#who hates his job and does everything possible to waste customers time

[thisfuckingdork]

MOTW npcs that I absolutely adore playing

[iamverysmall-andihavenomoney]

“It’s going to be okay.”

I just did a couple of my comfort characters for this one. Send in requests if you want to see specific characters, I’d love to write for y’all’s comfort characters too 🤍

Haikyū!! Masterlist

Pairing(s): Suna Rintarō x Gender Neutral! Reader, Miya Atsumu x Gender Neutral! Reader, Tsukishima Kei x Gender Neutral! Reader, Bokuto Kōtarō x Gender Neutral! Reader, Oikawa Tōru x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Fluff/Comfort, Reader is stressed out because of jobs/midterms/college in general, reader cries

Suna Rintarō:

It had been a rough week.

It felt like everything was going wrong. Day in and day out.

It felt like the universe was hell bent on making you break, this past week.

You worked as a barista, while you got yourself through college. 

Not an easy job, despite what some people liked to believe.

And with each day came a new promise.

Monday? A trip to the ER with second and third degree burns on your arms, when an angry customer had taken out their anger on you.

Tuesday? Your boss had yelled at you - humiliated you in front of the rest of your coworkers.

Wednesday? You ended up not realizing that yo were decorated in chocolate syrup, when you slumped on your bed, having to wash the sheets and most of you laundry, after.

Thursday? You’d tripped while at work and gotten to go home early, with your face burning in embarrassment at the snickers of other college students.

Friday? A pop quiz that you were 50% sure you failed.

Now it was Saturday, your studying? Done. Your assignments? Completed.

But you still felt the stress of the past week weighing on you.

So when you started tearing up, Suna couldn’t say he was surprised. He wished he could have made this past week easier for you.

Midterms were coming up, as well, just adding to the stress you were already feeling.

So, your boyfriend just does what comes natural to him, when it comes to you.

Rintarō doesn’t waste a moment when he returns from practice, spotting you slumped over on the couch, glaring at the floor while you tried not to let any tears fall from your eyes. With your choice comfort movie playing on the screen, he knew he had to do something.

   Even if you had been pushing him away out of frustration, for the duration of this entire week.

   Rintarō walks over to you and gently scoops you up in his arms, before sitting on the couch with you in his lap. Well-manicured nails begin to softly and affectionately run over your scalp, bringing a comfort to you that you could no longer deny you needed. Desperately.

   He tugs you gently so you’re comfortable in his lap before he brings a calloused hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone softly. He can’t help his sweet, soft smile as he sees the first tears trickle down your cheeks. He normally hated to see you cry, but he knew that you needed to get this out.

   Sometimes, people just needed to scream and cry to get pent up emotion out. So when you started sobbing, completely collapsing against your boyfriend’s chest, he pulls you as close to him as you can possibly get, rocking you as he cradles your body against his own. 

   “There’s my baby, let it out...” His tone is soft as his hand holds your head against his chest. “Let it all out. It’s going to be okay. I’m here and I’ve got you.” 

   He doesn’t quite know how long it is until your sobs quiet down, the crying wearing you out, but it doesn’t matter to him. He snatches the remote up to restart the movie that you’d failed to get through, earlier, before tossing that same remote across the couch so he could readjust your bodies.

   Leaning his shoulders and head against the pillow and armrest, he reclines himself, allowing you to get comfortable on top of him. As you rest on him, he brings a hand to your cheek once again, wiping away any remnants of the tears that had previously decorated your cheeks.

   “It’s going to be okay, baby. I promise.” 

Miya Atsumu: 

Being stressed around your boyfriend?

Unheard of.

Atsumu is a perceptive little shit who picks up on the smallest changes in your mood.

And he will do everything in his power to reassure you, or cheer you up, whatever you need.

So, it’s not built up stress that gets you.

No, it’s the phone call you get in the middle of the night, while you’re resting in Atsumu’s arms.

You and Atsumu put your phones on do not disturb/bedtime mode every night.

Very few people are set up so that your phone will ring, when they call.

So, you end up waking up pretty quickly at the sound of a familiar ringtone, Atsumu sleepily sitting up beside you as you sit up to take the call.

Your best friend.

Who had just been admitted to the hospital after a car crash.

They were most likely going to make it, but they were still undergoing surgery and you knew that anything could happen.

You were her emergency contact so they called you from the ambulance.

Not too long after, you found out that the other person was undergoing surgery and probably wouldn’t make it.

The realization that that could have been your best friend made you feel like you couldn’t breath.

