then pushes his computer away, across the table. "I'll deal with this tomorrow. Let's just go to bed— you still have to be up early."

Right. Davey has a dreaded Saturday morning opening shift tomorrow— they open at five, and he has to be there well in advance to get set up, so he's got no chance at getting more than a few hours of sleep. He's going to be dead on his feet in the morning, probably fuck up a few coffee orders, but it'll be worth it to have helped Jack through tonight.

Poor Jack seems completely exhausted— as anyone would be after crying so hard earlier— so collapsing into bed after washing up quickly is an utter relief. Davey, despite being tall and long-limbed, greatly enjoys being the little spoon and Jack is happy to indulge him, so they curl into the familiar position.

"Thank you for everything tonight," Jack whispers, practically into Davey's ear. "I love you so much."

Davey smiles as his eyes fall shut, and he kisses Jack's knuckles softly, where his arm is wrapped around him.

"Any time, darling. I love you too."

[wilderlingdev]

DEVLOG #01 - TWINE STRUGGLES AND THE PROLOGUE

hello, everyone! welcome to the first devlog for briarheart!

SUGARCUBE VS SNOWMAN

i'm a web dev by day, so you'd think that dealing with twine would be easy enough for me, but i've found that isn't the truth at all! i use html, css and javascript daily and even though i'm a junior dev, i can hold my own pretty well (all things considered). but the added layer of sugarcube on top of everything i know makes things pretty confusing/abstract to me.

which is why at first i went with snowman, a storyformat for twine that basically let's you do everything in plain old javascript, no abstractions needed. and it was much better at first... but sugarcube has a bigger community, more tools/macros that are basically plug in and play, and that makes development way faster than in snowman, where i'd need to build a lot of stuff.

i'm haven't made my choice yet. i'll spend more days with snowman, trying to figure out everything i need, but if it proves too much for the limited time i have i'll just deal with sugarcube and wish for the best.

in the meantime i've mocked up the design for the game once again... this is the third one i've tried (i think?) and, well, i haven't chosen the one i like the best yet, though i'm pretty pleased with how this one looks. here are some previews:

let me know what you think! the old ones are here and here.

THE PROLOGUE

i'm trying something different with this project. i've always been a writer and have half a dozen drafts for regular novels somewhere in my laptop, but my writing has stalled pretty badly the last couple of years, and while some personal stuff + covid did not exactly help, one of the reasons for that is how meticulously planned every single scene. and i mean every scene. i was (am?) a planner through and through.

after some time, i realized that was sucking the excitement out of writing for me, especially because most of my more interesting ideas come out of nowhere in the middle of writing, which in turn could cause major rewrites of the outline. however, i know going full pantser won't work for me either. if i don't know where i'm going, i freeze and end up not writing for weeks (or months!). so i need to strike out a balance between having some sort of outline and also giving myself the freedom i need to keep my interest in the project.

for briarheart i have the major story beats down, some general ideas of when and how things will branch out, but no chapter outline or anything of the sort. it's been pretty great so far, but the real test will come down the line, when i'm deeper into the story.

the prologue's first draft is done. it's about 3k words long, with the average playthrough hitting 1k to 1.2k words. my plan at first was to release the demo with the prologue only, but now i think it might be a good idea to have a bit of chapter one in it too.

which means now it's the time to brainstorm said first chapter. i have a rough "outline" of it in my mind but it needs a bit of fleshing out. we will see how writing goes in the next few days.

as a teaser, here's an excerpt from the prologue:

There is a pause, long, but comfortable this time. The wind here is not the force you are used to in the Briar’s Spear or even in the Alcove, and the smell it brings isn’t full of life, soil and rain, of the wild itself, but it has its own energy, its own magic - the magic of beyond the Crowned Grove, down in the desolate world below, where few survive the decay, and fewer still the elements.

A world you will never see.

hope you guys like it and see you in the next devlog!

[topsytervy]

Hello ~ Rafe Cameron

This is Part 2 to Goodbye cause I had the thought in my head and I didn't want to write it only for it to sit in my docs so you can read Goodbye (aka Part 1) here.

Blurb: A lot can change in five years.

Word Count: 3,677

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, smoking, cocaine, spelling/grammar mistakes, i think that's it.

Small note: I’m 19 and have never planned a wedding. I’ve been to my fair share of weddings as guests and my only experience with a wedding would have been when my sister got married, however, her in-laws are kind of assholes so her wedding was really lowkey and shit, like it took place in my sister backyard lowkey, cause her mother-in-law was like 'Im not paying for anything cause you guys wont last but I'll pay for your sisters weddings' so like I’m winging half of this shit if not most of it. I’m sorry.

~~~~~

It was 5 years later.

You were 21, along with the rest of the pogues, and able to legally drink and purchase alcohol. So no more hassle with a fake ID.

Nothing had changed except for college and jobs. You and JJ had broken up after two years of dating and, much to everyone's surprise, it was like nothing had ever happened between you two.

It was insanely easy to slip back into the friend zone with JJ, despite both of you thinking that it would be awkward. Both of you fell back into old habits fairly quickly. Sure there were the first couple of weeks where you two felt as if you had to force normality but after that, it was like nothing happened. Sure, JJ still called you princess and you still found yourself hiding into his side during scary movies, but those were habits you two had prior to dating, and old habits die hard.

The only other difference was that John B and Sarah were getting married.

They were planning on getting married at The Lodge at Bear River in fall which meant a ferry to the mainland and then an almost 8-hour road trip to the venue. 

You, Kie, and Wheezie were bridesmaids, Kie being maid of honor, and Pope, JJ, and much to John B's displeasure, Rafe were groomsmen, JJ being best man. 

You and Pope were walking together which left Rafe and his half-sister to walk together. 

Rafe looked at his sister and John B, trying to stay as unphased as possible. "Y/N's gonna be a part of the wedding party?" He asked, taking a drag from his cigarette from his spot by the pool. 

John B and Sarah were outside at the patio table with their wedding planner, going over guests and the wedding party. The three looked over at Rafe and Sarah nodded.

"Why wouldn't she?"

"No reason. If you need someone to walk with her, I'll do it." He told her as nonchalantly as possible. 

"She's walking with Pope." John B responded. Rafe made a face as he brought the cigarette back up to his lips and John B narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is there a problem?" Sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"No. No problem. It's your wedding."

John B rolled his eyes before turning back to the wedding planner. 

Rafe stood up and walked inside, flipping John B the bird as he walked by. He felt as if John B was put on this earth just to make him miserable at this point.

Rafe walked over to the bar and fixed himself a drink, Wheezie rolling her eyes from her spot on the couch in between Rose and Ward, who were currently scrolling through formal wear for the wedding. 

"Dad, Rafe's day drinking... again." The now eighteen-year-old piped up.

Rafe glared at her. "Just wait Wheezie. This will be you in a few years." He told his half-sister with a smirk.

Wheezie scrunched up her face in disgust at the sight of her brother holding his cigarette in one hand and drink in the other.

Rose, a glass of wine in her hand, rolled her eyes at her stepson as Ward, a gin and tonic in his hand, just sighed. "It's five o'clock somewhere, Wheezie." 

Rafe clinked his glass against his father’s as he made his way upstairs to his old room that he was temporarily staying in since his apartment building had taken some damage during the latest hurricane and was currently getting the necessary repairs done, and closed the door behind him. He sat down at his old desk chair and looked at the corkboard above the desk where a couple of polaroid pictures of you hung. The pictures were the first thing Rafe went looking for when he had gotten back to his apartment, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw the little lockbox he had stored the polaroids still in the closet and completely unscathed. Rafe downed his drink as he swiveled his chair back and forth. 

Of course, John B wouldn't pair you and him up. That would be helping a brother out. Rafe did everything he could to show that he changed once he heard you and JJ broke up.

 He quit cocaine and took up cigarettes instead. He went back to college and got a business degree. He was currently working and getting along with his father. He had his life together, mostly, and on track. The only thing missing from his life was you.

He had barely spent more than 5 minutes in a room with you since the breakup because you were either by JJ or you retreated as far from him as possible. He'd casually bring you up in conversation with John B and your friend would just roll his eyes. 

"We don't bring you up in conversations, Rafe." John B told him one day.

That cut the blue-eyed man deep.

Especially since this was after Rafe gave John B the money he needed to buy Sarah an engagement ring. 

Some wingman John B was.

Rafe stood up with a sigh and walked downstairs, deciding to bring the entire bottle of whiskey upstairs since he could already tell it was going to be one of those nights. He halted by the patio door though when he heard his sister and John B start talking.

“Would it be that bad to pair Rafe and Y/N up for the wedding? I highly doubt Wheezie wants to walk with him. At least Y/N won’t whine about it.” She asked as she placed a hand on his arm, the wedding planner nowhere in sight.

Rafe leaned against the wall, biting his lip as he waited for John B’s answer. If Rafe was being honest, he was kind of surprised that his sister would even consider asking John B that since she could care less about what Rafe wanted.

“Sarah, I love you but you did not see her that day or the day after or the following month and a half after that. Do you know how hard it was seeing Y/N like that? Heartbroken. Not wanting to get out of bed. Thinking she did the wrong thing and that caused him to go over the edge. Do you know how many times JJ, Pope, Kie and I caught her reading the obituaries to make sure Rafe’s name wasn’t in there?” John B looked at his fiancée. “I’m not pairing them up together without her permission. That’s that.”

“Then ask her.”

"What?" 

"Ask Y/N if she wants to walk with Rafe?" Sarah saw the 'are you kidding' look in John B's eyes. "I'm serious John B. Rafe's changed a lot and, despite what you think, you cannot keep her from talking or seeing my brother all your life."

"I can try." The curly-haired boy stated, crossing his arms.

"You know what, JB? You are acting like a damn child. It is not going to break Y/N/N if you ask her one small question that contains the name Rafe, okay? I'm sure she can hear his name and not break down or something. It's been long enough. Let him have that 5 minutes he needs to talk to her cause, yeah I do not doubt that Y/N took their breakup hard, but what about Rafe? Hmm? Believe it or not John B, but my brother has fucking feelings too, okay. He probably took that break up just as hard and Wheezie and I witnessed it. So stop acting like even whispering Rafe's name will break her and just fucking ask her if she wants to walk with Rafe or Pope."

"Fine. If it makes you and Rafe happy, I'll ask her." John B huffed.

Rafe didn't stay to hear the rest, just turned around and walked back to his room, the whiskey bottle long forgotten. 

****

Fall had come quickly and the wedding date came even faster. It was like Rafe blinked and then he was on the ferry two days before the wedding, sitting next to you, very awkwardly might I add, his leg bouncing up and down as he played with his fingers. It was like he didn't know what to do with his hands. After all these years, the most natural thing to do with one of his hands was still to place it on your thigh and the amount of willpower it took to not do that exact thing was unbelievable.

Rafe had told his dad that he was going to rent his own car because eight hours in a car with his family was a hard no for him. 

So there he was, walking over to the car he rented and opening the door before stopping and watching you get in a car with Pope, Kie, and JJ.

You glanced up just before you got in, making eye contact with him. You gave him a small smile to make it a little less awkward and Rafe returned the smile before hopping into the car. He watched you guys pull away and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh before putting the key into the ignition and starting the car. 

This was going to be the longest three days of his life.

***

He was happy for the long-ass drive of day one considering once everyone got to the hotel, there was a silent, collective decision to all just turn in for the night. 

Day two was a little less chill. After being awoken by a panicked banging on the door of his hotel room, Rafe got out of bed as quickly as he could and opened the door, only to be greeted by Sarah who roughly pushed past him into his room.

“Yeah. Come on in. Good morning to you too.” He deadpanned before shutting the door.

“What the hell am I doing, Rafe?” She asked out of the blue, causing a look of confusion to settle on his face.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He stated.

He watched as Sarah sat on his bed and ran her hands through her hair, letting out a breath. “Is this too soon? Am I getting married too young? Like, I’m 21, Rafe. I should be out getting blackout drunk and having hookups and having regrets but instead, I’m doing the exact opposite.” She rambled.

“Okay. I see what’s happening now.” Rafe walked over and sat down next to Sarah. “Sarah, trust me when I say that marrying John B will not hurt any of that. I guarantee that you and John B will get blackout drunk together and call someone for a ride. I guarantee you will be having hookups, it’s just that all of them will be with John B. And you will have regrets. What those regrets are, I have no fucking clue but life is full of them. Trust me, I have a lot of regrets and I’m only 24.” Rafe told her. “But, I don’t think marrying John B is going to be one of your regrets. Canceling this wedding would be. After all, the venue does say no refunds.”

Sarah snorted slightly and Rafe bumped his shoulder against hers. “Believe me, Sarah, if anyone is ready to get married at this age, it’s you. You came down with a damn binder filled to the brim when you were like seven and placed it in front of me and dad on the coffee table and told dad to start making connections with everyone in that binder, right down to the dress designer.”

Sarah smiled before turning and wrapping her arms around Rafe. “Who would’ve thought you could give a pep talk. And liked John B.” She said.

Rafe slowly wrapped his arms around his younger sister. “Apparently you because you came to me. However, this does not mean I like John B. I am not going to start canceling shit just to have some one-on-one time with that curly-haired surfer dude. Okay? I simply tolerate him because he somehow makes you happy.”

After breakfast and lunch that he spent with Wheezie, last-minute plans when he walked to your room to ask you to lunch only to knock and have you answer the door which caused him to quickly abandon that plan and say “Whoops sorry. Room 202 for Wheeze,”, the rehearsal dinner came quickly. 

In all honesty, Rafe wasn't really paying attention to the dinner at all. How could he when you were right there, quite literally within his reach, laughing and smiling?

The actual wedding day itself was stressful leading up to the ceremony but after everyone got where they needed to be, it was smooth sailing. Rafe and Wheezie walked out after Kie and JJ. 

Rafe watched you walk down with Pope and couldn't help the pang of jealousy he felt in his chest. He also couldn't help but imagine himself as the groom and you in a white dress, walking down the aisle towards him.

He quickly shook the thought from his head though, watching you take your place next to Wheezie before turning your attention towards the door to watch his dad and sister walkout. 

You glanced over at Rafe and smiled slightly when you saw him bring a hand up to his cheek, wiping away a tear. You turned your attention to John B before Rafe could look over and catch you staring.

You saw John B wipe his hands on his trousers as subtly as he could. You caught JJ's eyes and he shook his head, mouthing 'fucking whipped' to you.

You nodded and moved your eyes between Sarah and John B before settling them back on JJ. 'Obviously' you mouthed back before the pair of you stopped before someone caught you.

In all honesty, Sarah did and she saw Rafe catch the interaction as well, noticing him swallow hard.

The ceremony went smoothly with no objections -Rafe fought back the urge to object just to mess with everyone but he knew his entire family wouldn't appreciate the humor- and after pictures, everyone moved inside for the reception as the sun began to set.

Dinner and drinks were served, toasts were made -JJ had made sure to include a few of John B's stupid and most embarrassing moments, much to Rafe's pleasure-, and then the dancing began. 

Sarah and Ward had their father/daughter dance and then John B and Sarah had their first dance before everyone else was encouraged to join them on the dance floor.

Wheezie walked over to Rafe and Rafe looked at her. "I am not nearly drunk enough to get out on that floor and dance with you Wheezie."

Wheezie just rolled her eyes. "You have a shot right now to go ask Y/N to dance and no one will even notice you. Take it." Rafe ignored her. "Oh, okay. So you can sit there and stare but you don't have the balls to walk up to her and say 'wanna dance'?"

Rafe glared at his half-sister. "Watch your mouth, Wheezie."

Wheezie took one last glance at the dance floor and shrugged. "That's fine. Looks like someone else did."

Rafe had never scanned a crowd faster than he did right there and sure enough, there you were, a cousin of his with his hands on your waist and yours on his shoulders, moving slowly around the dance floor.

"I'm going out for a smoke," Rafe muttered before getting up and making his way out of the building. 

He stood outside and brought out his pack of cigarettes, along with his lighter, and opened up the little carton. He withdrew a cigarette before closing the pack and shoving it back into his pocket, placing the cigarette between his lips. He heard the song from inside end before another one started back up as he flicked the spark wheel a couple of times, his thumb landing on the fork before a flame appeared.

He cupped his hand in front of the flame and brought the flame to the cigarette that rested between his lips, making a mental note to buy a new lighter since his was running out of juice.

Rafe heard the door open and close as he shoved the lighter back into his pocket and inhaled. He blew out the smoke before looking over to see who had joined him and was a little surprised to see you.

Of course, Rafe knew at some point you'd duck out of the party for some fresh air considering in social situations where they were tons of people, you needed to get away for a bit and recharge your social battery. He just didn't expect you to do that so soon.

You both stared out in front of you, not saying anything and Rafe brought the cigarette to his lips again, taking another drag.

"It's beautiful out here." You breathed out, trying to start some conversation.

Rafe nodded as he exhaled. "Yeah, it is."

"I wouldn't mind getting married here." You added absent-mindedly.

If Rafe had a drink right now, he would've choked at your words. He nodded nonetheless. "Yeah. It's a pretty nice place to get married."

You looked over at Rafe. "You gonna be okay over there, big guy?"

Rafe turned his head to look at you, confusion written all over his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw you wipe a tear away, bub." Rafe's heart sped up at the nickname that you used to use on him. "When Sarah was walking down the aisle. You gonna be okay or should the same reaction be expected at Wheezie's wedding too?" You smiled as Rafe groaned, tilting his head to look at the almost pitch-black sky.

"Don't even mention Wheezie getting married. To me, she's still that annoying thirteen-year-old that was always eavesdropping and snooping through shit." 

"Awe, Rafe. You got a soft spot for your sisters now. That’s so sweet." You cooed, knowing that when he was 19, the only thing he did was complain about the two Cameron girls. "Seriously though, I think it's sweet that you walked with Wheezie and that you shed a tear today." You told him.

Rafe couldn't stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth. "I wanted to walk with you but you told John B you'd rather walk with Pope."

Way to go, dumbass, he thought to himself.

"What are you talking about?" It was your turn to look confused.

Rafe sighed, taking another drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke pour past his lips as he spoke. "I offered to walk with you and John B said no. I overheard him and Sarah talking a bit later and Sarah told him that it wouldn't hurt to ask if you wanted to walk with me or not. And I think you know the rest."

He might as well fess up about it since his mouth and brain already decided to rat him out anyway.

You shook your head. "I don't know the rest because John B never asked me who I wanted to walk with nor did he ask if I wanted to walk with you."

Rafe looked over at you, his eyes locked on yours. He knew when you were lying and this was not one of those times.

He chuckled before shaking his head. "God. He's such a dick."

You ignored his comment about one of your best friends and walked closer to him. "You seriously wanted to walk with me?"

Rafe nodded, looking down at the ground. He was in way over his head, admitting that after half a decade he was still thinking about you and wanting to be with you. Even if it was for like a 20-second walk down an aisle.

You felt a blush grow on your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers.

A beat passed before you spoke, keeping your head down. "If it makes you feel better… I would've said yes."

Rafe looked at you. "Yeah?"

You nodded and he took another drag from his cigarette.

"Can we start over?" He asked.

"What?" Your Y/E/C eyes lifted from the ground to meet his blue ones.

"Can we start over?"

You bit your lip. "Yeah. Sure."

Rafe cleared his throat before placing a small smile on his face and giving a little bow. "Hello. I'm Rafe."

You breathed out a laugh before giving Rafe a slight curtsy. "Hello, Rafe. I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Rafe shook his head. "Oh no. The pleasure is all mine."

Your heads both turned to the building when the song changed once again to a slower song and Rafe took Wheezie's advice on seizing an opportunity. 

"You still like this song?" You nodded once more and Rafe put out his cigarette before extending his hand to you. "Would you like to dance?"

You smiled and took his hand. "Of course."

He placed his hands on your waist and yours looped around his neck, him starting to sway you two slightly.

"You look amazing by the way." Rafe complimented, taking in the lavender color of your bridesmaid dress.

"Thank you. You look rather dashing yourself." You took your hands from his neck and straightened his tie before returning them to where they previously were.

You moved closer to Rafe, resting your head on his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Rafe?" You mumbled towards the end of the song.

"Mhm?"

"I missed you." You admitted.

Rafe smiled before placing a kiss at the top of your head. "I missed you too, Y/N/N."

"Rafe?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you maybe wanna ride back to the ferry together? 8 hours is a long trip.  Especially when you're alone and I have to deal with JJ, Pope, and Kie." 

You heard Rafe’s heart speed up a bit before it calmed back down as he took a deep breath. 

"I would love that."

