#very very vague but better 2 be safe and all that

[elevensbian]

having a hum hallelujah night and. everyone always talks about 'i could write it better than you ever felt it' being about pete writing lyrics which makes sense considering he wrote the line but the bridge.... they wrote that one better than i ever felt it. it sounds almost desperate? feels a lot like clinging on to life using a song as an anchor- metaphorically but also thats literally what happened. it's just horrifically gut wrenching and captures all the emotion of the lyrics in music form So gorgeously. it sounds exactly how rock bottom feels- it's off key from the original (just off the key of reason etc etc), the guitars are all distorted and violent instead of quiet and clean, there's this big loud drum beat, everything is wrong and messed up and scary. but it's still sort of, weirdly hopeful? i think it's the vocal, up against this big guitar-y instrumental it's soft and pretty, like being vaguely aware that love and joy are still out there even if they're sort of floaty and distant and very much do not feel like concepts you can comprehend. idk man. i do not know music theory but that bridge makes me feel things

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.

[pomefioredove]

Ngl I want a sequel to bad ending 'yuu gets sold' series

Cause imagine the boys go to NBC just to find out that yuu is actuality doing great, better than great, even better than the time they were doing in NRC

I like to think that Rollo is legitimate a nice person when you remove the hatred over magic type of stuff

He deffo makes sure that yuu is well fed and clean (let's be honest, not something that yuu always has in NRC) plus treat yuu greatly

rollo fans who are starving since everyone stopped talking about him after november I'm here for you. I see you. take my hand

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | 'bad' ending

summary: yuu transfers to NBC type of post: fic characters: rollo my beloved additional info: yuu is gender neutral, implied romantic ^_^

It had been a long six months for everyone at Night Raven College.

The departure- and subsequent absence- of their beloved Ramshackle prefect was very much felt.

Days were longer, nights were darker, the first year class itself felt empty.

"At least they're not dead," was the consensus.

Of course, you continued to communicate with your friends- it wasn't like you completely dropped off the map, although Noble Bell College had a stricter policy about phone usage.

You even sent some letters back and forth, yours filled with updates and mementos, theirs with pictures of all you'd left behind.

Did you miss NRC?

Well...

You missed your friends.

But Crowley? The overblots? Being everyone's personal therapist?

...Yeah. You could live without that.

Noble Bell College may have been more exclusive, and more strict in their code of conduct, but it was more peaceful, too. Smaller, less students, and much less reliance on magic, so that you and Grim could be whole students independent of one another.

The curriculum was much different than NRC's. Less of an emphasis on a personal connection to magic, and more on tradition, ritual, and history. There were few times when you'd have to sit out a class, or watch your friends have fun from the sidelines.

If anything, Rollo made a point of including you.

A part of it may have been personal pride- after all, he just couldn't resist showing you how much better he is.

But he also had a vague idea about how stressful your life at NRC really was, and how isolated you felt, despite being surrounded by people. It was his duty, in a sense, to rectify that.

Even if it meant you had to sit through his lectures and recitations of the traditional magic laws.

...Though, even with his intense adherence to tradition and structure, he made quite a show of being kind to you.

Despite his best efforts to claim fairness and righteousness, it was no secret to anyone that he favored you. You quickly became the only person he spent his free time with (not that he was particularly social in the first place...)

And... it was nice. Is nice.

He holds himself to high standards, and expects that of others; he's cold, harsh when he feels it necessary, and repressed in all ways imaginable.

And yet... well, there's no sabotage, no swindling, no scamming, no manipulation to make petty ends meet.

Rollo, as a person, is both confusingly complex and reassuringly simple. You know as much. He sticks to routine, to rules, to tradition. He's diligent in every sense of the word, and highly respected because of it.

And when the eyes of the other students are turned away, he treats you with a sort of gentleness that you'd become wholly unfamiliar with at NRC. Like a porcelain doll, like something precious he desires to wrap in cotton and silk and store somewhere safe.

You wonder if his behavior towards you is at all connected to the very reason he risked his status bringing you here in the first place... but you don't dwell too long. He's as mysterious as anything.

When your former classmates come to visit over break, it's like they're meeting an entirely different person.

"Happy to see us, eh? You're like, glowing," Ace smirks.

Deuce elbows him in the ribs for that comment. "What he meant is that you look great. I mean, really! You've been sleeping more?"

You nod. "Lots, yeah,"

"Weird, I woulda guessed they'd been working you to the bone. This place is all "no funny business", right?" Ace shakes his head.

You laugh, walking alongside your former fellow first years in the streets of Fleur City, the very ones you'd become so accustomed to in recent months.

"I've actually been doing well with my studies. I think I've finally decided what I want to do after graduation,"

"Oh, that's great!" Deuce says. A lengthy pause follows, much to your confusion- it's as if everyone has something they want to say, but won't be the first to say it.

Epel clears his throat. "You been 'doin alright?"

"Um... yeah. I have,"

"Cause... you know, if anyone was giving you trouble, we'd give 'em what for!"

You chuckle. "I'm fine, really. People here are pretty nice..."

Again, that same silence follows. Epel, Deuce, and Ace look between each other, as if daring the other to say the next thing.

This time, you take the initiative.

"Listen. If this is about Rollo, he's fine. I'm fine. He's been nothing but helpful,"

The tense silence breaks and Ace sighs, shaking his head. "You can't blame us for being worried,"

"I mean, this whole situation has been really shady. Everyone at NRC has been worried sick..." Deuce says. "We just wanted to make sure..."

You smile. "I appreciate it, but you really don't have to send in a rescue party. I've been... I've been really good. Happy. And I miss you guys to pieces, but I've felt closer to home here than anywhere else. Does that sound strange?"

A short pause follows. Deuce is the first to speak, his voice sounding strained. "Not at all. We just want you to be happy,"

You can tell he's trying really hard to sound positive. Epel, on the other hand, doesn't sugarcoat anything.

"You really won't come back with us?"

You smile again, though this one is wholly apologetic. "No, I don't think so,"

The three are quiet for another moment, and then seem to drop the subject. The rest of their stay goes by smoothly, even with all the strained moments where you can tell they have something to ask. You assume they've already figured out the answer.

The day trip is over by sundown and you return to campus just before curfew, taking a seat in one of the cozy (though currently empty) lounges by a familiar face.

"They're gone?" Rollo asks, not bothering to look up from the textbook he's perusing.

You watch him carefully, and think it's best not to mention you friend's attempt to bring you back with them.

"Yes, they're gone. We had fun, nothing happened,"

"Good," he says. A brief silence follows before he speaks again. "I do trust you. But-"

"You don't trust them. I understand. If I were you, I suppose I wouldn't, either. But I'm fine,"

"When are they coming back?"

"Two months. They're taking the weekend. Might bring some other people,"

Rollo hums a note of acknowledgment, fingers rolling around the pen in his right hand. The book is still open, though he's looking ahead now. His face is flushed.

You know he's unhappy with it, but he won't say anything. You're grateful he likes you enough to let you rub elbows with people he despises. Especially after all that's happened...

He stands, closing the book. "Very well. Let me know what day so that I may adequately prepare myself. Good night. Be safe,"

And with that, he takes his leave.

Ever distant. Ever polite. One might mistake the way he speaks for coldness or resentment if you weren't so familiar with his mannerisms by now.

You turn to look into the lounge fireplace behind you, watching the flames flicker and die until all that remains are soft, glowing embers, the same shade of red that burns on his cheeks when you look at him.

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls chapter 13 part 2/2

masterpost

Given that Dr. and Dr. Fenton had taken him on a drive around town that legitimately climaxed with an on-foot chase of a hulking ghost who did not care to comment for their family blog, Jason thought that was actually kinda probable. If the Drs. had that technology, their kids would probably have access as well.

“Why not?” Tim said, sounding a bit defensive. “We know for a fact that there’s a few undead out there, zombie boy. And there’s a ghost affiliated with the JL.”

All solid points.

‘But there’s no way the good Doctors would be able to convince a ghost to do anything they wanted. Would the daughter have any better luck?’

Jason covered a laugh in his fist.

His ghostly experience so far consisted of:

Danny Phantom, who was very annoyed that Waters was trying to pay him tribute and not happy to see Jason, either.

The mysterious collaborator who hadn’t even wanted Jason to enter his tower.

Skalker, who spent the length of their acquaintance screaming and flying away at what appeared to be his top speed while Jack Fenton whooped and Dr. Fenton shouted questions from a megaphone.

“I get the vibe that they don’t really care to interact with the living,” Jason said, before Tim could get his knickers in a twist. “So my skepticism is in regards to the likelihood of a ghost agreeing to collaborate.”

“What, you think they’re all the same?” Tim said. His tone made it seem like he thought that was such an embarrassingly unintellectual idea that Jason should sink through the floor.

“I think there’s pretty good reasons there might be a trend.”

Tim made an unconvinced sound and changed the subject. “Since they have a similar area of interest, I want to look for a connection between the Fentons and Waters. They could be- Why did you laugh?”

A neon sign lit up across the street, sending a wash of purple light through the air. Jason shook his head. “The Fentons- the Dr.s Fenton, at least, strongly dislike Jeremy Waters.”

“Why did that come up?”

“No reason,” Jason lied airily. “Anyway, that’s not it. Could be some kind of rivalry. But I doubt they’d want to visit Waters in Arkham to give him their sympathies.”

Tim chewed that over for a moment. “Could be a rivalry. I gotta go, O’s hitting my line.”

“Stay safe out there.” Jason cut the conversation and settled in to think. He stuck his hands in his pockets and wished for something to fiddle with that wasn’t a weapon. It had poser vibes to stand around on a rooftop alone playing with a knife or a gun. If Oracle caught you on video, she would tint it blue, set it to some humiliatingly emo soundtrack, and send it around the hero community.

Not, uh. Not that that had happened to him.

He called in. “Hey, O, good evening.”

“Good to hear from you, Hood.” She sounded as serene as ever.

Jason fidgeted a little. “Anything I could help with?” He toed the front of his boot back and forth on the cement ledge for a moment, killing time by idly calculating how many seconds he’d have to engage a grapple if he fell from this height.

“Good news for Gotham, it’s a quiet night.”

He sighed.

“I know, I know,” O said sympathetically. “You got all dressed up in your dancing shoes-”

“And there’s no one to go out with,” Jason agreed. At the back of his mind he vaguely remembered that that…might not be true, actually. He made a dramatic sigh. “I might call it a night, then. No point staring at the city like some bat-eared creep. I don’t have any monologues to work on right now.”

“Oh, you got those all done? Good for you, little buddy.”

Jason resisted the urge to flip her off. She wasn’t even here.

“Stay safe,” he said, because the idea of ending a call without saying that always filled him with a terrible premonition that this would be the time the other person ended up shot in the head and gone forever. He blew out a long, slow breath when he was finally truly alone and reconsidered the thought he’d had earlier.

‘I haven’t messaged Phantom all this time. It might be a good night for it. It’s been most of a week. He won’t be annoyed that I’m checking in now.’

Yeah… Yeah, okay. Jason grappled down and made his way to where he’d stashed his bike. He got into his current residence and stripped out of his gear. He got out his phone and shot Phantom a text before he went into the shower. Not much, he didn’t wanna come across as desperate. Just a nice, casual, “Hey, what’s up? Just checking in. Any luck so far? I finished my books!”

[starzwithapen]

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ START A LOVE TRAIN

જ⁀➴.𖥔 ݁ ˖༉‧₊˚.

☆Summary: John Dory's first meeting with Rhonda and her owner, you!

☆Content: reader is gender neutral, first meeting!! Gonna make a part 2 exploring their relationship more :3

☆a/n: I FUCKING HATE HIM [affectionate] my first worrkk pls leave feedback if youd like it helps a ton!! :3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The day John Dory met you and Rhonda was simultaneously one of the worst and best days of his life.

He'd been hiking- nothing out of the ordinary for him, maybe one venomous spider he'd had to fight off, but so far so good! The sting of the cold air against his cheeks quelled his thoughts, made him feel accomplished, in a way.

But he must've been distracted- he was a little more careless than usual, overestimating his own strength and struggling to pull himself upwards, his legs dangling over the edge- he could feel a tick of nerves in the back of his mind, but pfftt, John Dory's got this! He's done this a million times-

Next thing he knows, the rock holding his legs up collapses, and down he goes with it, tumbling over harsh terrain while the wind rushing past his ears drowns out his yelling.

After many very painful seconds of straight up rolling down this cliff, John Dory groans in pain, dusting himself off and pushing himself upwards, except- oh, shit, okay, ow, something’s very wrong with his ankle.

He hisses and grabs onto the skin, pulling his goggles up to inspect it- it appears swollen, and he realises with a frustrated groan that he'd managed to twist his ankle miles away from the nearest safe-house.

Well- looks like he'll have to camp outside for the night, wouldn't be the first nor last time, but it'll be significantly more difficult with a leg that refuses to cooperate with you.

He rushes through setting up camp, wanting to just sleep the pain off till his foot got better, but just as he sets his head down on the pile-of-leaves-that-vaguely-resemble-a-pillow, he hears distant rustling.

That's not odd- it'd be weirder for the forest to be quiet, if anything, animals are always trudging along no matter the time of day- what's odd is how loud the sound is, feet papping against the floor in heavy strides, coming closer and closer towards him.

John Dory sits up in a flash, suddenly regretting how shittily he'd camouflaged his camp- his eyes widen towards the oncoming noise, having just enough time to snatch a stick and hold it out threateningly, though his hands shake and tremble.

“Hey! I have a- uh, a really sharp stick, and I'm not afraid to use iiIIITTT-”

The stick goes flying out of his grasp, and he gets the breath absolutely slammed out of him as something huge jumps onto him, rumbling atop him and- eugh, was it licking him?! Was this how he died, after all these years?! Eaten alive by a-

“Down, girl- stop that, you're scaring him!” the thing finally lets up on trying to swallow him whole, standing back on its hind-legs and cooing at you excitedly, and it's then that he notices you.

“Gods, I'm really sorry- she's not usually like this-” you reach over with a grimace to wipe the wet mess of saliva and glitter off his cheeks with your sleeve, and all JD can do is stare at you, star-struck. One minute he was facing his impending doom, and now he was facing the prettiest person he'd ever set his eyes on, and though he's certain it's night time he feels as though you're shining the sun's rays straight at him.

You smile nervously and pat his attacker's leg, “She wasn't actually going to eat you- or at least I don't think she was? You can never quite tell with Rhonda.”

Okay, John Dory had lived on his own amongst nothing but the trees and mountains for years, so excuse him for not being particularly eloquent when all he blurts out is “John.”

You and Rhonda blink at him comically for a moment, and he feels his cheeks flush under his fur-lined vest. No one's ever caught him off gaurd like this before.

“That's…not my name, but good guess anyways.” You check over him as if he's concussed, and he tries not to frown at the scrunch in your nose as you take in his camp.

“It's my name- John Dory.” He flashes you a charming smile, though he assumes the effects are dampened by the mess of glitter and dirt still smeared across his face, “and can I get yours, or can I just call you mine?”

Silence stretches on between you both, his smile getting more strained by the minute- why hadn't that worked? That always worked, at least when Spruce did it! You were supposed to be- swooning, or something! Not looking at him like he's sprouted a second head!

You cut through the tension with a gasp, and he follows your gaze down to his badly-damaged leg, now with extra bloodied scrapes, “Oh god, that looks rough- did Rhonda do this?” He doesn't have time to tell you that no, actually, it wasn't your fault, when you turn around and scold your…armadillo? He feels his lips quirk up- you looked pretty cute like that, like a disgruntled parent.

“Well, you can come inside and I'll wrap it up for you- you shouldn't leave it out in the open like that.” You wave him over, grabbing onto his hand to pull him into the door, and he feels his skin burn pleasantly where you both touch.

And that's how it starts. JD walks inside the armadillo bus, Rhonda, marvelling at the warmth. Though you hadn't given him your name yet, he felt as though he could trust you- you seemed like someone who values honor and helping others, however bluntly or awkwardly you may go about it.

You wrap his leg with gauze and a healing salve, and he fills the room with chatter- it'd been so long since he'd last seen another soul, he didn't realise just how…lonely he'd felt. You don't speak much of yourself, probably staying cautious, but you do seem curious about his stories, and the twinkle in your eye urges him to speak with a little more pomp than usual.

Your voice turns more concerned as you ask what he'd been doing camping out in the open like that- he'd told you of the trail he planned to follow, though he'd skipped the part where he fell off-course. He tells you of how he'd wanted to end up somewhere warmer by the time winter really hit, sighing to himself. “I'll just have to stock up on fire-wood, maybe invest in a flame-thrower.”