~~~~~~~

[raysofcrosby]

CHANCES – M. TKACHUK

requested: yes | no

warning(s): none that i can think of.

word count: 5,066

listened to: chances by the backstreet boys

inspiration: mixed luggage au [ i can’t find the og au-prompt masterlist, but if this is your au idea, lemme know and i’ll link you for credit (: ]

authors note: listen– i don’t know what it is, but i’ve literally been on a tkachuk thing lately. like, i used to despise this little curly-headed gremlin, but now??? it’s all hearteyes motherfucker. this is purely a writing to help me get back into the writing groove again after these last six months of nothing– so i might be a lil rusty. anyway, i hope you enjoy <3333

part two | google doc w/ all parts | my masterlist | stuff i have planned | who i’ll write for | requests

I’m sorry Y/N, but if you’re not here in the next 5 minutes I need to keep going.

That text haunted you– it was all you could think about the moment you got off of your flight. The uber your sister had ordered for you was close to canceling– all because there were too many planes taxiing on the airstrip and your stupid flight ended up circling in the air for thirty minutes. If this were any other airport, no doubt you’d be screwed. Luckily though, you knew good ole St. Louis Lambert International like the back of your hand. So getting from point A to point luggage claim would be no problem at all. The only delay would be the luggage getting put out onto the carousel.

Which of course, did prove to be the problem at hand.

You were the first one from your flight at the carousel and hoped to be gone before any disgruntled passengers you managed to bump into, could show up. Unfortunately for you, just as the bags were being loaded onto the carousel, your fellow passengers were arriving too– more than a few giving you a look that would normally result in you rolling your eyes in response. Yet, your focus wasn’t on them, it was glued to the small carousel door, keeping an eye out for your suitcase.

Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey hand–

“Ah-ha!” You smiled, catching eye of your suitcase and rushing to meet it instead of letting it eventually make its way to you. You grabbed the suitcase and extended the handle to drag it away, already walking towards the exit.

One minute.

You had one minute to catch your uber before they left you and you hoped and prayed that luck was on your side and the black Toyota Corolla just happened to be parked near the door you chose to exit from. The warm summer air of the Missouri summer weather practically smacked you in the face and it fit wasn’t for the awning covering the pick-up zone, you would have no doubt been blinded by the sun too.

“Oh, thank God,” you sighed, catching sight of a black Toyota Corolla that your sister said to find, parked just six cars down to your left. You sped walked to the uber, coming to a stop at the window and waving at the driver, catching her attention. “I’m so, so sorry I’m late.”

The woman, probably in her early 60’s gave you a friendly smile instead of the scowl you were expecting. “Are you Y/N?”

“Yes ma’am,” you replied, nodding.

“Go ahead and put your suitcase in the trunk, it’s opened for you.”

You walked to the trunk and lifted it open, placing your suitcase inside before closing it and walking to the back passenger door, getting into the backseat. “Again, I’m so sorry for making you wait. We had to circle in the air for 30 minutes because of the traffic on the airstrip and,” you exhaled, relaxing back into your seat. “I’m so sorry.”

She laughed, pulling away from the airport. “It’s no problem sweetheart. I saw your reply. I was going to give you a little extra time. I know how hectic airports could be. Especially this time of the year. Everyone’s traveling for vacation.”

“Yeah, I think I might have accidentally elbowed one too many people trying to get to luggage claim.”

“Are you visiting or coming home?”

“Coming home…kind of,” you laughed, staring out the window at your hometown. “I actually just graduated from college a few weeks ago, so my roommates and I rented a house on the Jersey Shore to celebrate. But, my sister is getting married tomorrow, so that’s why I’m back.” You looked back towards her, laughing softly to yourself. “But then come September, I’ll actually be moving to Calgary for a new job and to get my Masters.”

“So a lot of traveling, I see.”

You took a deep breath and sighed, nodding. “Yeah, but I’m glad to be able to spend all of this time with my friends and family before I start working. Especially since I’ll be moving so far away.”

“It sounds like a great time,” she smiled, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “I’m a sucker for weddings, why don’t you tell me about it?”

Normally, you weren’t one to talk a lot whenever you and your friends would take Ubers downtown on the weekends– but this driver was sweet and you found yourself talking nonstop as she drove you towards your final destination. After all, she didn’t abandon you at the airport like you thought she would.

~

The car ride to your parents' place went by a lot faster than you thought it would and it was all thanks to Mrs. Sheila, your lovely uber driver. Whom, you learned, started driving after she lost her husband late last year. Her kids lived out of state and once they went back home after those first few weeks, she wanted to find something to do to keep herself busy and get herself out of the house– so, she became an uber driver.

Walking into your parents' house, you were greeted with empty echos of your footsteps. Your parents were still at work and wouldn’t be home until just a little before the rehearsal dinner tonight. Your brother, well, as far as you knew, he had absolutely nothing going on, so you didn’t know why he wasn’t around. If anyone was guaranteed to be home, it was your sister. She was the one who ordered your uber and had them take you here, so she was more than well aware of what time you’d be arriving home.

“Hello?” You called out, leaving your suitcase by the door and making your way to the living room. “Char, are you here?”

“Is that my favorite sister?” You heard her voice call out from upstairs. Looking up, you could see her rounding the hallway corner, carrying a closed laundry basket full of, no doubt, stuff for tonight’s bridal party sleepover.

“I’m your only sister,” you laughed as she made her way down the staircase.

“Unless you count all of the times we got bored and turned Nick into Nikki,” she giggled, reaching the end of the staircase and putting the basket down before stepping forward and hugging you. “How was the flight?”

“It was great up until our 30 minutes of circling in the air,” you laughed, pulling away from the hug. “Where’s my dear brother?”

“Working out with some friends. We probably won’t see him until tonight.”

“Nothing says welcome home like being greeted to an empty house.”

“Excuse you, I was here to greet you.” She laughed, picking the basket back up. “But if you really want to be upset, you should see all of the packed boxes in your room.”

“I leave in three months! Why are they packing me up now?” You gasped, acting dramatically.

“Nick and dad are planning on transforming it into some kind of training room or something.”

“But they–“

“Already took over the garage? Yeah, I know and mom is pissed.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the handle of your suitcase again. “He literally told the Blues that he was going back to Michigan in the fall to try and win a championship. Why the hell are they even treating him like he’s already a hall of famer?”

“Perks of being the youngest, not to mention dad’s only son,” she laughed, looking at the door. “Ready to head to the Airbnb?”

“Can we get food first?” You asked, dragging your suitcase along. “I’m starving.”

She laughed as you held the door open for her. “Good, because we’re most definitely getting food before we go and take a nap.”

You laughed, walking out of the house with her and then closing and locking the door behind you. “I knew we were related.”