“I mean….we can take you there.” You offer in a quiet voice, your gaze stubbornly set on the floor, “It's still a pretty long drive, but better than 2 months walking on a sprained ankle, especially with how gnarly it looks.”

John Dory's conflicted- the offer sounds heavenly. He pictures waking up to your warmth day by day, helping you gather breakfast, travelling with a companion, for once, but….he'd left to the middle of nowhere for a reason. He wanted to distance himself from his old habits, his old expectations of himself and others.

Though….you seemed to be just as- if not more- capable than him. He wouldn't need to be a pillar for you to lean all your weight against, nor the pressure that turns coal into shining diamond- you two could simply…have each other's backs. Maybe…maybe this could work out, at least for a little while.

John Dory tilts his head up and takes one look at your welcoming smile to make up his mind.

"Can't say no to your pretty face, now can I?"

This time you snicker behind your hand at his awful flirting, but he catches it just in time- and he knows this'll be the start of something great.

[licorice-tea]

The Bane of My Existence

Pairing:Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: some spoilers for Sabaody arc (nothing major), enemies to lovers! strawhat reader, reader and law are both stubborn and argumentative smh, reader is more optimistic though, law is awkward and not great at understanding his own feelings <3

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: part 1/2 for a little enemies to lovers fic! one of my favorite tropes but I almost never write about it... also I've been rewatching bridgerton and was very inspired by the relationship between Kate and Anthony, which is where the title comes from too! (can you guess what part 2 will be called?) anyway, enjoy and lmk your thoughts! :)

Part 2

Sabaody Archipelago is easily one of the coolest places you’ve visited so far. Not that Alabasta, Skypiea, Water 7, Thriller Bark weren’t cool too… but you’re a people person! And to get to see such a diverse mix of groups from all over the world converging here, on one island Archipelago, brings a genuine smile to your face. It truly does remind you of a theme park: from the attractions to the oversized trees and bubbles.

In fact, you’re so caught up in all the splendors of the carnival-esque grove that you don’t realize you’re being watched. Or, followed, rather.

The Heart Pirates, yet another crew from some vague corner of the world, have been tracking you for the better part of an hour now. Except, they’re only following their captain, who happens to be following you.

Hes not entirely discreet about it though, because at one point Bepo asks, “Um… Captain, why are we following them?”

Shachi responds unprompted, “Yeah, I’ve never seen their bounty poster so… what’s up?”

Law scowls, “I’m not following anyone.”

Though he is low-key following you, Law couldn’t give a good reason as to why. You walked past him and his crew on your way to meet up with the rest of your crew- the Strawhat Pirates- and he’d just sort of trailed after you once you’d gotten a safe distance ahead.

“Really? Because every time they stop for directions, we slow down. And we’ve turned at all the same spots, too… So it really does seem like we’re follo-“

“I am NOT following them.” He lies through (literally) gritted teeth.

Now, Trafalgar Law is in now way shape or form a believer in love at first sight. He’s never been in love period… but the feeling he gets from seeing you is something new and foreign. Like, he really wants to talk to you… he just doesn’t know what for. Law is still trying his best to come up with reasons to stop you and ask for your name when you overhear the brief argument between him and his friends.

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you spot a group of at least 10 on your trail. They’re in the middle of conversation, so they don’t notice you taking notice of them.

Your first instinct is to look around for your crew; but of course, they’re scattered across the groves of Sabaody Archipelago by now - as are you. “Sigh. I might just have to handle this in my own.” But, wait- who said they wanted to fight you? Maybe you should just approach them first, wouldn’t that give you the upper hand in some way? (It wouldn’t, but you can’t think of anything better than to try and charm your way out of a possible jumping with your friendliness and perfect smile.) So, you roll back your shoulders and take a breath before strolling back over the grass to your pursuers.

“Why would I be following some rand-“

“Because you have a crush on them!”

“Oh they’re cute, Captain, you should ask them to join!”

“Gasp! Yeah, then you can get to know-“

They all go silent (save for some quiet gasps) as you step toward the semi circle they’ve formed around one man- the only one not wearing a white uniform, who they call “Captain.” You tap him on the shoulder and he whips his head around.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me?”

The man just stares at you for a moment with a frown. You fear that you might’ve been wrong about his intentions, until he blinks and mumbles, “Uh… Sure.”

Your smile returns- of course you weren’t wrong! Plus, he’s kind of hot, but you’d catalog that thought and come back to it on some lonely night in the future. “Great! I’m looking for grove 41, it’s where some of my friends are.”

You’d learned back in Water 7 that sometimes, it was best not to disclose who exactly you’re traveling with, nor the location of your ship. (At least, not when you’re infamous pirates.)

“Grove 41? I’m headed there too.”

The polar bear wearing who is also wearing a white uniform clears his throat.

“I thought we were heading to Grove 1, Captain?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to get in y’all’s way then-“

“Nah, I think Captain would love to show you the way.”

“Shachi!” The captain sneers. “We’ll meet back up at Grove 1 after I show them the way." Then, he looks you up and down. It's quick and analytical rather than flirtatious or intimidating. "Don’t cause me any trouble.”

You smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m y/n, by the way.”

“Trafalgar Law, and this is my crew, the Heart Pirates.” He gestures around the semi circle, then turns to face them, “You guys go take a break or something. I’ll be back shortly.”

“But Captain, we want to go with you!”

One of the men with red hair- Shachi, you’re pretty sure, elbows the polar bear.

“Hey!…” He looks down at Shachi then gasps like he suddenly had a revelation; “Ohhh. Sorry Captain, we’ll see you later!”

Law rolls his eyes. “See you soon.”

There's something about his dark hair and grey eyes that charms you, right off the bat. Or maybe it's his relaxed, confident demeanor. Possibly even his idiosyncratic style of clothing, and how he (and all of his crew) wore the same logo; so very organized and professional. But no matter the exact reason as to why, you find yourself quite happy to be in his company.

Alas, he’s not a very talkative man, so you make up most of the conversation with questions and your own introductory information. “-and that’s how I got here, to Sabaody!”

“Uh huh. And who did you say your crew was again?”

“I, ahem, I don’t travel with a crew.”

“Right.” He laughs dryly.

“What is it?”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I- I’m not lying!”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me what crew you’re a part of,” Law explains, “but don’t lie and say you’re not a pirate at all.”

“Well… it’s generally not a good idea to tell strangers that you’re a pirate. Not even nice ones, like you."

Ignoring the butterflies in his stomach that unexpectedly appear when you call him nice, Law's burning curiosity is fed by your roundabout half-answer. “Ah, so you are one? What’s your bounty?”

“That’s not really any of your business.” Though you believe his intentions to be purely based in curiosity, you're second guessing allowing this man to lead you away on an island grove that you have never visited, nor know anything about. Still, your crew is nowhere in sight or hearing range, which worries you given just how loud they usually are.

“I’m paying you a favor by leaving my crew to escort you to where I’m assuming your ship is located- it’s the least you could do.” Law’s tone is more prickly than before.

“Well, I don’t need an escort, and you’ve already walked me halfway there and pointed me in the right direction.”

“Fine- then I’ll leave.”

His sudden change in mood from what you interpreted as shy to borderline aggressive throws you off. And so, having a similar moody temperament and stubbornness (though you’d never admit it after seeing it so clearly in him), you return the sentiment. “Fine by me.”

You continue walking forward while Law turns back, until he calls over his shoulder. “And by the way; you’ll need to find your way through the lawless zone up ahead if you want to get to Grove 41.” If condescending was a person, it would be him. You’re sure of it. “That, or I could’ve shown you a much safer shortcut.”

You pause, turn to face him, roll your eyes, and continue walking.

“What, you’re still not going to ask for my help?”

“Don’t need it!” Which, you really don’t. You’re plenty strong, but your bounty is small enough to not be worried. “I’m not scared of a law-less zone, if anything I think I’d welcome it.”

Your mocking words hurt his ego in a way he hasn't felt in years, taking him down several pegs.

You don't even stick around long enough to listen to him rebuke everything about you, from your high and mighty tone to your vain attempts at lying, ending his one sided argument with a very classy middle finger your way. So, Law grumbles all the way back to Grove 1 to find his crew, and hopes to never see you again. Meanwhile, you find your way to the other Strawhats. Your adventure with them continues, and you don’t have much time to think of your earlier encounter with a handsome pirate and possible-friend turned enemy (if you could even call him that.)

Law doesn't know if his ego (or wildly beating heart) could take another second in your presence- it just might burst if it had to endure any more of your witty comments or sly looks. It would, however, be an interesting theory to test further, should you ever meet again.

The prospect is both horrifying and thrilling to him at the same time.

[khunyuki]

"I've lived my life with blade and you always in my mind"

ᴍᴀɪɴ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ: 2.𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 you mean to me

Synopsis: Soshiro, who didn't notice just how much pressure Kagami was experiencing, felt extremely guilty. He thought he's been expressing his love for her clearly but it seems like it wasn't enough. So he better make sure his beloved fiancee will understand it all night long.

Pairing/s: Soshiro Hoshina x Fiancee!OC

Notes: This is the very first smut i've ever done in my entire writing career so please do enjoy you horny ppl. I already immediately apologize if it's inadequate cuz I don't usually write this genre huhu. ALWAYS ASK FOR CONSENT GUYSSS🫶

Warning/s: Minors below 18+ is NOT allowed,

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, NSFW

Masterlist: TOC, Previous, Next

↓↓↓ PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AS THIS CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT ↓↓↓

"Why don't we go somewhere else first. So you can do it comfortably?"

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This wasn't the first time Kagami visited her fiance's apartment. It was a 2 bedroom with a kitchen, living room, and bathroom apartment that is wide yet cozy enough for the two of them. She remember helping him choose among other options until he picked this particular place, saying that it would fit the two of them perfectly and he was right.

She sat down the sofa in the living room after removing her sandals and his jacket while he immediately went to the kitchen to get some refreshments. It wasn't often that she come here despite having a duplicate key to the place but she could still see the things she left behind during her visits, decorating his place. It fills her with warmth to see him have a special place for her things and the thought of how domestic it was. To her, his apartment felt more like home than the household she's been brought up.

He handed her a glass of water before sitting to which she gladly drank as it reminded her of how parched her throat was. On his other hand was a cold compress for her bruised cheek that she had long forgotten about. He placed her in his arms so casually yet making sure she was comfortable with it. His right hand keeping the compress in place as the other was playing with her hair as they relaxed in each other's arms.

To be honest, she'd fall asleep at that moment with how safe and protected he made her feel. It was late and they could still talk about it tomorrow but she might lose her courage if she didn't talk now.

And so, she began to tell him everything. She started with her insecurities about herself, her struggles at not being able to keep up with expectations, how her family uses it against her, how they kept forcing her to quit work to get married and bear an heir, how she actually did give in her resignation letter but was rejected, to the what happened earlier this day when their engagement was almost cancelled.

Soshiro just listened and let her talk. All this time, his fiancee was struggling yet he never really did anything to help her with it before making him angry at himself. He felt guilty because she would always listen to his problems yet he just let her keep all of this to herself. He would clench his jaw in anger at her family whenever she vaguely mentions the punishments and the treatment they gave to her. He knew she was still keeping things to herself despite saying she'll tell him everything, he just didn't know the extent of it. Perhaps she keeps it to herself as she knew just how he'll storm in their residence to give them a taste of their own medicine once he learns about it, with how she squeezes his hands during the times he felt pissed off. Most of all, he just felt guilty.

He could hear it in her voice just how lonely it was for her to endure it all alone. While she may not be blaming him, he sure was blaming himself. He should've been braver and more straightforward when it comes to confessing his feelings. Because he could correlate everything to each other, how her emotions, her family's actions, and his response significantly affects her entire well-being.

He hates how she doesn't cry from the treatment she receives from her family but she cried when they told her to leave him. He hates how she cried when he told her he loves her as if his words were her whole world. He hates how she couldn't be happy and how she thinks that calling herself failure is a normal. He hates how she could be content with just him. He hates how he's one of the root causes of her problems.

When she could be happy and have all of the great things in the world. When he would gladly give her what she wants and punish those who hurt her. He wants her not to be content with the crumbs of affection she gets for she deserved even more than that. He just want her to think of herself first and foremost. Her wants her to love herself and think of her happiness rather than anyone else's as nothing will be able to take it away from her. He won't let anyone take anymore from her.

Hoshina Soshiro doesn't know what to do to help her and he hates it.

.

.

"So yeah... That's all of it"

Kagami ended her speech in a casual tone, contrasting the heavy contents she just told. She felt lighter now that she told him but her heart sank when she saw how grave his expression was. She took away the compress he was holding that was unfortunately the poor victim of his irritation and placed it on the table.

"Everything I told you, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault"

She faced him and placed her forehead onto his, closing her eyes with a mellow smile. He hates how even after all of that she's the one comforting him instead the other way around.

"I didn't tell you about this because I wanted you to be my therapist. I just want you to know what to expect if you still... want to be with me. I have a lot of problems and I never want to burden you with it. This engagement was something our families have decided and it's perfectly fine if you chose not to continue with it. It was just my selfishness that made me do this because I want to stay by your side... but if you want to leave then I... "

.

.

.

.

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↓↓↓ PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AS THIS CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT ↓↓↓

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.

.

.

.

"I love you"

Soshiro said it firmly before kissing her on the lips. He put her in his lap, wrapping an arm on her waist and the other firmly on the back of her head. He kissed her with such passion as if to show just how much he loves her. Kagami was so surprised by his sudden action yet she still wrapped her arms around his neck and responded with the same amount of passion.

Soshiro slipped his tongue in her mouth and explored every nook and corner, battling with her own tongue and mixing their salivas. Kagami struggled to breathe at the intimacy and could feel herself getting weaker, letting him to do what he wants. She couldn't even move an inch since his hand was firmly placed on the back of her head.

She was feeling lightheaded with every second that passes by before he finally retreated to stare at her. The trail of saliva that hang between their tongue made her flustered as she recalled what they just did. She couldn't find any words as she gazed at him with a dazed expression.

"You're always so kind"

He moved his hands to her cheeks and kissed her forehead tenderly.

"So thoughtful"

Her right eye.

"So considerate of others"

Her left eye.

"So hardworking"

Her left cheek.

"And brave"

Her nose.

"You're always so understanding"

Her right cheek.

"So unselfish"

Her jaw.

"Yet so lovely"

Her chin.

"You're so beautiful"

He looked at her straight in the eye, his red eyes staring deep into her soul and pecked her lips. So tender, so gentle, in contrast to his passionate kiss from earlier.

His compliments are things he always says to her yet hearing it being said so lovingly like he was ingraining those words into her makes her so full. She couldn't stop her emotions as they fell down her eyes. His fingers wiping the tears away.

He leaned down once more and kissed her. This time it was slow and steady as he gently guided her body down the sofa. He trailed down her lips to her neck, his breath tickling her skin eliciting a sigh. His hands that had no longer to go reached for her own, interlocking their fingers.

"S-soshiro~"

His lips sucking and nipping on the skin leaving light marks. She couldn't help but call out his name as he keeps on doing so all over her neck. Her sense of touch has always been one of her most sensitive senses along her hearing so the combo of his gentle kisses, occasional licks and deliberate sucking was far too much. She couldn't keep gasps and moans nor could she keep her body from squirming under his touch.

The kimono she was wearing was loosening from all her squirming thus exposing her collarbones and the skin beneath it. The sight was enough to make Soshiro go crazy, as if her moans weren't taking a toll on his self control already. But not yet... He still has to shown her how precious she is...

He stopped his actions and looked her in the eyes to ask for consent. Giving her words of affirmations and comfort as he does.

"I can't even begin to know just how much pain and sadness you must've felt this whole time nor do I know what I can do to help you. But I promise to always stay by your side and be there when you need me."

"I want to show you just how precious you are... Will you let me?"

Touched by his affection and consideration, Kagami nodded her head. She may not believe in herself but she believes in his words. If it's him then she's fine with anything.

"Yes... I'm all yours"

She reached out to his head and brought them together in a kiss. He picked her up in his arms while maintaining contact and brought her to his bed. He only broke contact to place her gently on the bed, then topping her dazzled form.

"I love you, Kagami"

"I love you too, Soshiro"

He placed one more kiss on her lips then proceeded to untie the sash of her kimono. The hold that her clothes had on her body loosened and became non-existent as he threw the sash on the ground. There she was in her naked glory looking at him with eyes filled with innocence yet her body filled with seduction. He couldn't help but stare at the milky white skin that seemed to have never been touched by sunlight, riddled with faded scars from battle wounds and her past. He stopped himself from once again feeling the bubbling anger towards her family to focus on her only.

She tried cover herself after seeing the slight hesitance in his eyes but he stopped her from doing so.

"You're gorgeous"

Flustered from the new compliment, she stopped struggling but continues to squirm under his intense gaze. His red eyes seemingly memorizing her body in evey nooks and crannies. He looked at her mounds that weren't small nor big, just the perfect size for her physique. Her stomach that was so flat and sexy he couldn't help but caress it. He could see the abs hidden by her sleeper build whenever her muscles would tense and he couldn't help but trace it. Then down that was her womb covered by her purple underwear that was soaked wet from her continuous arousal. He couldn't help but lick his lips at how sexy it looked, feeling his own throbbing hard.

Her womb and stomach. If they were to have a baby then those two would be the most obvious place for it. He imagines her belly being swollen from the child they'll produce once he gives her his sperm. He traces that area, purposely slipping his fingers in the underwear and grazing her clit earning a gasp from her. Her thighs pressed so close to each other, he wanted to pry it open and...

"Soshiro, please stop staring already"

She looks so pretty and so sexy that he wonders how he got so lucky to have her. He wanted to touch her immediately, to make love and have babies but not yet. It's not the time yet.

"Tell me, Kagami. What do you want me to do?"

He leaned down to her ear and asked in a whisper. A wide smirk in his face at seeing the blood rush to it. She looked at him with a pout, her face filled with desperation due to his teasings. She bit her lips in hesitance.

"Please"

"Hmm?"

He mused, continuing to move his hands up and down her stomach, purposely grazing her breast with one while the other the place between her thighs.

"Please, Soshiro"

She gripped on his arm, pleading with her eyes. It was glistening from all the yearning and lust and he couldn't help but be captivated by it. He bit his own lips as he tried to resist but she makes it so hard for him to do so. Giving in, he once again devoured her lips participating in a battle of tongues. Then he moved down, licking and kissing her jaw to her neck then to her collarbones, kissing it and sucking on it. Both his hands now touching her breasts, squeezing it basking in how soft it was, with his finger pinching her nipples. His clothed knee finding its way between her legs and separating them as he presses it against her heat, grinding against it.

Kagami was a blubbering mess from how overstimulated she was. She's too sensitive to his touch, reacting to every little detail that she felt like her brain was a mush. She kept on calling out his name, moaning and gasping so desperately that he wonders how she'd react once they finally did it.

He traced a line with his tongue to the area between her breast after he finished placing hickeys on her collar. He kept on marking his way until he reached the peak of her left mound. With bated breath, he placed it in his mouth, sucking like a baby. His free hand now stroking her sides.

Kagami's eyes widened as she felt the soft, warm muscle on the bundle of nerves on her chest. As he kept on sucking on her nipple, biting it and circling around it after with his other hand massaging and pinching her abused nipple. The pleasure was too much as he keeps on stimulating her other areas that she could feel the knot of her stomach starting to come undone.

"So-ahh-shiro~ There's.. There's something coming out ahhh~ stop~"

When Soshiro heard that, he didn't stop but rather became more aggressive, his free hand foregoing her sides to touch the little bundle of nerves down there. He pressed on her clothed clit and circled around it with his thumb in a fast motion. That addition fastened the process to which she came with a loud moan. He stopped what he's doing to give her some time to rest and seeing her wasted expression boosted his ego. She was still recovering from her high, panting hard when he said...

"We're not done yet"

She glanced down at him to see him place wet kisses on her stomach. She didn't notice it before but he was clearly touching and kissing on her scars tenderly. Even though it was already fading he still chooses to pay attention to it and that gave her butterflies. But as he went down a bit more, she gulped.

He was in between her legs placing a soft kiss on the hem of her underwear then leaning back to observe the soaked spot. Earlier, it was just a small spot but now it was soaked after cumming for the first time. He placed a little kiss on her clothed heat, specifically where it was soaked before proceeding to remove her panties. As soon as he saw it, he let out a gasp like a child finding a new favorite toy, she could see the excitement on his face. She hurriedly tried to close it but her body was still weak from all of that pleasure that she couldn't fight back from his hands.

His grip on her thighs was strong as he bit and sucked on her inner slowly going down again. Getting nearer and nearer her unclothed heat this time. His tongue giving it a long lick starting from her hole to her clit. He sat back up to show her his expression as he savored her juices, licking his lips at the end.

"Yum~"

He gave her a final smirk before burying himself down there once again, this time shamelessly lapping up all the juices she's producing. Her heart was beating so fast from embarrassment at his eagerness and teasing but she couldn't do anything as her body trembled from the pleasure. Her voice music to his ears knowing that he was the cause of this symphony. The nectar she was producing was so addicting that he couldn't help but come back for more. He needed more so he removed his hands from her thighs to let it rub her clit and the other place a finger in her hole.

She gasped at the unfamiliar sensation inside her, how his finger moved around in whatever motions trying to find something. He pumped it inside out slowly to gauge out her reactions. Glancing back at her face, he could see just how much his actions were affecting her so he went back in to further pleasure her. He just wanted to give her so much love y'know.

He added another finger, scissoring inside and curling making her moan even louder. His tongue joining in despite how tight it was getting. Of course he never forgot her bundle of joy. He is taking his sweet time as he wanted to find that sweet spot, the spot would elicit an even louder moan. He pumped in and out maintaining a pace moving it around until he finally finds that gummy area. He inserted another finger and went faster, hitting that same spot over and over again. Partnered with her clit being tortured by the fast paced circling and rubbing, it didn't take long for her to come again. She clenched his hair and almost strangled him with her thighs yet he still didn't stop as he rode her high.

"Too much! It's too much!"

She could feel her hips trembling so hard yet he hasn't stopped at all, maintaining that fast paced pumping and wriggling, his thumb abusing her clit even further and his tongue lapping up everything.

She was seeing stars from the overstimulation, her eyes going to the back of her head as she kept of moaning, no longer able to form coherent sentences. She could feel another wave coming down, tilting her head back and arching her back, she released again.

Finally giving her mercy, Soshiro stopped it all at once. He removed his fingers from her heat and watched her body still trembling. He removed the restricting clothing that was now sticky from sweat in their workout. His pants unbuckled, freeing his member. It was throbbing red and physically hurting from the previous constriction. It was hard from arousal and has been leaking with precum since earlier wanting to finally have a release. He watched the woman he loves slowly recovering yet still out of her mind as he stroked his member, just watching her fucked out image was making it twitch and as he remembered her reactions from earlier, it didn't take long for him to pump out his own release.

Feeling something warm and sticky landing on her stomach, Kagami focused her eyes to see her fiance, now naked, touching his own member. She couldn't help but bite her lips at the sight, from how lean and muscular it was, even more so as she looked at his face full of concentration as he rode his high.

"You liking the sight?"

He asked her with a smirk, noticing her blatant oogling. It made her blush again before looking away, though she didn't hide her nod from him earning her a chuckle.

"Sorry I don't have a condom so..."

He completely removed his own clothing, proudly exhibiting his member. It was on the leaner side yet longer at around 6-7 inches. He was preparing to go and take care of his problem by himself.

"It's fine if we don't use one. I-I'm ready for it but if you aren't then I..."

She tried to sit up to go try and help him but was down again. She usually have a lot of strength and stamina yet this activity greatly consumes it all. He went to sit down beside her and hugged her, placing a kiss on her head.

"I'm also fine with it but are you sure?"

"Yeah though I... I can still try to help you with that"

Stuttering a bit about her offer, Kagami couldn't help but let out a shy look. Soshiro chuckled at her conviction and willingness to help but...

"Maybe next time"

They kissed each other passionately before he moved back on top of her and readied to position himself. They both know what this means are fully ready to accept what happens next. For now, they've got important matters to attend to.

Looking at each other in the eye, fingers interlocked together, he went inside. It was a complete different experience compared to earlier. Kagami could feel an even longer length than his fingers reaching far deeper into her hole, she let out a gasp from how it completely filled her up. Soshiro, though, had to give it his all not to immediately cum from how tight she was. He pressed his forehead on hers as his brows furrowed in deep concentration, letting out grunts. And when he finally got it all in, he waited for her signal before moving.

He started the pace slow and sensual, wanting their first time to be something special, to be making love and not just sex. He was going deep and accurately hitting her spot yet never changing the pace. Looking at each other in the eyes, giving out a smile despite the moaning and grunting. They were completely matching each other's movements, proof that they've known each other for a long time to know what to do next, despite this being their first time.

He would whisper to her sweet nothings, praises, and words of assurance. Rubbing her hand and bringing it up to kiss it. He's clearly proven to her just how much she means to him and it fills her with so much joy.

"I think i'm the happiest woman in the world right now"

With the tears falling down her eyes once more, never looking away from his, she thanked him to which he shook his head.

"You'll be the happiest forever, not just now"

He made her a promise, he said it with much certainty that she felt like it's true... She believe it to be true. They both share a laughter even as they both feel their orgasms coming closer.

"I love you, Soshiro"

"I love you too, Kagami"

With their lips pressed against each other, they moved their bodies in synchronicity getting more desperate after each stroke. Both wanting to reach their orgasms in a feral attempt, their feelings for each other so overflowing until finally... Finally, they came together, truly becoming one with each other. They ride their high together and stopped.

"I love you"

They looked at each other and let out another round of chuckles and giggles.

"Uzui Kagami, you are the loveliest woman I've ever met and I'm honored to be chosen to stay by your side"

"Hoshina Soshiro, you're the kindest man I've ever met and I'm thankful that you chose to stay by my side"

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[elliesbelle]

hiii love idk if you’re taking requests but if you are, would you be able to do something elliexreader based off of the song wish you were sober or heather by conan gray <3

while i die

chapter 1

pairing: best friend!ellie x reader

synopsis: only if ellie knew how much you loved her. but she likes someone better.

content warnings: modern au, cursing, angst, unrequited love, no comfort

word count: 4.3k

chapters: 1) while i die, 2) rained on with you, 3) eviscerated

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the heartbreak trilogy spotify playlist

based on the conan gray song "heather"

a lot of y’all have asked for a part 2 to this one-shot, so i made a promise that if y’all get my friend’s band “equal creatures” to 350 followers on spotify, you will get a part 2 ♥︎

You roll over in bed towards your nightstand after a restless night of sleep. The first thing you reach for is your phone, which had been blaring for a while to wake you for work. You hit the seductive “snooze” button, not having any actual intentions to fall back asleep but knowing that you’ll stay lying in bed for two more hours if you’re not reminded to get up every eight minutes a few times. 

Unlocking your phone, you check your messages first. Two texts: one from your best friend Beth and another from your close coworker Lina. As you read their respective messages, you feel a black hole beginning to open up in your stomach. 

She still hasn’t texted me back… 

After responding blandly to your friends, you reluctantly open up Instagram and scan the stories of the people you follow. You ignore all that of your friends and instead tap on the one with the picture of a face you’ve memorized like the back of your hand. When it opens, your stomach lurches and your eyes go glassy. 

The first story was posted the night before and is of a tattooed hand holding a bouquet of flowers with a caption that reads, “her faves.” You notice that the flowers are pink camellias. Her new girlfriend’s favourite flowers. Your favourite flowers. 

The next story was that of two hands woven together with a caption that read, “she loved the flowers” right next to them with several heart emojis. One of the interlaced hands was adorned with several silver rings, one of which you recognized very well. You were the one who picked it out and gifted it to her. 

“Dude, what! This looks fucking amazing!” Ellie cried out. 

In her hands, she held a small, velvet blue box with a silver ribbon falling around it, unwrapped. Inside the box, safely cushioned, was a shiny, silver ring. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” You said, excitedly. “Check this out.” 

You picked the ring up from the box, lifting it up to her eye level. Delicately, you twisted what looked like a tiny hinge on the side to reveal that the ring actually contained multiple bands. The outer, exposed brim was decorated with ornate spirals. The next one had Latin engravings that you vaguely recognized as astronomical terms. The innermost hoops were inscribed with the symbols of the Western zodiac. You twisted the hinge back the other way to once more conceal the inner bands and give it the appearance of a singular ring again. 

“Holy fucking shit!” Ellie cussed loudly, dropping the box to clutch at your hands still holding the ring. “How the fuck?!” 

She snatched the ring out of your fingers, twisting the ring open and closed over and over. You giggled at her childlike enthusiasm. 

“So… You like it?” You asked, chuckling. 

“Fuck, yeah! Of course I love it!” She exclaimed. “It looks like a fucking armillary sphere!” 

“I genuinely have no idea what that is or what that means,” You admitted truthfully. “But as long as it makes you happy—” 

“Dude, of course it does!” She said excitedly. “You are the greatest best friend ever. Oh man, I’m never taking this shit off.” 

Ellie tried it out on several fingers and found that it fit best on her left ring finger. You desperately pushed away any and all implications of the positioning. 

“You really know me so well, man,” She sighed, admiring the ring on her hand. “You didn’t have to get this for me! It’s not even my birthday or anything!” 

You shrugged nonchalantly, even if the intentions behind your generosity were anything but nonchalant. 

“I just saw it and thought that you might like it.” 

“Well, you were wrong because I love it.” 

Ellie gave you a huge grin that ignited a wildfire in your stomach. 

“Oh! It’s made of sterling silver too, none of that cheap shit. So it won’t leave you with those gross, green stains or anything.” 

Ellie looked at you completely dumbfounded. 

“I really don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life.” 

You tap uneasily to view Ellie’s following story. The fingers holding your phone grow cold and begin to tremble as your eyes warily take in the face of Ellie’s new girlfriend. 

She was incredibly beautiful, undeniably so. Her eyes sparkled, mirroring the gentleness of a clear, blue sky on a bright, sunny day. She had the face of an angel, the ones you’d see in Renaissance paintings: pure, gentle, exquisite. The genuine, trustworthy look on her face makes it impossible for any sane person to hate her. 

Some part of you still did. But being desperately in love with your best friend meant you weren’t fully sane in the first place. 

You realize that she’s wearing a familiar sweater: Ellie’s favourite grey, polyester hoodie. You of all people knew how incredibly attached to that sweater she was, almost like it was a safety blanket. You couldn’t blame her; it was soft, warm, comforting. She took better care of it than she usually did the rest of her clothes. And it always smelled like Ellie. 

The caption for this picture was, “someone stole my favourite hoodie.” She’d tagged another Instagram account, sunny-heather, and it took everything in you not to click on it. 

Ellie’s girlfriend posed shyly with a bashful smile, throwing up a peace sign. It appeared as if Ellie had caught her mid-giggle. She had a perfect manicure, straight white teeth, dimples on each side of her face. She looked so sweet, nauseatingly so. 

She looked so beautiful wearing that sweater. 

December had just begun and the weather was finally catching up with the season. After a mostly and uncommonly warm month of November, you hadn’t bothered wrapping up earlier that morning before leaving the house. It was to your detriment when around midday, you were hit with gusts of brisk air that brought goosebumps to your bare, uncovered arms. 

Later that afternoon, you and Ellie visited your local Starbucks for both situational and liquid heat. Ellie had taken pity on your shivering form all day and lent you her hoodie, having already been wearing a warm, long-sleeved shirt underneath. You’d initially declined it, but when your body began to reach hypothermic levels, you quickly pulled it over your head and accepted its polyester warmth. 

As you got in line to order, Ellie was teasing you for your poor choice of winter attire. 

“This is why you check the weather before you leave your house, dummy.” 

“It was 62 degrees over the weekend! I didn’t know it was going to be this cold all of a sudden!” 

“Dude, it’s already the third of December. You should have expected it to get cold as shit at some point.” 

“At some point! But not yet, I’m not ready!” 

Ellie playfully rolled her eyes at your sheer stubbornness as the cashier called you forward. You both ordered large hot chocolates, neither of you a huge fan of coffee. You and Ellie played a brief dance of who was going to pay for your drinks. Ellie eventually and quickly won, as she usually did. You conceded and consented to be the one to leave some cash in the tip jar before you both scooted over to the side towards the pick-up counter. You bickered affectionately back and forth until your drinks were eventually placed in front of you. 

You visited this particular Starbucks regularly, partly because of its convenience in distance to both your apartment and your job. But mostly, it was larger than a usual café and spacious enough for several quiet, peaceful corners for patrons to occupy. Ellie’s and your favourite spot was a table on the loft-like second floor where you could look down at other customers and make up stories or pass off harmless, though sometimes needless, judgment. 

As you carefully sipped your hot chocolate, you and Ellie made your way upstairs to your usual, unoccupied table. You made yourself comfortable, sitting across from her. She rolled up her sleeves instinctively, showing off her arm tattoos, including the one of a moth perched on top of several ferns. Of all her tattoos, that one had always been your favourite. 

“So are you planning on wearing my sweater all day or—?” She inquired. 

“What do you mean ‘your’ sweater? This is mine now.” You proclaimed. 

“Hey!” She protested. “Don’t you dare think of stealing my favourite hoodie!” 