~

Lunch and a nap turned out to be exactly what you needed. The two of you had stopped at a subway to get some food before driving over to the Airbnb that you, your sister and the rest of the bridesmaids would be staying for the night.

It was a beautiful three-bedroom, modernized cottage that looked like it was stripped directly from the pages of a fairytale book. It was tucked away, just off to the side in the backyard of a beautiful colonial house, whose farm would tomorrow be transformed into a whimsical fairytale wedding location. The men would be getting ready in the house, while the women would be getting ready in the cute cottage. Sort of like a secret getaway paradise before the wedding.

When you got back with your food, your sister took you on a tour of the property while the wedding planners and staff were setting up all of the bigger decorations for tomorrow. You were off at school during the entire planning process, only ever seeing every one of her ideas in pictures. The only things you were able to take part in, were the dress shopping and her bachelorette party since they were both held at a time you were on a fall break from school. Besides being there for those two things, the only other thing you helped with– was the proposal.

Colton has been in your life for as long as you could remember. He and Charlotte have been best friends since Pre-K. It was the cliché friends to lovers kind of story that was told time after time– but in theirs, there were no other people in it. It was just them. There were no other boyfriends or girlfriends, no other crushes– from the very beginning, they were it for each other. They were each other's first everything– kiss, date, girlfriend/boyfriend, time– in their love story, they had found their one great love…all before they turned five.

Wherever Charlotte was, there was Colton– they were stuck like glue and your parents loved it. It was their friendship that brought both of your families together to the relationship that you all had now. Your families were best friends, all because of their relationship. You often took vacations together, spent holidays together, hell, you and Colton’s middle brother, Mason, even had joint birthday parties– as did your two younger siblings, Nick and Addie. Your families even try to go as far as to dropping hints that all three kids should date.

Colton and Charlotte. You and Mason. Nick and Addie– all the same age and practically family already.

It was perfect.

Until you and Mason tried to date in the tenth-grade and realized that kissing the person you’ve shared every birthday party with, used to take baths with and shared every key moment growing up– wasn’t all that great. In fact, it was weird. So the two of you remained as the almost black sheep of the families, especially since Nick and Addie were headed down the same path as Charlotte and Colton. They started dating in eighth-grade– like Colton and Charlotte– and have maintained a healthy and strong relationship to now, even long-distance, when they’ll both be sophomores in college in the fall, Addie at the University of Missouri and Nick playing hockey at the University of Michigan.

You and Mason were there, always making jokes about how it runs in the family but skipped a generation. Never letting your siblings live it down that the two of you will be the ones to break the cycle. Funny how you two were also the ones who played the biggest roles in Charlotte’s engagement.

Both of your dads are huge St. Louis Blues fans. So naturally, they tried to rub that off onto their children. And it worked, all except for you. You tolerated the blues, but never really adopted hockey as your favorite sport. You understood it, watched it whenever you never had a choice– but like your mom, you gravitated more towards football and adopted her hometown team as your own– the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Colton and Charlotte, however, were both diehard Blues fans from day one. There were even pictures to prove it. They even went to a game on both their first ‘supervised’ date and ‘unsupervised’ date. So, when the Blues were making a run for the Stanley Cup– it was imminent for your families to attend at least one game. You and Mason did everything in your power to get the Blues attention. You emailed anyone and everyone who worked in their front office, you spammed their social media accounts– anything and everything to get their attention so you could share their story and Colton’s plan.

And at game four it all came to life. Charlotte was ‘randomly’ selected to participate in an intermission event after the first period where she’d be blindfolded and needed to walk along the ice to find Louie after collecting ‘Blues momentos’ along the way. The Blues had played the short slideshow of Colton and Charlotte that you and Mason had sent them, as they introduced her to the crowd. Unbeknownst to her, both of our families were on the ice with her, standing behind her while she was blindfolded. You and the other three siblings were scattered in front of her, each holding a single rose.

The Blues staff member helped her walk along the ice and the moment that she took a flower from someone, they needed to go back to where she started, which was where Colton was standing with the ring in his pocket. The four of you each had a sign, that when held up together read ‘Will you marry me?’ Once Charlotte neared Louie, he cut the distance to just by center ice where all of you were waiting. And when she found Louie, the entire crowd had erupted into cheers as she took off her blindfold, all smiles until she turned around to see the signs and Colton on one knee.

She said yes. The Blues won. The proposal went viral and your families were given a box to game seven where the Blues won the Stanley Cup.

All in a day's work between the two middle siblings, and one that led you all to this moment– the wedding tomorrow. Where Colton, who was already like a big brother yo you, would officially, pretty much become your big brother.

“Y/N,” your sister said, shaking your arm. “Y/N, get up. We’ve got like 45 minutes to get ready for dinner before we have to leave and no offense, but you need to shower.”

“Your lucky that you’re getting married tomorrow or I’d kill you,” you mumbled into the pillow, taking a deep breath and exhaling before pushing yourself up. “Can you charge my phone for me? I won’t take too long, just need to rinse off and I’ll be back.”

“In your backpack?” She asked as you walked out of the room.

“Mhhm, small front pocket. The charger is with it.”

You walked out of the room and into the connected bathroom, closing the door behind you before walking towards the shower and turning on the water. Your nap was more than enough to help you make it through dinner. You hadn’t thought that you were even that tired, but the moment you laid down to relax after eating your sandwich– you were absolutely knocked out.

To be fair though, you had spent the last two weeks partying it up on the beach with your college roommates, trying to relive every moment from your last four years of partying, downing booze, and making out with any attractive guy who caught your eye. You know what they say, no rest for the wicked– and boy, oh boy, were the wicked actions of shotgunning beers with strangers in the hot summer jersey sun, coming back to haunt you.

At least you got one hell of a tan and more memories to last you a lifetime, out of it all.

You turned off the shower before you stepped out and wrapped a towel around your body, then wrapping your hair up in a second towel. You walked out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom, only to find it empty. "Hey, Char?"

"In the living room...er, kitchen, I guess!"

You walked out of the bedroom and into the living room to see Charlotte sitting at the kitchen counter, a make-up mirror propped up in front of her and hot curling iron in her hand. "Why are you doing your hair in the kitchen?"

"You were in the bathroom and the lighting is lacking in the bedroom." She let a curl, fall from the iron and turned to you. "What's up?"

"Well, for one, the bathroom is free," you laughed, looking around. "And two, I was wondering where you put my suitcase? It was in the room and now it's not."

"No," she dragged out her reply, focusing on wrapping another piece of hair around the iron before averting her eyes towards the door. "You left it by the front door. Never brought it in."

You turned towards the front door and sure enough, right there not even three feet away from the door...was your suitcase. "Awesome, thanks!" You said, walking over and tugging on the handle, extending it out before walking back to the room. "And my phone?"

"Charging in the kitchen. It was dead by the way."

"Great," you huffed, walking into the bedroom and over to the bed. You lifted up the suitcase, letting it plop down onto the bed and exhaled a deep breath. It was a lot heavier than you thought it was. But maybe your body was just tired from traveling and last night's final night out.

You caught a glimpse of the alarm clock that was set up on the bedside table and saw that your getting ready time was vastly starting to dwindle. So, not thinking anything more of the heavy suitcase, you unzipped the zipper and threw the cover back, ready to grab the romper you had placed directly on top, just so it wouldn't get wrinkled. You stared down at the contents of the suitcase, quickly grabbing the cover and shutting it again.

Okay, maybe you were imagining things.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling, and then opening your eyes and opening the suitcase again.

No, you definitely weren't imagining things.

The same spike ball netting was still staring you right in the face. Surrounding it, were three spike balls and a crumbled up bag that was supposed to house the set. Beneath it, a bunch of crumpled up clothes and other things.

"No," you shut the suitcase again, repeating the same steps: close your eyes, take a breath, hope you're dreaming, open your eyes and then the suitcase, only to be disappointed. "No, no– oh my God, this can't be happening. Charlotte!!"

You heard her footsteps echo off of the wooden floor as she made her way to the bedroom, half of her hair curled and set. "What?"

"This isn't my suitcase."

"Of course it is," she scoffed. "Colton and I got you that big traveling set for graduation, and that," she pointed at the suitcase, "is it."

"No, it's not," You opened the suitcase and reached in, grabbing the first thing you felt and holding it up to show her. "See? Not mine!"

"Y/N," her eyes widened before she started to laugh. "You might want to put those down."

"It's just the spike ball bag, it's not big–" you turned to see what you were holding and sure enough, it was not the spike ball bag you thought you had picked up. It was a pair of Ant-Man boxers, and it was unknown whether or not they were clean or not. "Ah, ew!" You tossed them back into the suitcase, wiping your hand on your towel. "Ew, ew, ew, I just touched a stranger's dirty underwear."

"You don't know if they were dirty."

"You don't know if they were clean!" You argued back, looking around the handle for an identification tag. "This definitely isn't mine. My travel tag isn't on the handle."

"Who uses a travel tag?" She laughed, shaking her head.

"Me," you turned towards the suitcase, slamming it shut and zipping it. "I use a travel tag, so if my luggage gets lost or switched, they can contact me. It's common travel knowledge."

She sighed, walking over towards the suitcase and unzipping the two pockets on top, looking in and shaking her head. "Nothing hidden in those pockets. Did you think to go through the rest of the suitcase? Maybe they have a tag in there."

"And risk touching another pair of possibly dirty boxers and God knows what else? No thanks," you zipped up the suitcase and picked it up, placing it back onto the ground. "I'm doomed. That suitcase had all of the clothes that I took to Jersey, in it. It had my outfit and makeup for tonight."

"I have something you can borrow," she walked over to the closet, opening it to reveal it was empty besides two dresses hanging up. "And I've got make-up and whatever your little heart desires for your hair."

"Your wedding present was in there too," you sighed, walking over to the closet. "Which one?"

"This." She held out the rose-colored dress, handing the hanger to you. "You can get away with no bra and I can give you a pair of underwear from the new pack I bought this morning–"

"Why would you buy new underwear?" You asked, taking the dress.

"In case of emergencies," she closed the closet and turned back to you, nodding. "Which, this is. Unopened pack in that laundry basket I was carrying, feel free to take a pair and keep them. As for shoes...you're kind of on your own on that one."

You sighed, defeated as she walked out of the bedroom, leaving you to get dressed. You unwrapped the towel around your hair, letting it drop onto the floor as the towel wrapped around your body went with it. You took the dress off of the hanger and untied the straps, lifting the dress over your head and tugging it down. Your mind was going over every detail of just how you picked up the wrong suitcase. Fair, it was a dead-ringer for the suitcase you took with you to Jersey, but even you should have known to realize that there was no bright red luggage tag hanging on the side handle. And it was all you could do but hope that whoever picked up your suitcase thinking it was theirs, would at least call or text.

"Oh shit," you said, holding onto the straps that hung down on the side, trying to tie them in the back. "Charlotte! My phone!"

You ran out into the living room to see her now finishing up her make-up at the counter, turning to you with wide eyes. "Okay one, sit down and let me brush your hair," she stood up and grabbed your wrist, bringing you over to counter and sitting you down. "And two, your phone is right there."

"If they figured out our luggage was switched, they'd call! My luggage tag!" You reached across the counter, grabbing your phone and turning it over to see that the screen was still black. "Oh come on, my phone wasn't that dead!"

Charlotte tugged you back and started to brush your hair, not bothering to go slow. "I plugged it in the moment you went to take a shower, just give it a few seconds."

If looks could kill, your phone would be nowhere ready to turn on. You were glaring at the screen as if pure intimidation would turn it on. This could go one of two ways:

1) This person left your suitcase in the dark abyss that is lost luggage at the airport.

or

2) Like you, they didn't realize that they had grabbed the wrong luggage until they went to open it and they'll find your luggage tag and call you.

"Ah!" You yelled, jumping out of the chair as your phone lit up. You leaned over the counter, your heart racing as Charlotte tried to keep brushing your hair. "Come on, come on, come on..."

"Right there," Charlotte said, pointing at your screen as a text message notification popped up on the screen from an unknown number. "That has to be them!"

"Oh thank God," you sighed, thumb ready to swipe the message open. "Oh...yikes."

"Uh," Charlotte laughed as the two of you continued to watch your messages pour in, at least 5 coming in from the unknown number, along with three phone calls. "Yikes indeed, I guess they're panicking just as much as you are."

You swiped on the notifications, unlocking your phone, and going to the message.

unknown: hi y/n i think you grabbed the wrong suitcase...

unknown: yeah, uh, you most definitely grabbed the wrong suitcase.

unknown: is there any way we can switch in the next 30 minutes before i reach my house?

unknown: ok, so i'm sorry for the spam texts and calls...but this is kind of urgent.

unknown: like life or death.

"Life or death?" Charlotte asked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell was in that suitcase?"

"Spike ball and dirty clothes," you replied, shrugging. Your eyes went wide before you turned back to her. "What if they're a drug smuggler and there are drugs in there?"

She opened her mouth to speak before looking down at your phone, nodding. "Now's your chance to find out. Look who's calling."

You looked back down at your phone to see the unknown number flash on your screen. You looked back at her, shaking your head. "You answer it."

"Your luggage, you answer it," she laughed, pulling back segments of your hair to tie back. "But put it on speaker, I'm curious what the drug dealer sounds like."

You shoved your elbow back, avoiding her as you nervously slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call and pressing the speaker button. "Hello?"

"Oh thank God," the unknown called sighed, clearing his throat. "Sorry for the spam calls, I've just been panicking."

"Yeah, I’m sorry...my phone died," you replied, looking at Charlotte as your voice dwindled off.

"The suitcase," she mouthed, nodding her head back towards the room.

"Oh, the suitcase!" You said, almost a little too excited. You cleared your throat, calming yourself down. "I most definitely have your suitcase...maybe."

"Well I have yours," you could hear rustling in the background. "Y/N L/N, right?"

"Yep, that's me," you looked at Charlotte again, shaking your head. "Sorry to kind of do this...but how do I know I have your suitcase? I mean, what if I grabbed someone else's and you grabbed mine and there's three of us in this and–"

Charlotte smacked your back lightly with the back of the brushed, shaking her head as the voice on the other side of the phone laughed. "Um, shit," he coughed, smacking his lips. "Uh well, there should be a spike ball set in there. If not, then I left it at Johnny's. Otherwise, it's just clothes."

"Congratulations," you laughed, leaning back into the chair. "I've got your suitcase."

"Oh thank God, I was really worried there for a second," they replied. "Is there any chance we can exchange them soon?"

"Okay, so about that," you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. "I kind of have a wedding rehearsal and dinner to go to in 20 minutes...and I don't think that will be over with till about...two hours from now. Is that okay?"

There was silence on the other side and you couldn't help but feel horrible at the fact that you were keeping this stranger away from his luggage and that he had to keep yours until then. "My family and I are going to dinner in two hours, reservation and all."

"Where at?" You spoke before your brain could even catch up with what your mouth was doing. "I'm sorry that was creepy."

He laughed and you felt a little flutter feeling in your stomach. "No, it's fine. I think we're going to Maggiano's in–"

"In the Westfield town center?" Your eyes widened as Charlotte placed the brush down on the counter behind you, looking at you with a smile. "We're going to Pieology in the Westfield town center!"

"Pieology for a wedding rehearsal dinner? Sounds like my kind of party," he laughed. "So, do you just want to exchange then? When I get there and you're leaving?"

"Sounds perfect!"

"Great! So I'll just, text you when I get there and I promise I won't forget the suitcase."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"All right, bye, Y/N!"

"Bye!" You hung up the call and Charlotte leaned against the counter a smile on her face. "What?"

"He sounded cute." She stuck placed the extra bobby pins she didn't need, onto the counter. "Maybe he can be your date for my wedding."

"Not this again," you groaned, getting out of the chair. "For the last time, I don't need a date. Besides, this guy is a total stranger– I don't even know his name!"

"You can learn it later," she laughed, wiggling her eyebrows. "Either way, do your makeup quickly because we need to leave in ten."

She walked off towards the bedroom the two of you had claimed and you sighed, sitting back down into your seat, grabbing her mascara, blush, and golden liquid shimmer eyeshadow. It was the best you could do for now, until you got all of your stuff back from this stranger. As you applied the eyeshadow, you couldn't get Charlotte's comment out of your head. She was right, he did sound cute. But who's to say that he's not a total creep? Or that he's even your age? He could be in his 40's or even barely cruising 18. And then stood the real issue, you didn't even know his name.

Your phone screen lit up once again and you looked away from the mirror, seeing that you had another text from the unknown number. You furrowed your eyebrows and unlocked your phone, opening his text.

unknown: my name is matt, by the way 😊

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track five

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

*contains smut*

It took two nights for Grayson to officially give in and admit that Indiana’s bed was more comfortable than his. Although he wasn’t exactly utilizing the space the way he wanted to at that moment, considering he was criss cross on top of the comforter in front of his very stressed out girlfriend, holding out a water bottle like it was a toy for a toddler.

“Hey. You need to drink some of this.”

“Mhmm, yeah,” she mumbled as a response, blowing him off as she had been all evening, one finger tracing over her notes. He resisted the urge to pull them out of her hands, knowing he might rip them on accident.

“Dee. Stop. Drink.”

“Yeah, just gimme a sec.”

“No, cause you said that five minutes ago. Drink.”

“I’m fine.”

“Holy shit.” He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and held it over her notes, blocking her view. “Drink it or I’m pouring it.”

That got her attention enough, and when she looked up her gaze was icier than he’d ever seen it.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” He tilted it just barely.

“You’re annoying,” she grumbled, grabbing the bottle and taking a quick swig before trying to hand it off again.

“And you’re stubborn. Three more drinks, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“You know, I’m two months away from a college degree, not a two year old.”

“Then you should know how important water is,” he countered, not budging an inch. She gave in to appease him, taking three long swallows before she passed it back to him, licking her lips slowly as she moved back down to her papers.

As if he wasn’t already worked up enough.

He was trying to behave, he really was. But there was just something about the way she was so focused. He’d always found ambition sexy, but it had been a long time since he’d seen someone academically driven, and he’d forgotten how attractive he found someone with intelligence. She was right there in front of him, hair pulled up in a loose bun on top of her head with a pencil stabbed through it somewhere - she didn’t need it, she had 17 different colored pens lined up in order on top of her planner page, which was full of blocked out times and perfect penmanship. She’d been chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous habit he’d noticed, but now it was bright pink and slightly swollen, and all he wanted to do was lean over and lay her down against the bed, kiss her rough, feel her skin under his hands, get her out of that damn cudi hoodie that he’d let her borrow a few nights ago.

“Flex.”

He only realized she was looking at him when he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Take your shirt off and flex your arm.”

“Uh… why?”

“For science.”

His ego could have burst, and he couldn’t help the smug grin that spread across his face after he slipped his sweatshirt off over his head. He reached over and tucked a finger under her chin, tilting it up until she was looking at him with those bright blues that he hadn’t seen nearly enough that day.

“You know, if you wanted me to get naked, all you had to do was ask.”

For a moment he tried to remember what movie or book or show he’d ripped off just then, but he got distracted when Indy smacked him across his arm.

“I need to look at your muscle structure, not drool over you.”

He deflated immediately, in every form of the word.

“Oh.” It sounded small, even to himself, and it was apparently all it took for him to finally have her full attention. She frowned, guilt immediately spreading across her entire face.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

It wasn’t often that Indiana did anything less than perfect (in his eyes anyways), so he jumped at the opportunity to milk it a bit.

“No it’s fine,” he muttered, toying with his fingers.

It worked.

It wasn’t two seconds later and she was intertwining her own fingers with his, tiny little pen marks of different colors on her skin as she pulled herself over towards him. Before he knew it his hands were on her waist and she was crawling into his lap, settling herself directly over him. She was a hair taller than him like that, and he tilted his head up to look at her, keeping his pout on his lips until she kissed it away.

“Sorry,” she murmured, lips moving against his as he traced his fingers over her sides, up under her hoodie to her warm skin. He felt her relax with each pass of his hands, the tension leaving her shoulders as she got lost in him.

“S’okay. Everybody gets a little grumpy when they’re stressed,” he hummed, thumbs running over the curve of her hips.

She pulled back from him immediately, offense all over her face.

“I am not grumpy.”

He waited for a moment, bold enough to raise his eyebrows at her but not to say anything.

And then her bottom lip was quivering, and he saw the tears welling up in the corners of her shiny eyes, and his stomach dropped faster than it ever had.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Baby what’s wrong?” He moved a hand up to her cheek before she crumpled forward onto his shoulder, her tears warm against his skin.

“I’m grumpy,” she moaned, followed by a sniffle.

“You’re crying… because I said you were grumpy?”

“No, because I am.”

He re-ran her words through his head a few times, only getting more confused.

“I’m not following.” He fessed up, bringing his hand up to run over her hair that was still tucked up in the messy bun that was tickling his cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m just stressed out, and I get crazy with exams, I can’t help it, I’m sorry. I just… I can’t fuck this one up, and I’m gonna fail it. But that’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t be grumpy just because I’m stressed.”

The way that the worry in her voice pulled at his gut was a new sensation, something he’d never felt with anyone but Ethan, and even then it was different. He wanted nothing more than to be able to cheer her up, to make her feel better any way that he could.

“Hey. Look at me.”

She brought her head up slowly, eyes pink and irritated as she rubbed at them with the bottom of her sleeve.

“Have you ever actually failed an exam before?”

She shook her head and sniffled. If it wasn’t so sad, he would have thought it was adorable.

“Then there’s no reason to think you’re going to fail this one.”

“But-”

“What specific part are you on right now?” He kept up the bid to distract her, happy to see that no new tears were appearing.

“All the brachial muscles.”

“Brachial?”

“Arms. Arm muscles.”

He perked up, raising up an arm and flexing.

“I have those. Lots of those.”

He let the eye roll slide because of the laugh that followed it - he couldn’t think of something he’d produced that he was prouder of in the last month.

“My professor did say if we needed to look up muscle definition for reference to google pictures of Ryan Gosling, or Channing Tatum.”

Grayson wrapped his arms around her, but not before he snagged her phone and moved it out of her reach, getting another laugh from her.

“I think I would suffice.”

“You should be top of the list,” she hummed, kissing him again. He let her settle all her weight against him, which put her snug over his crotch in a way that she hadn’t been before, and he tried to think of absolutely anything else to keep himself from popping the most obvious boner he’d ever had. He felt like a high schooler again, with wild hormones that were ready to betray him at any moment.

And Indy had no mercy for him either, chasing away her worries through rough passes of her tongue against his, lips warm and urgent as she kissed him. It took all of his self control to keep himself from rolling her over, flipping her onto her back and really getting to work.

Luckily, her hands slid down his arms, over the ridges of his muscles and she hummed.

“Which one is that?” He took the chance for the distraction, looking over at the way her nails traced over his skin.

“Well this is the short head of the biceps brachii. This is the long head, and this is the pronator teres,” her fingers ran over the inside of his elbow, crossing over.

“What’s that do?”

“Pronates your arm.” He waited. “Like this.” She turned his arm so his palm was facing down.

“And you have a supinator too, which turns it the other way. It’s right… here.” She felt around on his forearm until she found a smaller muscle up by his elbow, squeezing it. Sure, he knew the basic muscles in his arms - anything he could target at the gym, plus anything important to build up for a planche. But it was incredible to him, the way she could trace a finger over his skin and mutter something to herself, another muscle, another nerve that went into it without having to look at any notes. She was content like that for a while, but eventually she perked up.

“Can I write on you? They’re skin safe pens.”

“You think I’m worried about skin safe pens?” He asked, looking down pointedly at the tattoos on his foot and ankle, the only ones she could see outside of his sweatpants.

“Oh shut up. My mom used to get so mad when I wrote shit on my hands, said I was gonna give myself ‘ink poisoning’, it’s habit.”

“My dad took me to get my first tattoo so… I think we’re good.”

The tug on his heart was a little less painful than it usually was.

“Play some Cudi. It helps me think.”

“Your wish, my command,” he teased, pulling out his phone.

She leaned him back against the pillows with a gentle push to his shoulder, moving her notes out of view and grabbing a black pen. He pulled up his Cudi playlist, letting his left arm rest against the comforter. Indy took it in her hands, moving it around with her pen held between her teeth, tracing fingertips over his skin as her mind worked ten times faster than Grayson’s probably ever had, he was sure.

Music filled the room, bringing in a more relaxing vibe as he tried to be a good model, only twitching when something tickled him - she didn’t seem to notice, so intent on scribbling the names of muscles he’d never heard of on his skin, his arm resting over her lap as she sat criss cross. He couldn’t resist tracing his fingertips over her skin where he could get to it, a gentle reminder that he was there for her, even if he was being quiet.  

Ever since he could remember, Grayson had to be on the move. Had to be practicing, moving, working, doing something to keep his brain busy. It’s why he was in sports as a kid, why he was always starting new projects, always had 85 things going on in the background. But there, laid out on the comforter watching her wiggle around to the beat as she sang along, he couldn’t think of anything he would rather be doing. Even when she moved on to his ‘trunk’ muscles, made him hold his arm up and wrote serratus anterior across his ribs, he didn’t care. She never looked back at her notes, and he could tell she knew the information inside and out, but he humored her anyways, focusing in on the feeling of her fingers on his skin. Before he knew it, it was 11:30, and half of him was covered in Indy’s handwriting as he laid on his stomach and she wrote on his back.

“Done. I think that’s all of them.”

“Well, how do I look?” He peeked over his shoulder at her.

“Like a page of my notes,” she teased. “Come see.”

She tugged on his hand, leading him over to the mirror that hung behind her door. He stood tall next to her, a soft smile on his face as he looked over his skin.

“You really have to know all these?”

“And their origins and insertions,” she mumbled, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. “Where they start and where they end,” she explained. “I need to go to sleep.”

“Hang on.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “C’mere.”

She did as he asked, letting him pull her up against his side a bit more, angling so they looked good in the mirror before he snapped a quick picture.

“I look like death,” she mumbled, pouting a bit.

He just shook his head and kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you in bed.”

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

Indy woke up to her alarm in a cold bed - which a month ago wouldn’t have been a thought in her mind. But she knew that her personal space heater had definitely fallen asleep next to her last night, considering it was him running his fingers through her hair that lulled her down. So she stood up quickly, rubbing at her eyes and following the sound of movement towards her kitchen. But on her way she saw her backpack and her stomach turned - a reminder of the exam she had in just a few hours.

The only - and probably best - distraction that she could have had was what she found in the kitchen. Shirtless Grayson, moseying around in his own little world, bed head sticking up in six different directions with slightly smudged pen ink still on half of his torso. It took him a moment to notice her there, still in his sweatshirt with her hands covered by the end of the sleeves.

“Morning gorgeous,” he smiled, small knife in one hand and an avocado in the other. “Figured I could make you breakfast before you had to leave.”

She swallowed hard. The thought of eating anything with her stomach so tight made her mouth taste like metal.

“You can get ready if you want, it’ll be a minute before it’s done.”