“It’s just so comfy!” You giggled. “And it’s so soft and cozy, and you know how much I love polyester.” 

“Thief.” Ellie chuckled. 

You made a show of burrowing into the hoodie in order to claim your clothed territory. Ellie laughed at your goofiness. 

“See, this sweater was made just for me!” You insisted, returning to a regular position. 

“I mean, I will admit that it does look better on you than it does on me.” 

You blinked. 

“Really?” You asked. 

“For sure, dude,” Ellie insisted. “I just look like some boring, basic white dude when I wear it. But I don’t know, you kind of pull it off.” 

“I pull off a plain, grey sweater?” 

“I don’t know what to tell you, man! You just look cute in it!” 

Your cheeks grew so warm that their heat rivaled that of your hot chocolate. 

Before you could properly respond to Ellie’s casual, off-handed compliment, she spoke up once more. 

“We should really come here more often.” She said. 

“Oh, umm,” You began, still reeling from the moment. “Yeah, we should. We don’t go as often as we did back in high school.” 

“Yeah, we really wasted our allowance on so many shitty, dry cake pops.” Ellie recalled. You laughed at the fond memory. 

“Why the sudden interest though?” You asked curiously. 

“I mean, this used to be our ritual, you know? Getting drinks and just hanging out here for hours.” 

“You know, we do that everywhere else already, El.” You smiled, shaking your head. 

“Okay, true, true,” Ellie relented. “Buuuut, did you happen to see the barista that took our orders earlier?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed before looking down towards the ground floor and scanning the front counter. You weren’t quite sure which one of the several baristas had served you, not having paid much attention when you were putting your orders in. 

“Uhh, I guess? I mean, not really.” You admitted. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Ellie playfully scoffed in surprise. “You didn’t see that she was hot as fuck?”  

Your stomach dropped at her words. 

“O-oh.” You murmured. “I guess I didn’t notice.” 

“Come on, dude, you have eyes! She was gorgeous!” 

You gulped as you felt your heart plummet towards the floor. 

“Do you think I should ask for her number?” Ellie questioned, completely oblivious to your shift in demeanour as she tried to sneak a peek at the front counter below. 

“Oh, umm, sure, I guess so.” 

“I mean, I don’t wanna come off as a creep. Plus, she might not even be gay.” 

Your fingertips grew colder and colder with each second that passed, despite the way you were grasping your warm cup tightly. You would have been more worried about your drink exploding in your hand if you were much more present in the moment. 

“What am I talking about, she works here. Of course she’s gay.” Ellie chuckled at her own joke. 

You could barely muster enough of your trembling voice to reply, settling for a seemingly agreeable hum. 

“What do you think, dude?” Ellie asked, finally turning back towards you. 

You feigned a smile, succeeding only in giving her a weak, partial one. 

“Go ahead, El. Why not?” 

Ellie’s last Instagram story was what sent a jagged knife through your heart. 

It was a video this time: she had her arm wrapped around her girlfriend, who was still wearing her hoodie. Both wearing wide smiles, they were both snickering about something for a moment or two. 

Then Ellie planted a kiss on her lips. And again. And again. 

As the video ends with their lovey-dovey giggling, your lips let out an involuntary sob. You press your fists onto your eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. Head throbbing and gut nauseated, your body trembles from the waves of anguish crashing down on you. 

You stare at the ceiling and consider staying home from work. Nobody would benefit from being around your zombie-like presence. But feeling pathetic about missing work as a consequence to your broken heart, you chastise yourself for the mere thought of it. 

You spend a few minutes composing yourself, pushing every emotion to the back of your brain as forcefully as you can. It seems to last for a lifetime, but you’re able to eventually soothe your tears and take several deep breaths. 

Forcing your lifeless body out of bed, you begin your pre-work morning routine. The streaks on your cheeks from the unfaithful tears previously falling were scrubbed away when you washed your face. Tremoring fingers prepare your breakfast, which you end up mostly throwing out as a result of a queasy stomach. It feels completely futile to continue your day, but Ellie’s world continues to turn. Why shouldn’t yours? 

You’re at work, spacing out as you’d been doing so often recently. Coworkers continue to ask throughout the day if you’re alright, but you merely smile every time and assure them that you’re just tired. That same smile fades once you turn away, a vacant expression taking its place once more. 

Before you came to work, you made the resolve not to check your phone every twenty minutes to see if your previously unread texts were responded to. But as each hour passes, fighting the urge becomes more of a struggle. 

On your lunch break, you relent and finally check your messages. You only have one unread text from your best friend Beth, checking on you. None from Ellie. 

You begin to chew nervously on your lip before switching to your nails when your friend and coworker Lina finds you. She pulls up a chair to sit next to you before tugging your fingers away from your lips. 

“I thought you stopped biting your nails,” She says, frowning. “You were doing so well.” 

“Sorry, Li-Li,” You reply, gingerly pulling your hand back. “I just—” 

“What happened now?” Lina asks knowingly. 

“Nothing,” You sigh. “That’s literally it. Nothing. She hasn’t texted me or called me or anything. She hasn’t even read my messages or even seen my Instagram stories.” 

“Babe…” Lina says sympathetically. 

Your friends have been lovingly chastising you lately for obsessively checking if Ellie had viewed your Instagram or Snapchat stories. You’d unintentionally trained your eyes to scan through your stories’ viewers to spot Ellie’s picture and username. Whenever you wouldn’t spot a picture of the auburn-haired girl among the list, you’d fight the instinctive urge not to break down every time. 

“You can’t be doing that anymore,” Lina continues. “You’re driving yourself crazy.” 

“What am I supposed to do, Lina?” You ask desperately. “It’s the only thing I get from her nowadays, and it’s barely anything.” 

“Exactly, it’s barely anything,” Lina repeats. “I know you love her, but…” 

“I know, Li-Li.” 

“She’s not even being a good friend right now. You deserve better than that.” 

“I really don’t.” 

“Stop that. Yes, you do.” 

“I just want her, Li.” 

“She’s obviously not good for you, honey.” 

Your phone buzzes from your alarm alerting you that your break has ended. You stand up from your chair. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Li-Li.” 

You hadn’t replied to Ellie all day, ignoring her texts asking if you wanted to come over and hang out. 

Ever since that day when Ellie asked out the girl from the coffee shop, she’d been spending immense amounts of her free time with her. The rest was spent with you, talking about her. Ellie hadn’t been much of a talker ever since you were both kids, but now she was endlessly babbling to you about her new girlfriend. 

You’d learned that her name was Heather Sonnen. She was in her final year of college and was attending a university nearby. She was studying to become a veterinarian and had a golden retriever named Sunny. Her favourite colour is purple. She likes to go hiking and kayaking on the weekends when she’s not working. She was very good at kissing and even better in bed. 

Every little detail you learned about her felt like yet another crack on your already broken heart. You spent many sleepless nights bawling alone in your bed, screaming and crying over a pathetic love you could never do anything about. 

It felt so sick, so pitiful that a girl who would never kiss you or touch you or love you took up every corner of your mind. You knew you could never be pretty enough, never amount to Ellie’s idea of a dream girl. And this new beautiful, angelic girl she’d fallen for continued to prove that. 

You would watch the way Ellie’s eyes lit up any time she spoke about her, the goofy grin on her face every time she said her name. You’d seen Ellie through several other relationships, each one treating your heart like a Hans Moretti box. But this time, her glow was brighter and her smiles were wider. You could tell just how far and how hard she’s fallen. 

As you were laying on your bed, your phone buzzed as you received another text from Ellie. You ignored it and closed your eyes, having no desire to hear more about her perfect saint of a girlfriend. After several more minutes passed, your phone began buzzing in succession. You sighed, waited a few moments, and eventually relented to answer it. 

“Hey, Els,” You greeted her. “Sorry, I was napping just now.” 

“Oh, my bad, dude. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“Have you not seen my messages though? I’ve been texting you all day.” Ellie demanded. 

“Oh, sorry, I just haven’t really been on my phone today.” You lied. 

“Bullshit, man, you’re always on that thing.” 

“It’s the truth, Els, I promise.” You lied once more. 

After a second or two as Ellie considered your words, she responded. 

“Alright, well, I was trying to see if you wanted to hang out today.” 

You stopped yourself from audibly sighing. 

“Sorry, I can’t today. Got a lot of shit to catch up on and take care of.” 

“Come on, dude, blow it off. I haven’t seen you all week.” 

“I really can’t, Els, not today.” 

You heard Ellie exhale in frustration on the other end of the line. 

“What’s been with you lately? We’ve barely hung out this month and you take forever to text or call me back nowadays.” 

You began to chew the inside of your cheek. 

“I’ve just… been going through a lot lately. That’s all.” 

“What, and you can’t tell me about it?” 

“N-not really.” 

“Why not? I thought we’re best friends. And don’t say that Beth is your best friend; I 100% had you first.” 

“We are, we are, but—“ 

“If something’s going on with you, I seriously wanna know.” 

“It’s nothing important or specific. Just been struggling mentally and all. Not been having the best time.” 

A moment or two passed where you held your 1breath, hoping she’d buy yet another lie. 

“Okay. I’m sorry you’re going through that right now. Can I do anything for you?” 

“No, it’s okay.” You replied, sighing in relief. “I’ll be okay.” 

“Alright, well, if you change your mind, just let me know.” 

“I will.” You said, knowing you never would. You couldn’t do that to her. 

“I—“ You began nervously. “I’m really sorry about today, Els.” 

“It’s okay, dude.” 

“Maybe tomorrow, if you—“ 

“Ahh, can’t tomorrow, I have plans with my pretty girl.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“Actually, I’ll text Heather in a bit and see if she can hang out right now so we can get a head start on our all-day date tomorrow. I planned out all this romantic ass shit to do.” 

“Ahh.” You replied, voice constrained in pain. Ellie didn’t notice. 

“Oh dude, I didn’t even tell you about this new strap I got for her—“ 

“Hey, Els,” You interrupted, not wishing to hear the rest of her sentence. “I think I hear someone at my door. I’ll call you back in a little bit, okay?” 

“Oh, okay, that’s fine. I’ll be right here.” 

“Right. Bye, Els.” 

“Talk to you soon—“ She was saying as you quickly hung up the phone, unable to further control the sobs that had been threatening to emerge ever since Ellie had said her name. 

You rolled to your side and hugged your legs to your chest, attempting to calm your hyperventilations. There was a ringing in your ears accompanied by Ellie’s words. 

“…my pretty girl.” 

“…planned out all this romantic ass shit…” 

“…this new strap I got for her—“ 

You’d been trying desperately to be a good friend to Ellie for the past month, despite everything. You’d listened and planned and supported, all the things a best friend should do. But the more mesmerized Ellie grew, the more everything within you died. 

You never bothered calling Ellie back that day. 

The drive home from work was mundane and uneventful. An old song sung by Ray Charles about being in love with your best friend plays on the radio. The second bridge is cut off when you turn the key in the ignition and exit your car. 

The steps you take to reach your apartment feel heavy, and it takes everything in you not to collapse where you are. You don’t even bother to take off your shoes when you cross the threshold into the dark entryway. The cushions of your living room couch wheeze sadly as you collapse into them. 

You drop your work bag onto the floor next to you before turning on the TV. Eventually, you choose to put on some basic early 2000s sitcom as easy background noise. It’s something you’ve seen several times before and your mind doesn’t fully process what the plot is or who the characters are or what episode you’re on. 

Your eyes gaze away from the television screen and to a blank space on one of the walls. There’s a spot where the wall’s off-white paint was accidentally streaked off the first week you moved in. Ellie had been helping you hang a picture up, and you were fooling around too much that the ladder you’d been using almost slid down and left a mark. You never bothered covering it up. 

You stare at the mark as if it’d transport you back to that day, back to the mostly carefree moments when pining after your best friend was a mere minor inconvenience. But her love for another and ignorance of your struggle turned that inconvenience into an anguish you were not prepared for. 

That day you fully accepted the feelings you had for Ellie, there was something within that knew instinctively that you could never have her. She was an impossible dream that the universe cruelly created to be untouchable. Deep inside, you knew a long time ago that your plain, boring friendship was just a placeholder for something bigger and more meaningful in her life. And she seems to have finally found that. 

Blinking yourself out of your stupor, you eventually tear your eyes away from the wall. You take your phone out of a pants pocket and open up Instagram. Accepting the feelings of miserable self-pity, you once again scan your stories’ viewers for Ellie’s name. You finally spot it. You let out a sad sigh. 

I guess she at least remembers I exist. 

Orange and purple dance around Ellie’s profile picture before you tap on it. She’d posted a story from a local band she liked and another about a new video game release she was excited about. The last was a selfie of her posing in her bathroom mirror. 

It was an inconsequential picture, just another Ellie thirst trap. She looked handsome in it as she always did. But something catches your eye, and you wish it didn’t. 

On her left ring finger, she was wearing a silver ring. But it wasn’t one you recognized. It wasn’t the silver ring you’d gotten for her. The one she always wore on that finger. 

Maybe the ring accidentally broke. Maybe it got dirty and she has yet to clean it. Maybe she just felt like switching it out for a day. 

Each excuse you come up with seems more and more pathetic. You know there was no point in justifying it, no point in finding reason. You know that Ellie wasn’t overanalyzing it. Not like you are now. 

Your heartbeats are heavy and you suppress the reflex to throw up. You open up your messages and tap on Ellie’s contact, knowing the most rational thing was to simply move on and continue being her friend. But what you find abruptly breaks your heavy heartbeats. 

The text messages you had sent still remained unanswered. But there was a slight change. 

She read my texts… five hours ago… 

Ellie wasn’t always a big texter, always preferring old-school face-to-face interaction. But with you, she had always been the kind of friend to respond right away. Even if just to say she was busy and would respond when she was free, she never left you hanging. 

Your jaw tenses and your vision momentarily becomes blurry. Your bottom lip trembles and you find that you can’t stop hastily bouncing your right knee. Tears form behind your eyes and your cheeks grow feverish, but you’re unable to process or feel anything except the movement in your hands. 

Your shaky fingers lead you to Ellie’s contact in your phone without a second thought. You click “Edit” and delete every piece of information, from her picture to her birthday to her nickname. You save your changes and scroll downwards. You stop sharing your location with her before glancing at those conclusive three words in red right at the bottom. 

Block this caller. 

Without hesitation, you definitively tap the button. 

author's notes:

this was very therapeutic. did this describe something i’ve been going through lately? no why would you think that what gave you that crazy impression ahahaha (shut up no i'm not thinking and pining over my ex, shut up!)

pink camellias because pink camellias represent longing lmaooo, i love symbolism and etc.

the ring reader gave ellie is based on a couple ring i gave to my my ex-girlfriend (the one i live with, not the one i’m in love with)! it’s super cool, i felt like it would be something ellie would wear!

is the part about reader obsessively checking if ellie has viewed their insta stories based on real life? no, why the fuck would you say that

the whole starbucks and hot chocolate thing is a little reference to something in my personal life but i refuse to elaborate further

me once again inserting myself in reader with them always saying they’re tired when someone asks if they’re okay cause news flash, i’m always tired 🙂

reader’s friends’ names beth and lina are inspired by my irl best friend and work bestie’s names :)

ellie’s gf’s last name is purposeful but i again refuse to elaborate further

the ray charles song mentioned is “you don’t know me” but my fave rendition is actually by jann arden from the “my best friend’s wedding” soundtrack (my family’s obsessed with the score of that movie, we had the tape and then the CD of it and played it nonstop growing up)

sorry this took forever to write cause LOL it may have been a little hard cause it was a little TOO autobiographical... hope y'all enjoy anyway lmao

taglist: @elliessknife, @mina-2812, @bellasfavepansexual, @slaysksmska, @theganymedes, @sno-leopards, @cosmikoo, @elliesnumber1gf, @eleactric, @thatgiraffefromtlou, @bellswlw, @kissesforells, @ratdungeon, @elliewilliams8fingers, @wex--12

[fluentmoviequoter]

Popstar Protection Program

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x singer!fem!reader

Summary: As a young popstar performing in LA for the first time, you don't expect to need police protection. A very reluctant and grumpy sergeant keeps you safe and gives you inspiration.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff, vague mention of heavier topics (nothing specific)

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (from such a good episode, too)

Los Angeles can be scary. The aerial shots in movies and TV shows make it look inviting, and the focus on the glamorous aspects tends to hide the dangerous underbelly of the City of Angels. Even scarier, you think, is walking through Los Angeles when a large percentage of the population knows your name.

When you started singing, you never expected to become a “star” or be on the covers of magazines, and you absolutely never thought you’d be playing a sold-out show in Staples Center. While you should be focused on practicing and ensuring the show goes well, you can’t think of anything else except the incident in the airport when you landed.