Indy nodded and gave him the best smile she could muster before she went back into her room. She made it as quick as she could, pulling on a pair of leggings and a bra - it was tempting for her to put Grayson’s hoodie back on, but she went the hygienic route and found a cozy sweater, burnt orange fabric soft against her skin. She gathered up all her school things, triple checking that she had a pencil and two extras, her notes and her laptop so that she could study right before.

When she made it back out to the kitchen, there was a plate waiting for her, organized quite particularly with a piece of avocado toast and strawberries, with a mug of coffee steaming beside it.

She swallowed hard again.

“Look good?” He beamed, obviously proud of himself as he started working on his own.

“Yeah, it looks great.”

Indy forced herself to take a bite after she sat down, chewing it so many times that it went soggy in her mouth. She washed it down with coffee, which seemed to go much easier. So she stuck to that, taking sip after sip until the last bit was gone, bringing her mug back down to the table, hoping she’d played it off.

But the look on Grayson’s face when she finally put the mug down told her she was sorely mistaken.

“You don’t like it.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, no it’s not-”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to eat it.”

“Grayson-”

“It’s not-”

“No, Grayson, it’s not the toast. I love avocado toast.”

“You don’t love my avocado toast,” he pouted.

“It’s not that. I promise,” she sighed, her stomach only tightening even more.

“What is it then?”

“I’m anxious. And I can’t eat when I’m anxious cause it makes me nauseous. And then eating just makes me more nauseous.”

His face fell from a pout to concern in an instant.

“Baby why didn’t you say something?”

“Because! You got up and you made breakfast, cause you’re cute and you’re thoughtful and now it’s gonna go to waste because my brain is stupid.”

And then he was laughing - a light sound that filled the kitchen and broke through the awkwardness that had found its home in the air.

“You’re adorable.”

She frowned, and he moved around the counter so he could stand tall in front of her, stealing a strawberry off her plate and popping it in his mouth.

“So lunch, not breakfast, on exam days. Got it.”

“Gray, you don’t-”

“Shush. You said you wanted to study before for a little while, so you probably need to get going, right?”

He was right and she knew it, but it still made her huff. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up. Now go ace your exam so we can have the rest of the afternoon, hmm? You sure you don’t want me to walk you?”

“I got it, it’s okay. Just hold down the fort here, and I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

She got out of her chair, pulled her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her water bottle, turning back towards Grayson.

“Good luck, not that you need it. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“What’re you gonna do while I’m gone?” She mused.

“Snoop,” he teased, squeezing her hip in his hand. “Actually I might hit a quick workout.”

“In here?” She looked around. “With what?”

“All you need for calisthenics is yourself and your muscles. You know my, uh-” he looked at his arm, squinting at the slightly smudged writing from the night before. “- flexor digitorum profundus, and uh… the rest of them.”

He knew he butchered the pronunciation, but he’d do it again to get the same laugh out of her.  

“Last minute review, go,” he grinned, spinning around slowly so she could see all the work from the night before. She was still laughing when he stopped and grabbed her face with both hands, kissing her with a smile before making himself let go.

“Bye,” he mumbled. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill it.”

“Bye.” Love you. She held herself back from saying it, leaning up to give him one final kiss on the cheek before she turned and headed towards the door.

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

When Grayson took exams in ‘high school’, it usually consisted of him and Ethan sitting next to each other on the couch with their notes spread out in front of them, picking each other’s far too similar brains for the answers.

Indiana on the other hand, was a solo everything. Solo test taker, obviously, but also solo studier, solo crammer, solo sit-before-the-exam-and-panic. Which worked out in her favor when she finished the exam - first in the class every time - because she didn’t feel the need to wait for anyone to discuss it. And she was especially thankful for it that day, because she had no reason to stay in the science building any longer than she needed to. She was out of the room, down the stairs and out onto the street immediately, with the image of Grayson laid out on the couch waiting for her at home pacing her steps even faster than usual.

But when she unlocked the door, there was no 6ft italian on her couch. In fact, there was no 6ft italian anywhere that she could see, and it took her a minute to place the sound of the shower running from her bathroom as she sat her bag down. The relief of having the exam out of the way was almost euphoric as she flopped down onto the bed and stared up at her ceiling, breathing her first easy breath in a few days. She stretched her arms up above her head and let her body fully settle down as she waited for her boyfriend to reappear.

Grayson, on the other hand, was taking his sweet time in the shower, and trying to ensure that there was no evidence that he’d definitely borrowed her razor to shave the puff of his chest hair that was a little too long for his liking. Needless to say, it was another 15 minutes before he made it out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist to head out into Indy’s room to find his bag. His hair was still dripping as he leaned over and searched for a pair of decent boxers.

“Boo.”

The towel was centimeters from falling off when he practically jumped out of his skin, but Indy wasn’t about to complain.

“Holy fuck you scared me! When did you get back?!” He gasped, trying to catch his breath as he clutched the fabric around him. It was low enough to show off the V lines that Indy had first noticed while they were cliff jumping, and it had her mind derailing in a much different direction.

“Like twenty minutes ago. I think you take longer showers than I do,” she teased, propping up on her elbows so she could actually look at him.

Jesus christ.

“Hang on, let me put pants on.”

You don’t have to, she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue and just enjoyed the view.

Pants, luckily, were just some very tight and short boxers that left little to the imagination when he re-emerged from the bathroom that he’d ducked away to change in.

“So how’d it go, how was the exam?”

“I missed two.”

He blinked at her a few times.

“Questions?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“But… how… you know what, nevermind,” he laughed, shaking his head gently before he threw his towel over his hair and started to rub it dry.

“What?” She laughed with him, and a bit at him, for the adorable way that his hair had become fluffy from the towel when he tossed it to the side.

“I’m not even gonna try to understand your brain anymore. I give up, I forfeit.” He threw his hands up in defeat, and Indy watched the way it made his abs move. She swallowed hard, her skin buzzing as she tried to keep her tone playful while her stomach floated.

“You forfeit? You?”

He seemed entirely unfazed - it struck her that he was probably very much used to girls looking at him and imagining all the things they wanted him to do to them. She tried not to dwell on it, and to remind herself for a moment that he was there in front of her, in her bedroom, in boxers. Very tight boxers, with a very, very clear outline of his dick.

“C’mere.” She took her moment of vindication and ran with it, reaching out a hand for him as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He raised his eyebrows at her but obliged, taking her hand and letting him pull her over to the bed so he was sitting on the edge. She swung herself over into his lap, happy to feel his hands settle on her hips to hold her there, sweatpants dropping to the floor.

“Well hi,” he hummed as her arms wrapped around his neck. “Whatcha doin’?” His tone was still playful, less affected than she wanted it to be, almost like he didn’t realize what type of mood she’d suddenly found herself in. It was true that most of the time, he was making the moves - but only because he was so touchy that she never needed to.

So she kissed him before she answered, harder than usual, slipping her tongue into his mouth before he could get to hers. She let her hands roam through his soft hair, nails against his scalp as she tilted his head back to change the angle of his lips, shifting herself up with her forearms on his wide shoulders. He grunted a bit, breaking free of the kiss to press a few to her neck, his scruff deliciously rough against the sensitive skin.

When he pulled back his pupils were blown wide, eyes trained up on her face, flickering down to her neck, then her boobs, which were far too hidden under her clothes.

“I said I was gonna make it up to you,” she finally answered. “So let me.”

“Fuck yes,” he mumbled, hands immediately bunching in the bottom of her sweater. His instinct was to strip it directly over her head, but he paused as he pulled it up, looking at her for reassurance. She nodded with a soft smile, lifting her arms up as he guided it off, revealing the skin he hadn’t seen yet. Sure, her crop top had been small, and even more revealing once it was wet, but-

“This hits different,” he murmured, hands moving to hold onto her, thumbs rubbing over her ribcage on either side.

“This hits different?” She said, eyes going incredulously wide before her head fell back in a laugh, which turned into a squeal when Grayson buried his face in her cleavage for a moment just to get a reaction. He reveled in the feeling of her hands back in his hair, even if it was to pull him back.

“Can I take this off?” He kissed the swell of each boob, hands ghosting over the back of her bra as he spoke.

“Yes. Please.”

He did as she asked, flicking the clasp open with ease and catching her lips with his again as he guided the straps off her arms and tossed the black garment somewhere behind her. As soon as he could he leaned her back a bit, holding her there with his hands spread against her back as he kissed down her neck, over her collarbone and down to her boob. The angle wasn’t quite right for him to get enough of what he wanted, so he sat back up instead, vowing to himself to give her tits the attention they deserved later. He kept the next kiss slow, wrapping his arms all the way around her torso so he could press her against him, feel every possible inch of her skin against his. It was bliss in its rawest form, and he would have been mostly content to stay just like that.

His dick had other ideas, hard to the point of almost painful underneath her warmth as she settled over him, his boxers too thin to show him any mercy. Every time she shifted above him it sent a jolt of heat straight through him, and it wasn’t long before he rolled them to the side, taking control of the situation before he literally came in his boxers.

Indy didn’t seem to mind, beaming up at him as she settled on her back, her flushed skin on display above the white comforter. It was a beautiful sight if Grayson had ever seen one, and he just looked at her for a moment, tried to etch it into his brain so he’d never forget. He’d had his fair share of girls on a bed in front of him - honestly, more than he was proud to admit. It always just happened so fast, where one minute they were talking and within the weekend they were tangled up in eachother.

But Indy was different - there was an innocence about the blush in her cheeks and the way she crossed her legs a bit, like she was hiding from him even though she still had her leggings on. It was driving him insane, and it took all his willpower to remind himself to go slow, to focus and cherish every minute of it that he could.

So he climbed over her, sinking down to kiss her again and letting some of his weight rest on her, happy to feel her smile against him.

“You okay?” He asked, kissing down her jawline slowly, over to her ear and then down her neck. Her hair smelled like vanilla where it tickled his nose.

“Mmmm,” was her only response, and he took it as his sign to move farther south, brushing his lips along her collarbone. “More than okay,” she breathed, back arching just barely to meet him.

“You wanna keep going?” Please. Please.

“Do you?” She asked quietly - he could hear the nerves in her tone, and it stopped him in his tracks. He propped himself up so he had a full view of her face.

“Only if you do.”

She bit her lip, looking up at him. The hesitation was enough for him to start to move off of her, mind already trying to remember where he’d thrown her sweater so she could cover herself back up. Her hand wrapped around his arm before he could get any further.

“No wait! Wait, I do. I do want to, I promise, it’s just… it’s uh… it’s been a while.”

He’d never seen her face so red, and then she was talking over herself to try and get the words out fast enough.

“And by a while I literally mean like… years. I’m talking uh, junior year of high school. And I can tell you that they obviously didn’t know what they were doing, so I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, and I just wanted you to know that before we really, like, got into it, and…”

He stopped her lips with his, waiting until her body gave way to him and relaxed underneath his hands before he pulled away.

“Baby, I couldn’t care less when the last time you slept with somebody was, or if you know what you’re doing. You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Says the experienced one,” she teased, but he could tell his words had given her at least a little bit of comfort.

“Just let me take care of you. You deserve it, you worked so damn hard all week, now you get to relax.”

“You’re in charge,” she breathed.

“I like that.” He flashed her a playful grin before he really got to work, kissing down to her chest and paying specific attention to her nipples to get her worked up again. It didn’t take long, and when her back arched up he slid his hands down to her leggings, letting his fingers hook in the waistband.

“You ready for these to come off?”

“Yeah. Yours too though.”

He pulled everything off her at once, jokingly backing up and tugging to make her laugh until the ends popped off her feet. He tossed them aside and moved to his own boxers, pushing them down and stepping out of them, using his foot to kick them away.

“Jesus,” Indy said, and then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in embarrassment. Grayson couldn’t help but to bust out laughing, the kind that went through his whole body, made him clutch at his chest.

“Was that a good Jesus or a bad Jesus?”

“A good Jesus. Is bad Jesus even a thing?” She mused, laughter and excitement overriding some of her nerves as he moved above her again. His kisses started at her boobs this time and moved down slowly, almost torturously light brushes of his lips against her skin. Grayson eased her legs open with one hand, reaching up and under her thigh with the other, searching until he found her hand and laced their fingers together. It settled her in a way that only he could, and she let out the breath she’d been holding, sucking in another one when he ran his fingers over her for the first time. Her body jolted at the feeling and he pressed a kiss to her thigh.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he said, and instead of making her blush, the words just made her wetter somehow - she already felt like she was dripping. He dipped one finger into her and she forced her muscles to relax, let herself melt into the comforter as he leaned forward and started in with his tongue, small flicks at first that already had her twitching. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing, but unbeknownst to Indy he was enjoying her inexperience - it made her more reactive, made him feel special that he was the one who got to give her this. It focused him as he tried to read her body, find the right angles and spots to make her tick as he moved up to two fingers, stretching her slightly to get her ready.

“Oh god,” she whimpered, hand squeezing his so tight it was borderline painful, but he wouldn’t move it for the world as she clung to him.

“All good?”

“Yes, yes, god that feels good.”

He could practically feel his chest puff up before he dove back in with renewed purpose, eyes trained up on her as he watched, tried to find her tells so he could commit them to memory as he explored her with his tongue. He found it when her breath hitched and her back arched for a moment, and then her legs were shaking beside either side of his head, a blissful whimper falling from her lips and filling the room as she came. It was easy to work her through it, and he backed off when her legs twitched towards closing, letting her catch her breath.

“C’mere,” she mumbled, tugging on his hand until he crawled back up her body, a bit surprised when she brought a hand up to his hair and pulled his lips down to hers.

“Fuck me.” It came out as a whisper, but all that familiar Indy confidence had returned to her tone as she hooked a leg up onto his back in an attempt to get him closer to her. He groaned into her mouth, biting at her lip as his dick rubbed against her, warm and wet.

“You sure?”

She just pushed him a bit further as her answer, letting go of his hand so she could wrap both her arms around his back, fingers running over the ridges of muscles that she was familiar with now.

He reached a hand between them, lined himself up carefully until just the head of his dick was settled inside of her. Eyes on her face, he started to move, stopping when she sucked in a deep breath through her nose.

“Don’t let me hurt you, you gotta talk to me,” he said, tone suddenly serious. The last thing he wanted was to be over eager. She nodded at him, eyes still closed as she tried to relax.

“Just go slow.”

With anyone else, it probably would have taken every ounce of willpower he had to hold himself back. But his concern for her overrode his own needs, and he aired on the side of caution, moving slowly in small thrusts, gaining a bit more each time. His head was clear enough until Indy grabbed his face and brought it back to hers, leaning up for a deep kiss that had him spinning. He could have busted right there when she moaned into his mouth, nails sharp against his cheeks as her head fell back. With her neck exposed in front of him he couldn’t resist leaving his mark, sucking a quick hickey by her collarbone.

“Fuck me Gray, please, please,” she groaned, her own way of giving him the go ahead. He picked up his pace, holding himself up with one arm and grabbing her hip with the other, keeping her steady. Indy didn’t know where to put her own hands, so she settled for exploring, tracing over Grayson wherever she could reach, appreciating every inch in front of her as best she could with the feeling of him inside of her, filling her up so much she was sure she was always going to feel empty without him.

“Fuck,” he huffed out, the first sign he’d given her that she was doing something right. She tested it out, running her nails down his side, over his ribs, watching the way it made his eyes roll back just slightly, made his abs tense up. It was a race then, trying to see who could get the other to come undone first, with angles and groans and touches and whispers in each other's ears.

Grayson won.

Her second orgasm was somehow stronger than the first, and she was so caught up in the stars that she barely registered that Grayson had pulled out. He stayed close above her as he finished himself off, cum shooting onto both of their chests as he groaned, barely able to hold himself up with just one arm.

Needless to say he collapsed next to her on the bed to catch his breath as they both stared up at the ceiling. Indy moved first, finding his hand again with hers and holding on, eventually pulling it up to her lips so she could kiss each of his knuckles.

“Woah,” was the word he finally chose when enough oxygen caught back up to him.

“Good woah or bad woah?”

He rolled over onto his side at that, raising his eyebrows.

“You have to ask?”

“Well it was amazing for me, but that doesn’t mean it was amazing for you,” she explained, only making him shake his head.

“You underestimate yourself too much. It was perfect. Best first time I’ve had with anyone, ever.”

She flushed pink at his words, looking down at herself and the mess that they’d made.

“I know you just showered but… you wanna join me?”

Instead of answering, he just stood up, glad that his legs weren’t wobbly as he scooped her up from the bed, laughing at her squeal as he carried her to the bathroom.

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

“Earrings, you do too much.”

“It’s nothing, just something for you to have while we can’t visit. Indy helped pick it out.”

Indy offered Bekah a smile as Grayson spoke, trying to keep her mindset positive. Which was much easier said than done, considering Bekah looked like she’d lost ten pounds since the last time they’d seen her, especially with the oxygen cannula in her nose. Still, she had the biggest smile on her face as she reached inside of the massive gift bag that Grayson had put together for her earlier that day. Indy watched as she pulled out the blanket they’d found, adorned with cute little smiling pumpkins and black cats with their backs arched.

“For spooky season, you know?” It hit Indy then that it was already mid October when they were shopping earlier, and by the look on Bekah’s face she hadn’t realized it either. It felt like September had only been a few days ago.

“We love cute spooky vibes,” Bekah smiled, trying to get it the rest of the way out of the bag. Her monitors started to beep more rapidly, her oxygen levels dropping.

“Here, let me help,” Indy offered, moving to the bag and pulling the rest of the blanket out, sitting it at the end of the bed. Bekah gave her a quiet thankful smile and took a few deep breaths through her nose before moving back into the bag. It was full of small decorations that she could sit around her room, and a few halloween themed coloring books and word searches to keep her mind busy - Indy knew she liked those. The nurses had decided to air on the side of caution and have her isolate for five days prior to her surgery, which meant she would need something to keep her mind busy.

“You all didn’t have to do this,” she said, laying back against the pillows.

“We wanted to. I’m sorry we can’t come see you,” Indy sighed, adjusting her blankets and moving around some of her tubes and lines. Grayson knew she was fidgeting because she was nervous, but he didn’t say anything.

“S’okay. Don’t really want you all to see me like that anyways. Don’t really want you all to see me like this either but here we are.”

One of the downfalls of being in the medical field was knowing more than you wanted to. Indy knew the chances of Bekah’s surgery going well. She knew the percentages, knew how bad she already had to be for them to even be considering something above chemo. Her weakness, her need for oxygen, everything else. They were all major red flags on a textbook page, signs she would highlight on a case report that could be consolidated into one word - declining.

But she couldn’t quite get herself to use that word, to rationalize it when it was Beks in front of her. She seemed smaller now than she had the first time Indy had met her, and it unsettled her in a way that made her want to scream and cry at the same time. Grayson served as the anchor in the room, the solid middle ground that she could cling to and distract herself with to keep from spiraling. She wished she could physically sit by him, lean against him and feel his warmth. But they were sticking to their rules - nothing coupley in front of Bekah.

“You guys should go do something while you can’t come see me. You spend a bunch of time here, you deserve a hospital vacation,” Bekah mused, picking at a few spare pieces of lint on the blanket. “Do something together even, keep her from worrying about me for the entire week.” She looked at Grayson when she spoke that time, and Indy frowned.

“I’m gonna worry about you no matter where in the world I am, so suck it up.”

She managed enough energy to stick her tongue out, but even that seemed to take a lot out of her.

“Grayson, can you go see if Jessica can get me some water?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He jumped at the opportunity, giving them both a quick smile before he went out in the hallway in search of Jessica.

Indiana was not so quick to assume, and turned to Bekah expectantly, heart breaking as she saw the start of tears in her eyes.

“Can we uh, can we cuddle for a minute? Like we used to?”

“Of course we can.”

It was rare that Bekah asked for anything, much less physical comfort of any kind. Indy had only done this a handful of times in the years that she’d known her, and it put a pit in her stomach to realize just how bad she must be feeling to even think about asking for it. She pushed the thoughts aside, climbing in the bed next to Bekah and pulling the blanket over the two of them, wrapping her arm around her so she could rest against her shoulder. She ignored the feeling of her tears when they started to soak through her shirt. They sat in silence for a moment before Bekah finally spoke again, voice at a whisper.

“Indy I’m scared.” The vulnerability in her voice was a dagger into Indy, and it took all her power to keep herself steady.

“I know. I am too. But if anybody can get through it, it’s you. You always have.”

“This time feels different.”

“Hey, don’t think like that, okay? Gotta go in with a positive mindset.” The words felt phony even as she spoke them, but it was a knee jerk reaction that at least got an eye roll out of Bekah, which helped her to stop her tears before Grayson came back in with a bottle of water and a cup of ice.

“I couldn’t find Jessica, so I just bought one and got a cup of ice from the lounge. Is that okay?”

“I don’t drink Dasani.”

Grayson deadpanned, looking down at the bottle and then back at Bekah, then over at Indy like she could do something to help.

“Kidding Earrings,” she teased, laughing a bit when his shoulders slumped down. “But, I will give you a 30 second pass on treating me like I have cancer and opening that bottle for me.”

He did as she asked, opening it up and pouring it for her with a sympathetic smile that she would have given him shit for any other day. Grayson didn’t say a word about the way they were curled up in the bed - he just sat at the end of it, putting two and two together and realizing she’d probably asked him to leave for a reason.

When 8pm rolled around, it was hugs goodbye and promises for facetime calls if she felt up for it. But mostly it was the unspoken fear that hung over the three of them like a cloud, and it only darkened as the walls lost their color on the way back out of the pediatric wing.

By the time they made it into the elevator Indy could barely speak around the lump in her throat. So instead, she decided to hide, wrapping her arms around Grayson as soon as the doors closed behind them and burying her face in his neck.

“Hey, shhh, shhh,” he murmured, holding her close to him and praying no one had hit the button for the first floor. He kissed her hair.

“Take me to Jersey. Please.” If he’d asked her why, she wouldn’t have had an answer.

Luckily, he didn’t.

“Okay.”

He took charge then, leading them home with his arm wrapped tight around her waist. When they got to the apartment he helped her pack an overnight bag in a bid to get it done faster, slinging it over his shoulder as they headed back out into the streets, to the garage where he paid an astronomical amount to park the truck any time he came into the city.

She didn’t even bother with the passenger seat, immediately sliding across the bench to curl up next to him as they started down the road. At one point he texted Lisa and Ethan, giving them the heads up that Indy was coming back with him, but she was already asleep by then, laying down with her head against his thigh, the stress of the last few days and hours catching up with her it seemed. He kept an arm over her the whole way home, just in case.

Indy woke up to the mixture of the bumps of gravel under the tires and the sound of Grayson singing Tame Impala slightly off key above her. A sense of peace washed over her when she sat up and saw the familiar glow of Lisa’s house amongst the trees, but Grayson’s worry was filling the cab as he put the truck in park.

“I’m okay.” She answered before he asked.

“No you aren’t.”

“I’m okay enough. I just… I feel better out here. I feel better with you, wherever you are.”

He hugged her to him, breathing her in as his arms coiled around her.

“Then I’ll always be here. I promise.”

It was as if time froze in that little cab, in each other's arms, until finally the October chill seeped in enough for them to give in and head to the house. If Lisa had noticed the time they spent in the driveway, she didn’t act like it. Instead, she lit up as if two of her kids had walked through the door and not just one.

“Hi guys! How was the drive? You hit traffic?”

“Hey Ma.” Grayson went in for a mom hug - one of those things you take for granted until you can’t have it anymore. But when he let her go Lisa moved on to Indy, and it felt so close to an actual mom hug that she almost teared up.

“Ryan and Ethan are in Cameron’s room setting up the mics, but if you need to eat first there’s vegan spaghetti in the fridge.”

It was obvious by Grayson’s face that he’d forgotten about the podcast all together in the last few hours. Indy smiled at him, tried to convey with her eyes that she was fine, because she was.

“Go work. I’ll still be here when you get back,” she reassured him. “We’ll have some girl time.”

“It’ll be an hour, tops.”

“Don’t rush. Have fun.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and then headed up the stairs.

Lisa waited until his footsteps stopped, considering they could hear them all the way to Cameron’s room, and then she turned to Indy with a smile.

“So, do you need a girls night or a distraction night?”

“A distraction night?”

“Something to get your mind off things. You seem like you’re in your head. Was it your exam? Did it go okay?”

She blushed at the thought of Grayson talking about her with his mom. “He told you that?”

“Oh honey he tells me all about you. When he gets to talking about something that he loves, he doesn’t shut up. Got that from his dad.”

“Sean talked a lot?”

“Oh all the time. If you got him started on anything sports he went on for hours, and the boys always ate it up. They were mini-him’s growing up. You know they started wrestling each other when they were two years old? Actual maneuvers he taught them when I wasn’t looking - I coulda killed him when I found out.”

And with that, Lisa led on a distraction night without Indy even realizing. Stories of Sean mostly, her voice full of love with just that hit of sorrow that you only get when someone is too far away from you. Things shifted when Lisa asked about Nicole, and Indy found herself remembering stories that she hadn’t told anyone in years. The time they went camping in Georgia and skunks took over the campground, or the time she’d scored the game winning shot in a high school basketball game and her mom tackled her, right in there with her teammates.

“You know, if there’s ever anything ‘mom’ related that you need, whether it’s a haircut or just a hug, I’m always here. And that goes for when Grayson isn’t around either - my door is always open.”

“Thank you Lisa. That means a lot. More than you know.”

They were hugging when the three boys came back down the stairs, laughter bouncing off the walls as they continued a debate that was definitely a part of the pod. They enveloped Lisa into the conversation, but Indy wasn’t listening. Her attention was on Grayson alone, watching the way his nose scrunched when he laughed just hard enough, and the way he leaned his head against his mom’s shoulder when she stood by him. His eyes flickered over to hers often, and eventually he continued the conversation from right above her head, his chin resting on her, throat vibrating when she spoke.

Eventually goodnights and goodbyes were given and everyone went on to their respective rooms, Grayson grabbing her bag and taking it with them. They made quick time of their nightly routine, finding themselves in pajamas with minty breath and fresh faces in no time, eager to climb into bed and find solace in each other again.

Indy moved first, nuzzling up to his neck as soon as he opened the blanket up for her to climb in. He tucked it around her before wrapping her up in his own arms and peppering kisses along her forehead.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Not tonight.”

“Okay. What did you and my mom talk about?”

“You mostly. And your dad. She had so many stories about him.” She traced a triangle over his chest to keep herself busy, feeling his breath filling up his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“That you lost him. And that I can’t give you him back.”

“Nobody can bring people back Dee. You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

“But I can’t even give you a little. Your mom treats me like I’m one of her kids, so when I’m here, just for a minute, it feels like I have a little bit of my mom back. And I can’t give you that. You deserve that.”

He shifted so he could see her, cup her face with his hand.

“Indiana Cross. You don’t have to give me anything but yourself. And I don’t even deserve that. You hear me? I love you. For you. Not for anything else that you could ever give me. Okay?”

“You love me?”