✯✯ 2 Hours Ago ✯✯

Getting off the plane in LAX, you first notice the lack of fresh air. After playing on the East Coast and opening in smaller venues in towns on the other side of the country, you expected this to be similar. Los Angeles is nothing like Charlotte, Boston, or even Nashville. Taking a deep breath, you grow excited to see Staples Center and all the other sights of Los Angeles.

But you don’t even exit the airport before your hopes and plans are shattered. A large crowd of paparazzi are blocking the area outside your gate. You try to navigate through them with your head down, but one of them knocks his camera into your arm, tilting you off balance and making pain radiate down to your wrist.

“Alright, back up! LAPD, move back!” somebody yells on the other side of the crowd.

Slowly, you notice that no one is pressing up against you now, and when you see a man in a police uniform, you release a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” you say.

He says your name, glancing over your shoulder. “Where’s your protection detail?”

“My what?”

“Oh boy. I think you should probably come with me; there’s some people that can keep this from happening again.”

“Why- why did it happen?”

“Paparazzi are practically vultures. They get paid by the picture to take advantage of people, invade their personal lives, and the closer the better. My guess would be one of the smaller papers or magazines heard you were coming and wanted to get a feature out before your show.”

“So, where are we going?”

“LAPD. Mid-Wilshire station is your best bet to get good cops and stay far enough from the center to avoid the cameras that seem to live there.”

“And then what?”

✯✯ Present ✯✯

“Absolutely not!”

Sitting outside an office with glass walls, you try not to look over as you eavesdrop. Your arm has been iced and wrapped, but the pain is now the least of your concerns. Three groups of officers entered the room after the cop who saved you explained the situation to the watch commander. At least one of them seems opposed to being your protection detail for a few days.

“We’re cops, not bodyguards! There are dozens of places in this city that cater to people like her!”

“Um, excuse me,” you interject, knocking on the open door. “I’m sorry to have caused all the upset, but I will find another way. Thanks for your time.”

Sergeant Grey says your name, gesturing for you to stay. “We’re going to take care of you. It’s your first time performing here and after your less-than-ideal welcome, you deserve someone to show you that LA isn’t all bad.”

“It’s not all good either though,” one of the officers adds.

“I don’t…” you begin.

“Why does this require three teams?” Bradford asks. You recognize his voice as the one that was wholly against the idea a moment ago.

“Bradford, this is your assignment. If you have a problem with it, take it up with IA,” Grey answers.

Bradford’s jaw clenches harshly, and his eyes flit to you before shaking his head and looking away.

“This is your protection team until after your show,” Grey explains, “Harper and Thorsen, Nolan and Juarez, Chen, and Bradford works with Metro so he knows this city inside and out.”

You nod along with the names, and a few of them offer their first names as well. After introducing yourself to the five officers who seem to care, you’re directed to an unmarked SUV.

“Aaron and I will be your mobile detail. You don’t go anywhere unless we take you there. Nolan and Juarez are more peripheral, unseen, protection. Lucy will stay with you as close to 24/7 as possible, and Bradford- well, Bradford’s here,” Nyla explains.

Chuckling, you thank her for the clear explanation and climb into the passenger seat after Aaron opens the door for you.

“I love your music, by the way,” he whispers.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that, and all that you’re doing for me,” you reply.

Aaron nods, closing the door and climbing into the backseat behind you. Your hotel reservation has been changed, booked under someone else’s name, and located farther from Staples Center. Watching the streets of Los Angeles from a police car window is, at the least, safer than the alternative, but it’s certainly nothing special.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Any idea as to why Bradford hates me without meeting me?” you ask Lucy.

“Tim is grumpy. He’s protective and loyal but he’s- he’s like a dog that wasn’t socialized enough as a puppy. Vicious until he gets to know you and then he’s the best friend you could ever ask for,” she answers, holding up one of your dresses.

“You’d look great in that color,” you muse. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Bradford wants to get to know me.”

“You think so? About the color? Because I need a new dress,” she replies.

“Take that one. Get it altered or just use the fabric, whatever you want.”

“Thank you!” As she hugs you, she lowers her voice to add, “You’re also young and beautiful and famous… Tim doesn’t always deal well with people who are different than him.”

You nod, but you don’t believe her. You’ll only be with Tim Bradford for a few days anyway. It shouldn’t bother you… but it does.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’re changing things around,” Nyla announces as she enters your room. “Lobby’s swarming with paps, but there’s also a crowd of men screaming your name.”

“So, what are you doing?” you ask.

“Bradford is taking point. He’s got some big plan that, and I quote, ‘no will catch on to.’ I won’t repeat the rest of it for your sake, though.”

“Grey is making him do it?” you guess.

Nyla hums, neither a yes nor no, but you know the answer. When he barges in a moment later, you stop talking, preferring not to give him another reason to hate you.

“Get your stuff, we’re leaving,” he demands.

You nod, walking into the suite's bedroom to gather your things. Part of you wants to know what Nyla and Bradford will say behind your back, but you’re also terrified that Nyla is just better about hiding her true feelings.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is your problem?” Aaron demands. “She’s in danger and you’re not helping any!”

“This isn’t the job I signed up for. I am a Metro Sergeant but I’m stuck on- on princess protection duty! She’s just a kid who sings,” Tim answers.

“It’s about her age then,” Nyla repeats.

“No! Well, yes, but she- what makes her special enough for a team like this? Why does she get a real protection detail?”

“Tim,” Lucy says quietly. “Have you listened to her music?”

“Why would I?”

“Her specific genre, what she sings about has made a lot of people angry,” Aaron explains. “Those paparazzi weren’t there for a ‘Taylor Swift is in LA’; they were looking for a much bigger story.”

“Spit it out, Thorsen.”

“Plenty of people have reason to try to kill her.”

Tim falls silent, looking at Nyla. She tilts her head in a ‘we can’t prove it but it’s probably true’ gesture. He looks back toward the bedroom.

“Look, I’m doing my job. I’ll be civil and that is it,” Tim concedes.

“That’s all we’re asking,” Lucy replies. “We’ll be in the neighborhood. Nothing can happen to her with our protection, right?”

“Right,” Aaron and Nyla answer, looking at Tim.

“Right. Because it is our job, nothing more.”

You come out with your single suitcase, waiting until Tim takes it from you to speak. Thanking him softly, you listen to his quick explanation that you’ll be staying with him rather than Lucy, and the rest of the team will be patrolling nearby in case of an emergency.

“You’ll be fine,” Lucy promises. “And thank you again for the dress. I can’t imagine how much that cost and I can’t thank you enough.”

Tim’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t ask any questions. Wondering why someone in your position would be willing to give away an expensive dress days before a concert confuses him. Tim reminds himself that he can’t start caring.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim’s house is incredibly comfortable. You can tell that he doesn’t want you here, and when he disappears into a back room with his phone and earbuds, you assume it’s his way of getting as much space as he can. Pulling your songwriting journal from your bag, you start writing, disappearing into the emotions and the story you want to share. Time falls away when you’re writing, and you don’t hear Tim reemerge or walk to the doorway before you.

Tim clears his throat, and you look up from your place on the floor. You look small and as young as you are, sitting on the carpet and leaning against the bed with a journal in your lap. Tim has something to say but nearly forgets what it is when you look up at him through your lashes.

“I will admit that I judged you prematurely, and I’m sorry,” he begins.

“It’s okay,” you offer.

“No, just, let me finish. Please?” You nod, and Tim continues, “I thought you were just an entitled kid who found a way to convince the cop from the airport that you needed special attention. Craved it, whatever. And you’re just, you’re young and famous and that confuses me. I don’t know what life is like for you, I can’t relate to any part of that fame.”

“I can’t relate to your life either, but I didn’t shut you out because of that,” you whisper.

Tim licks his lips before speaking again. “I’m sorry. Aaron told me that you sing about- that you- uh-“

“Write songs for people who will never relate to the love songs or the ‘thank God for my parents’… who will never relate to a song on the Billboard 100 or feel protected by a song? Yeah.”

“And I diminished that. I listened to your last album-“

“That’s what you were doing back there?”

“Don’t- don’t laugh at me,” Tim replies, finally smiling. “It was really good. And I truly am sorry.”

“Consider it forgotten.”

You raise your hand, and Tim chuckles as he shakes it. He sees the nearly full page of your notebook and leans down. You slam it closed, and he shakes his head at your sudden movement.

“They’re private until they’re available on iTunes and all major streaming platforms.”

“Got it,” he replies, mock-saluting. “And, just so you know, I needed songs like this as a kid. Still do, so thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the next 48 hours, Tim ebbs and flows. One moment, he’ll talk to you for an hour straight, but by that afternoon, he won’t even look in your direction. It’s dizzying, and you don’t realize how much you’re thinking about it, about him, until you reach the last page of your notebook.

“Ready for the show?” Lucy asks, dressed in an event security uniform.

Shrugging, you run your finger over the edge of your journal.

“Songs?”

Lucy sits beside you, offering a hand. You lay your hand over hers, taking a deep breath.

“I thought I was making progress with Tim. He apologized and he was being nice to me and then it all stopped. Like we backslid. And, for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Sounds like you don’t want to,” Lucy says softly. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“Then maybe you should sing to him.”

Laughing, you argue, “That would be even worse.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is humming while he and Aaron stand outside your dressing room door. 

“You listened to her music,” Aaron accuses, placing the song.

“Yeah. Even apologized,” Tim answers.

“You haven’t talked to her at all today. Did something- oh my- did you kiss her?”

“What? No, I didn’t kiss her, and keep your voice down! I had to pull back.”

“Why?”

Tim doesn’t answer but glances over his shoulder to your door.

“You like her.”

“No- maybe.”

“You need to tell her. We don’t know when or if she’s leaving.”

“That’s why I can’t tell her. If she’s leaving tomorrow there is no point, and if she doesn’t know, telling her could influence her decision.”

“What about the effects of not telling her?”

✯✯✯✯✯

You open the door suddenly, and Tim and Aaron turn toward you quickly.

“Whoa!” Aaron exclaims.

“You look beautiful,” Tim says, sending you a small smile.

“Thank you. All of you, for everything these last few days.”

“Break a leg,” Lucy says, waving as you walk toward the stage entrance.

“Everybody in position? This job isn’t over yet,” Tim radios.

✯✯✯✯✯

You notice Tim standing in the wings during your second song. As if your energy has been zapped from you, you fight not to collapse. Tim’s eyes narrow as he watches you.

“Instrumental,” you tell your bassist, who communicates it to the rest of the band.

Rushing toward Tim, his eyes search your face. His hands raise to your sides as he waits for you to speak.

“I-“ you stop, turning off your microphone. “I thought something was happening.”

“When?”

“No. Between us. I thought maybe there could be something there but then you stopped talking to me. What happened?”

“You’re supposed to be singing right now.”

“I have a journal full of songs about you, Tim!” you exclaim. “I can’t come out here and sing without knowing if those ideas have a chance of coming to life!”

“You wrote songs about me?”

“Tim,” you beg. “Just answer the question.”

“Nothing happened. We’re too different and I didn’t want to push too hard.”

“Who gets to decide if we’re too different? Because I disagree.”

“Don’t tell me you have a song about it, I’ve heard that one.”

You sigh, beginning to accept that Tim is skirting around a rejection.

“You can do better,” Tim says quietly. “No point in me showing you how I feel when you could have any man you wanted.”

“I don’t want any other man!” you yell over the music.

Tim’s eyes widen, and his hand leaps to your waist to your mic pack, turning it off and tugging your microphone down.

“Thorsen, your badge is mine,” he grumbles.

Tossing the microphone onto a nearby chair, Tim raises his hands to cup your face.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure since you said you didn’t want to deal with me.”

“That’s- I don’t think I put it like that.”

“No, you said you were a cop not a bodyguard. But I think you’re a pretty good bodyguard too.”

“I tried not to,” Tim admits. “Tried not to feel this way, I mean. But every time I see you, it’s like I see another part of you. You’re beautiful, and your music is beautiful, and I’m sorry for pushing you away and being-“

“Worthy of a breakup song?”

Tim sighs, leaning toward you. “You need to finish your concert.”

“Promise to be here when I’m done?”

“I promise.”

You grab your microphone, hooking it on quickly before waving at Tim and returning to the stage.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Aaron,” Tim radios, “Did you turn her mic back on?”

“Those things are tricky,” Aaron replies.

“Then maybe you should go talk to the tech department and stay out of my sight.”

“Yes, sir.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The lights dim, and as the crowd applauds, you run to Tim, crashing into him as you hug him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist, smiling as he congratulates you for your first sold-out show.

“You’ll come to the next one?” you ask.

“Only if you sing one of those songs you wrote about me.”

“I’ll sing them all. Even if you’re the only one in the audience.”

Tim cups your cheek, pressing his palm against your cheek as he pulls you in. His kiss is the opposite of earlier; a look that sucked the energy from you has become a kiss that breathes life and love into your very being. You pull back before leaning against Tim and can’t hear anything except your shared heartbeat.

“I think they’re calling for you,” Tim whispers.

The muddled yells of “Encore! Encore!” greet you, but you’re warm and happy in Tim’s arms.

“I don’t want you in my audience,” you correct. “I want you at my side.”

“Then I should be easy to find. Knock ‘em dead. Again.”

Tim kisses you again, and you credit that as the reason your encore was better than your performance (LA Times’ words, not yours).

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

What if MC saw death coming and was planning to fight it all along?

(Bear with me, my creativity levels are low so it looks like we're getting some impromptu self-insert MC lore/Arcana plot study -)

I understand a lot of why the MC is written the way they are - some of it is necessary for the plot, and many plot points themselves are necessary to set up an MC so vague that any reader would be able to see themself in them. But it's so easy to let a vague character become a passive character, and I'm not a passive reader. So here's my reconstruction of how Drue handled the Red Plague xD

What if the disagreement with Asra wasn't a fight? What if it was two best friends staring at the same problem and knowing, as different people, that they had different solutions to offer?

What if Asra left, not just because they valued their safety, but because in line with their own working style they thought they'd be able to help most by taking a step back and checking in with old connections for new approaches to curing the Plague?

What if Asra asked Drue to come with him out of a desire to see him safe, but already expected and respected his decision to stay where he could make the biggest difference?

What if parting ways didn't happen on an emotional high as a lover's quarrel got too intense, but was instead planned by two friends helping each other tackle the same problem from different sides?

What if they both knew and openly acknowledged what Drue was risking when he chose to stay, and that Asra's actions were in some part fueled by his fears?

What if Drue stayed up late the night before Asra left to help him pack, each of them playfully threatening the other to stay safe - that's their best friend they're taking care of?

What if Asra quietly mumbled "You'd better not die" and Drue shot back with "Like you wouldn't bring me back so you could kill me for it yourself!"

What if that led to a very sleep-deprived, 2 AM promise that if Asra wandered too far and got lost, Drue would find them and take them home, and if Drue got too close to the Plague and died, Asra would bring him back?

What if the reason Asra still feels so torn about leaving isn't because they feel like they abandoned their friend? What if that night is achingly bittersweet to them, because they felt how openly, platonically, and purely loved they were even while their own romantic feelings stayed hidden and unrequited?

What if Julian and Asra already knew about each other and had good opinions of each other because of how highly Drue spoke of them, either in letters to the magician, or over drinks after an exhausting, discouraging day treating patients?

What if Nadia came to recognize him, if not directly know him, because he was always perched on the top of a bookshelf in the library bumping his head on the ceiling as he devoured encyclopedias?

What if Muriel came to distance himself from him, because Drue was the only person who heard the Scourge rumors and ended up seeing his actions for himself in a desire to investigate?

What if the reason Muriel still doesn't want to connect with him (until he's forced to) is because the last time he saw Drue's face was in the Coliseum stands and he can't bring himself to face him or talk about it?

What if Lucio's resentment towards Drue goes way further back than the ritual, to his ongoing habit of sticking his nose where it didn't belong and investigating/confronting all his shady deals?

What if, when the letters stopped and Asra returned, the idea to resurrect Drue came from that unhinged pact and not from a refusal to acknowledge reality?

What if Drue as a conscious ghost was able to work in small ways, flipping book pages with a light breeze or sending the Countess dreams of Lucio's planned ritual, comforting and reassuring his friends that this was a path he was ready to take with them?

What if the only time Asra went rogue was when the moment came to strike a bargain, and they volunteered half their heart to pay the price when the planned offer wasn't enough?

What if Asra's relaxed attitude towards Drue's dependency on them as his caretaker didn't come out of comfort with being needed so badly, but instead out of the knowledge that he always had and always would be as independent as life would let him?

What if Drue as the MC didn't use his resilience to roll with life as it happened, but instead took Fate by the teeth because he had loved ones to live for and way too much stubborn spite to fall asleep that easy?

Just my thoughts :3

[tanoraqui]

Having just read/reread 2/3 of the serieses, the most interesting side character in the assorted Percy Jackson books is definitely Chiron. Explicitly or very clearly implicitly canonical facts about PJO!Chiron:

Obviously, Chiron is the metaphorical heart of Camp Half Blood, and the one actually in charge of it regardless of whoever the gods appoint as Camp Director. He’s the best parent a lot of these kids ever have. If Chiron isn’t at Camp, something is wrong, either at Camp or something is so wrong elsewhere that he’s off dealing with it. If Chiron goes down in a fight, it is quite literally time to Panic.

He was blessed/cursed by the gods with immortal life “so long as there are heroes to train.”

Because demigod lives are the way they are, this has trapped him in an endless grieving cycle of training young people just enough to survive for a little longer before they’re killed. Enough to die heroically at age 15 rather than desperately at age 12, like.

His unhappiness with this mostly comes out in vague allusions to the fact that you will probably die on this quest, which he refuses to elaborate on, instead forcing a smile back into his face and handing you a first aid kit for the road.

Because of this? he never goes to Olympus unless explicitly summoned. This isn’t something that’s been barred to him, it’s a matter of principle.

Because of all this? the gods immediately scapegoat him for tree!Thalia’s poisoning, despite the fact that literally half of them are also Kronos’s children.

Despite all this, there is absolutely no indication that any villain ever attempts to suborn Chiron by offering him, and/or the youths under his care, a better deal. Presumably because they know he’d tell them (politely) to fuck right off.

Grieve though he does, care deeply for every child who comes under his care though he does, he is never (outright) cynical nor does he hesitate to embrace the mythological genre and role he’s in. He trains, guides, and guards where he can…and he encourages them to be heroes, risky though that is. The second it might be safe, he helps Rachel attempt to become the new Oracle, even though the last person to try went mad. He takes a dozen kids who came to Camp Half-Blood for the first time 2 weeks ago into potentially deadly battle to save NYC, as a “field trip.”

Chiron is as good at archery as Apollo at his best (Apollo admits this, privately). I don’t think we ever see him shoot an arrow that’s not a successful kill shot.

In about 36 hours, Chiron can raise a small army of wild centaurs from any or all herds throughout North America. There is no indication that centaurs will regularly listen to anyone else.

He’s an honorary member of the ruling council of satyrs.

Chiron periodically coordinates with hero-trainers from other mythologies to avert truly world-shattering disasters. He does not seem to regard this as the gods’ business.

He likes Dean Martin.

Truly the epitome of that one good teacher who genuinely understands and supports you as best they can while dealing with an unhelpful and often unfriendly school administration, whom you eventually realize is somehow even cooler in their non-school life!

[pocketramblr]

AU where Hisashi calls Izuku regularly while he works overseas and one day Hisashi tells Izuku about his new boyfriend who is very sweet to him and unfortunately got into a bad accident many years ago that left him disabled so Hisashi helps care for him.Izuku later finds out this boyfriend is AFO.

why would you leave inko for afo. 'hold on yeah i think i'll leave this priceless bahia emerald and skip town and then i found a broken piece of chalk instead.' my guy. you deserve all might stealing your son.

1- ok so. Hisashi is an accountant who moves to new york to make more money. He and inko officially divorce, which means Izuku takes the Midoriya name and Inko has sole custody, but while Hisashi does not have to pay child support or alimony, he does opt to send them some support and tries to stay in contact because i guess his taste in men was so bad that he and inko just work better as friends. good for them ig.

2- actually Hisashi is just straight up color-blind: he can't see any red flags. Its not just his personal tastes. this man has worked for four separate blatant money laundering schemes since he went abroad. he has no clue. this is how he ends up coming into contact with AfO, but AfO's job offering is too indirect and vague, and Hisashi is like 'are you... flirting with me?' instead, but AfO can work with that. And while Hisashi certainly isn't a genius with people or warning signs, i will give him (and inko) this: he's a great lay.

3- He's also a very caring boyfriend, which was part of the problem with inko, they ended up really inciting each other's anxieties, but AfO likes being pampered so he decides to keep Hisashi around even if he isn't a employee. even better really, that he doesn't have to pay, bribe, quirkify, dequirkify, or threaten him. Hisashi, as a bit of a doting boyfriend, also has a lot to say about the man to others, so Izuku ends up hearing a lot of gushing over the phone as he's training with weights and is a bit too out of breath to change the topic. plus, he doesn't want to bring up going to UA until its a sure thing, his dad will definitely freak out about it not being safe. finally he tells his dad he got in, and hisashi is like 'oh yeah, cuz they changed the rules, which track?' and izuku goes 'oh uh hero track and alsoihaveaquirknowitscalledsuperpower oh look at that moms calling me for dinner sorry bye.'

4. Dazed, Hisashi gushes about his son to his boyfriend later, dropping that izuku's going to become a hero at ua, what a surprise- but, well, he supposes his son has always loved to watch heroes...

AfO is like 'hm. being a hero isn't very safe...' ('i know...') 'why don't you try to push him to visit you? keep him safe. maybe in a safe. don't you just wanna keep a hold of him?' ("i do, but that'll only drive him away. he's growing up... besides, if i was busy only keeping watch over him, who'd take care of you?") 'mm, good point. keep prioritizing me, i will neither put a hit on the kid as competition nor do anything to keep him safer.'

5. Reveal... uh yeah so Hisashi does mention to Izuku when his boyfriend goes missing, sometimes he gets called to work suddenly but he's never been gone this long, he's worried, is he restocking his meds, where is he? oh yeah, he vanished around Kamino. unfortunate, but not incriminating on its own. What IS incriminating is rewound!AfO, looking at Izuku with a tilted head. "I can see bits of Hisashi in you, hm. Just the worst bits, luckily." Izuku starts realizing what this means. Bakugo distracts him and blasts him to the Shigaraki fight, because he also started to realize what it meant and simply did not want to deal with hearing anymore of that. Over at the ShigarAfO fight, AfO tries to keep throwing Izuku (and tomura) off their game by wondering if Hisashi will find this new, younger body nice as well- probably, its not like the man had the highest standards. Izuku and Tomura are united in such abosolute done-ness with AfO that he's immediately snuffed out of Tomura's head and nothing remains behind. Tomura is like 'uh, do you want a day's break and then a rematch because i need to bleach my brain' but izuku is like 'oh no i need to punch someone through a mountain rn, lets keep going while i reform you with the power of friendship and incredible violence.' (By unspoken agreement, neither Izuku, Bakugo, or Tomura ever breathe a word about it to anyone, much less to Hisashi.)

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

warning ! Angst !

PART 2

PART 1

short a/n :

sorry for the terrible storytelling in the past chapter. i am trying to regain back me writing skills, and i hope it'll get better over time !

"What...happened...? Where am I..?" the young woman asked. Her body felt cold and stiff, as if she was placed in a freezer for a very long time. Which...almost seemed to be the case.

She slowly sat up, and realized that she was in a glass box of sorts, placed above flowers that lay beneath her. They were...beautiful blue flowers, petals pure and translucent, giving off a crystal blue glow. They were...still fresh and living, or so she thought.

"Flowers...? A glass box...?" she muttered to herself, a hand to her head as she tried to wrap herself around what was happening. And as she touched her forehead, she realized that her fingertips were deathly cold.

"Huh...?" "Those flowers...are made of special substance called the six-phased ice. Have you heard of it ?" Jing Yuan asked her, his hand still holding onto hers, being the only source of heat that was taking away the coldness from her.

"The six-phased ice does not melt, and adheres to the imaginary law, remaining cold to the touch and does not change shape nor corrode. It is perfectly safe." the smooth general told the newly awoken girl.

"Yeah...I think...I've heard of it before..." (Y/n) nodded, looking at her fingertips. They were very pale, and even slightly blue. It seems that she had been resting in here for quite a while now.

"But then...is this...what one would call a casket...?" (Y/n) asked, looking at the glass casing she was in, filled with ice flowers and placed on a small stage that was a few steps high. It almost looked like a funeral, where one would pay their last respects.

"You have been...resting here for over a few hundred years, Dan...I mean, (Y/n)." Jing Yuan told her, a small smile on his lips. "To keep your body from decaying since you still had a beating heart, and breathing lungs, we couldn't just kill you off now, could we ? So I ordered for them to keep you here, just in case, to preserve your body."

"A few...hundred years ?! A-are you sure ? Why...why did I suddenly wake up ?" (Y/n) asked, looking panicked. Her ears couldnt believe what she was hearing and her (e/c) eyes were wide with confusion and surprise.

"I...I wasn't...reincarnated like a normal Vidhyadra...? What do I look like now...? Am I old...?" (Y/n) asked and Jing Yuan laughed before getting up to grab a handheld mirror on a table nearby.

"It seems that you still remember that you are a Vidyadhara. Here. Take a look for yourself."

And as she took the mirror in her hands. She gasped a little. She was a beautiful young woman. With luscious locks of (h/c) hair, dainty (e/c) blue eyes...and the matching horns perched on her head. Right, her tail...she could still feel the energy there, but was hidden from sight or sealed away.

Right...she was a Vidyadhara. But how hasn't she died or reincarnated...?

She didn't remember anything. She only had those vague voices in her mind that...served as her past memories, she supposed.

"You were...sentenced for past crime, but...you didn't die from your sentence. You...were put to rest, instead. And like I said, since your heart was still beating, your lungs still breathing, we couldn't just kill you. And seeing that you have forgotten all your memories, I suppose you didn't reincarnate, but rather reset yourself." Jing Yuan said. And as odd as that was, it had truth in them.

Perhaps she was out for so long that her brain had deleted most of her memories like Jade Abacus...? She didn't understand it. But there was nothing she could do about it but continue with her current life, taking it as a form of reincarnation straight into an adult body rather than hatching as a child.

But...how could she still have some memories and still remember Jing Yuan...?

Perhaps...she really didn't die, but since she was laid dormant for so long, her memories have corroded themselves.

"Come, (Y/n). I have things to attend to." Jing Yuan said, getting up and holding out a hand to (Y/n). "I'll tell you more on the way."

(Y/n) gulped, feeling a little uneasy, but if she had rested for a few hundred years and he was the only familiar face she knew at the moment.

And so the Vidyadhara woman took the general of the Luofu's hand and slowly stood up. But since it was centuries since she last stood, her legs were weak, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She stumbled, but Jing Yuan caught her, holding her tenderly against his chest.

"Careful there, no need to rush. You just woke up." Jing Yuan said with concern in his deep voice. (Y/n)'s face reddened in response, finding it embarrassing that she couldn't even stand up straight.

And with his support, (Y/n) slowly stood up on both legs, finding herself clothed in familiar and elegant qipao in (f/c), and chrysanthemum flowers embroidered. Though qipao's are often short, she had an asymmetrical skirt that trailed behind her. This...was what the royalty would wear, something of the High-Elders would have. And...she had to admit, she had very cute heels even while sleeping.

Tenderly, with fear that she may fall, Jing Yuan took her hand as they began to walk out of the...monument that she lay in. The roads of the Exalting Sanctum...were still as bustling as she remembered they were, filled with citizens running around.

"Who...was I in my past...? How did I wake up ? How did you know I was going to wake up ? A-and...where are we going ? For what ?" (Y/n) bombarded Jing Yuan with questions as soon as they began to walk towards the Starskiff port, feeling quite self conscious that there were more than just a few eyes on them.

"So many questions, (Y/n)." Jing Yuan chuckled. Then he hummed. "Hm...let's say, in the past you were the former High-Elder's closest confidant. A little sister, one would regard. Younger than the High-Elder since you were born a few years after the young master at the time. But since Vidyadhara's cannot have offsprings, you were considered siblings since both of you hatched close to each other. And both of you had horns upon birth. "

"About waking up, there was a Stellaron activated on the ship. It caused the Ambrosial Arbor to reawaken, and...I had an instinct that since unusual things were happening, the impossible would happen with you." Jing Yuan said, looking at her with a soft smile on his lips.

"And...I was right. You reawakened due to the anomaly caused by the Stellaron. Do you know what a Stellaron is...?" Jing Yuan asked, concerned that perhaps everything was too much for (Y/n) at the moment. But to his surprise she nodded and understood.

She was understanding and grasping everything around her. Perhaps her past self had indeed died, but a new person resurfaced from behind and kept the most important memories and skills intact. Very handy. He didn't need to explain too much for (Y/n) to understand.

The two continued to walk to the port as Jing Yuan waited for a Starskiff to head off to the Alchemy commission. Jing Yuan still kept his hand on (Y/n)'s, gently guiding her and making sure she didn't fall. But so far, she was doing even better than he expected.

Though he had accepted her as (Y/n)...he...couldn't forget Dan Jia...the person (Y/n) formerly was. Not when they share the same face, the same horns of Vidyadhara... the same voice and...

Those beautiful (e/c) eyes...

He couldn't forget how she instantly recognized him upon waking.

"Careful now, kitten. The road ahead of us will be dangerous. But it shall still be within your power if you manage to resurface all your past wisdom with the power of the Orb of Abysm you once received alongside the High-Elder." Jing Yuan said.

"Jing Yuan !" a distant voice of Dan Jia called, a bright smile on her face as she smiled brightly at him, tucking a strand of (h/c) hair behind her ear.

And a starskiff arrived. Jing Yuan boarded the vehicle first, never letting go of (Y/n)'s hand. And he hoped he never had to.

Because the last time he did, was the last time he saw those beautiful (e/c) eyes open.

[deathblacksmoke]

Cyanide | Part 2

Pairing: Nick Ruffilo x Musician!OFC (Shaun)

Summary: 2000s-era local band AU. Nicky meets Shaun — older, cooler, a better bassist, a little mean. She’s nonchalant. He couldn’t be more enamored.

CW: smoking (content warnings updated by chapter)

Word Count: 2.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🖤

title and inspo from “cyanide” by creeper.

His head is fuzzy, ears full of static as he sits with Noah at the bar. His mind hasn’t cleared of the thought of her since 2 weekends ago. He hasn’t known a moment of peace since she stepped into her car and sped off, since he went to his mama’s in search of a phone book only to be hit with the kindly worded reality that searching by first name in the phone book is unlikely to pay off, since he went to their last show with high hopes only for her to be nowhere to be found.

If not for his vivid memories of that night — the sound of her laugh, the edges of her smile, the way her perfume smelled mixing delicately with her cigarette smoke — he would think he dreamt her. He’s humiliated himself in pursuit of her and still he comes up empty.

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Noah interrupts, rousing Nick abruptly from his thoughts.

He’s sure Noah’s gotten used to his semi-absence the past couple weeks — around, but not all there. He’s sure he’s grown a little sick of it, as well, Nick chiming in every now and again to bring her up. He’s sure it’s a little grating on them all, but he finds he can’t really help it. 

“Do you think I’ll ever see her again?” Nick asks before Noah’s eyes light up with amusement, a vaguely annoyed fondness. He works to push away the shame and embarrassment it makes him feel. “I’m serious, Noah.”

Noah rolls his eyes, but his expression remains soft, “Probably.”

Nick huffs, finding Noah’s response wildly unhelpful. He wishes he never brought it up, that he could push the thoughts of her away and go back to normal. Whatever normal was.

“Why don’t you just get her number from one of her bandmates?” Noah offers like it’s the easiest solution in the world, overlooking the fact that if he knew how to get in touch with any of them, he would have by now. He doesn’t know a single one of their names. “I can ask Daisy for you if you want.”

Nick feels as his expression falls, at the first ever mention of this Daisy. Nick isn’t sure who she is, but if she can help find Shaun, he doesn’t know why Noah didn’t mention her before.

“And Daisy is who?” Nick asks, his tone edged with quite a lot more annoyance than he intends. He doesn’t correct himself, though.

“The drummer for Morning Dew,” Noah responds. Nick feels lost, and he’s sure it shows on his face when Noah continues, voice laced with frustration. “Shaun’s band. Nick, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He wants to ask Noah why the offer didn’t come sooner. He wants to criticize him for keeping it a secret, but instead goes for something a little more subtle. He decides to be reasonable for the first time in weeks.

“I’m sorry,” he concedes. He figures it’s the least Noah deserves, after everything. “Can you help me?”

“If it’ll help get you back to normal, I’ll do anything,” Noah responds. Nick bows his head to take a sip of his beer, attempting to camouflage his humiliation as his cheeks heat.

She normally goes to Fallout on Thursday nights.

He stares at Noah’s text, up to the sign on the building, and back down to his phone. Wishful thinking has him hoping it’s the wrong place, but the chances of there being more than one club in Richmond named Fallout feels slim.