“Of course I do.” He leaned down to kiss her slowly, as if to make her feel his words. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

She let the weight of her head, and her heart, rest in his palm.

“I love you too.”

[scream-into-the-voiddd]

the writing style of dt17

Hi there I am bored and a bit sick so I have decided to go on a huge rant/ break down about the “writing style” of Ducktales 2017.

the writing on the show is fantastic and is wonderful example of masterful writing, in both character and mystery’s. So after re-watching the show (again) I have put together the basic formula that the seasons have.

first things first, I have to explain the difference between a Plot line and a Story line. now these terms in this context, means that a ‘story line’ can out live a ‘plot line’.let me beak it down.

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

in Season one, 

the Plot line- 

Magica de spell made Lena and she got close to the family to steal scrooges dime and free Magica. 

with me so far, now. 

the Story Line -

is about a family coming back together after years apart.

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

now even when the ‘plot’ is not around the ‘story’ still continues. So each episode focuses on one or both of these elements.

How do they do that? simple, character focus.

both the ‘plot line’ and the ‘story line’ are embodied by one to two characters (as the focus)

in season one the plot focused character was Lena.

meaning that whenever she showed up in s1 the audience knew that something plot related is going to happen. Lena pushed the s1 plot line forward with every appearance, until the every last episode of s1. 

she was the connection to Magica, she was the one with the ‘plot secret’ and it was reviled with her character. 

simple enough. 

the characters pushing the story line in s1 were

Dewey and Scrooge, 

Dewey in particular was the one pushing the ‘story line’ as he (and webby) was the one most involved with finding out WHY the family had been apart so long (why and how his mother was missing).

so whenever an episode focused on Dewey the audience knew that the ‘story line’ was moving forward. the way Scrooge fits into this is what makes the writing on this show so damn amazing.

the way dt17 uses characters to play off not just each other but the story is what makes it all so impressive.

Scrooge in s1 was ‘holding all the cards’ as it were as he already knew how the whole thing happened BUT when it is revealed and the audience, like Dewey thinks we have all the answers this happens 

Here (4 mins in)

we (the audience) think the story is over the truth that Dewey (we) wanted was reviled but at the last turn, we find out the story is not over, that there in another peace that was missing. why scrooge pushed everyone away in the first place. this showed that the story was not over, and that there was more to it then anyone realised. ok so we know that s1 ends with both the story line and plot line merging and then concluding at the same time. the family came back together to beat De Spell (but they would have come back regardless which is important to the story line) 

ok so that was season one 

Season Two 

has a similar formula in that it also uses characters as focuses points for both plot and story.

The plot line-

 of season 2 is, that the moon is trying to invade earth and made it into a moon.

 the story line-

is about Della finding and reconnecting with her kids.

the focus of this season is a little different though as the plot is not driven by a single person like last time but a location.

the Moon

whenever the moon was given focus it moved the plot along regardless of who it was following. weather is was 

- Della

- Penny 

- Lunarus

-Donald

the location is what made episode plot related not just the characters themselves per say, same as s1 whenever the moon showed up the audience knew it was plot related in some way. 

moving on to the Story line focus of s2  was

Louie and Della

Louie’s arc in s2 (which i will expand later) is basically him finding how he fits into the family and what his ability’s are.

Della’s as stated above is about finding and reconnecting with her boys,

Della is was connects the story line to the plot line this season as she was the character involved in both. the consultation point of both the story and plot is in the scene pictured about.

Here

this sealed the connection between Della and Louie and lead into them all ‘rejoining’ the plot.

thus concluding season 2′s story and plot.

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

Now with all of that in mind what does this say about s3 and how it does and does not fit this formula.

so far it does fit this formula as each of the seasons starts with an episode about the “Story Line” which focuses on one of the boy’s

what do I mean,

s1 (for sack of agreement lets say woo-woo and the Atlantis ep are one ep)   

the first ep focused on Dewey and how he wanted to show how daring and bold he is but that gets him into trouble for not thinking anything through, but it also shows that Dewey is emotionally in touch with himself and others like when he tells Donald all he can do is let go and trust him.  

s2 

the frist ep is the game night and how Louie feels like he doesn’t fit in and that he feels useless, but the ep shows what his, ability's really are “seeing all the angles” and how he can use it to befit himself and his family.    

both of these eps shows the boy’s strengths and weakness 

Dewey - 

pro - Brave, adventures, emotionally aware

con- don’t think things through, brash, attention starved

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

Louie-

Pro- is a thinker and a planner, smart in a business way, and understands the people around him 

con- insecure about his place in the family, greedy (in a kid way tho), can be manipulative

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

now this leads us to s3

the plot of season 3 is simple enough

FOWL wants to steal the world.

that it, how remains to be seem.

the story line is most likely set up in ep one that was about Huey,

and how his greatest weakness are

- having no guide 

- failure

-anger (the duck family anger is strongest in him)

- fear of not knowing what to do/ what is out there

- his self worth is fragile (no woodchucks “no him” idea)

- making bad choices under pressure   

but mostly Accepting Change (he can’t understand)

but his strengths are

- humble (in defeat) 

- willing to try anything

- can admit when wrong 

-smart and capable when claim  

- makes good friends easier then the other main kids (as Boyd and Violet became friends with Huey much faster and both of them are good kids, unlike say Doofus and Louie and Lena (at first) for Webby, point is Huey didn’t have to change them (lena) or get way from them (doofus))  

now how will this tie into the plot?  no idea. but none of the other two seasons tied that in, until at least halfway through the season anyway.

but this does give us a look into the story line of this season might be about.

the next question is who is the other character Huey will be ‘bounce off of’ in the story line, and so far I think that it is either

- Donald

or

- Launchpad

as Lp was give plot focus in ep 3, and Donald was given character focus in both ep 2 and 5.

so atm my money is on Donald in the story line part of this season.

now what is the conflict here? or what could it be?

looking back at the last 2 seasons the story conflict is shown in each focus character.

s1- Dewey asking questions and Scrooge having the answer

s2- Louie trying to “fit into” the family/ find himself  and Della trying to space her her past idea’s into the family 

(ep. “Louie should stop scheming” as appose to “I will show you the scheme with/for the family”)

so if s3 follows suit the story line might be something like.

Donald wants to ‘move on’ with his life but Huey want things to stay as they are.

or

Donald wants to have a life outside of his family which he has not been able to do for 10 years or so, due to raising the boys by himself. but now that Della and Scrooge are back in the picture Donald can spread his wings. He got the band back together and is finding love (Daisy) so he may want to leave the house boat and travel with his friends and Daisy, without the family (not all at once tho).

so Huey might freak out at these changes as Donald is the one contain in his life. never changing always the same uncle Donald, until now 

but i can’t say for sure that’s just one idea.

it could be that Huey might feel that he failed Donald somehow?

or 

that Huey makes a bad choice under pressure and that makes Donald upset at him?

or 

Huey could have an out burst at Donald that leads to a riff between them?

the point is, that the story line this season is going to be looking at Huey in away we have not seen him before. 

Angry and unsure.

and depending on who “Huey’s nemesis” turns out to be (as hinted at by show runners) that is what will shape the rest of the season 3 ‘story line’.

is it a FOWL villain 

like say Gandra or Funzo  

or is it a personal one like

Daisy (for “taking” Donald away), Gosalyn (as she was meant to be in the first ep and not violet) or even Donald (idk)

but this show is just so well put together and written that whatever the case is its going to be good. 

[tomuras-doormat]

Wake Up - Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader

I saw a video on TikTok and it gave me the idea to write this, not sure how long I’ll make it but I’ll try to make this one more lengthy Word Count: 4K Warnings: Uhh, just sadness?

4 Years Old You yelped as you were pushed to the ground, dirt now covering your face and little dress. The boys who pushed you over laughed at you and continued to throw dirt at you. Why did this happen.. “What are you doing to her?!”

You lift your head up as you hear the voice of your best friend, Katsuki. You smiled and scurried to your feet, rushing behind him as he held his arm out to shield you. “Oh we’re just messing with her, it’s not like we hurt her.” one of the boys said. Bakugou scoffed and glared at the boys. “If you’re gonna pick on someone pick on someone your own age! You’re clearly older than she is!” Watching your friends’ hand tighten into a fist you grab his arm and shake your head. “Don’t hurt them Kacchan..” you said softly. Bakugou turned to you and frowned, he clearly wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine. You shake your head again and give him those pleading puppy dog eyes that he could never go against. Bakugou sighed and grabbed your hand. “Fine, but were going somewhere else to play..” he said softly. You smiled at him and nodded your head, following Bakugou to where ever he was taking you. Bakugou lead you to another near by park and your eyes widened. “This park is so much more bigger than the other one!” you said happily. Bakugou crossed his arms and smirked. “I knew you would like it.” His smug look being wiped off his face as you gave him a slight push. You giggled at his unbalanced wobbling form and ran away onto one of the play areas. Bakugou laughed a bit and ran after you. “Don’t think you can get away from me!” he yelled as he ran up the stairs. After hours of playing chase you two collapsed onto the ground panting and looked up at the sky. Bakugou looked over and grabbed your hand, smiling at you as you both try to catch your breath. “I like you Y/N..” he said softly, his grip on your hand tightening. Turning your head to look at him you smile back, “I like you too Kacchan!” Bakugou let go of your hand and stood up, holding out his hand to help you get up yourself. “Come on, mother gave me some extra money today so I wanna take you somewhere.” You smiled and grabbed his hand helping him pull you to your feet. Bakugou held your hand tightly and lead you to the park’s entrance. Walking out of the park you two walked down the sidewalk towards the busy part of the city. You had never been so far into the city without your parents but you trusted Bakugou knew where he was going. He was brave and strong after all so he wouldn’t let anything happen to you guys! Smiling and looking around you adjusted your grip in Bakugou’s hand so your fingers intertwined. Pulling you close to him he walked through a crowd of people gathered around in front of a TV shop, something about Endeavor was playing. Of course you liked Endeavor, he was a Pro Hero after all! You and Bakugou shared the same idol and that was All Might! Bakugou would invite you over to his house sometimes to watch movies about All Might while your parents talked and drank some red liquid. “We’re here!” Bakugou’s voice dragged you out of your thoughts and you looked up. You gasped and looked at Bakugou saying, “This is that new candy store that just opened!” Bakugou smiled at the glimmer of excitement in your eyes and smiled. “Yup! Since I like you I want to keep you with me, so I thought candy would do that.” he said with his signature smug look. You smiled and hugged him, Bakugou wrapping his arms around you as well. Letting go of each other you interlocked fingers again and walked inside. You couldn’t believe it, there was all kinds of candy and so much of it! Letting go of his hand you ran over to where the lollipops were. What kind of candy were you most excited for? How could you decide on just one? How much could Kacchan buy..? Following Bakugou up to the wooden table you try to put the candy on the counter. Bakugou grabbed the candy from you and set it on the counter. Puffing out your cheeks you huffed as the boy showed you up by being taller than you. He smiled at you and took out the money his mother gave him. “Is this everything?” asked the man being the counter. “Yes sir!” responded Bakugou. Going on his tippy toes to try and look over the counter he watched as the man finished scanning everything. “That’ll be $10 young man.” Bakugou nodded and counted his money, a frown coming to his face. Looking up at the man he asked, “You said $10..?” The man nodded and Bakugou counted his money again, clenching the money he looked at you. “I only have $6..” Bakugou said said softly. You grabbed Bakugou’s arm and smiled. “It’s ok Kacchan! I don’t need all that candy anyways.” Bakugou smiled and looked up at the old man and asked, “Could you make it so it’s only $6 sir..?” The old man chuckled and put the candy into a bag. “It’ll only be $6 today young man.” Bakugou went on his tippy toes and handed the man the money and in return the man handed Bakugou a bag of all the candy. “Thank you so much sir!” you said happily. The man smiled and nodded and you two walked out of the store, hand in hand. 14 Years Old Both you and Bakugou had come to realize what you felt towards each other. Love A feeling neither of you knew how to express but also knew exactly how to express it. It was almost like you two were a couple already. Bakugou would always walk you to to and from school, he would walk you to your class, and sometimes he would even make a lunch for you. You two were inseparable and just about everyone thought you two were dating. So then why did it hurt you both when you said no? It was another normal day, Bakugou walked you to school, waited for you at your locker and you did the same for him, he then walked you to class and now here you sat in your ever so boring History lesson. Why did we have to learn History anyways? It’s not like it’s going anywhere.. You sighed and looked out the window hoping your daydreams would drown out the annoying teacher’s voice. Maybe you should ask Bakugou out. What would change though? It would only be a title. You’re pulled out of your thoughts as teacher announces that there will be a quiz tomorrow. You sighed and pulled out your planner and wrote down that you needed to study. It’s not like you were bad in History, you just wanted to make sure of a couple things and it’s not always bad to study sometimes. You put your planner away and went back to your dream world, it really made time move faster. You teacher announced that it was time for lunch and you stood up out of your seat. Exiting the classroom stood Bakugou, in the same place, same position, everyday without fail. You walked over to him and smiled. Over the years Bakugou stopped being happy, but he still is with you. He may not smile as often as he used to but he does smile sometimes when he’s with you. “Where is your lunch Y/N.” asked the spiky blonde. “Oh, I must’ve forgot it on the kitchen table..” you said softly as you rubbed the back of your neck. The blonde boy scoffed and handed you a small lunch box. “You’re lucky I brought an extra today idiot..” You giggled and grabbed the box. Hearing some small chatter from students you look at Bakugou and he nodded, both of you knew exactly what the other was saying, like you had telepathy. Both of you made your way to the stairs that lead to the roof. “So how was class today?” Bakugou asked. “Boring as ever. The teacher kept talking and talking! He said we have a quiz tomorrow so I’ll have to study for that..” you said as you pushed open the door. Walking through the open door you and Bakugou walk to you favorite spot on the roof. It was a small area down by the garden club completed with a floral archway and white stone bench. The only peaceful thing the both of you saw all day. Sitting down on the bench the two of you opened your lunches and started eating. Finishing the tasty lunch, you bandaged the box back up and set it down next to Bakugou. “Was it good?” Bakugou asked with a mouth full of food. You giggled and nodded your head. “It tasted amazing, maybe I should have you make my lunches from now on.” Rolling his eyes he swallowed the food and looked around at the flowers. “Hey uh, you’ve heard people talk about us right? I mean like all the rumors about us dating..” You looked up at the blonde and tilted your head. “Yeah. What of it?” The blonde sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well what if..” Bakugou sighed again. What was he trying to say? Why was it so hard? “What if we did start dating?” Bakugou asked softly. You stared at his ruby eyes mouth slightly agape. What did he say..? “You want to start dating..?” you asked, now realizing what you were saying you felt a blush creep to your face. The blonde nodded and grabbed your hands. “We’re already doing stuff like what a couple would do, why not make it official?” Staring into his eyes you smiled and nodded. Bakugou pulled you into a hug and held you close. “So you’re my boyfriend now huh?” Bakugou chuckled and pulled away from the hug. “Only yours idiot.” 16 Years Old You and Bakugou ended up going to the same high school, UA High. It was incredible that you got in since you never developed a quirk. When the time came to find out whether you got accepted to the school or not, both you and Bakugou waited till both of yours arrived and opened the letters together. You had both decided that neither of you would go to UA if the other didn’t get in, so when both of you got an acceptance letter a huge party was thrown by both of your families. Bakugou ended up in the hero course and you ended up in the support course. Bakugou always joked with you saying things like “You better be working on my upgrades first” or “Don’t you dare think you can give that dumbass Deku good upgrades” You didn’t know who ‘Deku’ was but it must be someone Bakugou doesn’t like. Today was the day of the Sports Festival meaning you got a day off of class and you get to watch your boyfriend kick butt in the festival. Of course you had to participate as well and you ere quite nervous. This was a great way for Bakugou to show off his quirk and you wanted to help him to get scouted by an agency, but you knew he would be upset if he found out you helped him to win. He would also be upset if he found out your purposefully lost so he could win. All you could do was do your best, quirk or not. Looking around at the crowd of students you realize how weak you actually are. Everyone around you had amazing quirks and you were quirkless. Honestly you’re still surprised on how you got into UA. You looked down at your feet and zone out of whatever Midnight was saying. How could you focus when you have now come to realization just how useless you were? You jump as an arm wraps wound your waist. You sigh and smile as you see Bakugou standing next to you. “You know how long it took me to find you idiot?” You giggled and wrap your arms around his waist. Looking down at you he smiled and looked back up at Midnight. He was proud to know that you were his and he’d be damned if he let you stand by yourself with tons of other hormonal guys and not be next to you. He had to protect his girl of course. You may not enjoy your quirkless body but Bakugou loves it. Just more of a reason that he needs to protect you. Be your knight in shinning armor. With the games starting you told Bakugou not to worry about you and to make sure he gets first place for the both of you. You lost the first game. It didn’t shock you and you weren’t sad at all. The next game you would be completely useless in. You figured that with having no quirk you should take up a martial arts or at least work out a bit but you never got around to it. So you sat in the stands and watched you boyfriend run around with people you assumed were from his class. You offered to meet Bakugou at his class but he always refused and told you to wait for him at your class, his excuse being he didn’t want you walking so far across campus alone. You looked around and noticed that a lot of people had failed the first round. None of your friends had been eliminated sad to say, but that didn’t bother you. You pulled out your phone and scrolled through the apps you had settleing on playing an RPG called Unison League. Your character was a Cleric and you had decent gear. You hadn’t been playing the game long but your gearscore was almost to 100K. Activating your Unison you chose to use your monster named Teach. He was a ghost pirate monster and you were embarrassed to say you had a crush on him, of course you would never tell Bakugou that. You smiled to yourself and continued to play the game when you heard Present Mic’s voice echo through the stadium announcing which teams won. You set your phone down for a second and cheered when you heard Bakugou’s team be called. The fuming blonde didn’t seem happy but he managed to pick your voice out of all the cheering and look in your direction, giving you a small wave. “Who are you waving to bro?” Kirishima asked. Bakugou scoffed and put his hands in his pockets. “None of your business stupid hair. Kirishima frowned and ran over to him, looking in the crowd to try and find who he was being so friendly to. Kirishima had never seen Bakugou be so soft to anyone. Kirishima had now set a goal to figure out who this mysterious person was. Maybe this person was also the reason Bakugou never joined us for lunch. You stood in the hall and waited for the return of your angry boyfriend. Looking around and finally spotting the blonde you smiled and ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “You did great out there honey! The way you flew around using your quirk was amazing!” Hearing the soft chuckle from his voice you looked up at him as his arm managed to wrap around you loosely. “It’s cause I’m the real deal baby. These other extras don’t even compare to me.” You smiled and nodded your head, going on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek. Still holding onto you he lead the way to the stadium seats and you pointed to where you were sitting before, not noticing the few boys following behind you two. “Bakugou you didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend! How could you hide such a cute girl from us?” said another blonde boy. Bakugou scoffed and held your hand as you two sat down. “For that exact reason dumbass. Besides I don’t want you creeps in my business.” You turned around in your seat and looked at the three boys. There was a blonde one, a red head and one with black hair. “Where did Mina go?” asked the red head. The black haired one responded by saying “She wanted to sit with the girls.” You turned back around in your seat and laid your head on Bakugou’s shoulder. Maybe now that they knew about you two you could meet him at his classroom now. 18 Years Old It was graduation day and you had never been so excited. While Bakugou was out doing his work study you went and got a part time job and you had saved up enough money to buy an apartment for the both of you in the center of town. You got the keys to the apartment early this morning so you could wrap it and give it to Bakugou for his present. You two had always talked about moving in together and even though it was a small apartment it was still a start for your new lives together. After all the diplomas were handed out you ran over to Bakugou and hugged him tightly. He picked you up and spun you around, holding you close he gazed into your eyes, a slight blush creeping over both of your faces. Swallowing hard and leaning in you both shared your first kiss with each other. You pulled away and punched his chest playfully as your face was clearly more flushed than his was. The blonde boy smirked at you and set you down, planting a quick kiss to your cheek. “Don’t forget your graduation present I spent so long getting.” you said, smiling as you held up the small gift box. Bakugou took the box and smiled down at you saying, “Your gift is over in my car, let’s open them together ok?” You smiled and nodded you head, taking your hand in his you followed him over to his car. Bakugou opened the car door and leaned and grabbed a small box almost the same size as yours. He closed his car door and looked down at you. “Actually I have to give you the gift so how about I open yours first?” You tilted your head but then smiled. “Of course honey!” What could the gift be that he has to give it to me? You held your own hands and watched with beaming eyes as your boyfriend opened the small box. He pulled out the keys and looked at you. “Keys?” you could hear the confusion in his voice and you sighed. “Keys to our new apartment dummy!” you said with a small laugh. Bakugou’s eyes widened and he smiled, “You got us a place?!” You giggled as he picked you up again and planted soft kisses all over your face. “It’s in the city as well! You said you wanted to be in Endeavor’s Agency so I found an apartment that was only a short walk to the Agency!” you said happily. Bakugou smiled and set you down. “That was so thoughtful of you baby.. Now I think it’s time I give you my gift.” Bakugou said with a deep sigh. He held the box tightly in his hands and you watched as he goes down onto his knee, your eyes widening at what was happening in front of you. “We’ve been together since day 1 and it took me 14 years to realize that you were the one, the only one, for me. I want you to stay by my side as much as I want to stay by yours. We’ll have a good life baby, I promise. I’ll make sure we live a life of luxury and I’ll make sure you’re always protected and taken care of. So what do you say baby, will you accept my proposal..?” Your eyes welted with tears and you covered your mouth. You were speechless. All you could manage to do was frantically nod your head as tears started to pour from your eyes. Bakugou stood up and wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly as you sobbed into his robe. Bakugou opened the box and pulled you away from his body. He wiped away your tears and smiled as he lifted your left hand. He kissed your cheek as he slide the ring onto your finger. You looked at the ring and sniffled. You had never felt happier in your life. You held onto Bakugou and you didn’t want to let him go, crying and saying how happy you were on repeat like a broken record. After the ceremony you both went back home and packed your things. Putting your bags over your shoulders you saw the text from Bakugou saying that he was at your house. You walked downstairs from your room and hugged your parents. “Make sure you visit often honey, ok..?” your mother said with a sniffle. You pulled away from the hug and nodded. “Be safe out there kiddo.” your dad said. You flashed him a smile and headed out the door to Bakugou’s car. He smiled at you and opened the back door for you to put your bags in. “You ready for our new life together honey?” asked your new fiancé. You smiled and kissed his cheek and said, “I’ve never been more ready in my life.” He chuckled and opened your car door for you, waiting for you to slide in to close the door. You put your seat belt on and look out the window. Bakugou slid into his seat and started the car. He put his seat belt on and reached over to grab your hand before putting the car in drive and pulling out of your driveway. You two had the windows rolled down and blasted music all the way to your new apartment. When you arrived at the apartment you didn’t do much. You laid out a rug, Bakugou set up the TV and both of you laid a mattress in what you labeled the bedroom. Crashing onto the bed you two snuggled up next to each other. “What time even is it..?” you asked. Bakugou rolled over and grabbed his phone to look at the time. “It’s about 5 pm, how about we take a short nap and we order pizza for dinner.” You smiled and nodded your head at the idea of eating that delicious pizza. You snuggled up into his chest and closed your eyes, feeling lips on top of your head. “I love you Bakugou..” you said softly as you started to drift off to dreamland. “I love you too baby, but you need you wake up now...” he said in a sad tone. You lifted your head up confused. “Bakugou..?” You looked around your room to see decorations you have around your walls. You rub your eyes and swallow hard. What is going on..? Where is Bakugou..? You glanced over at your phone as your alarm started to go off. You grabbed your phone and turned the alarm off. No.. It couldn’t have been a dream.. He was right there with me.. It was so real.. You pulled your knees to your chest as you started to cry. You shook your head rapidly and raked your fingers through your hair, ending up on rubbing your face and biting your bottom lip. You wiped away your tears and looked out your window to see the moon still up and stars still brightly shining. This can’t be happening.. This is just a nightmare! It has to be.. You choked back a sob and rubbed your eyes to stop more tears from spilling out. “Please don’t leave me Bakugou..”

[heartrioots]

chocobros when they see you working out headcanon

 i. A/N: Hi guys! I’m kinda new here, even tho i used to post some HC’s on other acc, but about rdr2! Might not be the best at it, but at least its good to try :) Hope you’re gonna like the stuff i’ll write! 

ii. A/N: I haven’t finished the game yet, so in further posts I’ll be sticking to the knowledge I already have about these boys, sorry!

iii. forgive me for any language/grammar mistakes, English is not my first language :)

Requests are open!

I don’t own any of these gifs, credits to their real owners!

PROMPTO

—this boy — he’s sh00k —“Y/N what are you doing?” — then he decides to join you — planks? THEY’RE THE WORST — and burpees? Uh, gross! — you both ended up on the floor many times  — “So what’s that for?” — “Slimming down ur legs, Prompt” — “But im already slimmed down!” — you found a workout buddy in your boyfriend  — isnt that nice? — progress photos!! — he will literally kick ur ass if you say you don’t wanna work out — you both looked SNATCHED after  — and he couldn’t stop talking about your achievment  — #1 supporter, forever and always

NOCTIS

— at the first sight, it didn’t look that bad or even advanced — you started with jumping rope, as a warm up — BUT THEN — you started doing things he coulnd’t get  — so he could literally sit on the couch watching you — and making u blush from embarrasment —“ Y/n what are you doing” — “Uh working out i guess?” — ”No i mean the movement” — ”Oh, these are the russian twists” — ”... But why they’re russian” —”Trust me Noct, i have no idea. Maybe u should try and work out with me?” — oh man he tried — he tried so hard — but once he got to the couch, he fell asleep — tired™ — you still can’t believe how he got ABS faster than you

GLADIO

— ngl he was kinda proud — not in a bad way, he was happy you found kind of.. uh new hobby? — but more terryfing in ur opinion — you were jealous of the six pack he had — so in order to achieve at least a sneak peak of abs, you decided to turn quarantine into a big workout challenge — you know the drill, take ur planners and pens, shi*ts gonna get real — it did, but only on paper —as u tried to stick at least to one week of this, you would give up at the end of the weekend — he was so blue to see you like that — you used to cry and say you can’t do that — so he decided to help you — you took it easy this time — random long walks, getting those steps in — some easy but also enganging execises  — he even agreed to dance with you  — cause at the end, every burned calorie should be a happy burned calorie right?

IGNIS

—”Y/N dont tell me your on another diet again” — “Not this time” — knows when to stay away from the room you’re in — once he walked in and you almost had a heart attack — so did he — you were lying on the floor with eyes closed — he thought you died or something —“Trust me u don’t want to see me sweating like human waterfall” — he’s worried that you’re overworking yourself — he joined you once — and you still think he was quite better than you but he won’t admit it — cause he wanted you to focus on yourself and don’t look around — definitely helping you with some exercises from the technique way — repeats that no matter what body you have, he loves you just the way you are — you impresses him when you lift heavy, like TRULY — motivates you everyday, even after the quarantine