Noah had given him a very brief rundown, passed along from Daisy — it’s a goth club, so dress accordingly. He went for what he thought would be safe: black jeans, black t-shirt, black boots. He figured he would blend in, at the very least. As he looks at the groups filing through the entrance, he becomes increasingly sure he’ll stick out more than he ever has.

If he’s already so uneasy standing across the street from the place, he can’t imagine how he’ll feel once he steps inside the doors. His feet stay planted on the sidewalk. He can’t bring himself to cross the street.

He’s moments away from walking back to his car and calling it an early night when he remembers: she’s in there. The only thing separating him from seeing her again is a little discomfort, a few overpriced beers, and probably a headache.

Not to mention, the guys will never let him live it down if he comes home dejected and without even trying first. He remembers when he asked Noah for his help, when he felt positive he’d do anything to see her again. He still is, and he’s going to.

He feels wobbly on his feet as he makes his way to the door, receives a sideways glance from the bouncer checking his ID, and steps into the club. He’s left to immediately grapple with the glaring reality that this is not his scene.

It’s at once too dark and too bright, and loud in a way he isn’t used to. The unease on his feet has only worsened since he stepped inside. As he tries his hardest to find a single other person here alone and fails, he curses himself for not trying harder to convince Noah to come along. His scoff of absolutely not felt both firm and final, and even if he had been in the mood to argue, it’s hard to compete with the excuse of a 5 am shift.

All alone and out of his element here, he feels like he’ll be sick.

The thought of any alcohol in his system sounds like a worse and worse idea as the nausea starts to set in. The unfriendly bartender snarls when Nick asks for water, likely assuming it’ll cost him a tip. Nick slips him a $5 to get into his good graces, but it doesn’t seem to help any as he turns on his heels and makes his way to the other end of the bar.

Sipping what he was given and assuming he won’t be getting another, he sets his sights on finding her. He knows that he would recognize her anywhere, even as the strobes warp his vision and the thud of the bass rattles his bones. 

He briefly considers making his way into the crowd, getting a better look around, but he feels so unwell already. He doesn’t think it would be the best idea. He feels so foolish for coming here, for thinking it would be as easy as walking through the doors and she’d appear.

He hadn’t considered how creepy it would make him feel, like a stalker, underdressed in the goth club. He’s sure that if she’s here, she’s dressed appropriately, looks phenomenal — when she sees him, if she does, she’ll see right through him.

He can’t have this be the place they meet again.

He’s about ready to go, digging in his wallet for some extra money to throw in the tip jar when there’s a voice from behind him that sounds awfully familiar.

“Hey, Ant,” she shouts, confident over the music, getting the bartender’s attention immediately. “Water, please?”

The bartender — Ant, he assumes — doesn’t react to her with quite the same disdain he’d received. He wants to slip out without her seeing him, hide in his shame, but she’s so close behind him he’s sure he could feel her radiating body heat. It’s just his luck.

When she gets her drink, she doesn’t disappear back into the crowd as he’d hoped. She shuffles just a little bit closer, and God he hopes it’s not on purpose, but from the corner of his eye he sees her fingers drumming on the bar.

“You found me,” she says, and her flat tone does nothing to betray how she might feel about that. He wants to shrink into himself, or disappear completely.

He feels a buzzing beneath the surface of his skin that he can’t attribute to excitement. He feels sick. He has to leave, no matter the risk of it being the final nail in his humiliation coffin.

“I’m sorry, I was just leaving,” he says as he gets up from the bar stool and heads hastily for the door. He neglects to leave anything else in the tip jar, but it won’t matter, anyway. He won’t be coming back here if he can help it.

Before he can get too far, a delicate hand wraps around his arm to stop him. He burns from the inside out.

“You went through all this trouble to find me and you leave the moment you finally do?” 

He feels himself physically shrink. He wonders just how much she knows about the trouble he went through, how hard he tried to find her, how much it’s been eating away at him for weeks. He turns to her, meeting her eyes for the first time tonight. She looks perfect. “Daisy told me you might be showing up tonight. The least you can do is stay a while.”

“I feel kind of sick,” he confesses. He feels unsteady on his feet again, much more so than he has all night, and he’s worried he might pass out if he doesn’t get outside. It’s all a little humiliating. “I need to go outside for a little bit.”

She smiles at him then, and it’s the same dazzling smile he remembers from weeks ago. It tells him that she pities him, but there’s an endeared twinkle in her eye that makes his heart race. He’s pleased to just be perceived by her, and he doesn’t have it in him to find that embarrassing.

“I need a smoke break anyway,” she offers. “Can I come with you?”

He feels his hands shake as he nods, the same as when they first met. The overwhelm takes over. He didn’t actually consider what he would do when he finally saw her again, and he feels out of his element. Unprepared. He turns on his heels and heads for the doors. He can’t bear to turn around and see her trailing behind him.

He lights his own cigarette, not knowing if in his current state he can handle his lips touching where hers have. He suddenly feels like a teenager again, caught like a fish out of water and flailing. He wants to apologize, to say anything, but he can’t seem to find the words he needs.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” she asks, breaking the dreadful silence. She blows her smoke in the opposite direction from him like she’s used to being around nonsmokers. To return the kindness, although unnecessary, he finds himself mirroring her action.

“I didn’t realize how out of place I’d feel,” he admits. She nods like she understands and it’s the first time he hasn’t felt uneasy, like maybe she wants him here. He averts his gaze anyway. “I’m sorry if it’s weird that I came.”

“It’s not like I gave you much of a choice,” she concedes, knocking her knee against his. He feels so small as his heart speeds up, as he has to actively keep himself from reaching for her hand. The feeling that she gives him is so unlike anything else he’s ever known — to be under her microscope feels both like a blessing and an absolute curse. He doesn’t know what he’s meant to do about it. “I’m impressed you came. When Daisy told me, I was sure you wouldn’t show up.”

“I really wanted to see you again,” he says, deciding to go for the truth. It’s worked so far, no matter how mortifying it may feel. “I figured this could be my only chance.”

When he dares to look back up at her, he finds her already looking at him with that gorgeous smile he first fell in love with. She chuckles lightly and he can feel it everywhere. 

“Here, give me your phone.”

As he hands it over and  she flips it open, it really starts to sink in that he never really imagined getting this far. She felt like a dream to him, unattainable, even as he was doing everything in his power to find her. When she gives it back to him and their fingers graze each other, he’s set alight. He slides it back into his pocket — once he looks, it’s real, and it can be taken away once it’s real.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be home when you call,” she says as she stands up from the curb, stubs out her cigarette, taps the toe of his boot with hers. He looks up at her, knows he should rise from the curb and follow her back in. “But I’ll be waiting.”

She disappears back into the doors without so much as a goodbye, and he remains frozen in place. Her glance back at him burns itself into his vision.

Dizzy as he finally rises from the curb and heads in the direction of his car. Finally in possession of what he’s wanted this entire time, he feels more lost now than ever.

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[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 10

gingerbread competition (part 2)

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: SOMEONE GETS BITCH-SLAPPED, swearing, references to body image issues, references to eating disorders (very vague but still), uhh idk if there's anything else tbh

series masterlist

(the second photo will make sense when you get to the end I promise)

“There’s forty-five minutes left on the timer!” Ben called, making sure that everyone in both the kitchen and the adjoining dining room could hear him. 

Shrieks of joy and muttered curses split the air, covering up the music they had playing softly in the background, but Y/n and her Gramps remained mostly silent. Both were working hard to decorate and join together the many pieces of gingerbread they had laid out before them (which they had managed to put in the fridge for a little while to cool them down so that the icing didn’t melt), and currently Y/n was holding the walls of their building together as her Gramps glued them with icing. “There,” he said as he pulled the piping bag away, sitting back slightly after being hunched in his chair in concentration. “Right. Let’s put the roof on next, and then you can start doing all that fancy decorating you normally do.”

She could feel Steph watching her while she worked, a smug smile visible on her cousin’s face even out of the corner of Y/n’s eye, but she paid her no mind. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t get the better of Y/n and Anthony, and she had to hope that her family sided with the two of them and not Steph. Besides, she and her Gramps had to win this competition, just so that she could hold it over Anthony’s head for the rest of their lives, and that required total concentration. 

Unfortunately, if she so much as glanced directly in front of her, she was met with the sight of his hands. 

He was holding a piping bag like her Gramps was, tracing the lines of the gingerbread that he and Nana Jean had baked and were now bringing together, and she had a sneaking suspicion that he had sat opposite her deliberately because he now knew how much she looked at his hands. She flushed at the memory of him leaning down to whisper in her ear not too long ago, and cleared her throat as she returned her attention to her own gingerbread. 

“OI!” Sam shouted from the kitchen, making her startle and nearly drop the pieces of gingerbread she was holding. Y/n whipped her head up to see Will cackling at the icing that now covered their brother’s face. “IT’S MEANT TO GO ON THE GINGERBREAD, YOU IDIOT!” Y/n’s mother intervened before Sam could chuck the dry icing sugar at Will in retaliation, and Y/n shook her head with a chuckle. She heard Anthony huff a laugh from his position across the table, and she looked up in time to meet his gaze. His smile was blinding, to the point she wanted to ask if she could borrow his sunglasses, and she realised that she could watch him smile all day and not get bored. Before she would have scoffed and told him to stop being so painfully fake, but there was nothing but true happiness in this smile. Normally his real smiles were small; the opposite of the ones he gave clients, because he was attempting to be somebody they could trust. 

“What?” he asked, voice quiet but filled with amusement. 

“Nothing,” she shrugged. “You just look happy, is all.” His resulting blush made her stomach flip. 

“Oh.”

“You are so red right now, I hope you know that,” she mused, turning back to her gingerbread. Her Gramps had put the roof on, and it was safe enough to let go. 

“Funnily enough I can feel how warm my face is, but thank you for pointing it out, Schmoopie.”

“Anthony.” Her tone held a warning.

“Sorry.”

“What did I say about calling me Schmoopie?”

“Sorry.”

She was smiling regardless. 

~~~

“Ten minutes!”

Anthony wasn’t sure who had called the time, but Nana Jean didn’t seem to even notice. She was clearly on a mission, decorating the gingerbread house with pure concentration and very steady hands, and although he couldn’t actually see Y/n’s design (she’d put up some sort of makeshift wall a little while ago, claiming she didn’t want any cheating. Anthony thought it was more because she couldn’t stop looking at his hands) he had a good feeling that she wouldn’t be winning. He hadn’t been lying when he’d talked about his skills in the kitchen (even if it had come out sounding more like he was talking about his skills in the bedroom), and Jean had complemented his icing multiple times, making him feel warm inside. 

Steph passed behind him and he tensed, waiting for her to attack in some way, but she kept on walking and he let out a shaky breath. He wasn’t scared exactly, but knowing that in a very short amount of time everybody in the house would know that he and Y/n had been lying to their faces was making his heart beat a little faster. When Nana Jean smiled at him again after he finished decorating another section of the house he realised that he wasn’t scared that they would find out, but more that he would lose the family he had made here. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle them reacting negatively and wanting him out of their house and lives, and while he would have Y/n and his friends back in London he would always feel something missing when he thought about this place. 

“Alright, nearly done now. Those losers won’t know what’s hit them!” Nana Jean whispered gleefully, triumph already shining in her eyes. Anthony chuckled, readjusting the piping bag in his grip and holding back a snort when he caught Y/n staring again. “She really cares about you, you know.” He looked back at Jean, surprise clear on his face at the change in her tone. “I’ve not seen her this happy since she was a little girl, back before she went to London and saw the world for what it was.” He blushed again for the millionth time that day at Jean’s words, and she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. For bringing my granddaughter back to me.” He went to answer, but emotion made speaking difficult. God, he really hoped that Jean took Steph’s news well. 

“I’d do anything to see her happy,” he choked out in the end, doing his best to not sound too strained. Knowing how differently she acted around her family compared to how she acted back at Portland Row, he realised that Jean could see it too. Steph and Linda had royally fucked with Y/n’s head, and here was her grandmother telling Anthony that he was undoing their cruelty and being her saving grace. 

If either of them tried anything when Steph broke the news, he knew that he would not hesitate to drag them through the dirt for what they’d done to the girl he loved. 

~~~

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Time is up! Everybody step away from your gingerbread!” Ben shouted, looking up from his watch. He and Olivia would judge the creations, and crown the winners for the year. So far Y/n and Will had the winning streak of five years in a row, but now they were on separate teams the title was free for anyone to take. 

Well, not anyone. Steph and Linda had barely bothered with theirs, and most of it was still dough since they’d mixed the wrong proportions of ingredients and had refused to get their hands dirty. Looking around at her competition, Y/n felt confident that her and her Gramps’ house would win, even if she couldn’t actually see Nana Jean and Anthony’s because of the partition she had put up. 

Her sister and father went around the room, tasting different gingerbread pieces and writing notes in their little notebooks, doing their best to remain neutral. They struggled when they got to Steph and Linda’s house though, and Olivia outright refused to even touch their uncooked gingerbread. 

“Anthony and Nana Jean, this looks incredible!” Y/n’s father said as he approached their end of the table. Nana Jean snuck a smug look towards Y/n’s Gramps, and he just smiled in response, taking the barrier away so that the two of them could see what their respective partners had made. 

She had to hand it to them, they’d done an excellent job. 

It was a classic cottage-style house, complete with tiled roof icing patterns and carefully placed sweets acting as decoration, and given that Anthony had done most of the icing (and she’d seen his drawings on the thinking cloth) it was surprisingly neat. Now it was his turn to send a smirk in her direction, and Y/n was entirely professional and mature in her response and stuck her middle finger up at him.

Her father and Olivia tested the gingerbread, then scribbled down some notes in their books (Y/n was sure she could make out multiple exclamation points in her dad’s notes), and suddenly she could feel her heart beating much faster in her chest. Nana Jean was known for her gingerbread recipe and how good it was, and Y/n and her Gramps would have to beat them on presentation if they wanted to win. She wasn’t sure they would pull it off given how neat and generally amazing Anthony and Nana Jean’s house looked, and she swallowed thickly. 

Ben and Olivia rounded the end of the table to stand on Y/n’s left, and she wiped her sweaty hands on her trousers. Her Gramps didn’t look worried in the slightest, and when Nana Jean peered over the table to get a look at what her opponents had done he let out a chuckle. 

“Is that… is that our house?” Olivia asked as she stared at the creation. It had taken a lot of careful measuring from her Gramps, and then more measuring after the gingerbread had been baked, and then a lot of careful glueing and decorating, but the two of them had made a near exact replica of the house they were currently all stood in. 

“Uh… yeah. We thought it would be nice to do, you know?” Y/n replied, glancing back at her Gramps. He was too busy wriggling his eyebrows at Nana Jean in triumph to notice. 

“Well it looks perfect, love,” her dad said, and he quickly wrote something down in his book. Olivia nodded in agreement and clicked her pen to scribble down her thoughts, and then they were taking up the pieces of gingerbread that were separate from the main house to try it. Y/n held her breath, and beside her she felt her Gramps tense for the first time since the judging started. “Tastes perfect, too,” her father grinned, finishing the piece off and writing up the rest of his notes. 

“Holy shi-” 

“Language, Olivia,” her mother warned. 

“Sorry, it’s just really good gingerbread.”

“So,” Linda piped up, “when do we find out who won? I’d like to go and sit down somewhere… clean, if you don’t mind.”

“Liv and I will have a chat while you guys clear up in here, and we’ll see you in the living room when you’re done?”

“Sounds good!” Steph exclaimed, and everybody looked at her in confusion at her chipper tone. She was already moving to tidy up, and Emma frowned at her niece’s actions. “Come on, we need to know the results!”

“Okay… but you know that you definitely haven’t won, right?” John said, staring at Steph while she moved over to the sink to start washing up. 

“Oh, I know! It’s just that I’ve remembered something I wanted to tell everyone, but I thought it would be better to do it after the winner is announced!” Y/n felt her heart skip a beat or two in her chest, and she locked eyes with Anthony. 

“Right… well, okay,” Emma said, and she started putting things in the dishwasher. “You two go and discuss then; we’ll tidy up.”

~~~

It took them seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds to clear up, and Y/n knew that because she was checking her watch every ten seconds or so to find out how long they had until Steph fucked everything up. 

Anthony came and walked next to her as they headed into the living room, and his hand brushed over her back gently in reassurance. “We’ll be alright, darling. The snow’s melting anyway, so it shouldn’t be too long until we can go home if it all goes wrong. Not that it will, I don’t think. Nobody likes Steph and everybody loves us, so we’ll be alright, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Ugh, I hate this. I just wish she’d do it now and get it over with.”

“I need to be crowned winner first, darling,” he teased, sitting down on their loveseat. Y/n made sure to not bother with being careful about crushing him when she sat down on top of him, and snorted at the groan he let out when she did so. 

“Aw, Schmoopie, it’s adorable that you think you’ve beaten me.” She reached back and pinched his cheek, laughing when he glared at her. 

“Right!” Ben declared, moving into the centre of the room. Olivia held the plastic crowns that they had bought from a cheap fancy dress shop years ago, back when the competition had first started. They had to be put back in the fancy dress box when the day was over, but the winners got bragging rights for a year. “In third place!” They didn’t bother with placing everyone since nobody really cared much about that, and Y/n saw her family all sit up a little bit more in their seats while they waited to hear who had placed where. “Drum roll please… Will and Sam! Although they did end up with considerably more gingerbread mix on them than everyone else, their design of St. Paul’s Cathedral was ambitious and mostly executed!” Y/n thought that was a generous description of the gingerbread building that her brothers had made, given it had fallen over after about three minutes. 

“It was a very close call between first and second place, with our two teams being Anthony and Nana Jean, and Y/n and Richard!” Olivia chimed in, and Y/n felt Anthony tense behind her. She shared a look with her Gramps, and he gave her a nod that said ‘we’ve won, I know it’. 

“In first place, and taking the crown for this year’s gingerbread competition,” Ben said, his voice a little quieter so that everybody had to lean in to hear him. “Can I get another drum roll, please?” Everyone obliged, even Steph and Linda (although the latter did roll her eyes and pretended to gag), and Y/n could have sworn that nobody was breathing. “Y/n and Richard! Congratulations, you two!” 

She took a moment to process her father’s words, and then another moment to process her sister handing over the plastic crown, and then a third moment to process Anthony groaning in frustration behind her. 

Then she promptly turned around to face her boyfriend, pointed in his face, and said “HAHA!”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, darling. You win.” He didn’t look too cut up about it, a soft smile gracing his features, and Y/n planted a quick kiss on his lips. “I think your Gramps is more smug than you are, to be honest.” She looked behind her at her grandparents just in time to see her Gramps get up and start doing some sort of victory dance. Nana Jean had her head in her hands, but Y/n knew she was smiling beneath it. 

“Oh yeah, Steph?” Sam spoke up once the crowns were situated on the winners’ heads and people had calmed down a little. “What did you wanna tell everyone?”

“Yes! Well, I think I should first of all give Anthony and Y/n a chance to explain first, unless they would rather I did it?” Steph’s smile was sharp, and there was an icy fire dancing in her eyes. Y/n froze under the weight of it, and suddenly breathing was hard. Anthony slipped his arms further around her waist, and before she could even begin to think of what to say, he was talking for her. 

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, Steph,” he said, perfectly falling into the role he needed to play. He tilted his head slightly in mock confusion, and Steph’s smile only grew. 

“What’s going on?” Will asked, chewing on a piece of gingerbread he’d nabbed from the kitchen. “What’s it got to do with them?” He cast a glance towards them, and Y/n knew that if nothing else she’d have him on her side. He already knew about what Steph was going to say anyway, and he’d given his full support. 

“They faked the whole relationship!” Steph exclaimed, spreading her arms out as she laughed. She was met with silence while people took in her words, and then Emma laughed herself. “I can prove it!”

“Oh, Steph, you don’t need to!” Emma chuckled. “We know.”

“Wait what?” Y/n said, sitting up straight in shock.

“It was very painfully obvious that you two can’t stand each other,” her mother continued. “Although something must have happened at some point, because the weird tension is gone.” Y/n’s mouth was hanging open, and she looked around at her gathered family. Steph’s eyes were practically bulging out of her head. 

“Did… did all of you know?!” Scattered nods and murmured agreements were given in reply. “Why did nobody say anything?!”

“Because it was funny to watch you try to fool everyone and fail!” Steph cried, still trying to have the advantage. 

“No,” Nana Jean said, her tone harsh. “It’s because we didn’t want to make it awkward. I mean, you brought your boss to your family’s christmas gathering to play the role of the boyfriend, and if we’d told you we had that figured out after the first day, then what would we have done?!”

“Hang on, the first day?!”

“It was rather obvious, love,” her Gramps added on with a shrug. “You looked downright murderous when you looked at him. Emma’s right though, something did change.”

“Yeah, they made out,” Will said, not looking up from where he sat in the corner eating. Somehow he’d found more food, and when everybody stared at him he finally glanced up. “What? Y/n/n came and told me all about it!”

“Not all about it, Will! I told you the vague outline of what had happened! And if you knew since the first day then why the hell did you act so confused?!”

“Oh, I genuinely didn’t know.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Nah, it’s alright.” Anthony hadn’t said a word the whole time, and for a moment Y/n was worried he’d passed away from embarrassment or something. 

“Why is nobody laughing about this?!” Steph shouted, growing crazed. “Y/n couldn’t get a boyfriend so she had to force someone to pretend?! I mean,” she scoffed, “it’s ridiculous, and it’s sad! She’s too fucking fat and ugly to get a real one, and-”

“That is enough, Stephanie.” Anthony’s hands started moving Y/n off of his lap, and then he was standing up and glaring at her cousin with more hatred than Y/n had ever seen in his eyes before. “I have repeatedly told you that Y/n is better than you, and that you are a horrible person, and if I am never allowed back here because of this then so be it, but you do not get to continue your behaviour. I don’t know how many more times I can tell you to stop bullying Y/n before it finally gets through your thick skull, but you need to stop. She’s a completely different person around you because you make her feel awful and like she’s not good enough, and I am sick of it, because she doesn’t deserve it! You are the one who is being ridiculous and sad, because you can’t get over yourself and see that nobody cares!” His chest was heaving by the time he finished, and he’d been gesturing wildly as he spoke. Y/n couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride at how quickly he’d jumped to defend her. 

“It’s not my fault!” Steph tried, but she was cut off before she could continue. 

“What’s not your fault?” Y/n said, standing up and moving next to Anthony. “What’s not your fault, Steph? Because Ant’s right. I am a different person around you, because you make me feel like I’m not enough. Like I’m not pretty enough, or skinny enough, or just enough in general, and I end up starving myself to stop you talking crap about me whenever I come here!” She tried to ignore the weight of her family’s gazes as she carried on, knowing she had never outright mentioned any of this before. She doubted any of them had noticed what had been happening right under their noses. “I hate seeing you, Steph, because I know that I’m just going to end up crying myself to sleep or locking myself in the bathroom because of what you say, or how you look at me when I put just a little too much food on my plate, which, actually, isn’t that much food! It’s a normal amount for a person to eat to be healthy! And Ant’s right when he says that you’re the one being ridiculous and sad, because you are. I am done acting differently because you think I’m not good enough, and I am done crying over you, because you are not worth a single tear I have.” Despite her words, she could feel her throat closing up with emotion and tears threatening to fall, but that wasn’t because of Steph. It was more to do with the fact that she had finally stood up for herself and pushed back the way she should have done years ago. Anthony put his arm around her waist, bringing her into his side, and Steph was eerily quiet. 

“You bitch.”

Y/n scoffed. “For telling you the truth? Sure. I’m the bitch in this situation.” Steph launched herself at Y/n then, and if she hadn’t trained as an agent to have lightning-fast reflexes she would have been punched in the jaw. 

As it was, she and Anthony split, stepping to the side so that Steph fell face first into the carpet. 

“I hate you!” she screamed, pushing herself up. Before she could even try another attack, a resounding crack echoed around the room, and then Steph was holding her cheek in shock as she stared at Y/n. “You hit me,” she said incredulously. Y/n’s hand stung slightly, but it was worth it. 

“Yes, I did. Well done for noticing.” Anthony huffed a laugh beside her, and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop the rest of his amusement escaping. Emma stepped forward, her face the picture of rage and fury. 

“Linda, I think this is the perfect time to tell you that I don’t particularly enjoy having you around, and your daughter is an awful person. If I ever find either of you talking crap about either Y/n or me, as you so love to do, Linda, then I will personally kick you into the next century. I’d like you to go and pack your things, and you can find a place to stay in town.”

“You… you hit my daughter,” Linda said, staring at Y/n. 

“She’s twenty, Linda. I think she can take it.” Anthony really couldn’t hold in his laugh at Y/n’s words, and he squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head, pressing his lips tightly together behind the hand that he’d had to put back over his mouth. 

“We’ll be glad to go,” Linda started, casting a disdainful look at her sister. “At least in a hotel we’ll be appreciated!” Y/n highly doubted that anywhere would appreciate having Steph and Linda, but if it meant that the two of them weren’t near her then she wouldn’t complain. 

“Good. Off you go, and pack your bags. I want you gone by mid-morning tomorrow.” 

Linda and Steph fled the living room, the latter still clutching at her cheek, and their footsteps could be heard as they stomped upstairs. A door slammed, and then a second, and then there was silence. 

“Now. I don’t know… I don’t know what the correct response is to all of this is,” Emma said, her voice softening as she turned back to Anthony and Y/n. “But Anthony, I hope you know we’re not mad at you. Either of you, actually. Steph was awful, she has been for years, and I’m sorry that I never did anything before now.”

“It’s okay, Mum-” 

“No, it’s not. I’m your mother and I wasn’t doing my job properly. Mostly I’m just glad that you and Anthony have each other,” she smiled. Y/n looked up at her boyfriend and smiled too, feeling her face heat up when he brought his arm around her torso again and pressed a small kiss to her temple. 

“You’re really not upset that I faked a relationship with my boss and lied to all of you?”

“Nope,” Will piped up from the corner, somehow still finding food to eat even though he hadn’t moved. “It’s been a great source of entertainment, actually. Especially since I know now that you didn’t like each other all the times we made you kiss.”

“Will, I don’t think that’s really something to be proud of,” Ben said, glancing at his son. 

“It’s funny though,” he shrugged, wiping up the remains of whatever had been in the bowl he was eating out of. “Anyway, now that you’re actually together, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I guess not,” Y/n said, and Anthony’s grip on her waist tightened for a moment. She could feel him smiling into her hair. 

“Well, that’s all sorted then!” Nana Jean exclaimed, clapping her hands together once and standing up. “Who wants tea?”

part 11

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[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Home Pt. 8 || cbf! Simon "Ghost" Riley

Rating: M Words: 1.3K Pairing: cbf!Simonxafab!reader / teen!Simonxteen!Reader Summary: Teen Simon and his best friend often spend their nights away from their respective houses because they found a home in each other… CW: death, death of a CHILD, house fire, grief. Tags: you/your pronouns, time skip, heartbreak, grief and loss, reader's new family, canonical Ghost backstory. a/n: not proofread. THE NEXT CHAPTER IS THE ENDING (it WILL be angst and nothing else... but I'll write a happy ending alternative soon).

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He was thirty-three. You’re thirty-two.

It’s all over the news. A two-up, two-down council estate home caught fire in Manchester last night. Christmas’ Eve. All the occupants died inside, a family. Four adults, and one 4-year-old child, though they don’t reveal the names of any of the family members.

You’re halfway through stirring some spaghetti in a cheesy sauce as your eyes turn toward the television screen, already feeling a bit of sorrow for the poor child who lost their life. 

But then you realize that the news reporter covering the devastating fire stands in a street you’re all too familiar with… And the cameraman pans through the road, showing the house in question. A house you’re even more familiar with.

You stop in your tracks and drop the spoon and the pan. You feel a pit forming in your stomach, a scream getting caught in your throat, itching to get out. Your mind begins tuning out all other sounds in the home around you, your ears ringing.

You’ve tried not to think about it, about him… But Simon Riley has a way of popping up in your head when you least expect it. 

Usually, it’s just a stray thought, a leftover of a life you lived together, of a friendship that spanned your formative years. You see a brand of beer he used to drink, feel the scent of the cheap deodorant he used to wear, or spot a car that looks like the one his dad owned (the one you stole when you left Manchester) and the memories come flooding back for a moment.

You’ve healed, you’d say. 

You’ve grown up. You even have your shit together! You’re married to a man you love very much, have a maisonette flat in Dundee, Scotland, your own car, a fairly successful small business as a hairdresser, and a couple of “wee ones” running around, a 3-year-old daughter and an 8-month-old son.

So why does it hurt so much?

“Y/N?” Your husband calls out to you when he notices the way you’ve stood still, petrified, in the kitchen, eyes locked onto the television. You haven’t even noticed you’ve started crying.

He swiftly evades your 3-year-old who’s lying on her tummy on the floor, colouring a Christmas-themed picture with her little tongue out.

“What’s wrong, love?” Your husband, Samuel, asks, his hands gently cupping your face as he stands in front of you, looking down at you with worried eyes.

You shake your head and hang your head, shoulders shaking as you desperately try to control your sobs, to not alert your children. You pull away from your husband and you gesture vaguely, wordlessly.

You’ve been together for just about 6 years now, married for 2. He understands you enough to let you pass him to seek refuge upstairs in the bedroom. You allow yourself to weep into the pillows, clutching them tight.

You’ve lived in this flat, and lied on this bed, for the better part of your relationship. It’s warm and safe, and it feels like home… But now that you know that Simon Riley died, it feels suffocating.

Why does it feel like this? Why does it feel like you’ve just lost your footing? Like you lost all you knew? It shouldn’t feel like a tether has been torn between you.

Simon hasn’t embraced you in 15 years… So why does it feel like it did on those cold winter nights where all that kept you warm was Riley’s embrace, his breath and heartbeat, and whenever he shifted positions he accidentally allowed the cold to seep into your warm skin? Why does it feel like those few seconds of cold before his arms came back… but permanently? 

Why can you feel his absence in your bones? Why can you feel his absence tearing up every little string inside your heart?

Why does it feel like you lost your home in that fire?

Samuel dares to venture into the bedroom after a long while. He finds you sleeping, your pillows still peppered wet with tears. He situated the kiddos by finishing preparing lunch for them, and then putting them down for their afternoon nap.

He knows about your past. He knows about your abusive father, your battered mother, your friends, about how you ran away. You’ve made sure to trust him with all of that. He’s seen you torn up and grieving over the life you had, the child you were…

But this is new.

He slowly climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he slowly leans his head closer and presses a couple of kisses to the back of your head, his hand gently caressing your hair.

“Love?” He whispers, which draws you from your light nap. Your eyes are swollen and a bit crusty from the tears, and your head is pounding with a crying-induced migraine.

“Hi… Sorry.” You tell him immediately as soon as you turn a bit to face him. “What time is it?”

“It’s alright…” He assures you and runs a hand over your hair gently, slowly bringing it around to your face and cupping your cheek. “It’s just 2:30 P.M.” He replies. “The wee ones are down for a nap.” He adds.

You nod your head and rub your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry.” You say again.

“Don’t apologize, it’s alright.” He assures you again as he leans in and presses tender kisses to your forehead.

He pulls you close onto an embrace, cuddling you close, your leg intertwined with his, his arms wrapped snuggly around your body, his nose nuzzling against the crown of your head.

You feel yourself relaxing. His embrace warms your soul and you feel the tension and the grief become easier to deal with. Samuel is your husband, he makes you feel safe, makes you feel loved.

“Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?” He asks, breaching the subject only after a long while of silence.

“I knew them.” You reply bluntly, the words slipping past your lips quicker than you could think.

“The people from that fire?” He asks. Sammy is smart, after all. The man can’t hear the word ‘Manchester’ without wondering if his darling wife is related to it or knows about it.

“Yeh.” You answer and give a curt nod.

“An old friend?” He probes a bit, his voice gentle.

“Best friend.” You tell him and very tentatively add, “My first love.”

He doesn’t say anything, but rubs your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“I’m sorry, love.” He tells you and gently rubs his lips over your forehead, pressing little kisses to it again.

You go quiet again, lost in thought. He allows you to, simply caressing you soothingly.

After long, long minutes of silence, he speaks again. “Do you want to go pay your respects?” 

You raise your head from its resting spot on Samuel’s chest and you look into his eyes. “Do you think I should…?” You ask.

“Why would you not?” He retorts earnestly.

It reminds you that you never told him about Simon, about how special he was to you, about how it all crashed and burned…

“Our friendship ended 15 years ago. I never went back to Manc to see him and… well…” You trail off and look away. “It’s just…”

“You think you wouldn’t be welcome?” He finishes the thought for you. You glance up at him again and then silently nod.

“Well, love,” He says as he thinks. “It’s your choice, at the end of the day.” He adds. “But, whatever happened, I’m sure he held no ill will toward you.” He adds. “I’m sure he liked you a lot, just like you liked him.”

You look away again as you push yourself up into a sideways seated position, your hands holding you up in the mattress as you ponder it.

“And I think it would do you good,” Samuel adds as he gently reaches out and cups your cheek with his hand, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “to say goodbye.” He explains. “Find inner peace… make sure you don’t regret it in the future.” He adds.

You simply nod and snuggle up to your husband once more with a deep sigh.

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