Atsumu had been watching your frantic pacing for the past ten minutes, watching you work yourself up more and more. You were shaking, though you hadn’t turned to him yet, like you always did, when you needed comfort. And he was too scared to make it worse.

   Until he heard how your breath caught in your throat, once again, nearly sounding like you were about to start hyperventilating. Standing, the tall volleyball player comes to stop in front of you, gently grasping your wrists in his hands to make you look at him. He doesn’t say anything as you let out a shaky breath and crumble against him, just falling into his open arms.

   Cradling you against him with his large palm at the back of your head, he lets you get out the emotions that were pent up, soft sobs being let out against his shoulder. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he whispers soft words of encouragement. “They’re going to be okay, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay, I promise. And have I ever broken my promises to you?”

   With a shake of your head, your sobs quiet and all that’s left escaping you are quiet sniffles. If anyone was able to calm you, it’d be your Tsumu. There wasn’t a bad day you could remember that he hadn’t made things better. Your boyfriend always knew what to say... When it came to you, at least.

   It wasn’t ten minutes later when a doctor came out to let you know that the surgery had been a success and that your friend was okay.

   They’d be asleep for a few hours, allowing you to go home and change from your pajamas, if you would like. You didn’t catch that bit with the immediate relief that flooded through you.

   You both did end up going home to shower and change, wanting to get you both and your friend some food on your way back. As soon as you were in the comfort of your own home, Atsumu took your face in his hands, cradling your cheeks and gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

   “As long as I’m around, I am going to make sure that everything works out in the end. I don’t like seeing you cry and I don’t like seeing you stressed out. You’re my significant other and I’m going to take care of you.” He reassures you earnestly. “It’s all going to be okay, I promise.”

   And as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, you know that it is, in fact, all going to be okay. You had Atsumu and he had you.

Tsukishima Kei:

Mid-terms aren’t shit.

Not only are the tests long, and hard, and stressful,

But both you and Kei had them.

And both you and Kei had attitudes - especially when it came to either of you getting stressed out.

So, you both decided to stay and study on your own for the most part, until exams were over.

It was only a week, after all, how much harm could a single week do to the two of your mental states?

A lot, apparently.

It was Kei who caved first, surprisingly, needing to see you.

It was actually pretty unsurprising, boy is whipped for you.

Grabbing his keys, he tugs on the hoodie you’d gotten him for his birthday, along with grabbing you matching one that you’d left at his place.

Then he leaves, his usual preference to wear pants rather than sweatpants, when he left his home, being overpowered by his craving to see you.

And he knew you needed to see him too.

But if anyone was more stubborn than he was about things, it was you and he knew you weren’t going to cave anytime soon.

What he didn’t expect when he entered your home was to find you crying into your hands, in a pile of your own notes, with your computer in front of you.

He furrowed his brows - you had overwhelmed yourself...

Because he hadn’t been here to prevent you from it.

Kei sighs as he listens to the clanking of keys together, his attempts to unlock the door to your apartment failing multiple times, before finally ending in success. At least he knew no one would ever break into your apartment. They wouldn’t be able to get in.

Look at him, he’d been over here a dozen times and it still took him about three minutes to manage your locks open. You must know how much he loved you with the fact he still put up with it. He enters the home, near silently, placing the strawberry shortcakes and milkshakes down on the counter, his keys being hung beside yours. Walking past your kitchen, he freezes in the doorway, hearing your quieted sobs before he sees you.

He had never, not even in his years of playing volleyball, moved as quickly as he did in that moment. He moved to kneel in front of where you were seated on the couch, taking your laptop and shutting it.

Kei knew you hadn’t opened your eyes, or moved your hands from shielding your face to see him, but you knew it was him with the way you slid off of the spot on the couch to kneel on the floor, your face finding familiar purchase in his neck.

“I’m not around for a few days and you manage to overwork yourself like this. God damn it, Y/N, don’t do this again.” His words, no matter if they should have sounded angry, just came out worried.

You knew that the only person he was mad at was himself for even suggesting the idea of you both spending time studying individually.

“I’m right here, okay? I’m not going to be going anywhere,” placing a large hand on the back of your head, he gently kisses the crown of your head. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

“It’s all going to be okay,” his soothing voice calms you quite a bit, making your body slump against his in relaxation. “There’s my shortcake. Just relax, alright. We’ll study more later. In the meantime, we’re going to watch a movie and eat the sweets I brought. I don’t want you to think about those god damn exams.” Your nod in confirmation is all he needs to get you both comfortable on the couch so he can take care of his partner... Like he should have been going this entire time.

Bokuto Kōtarō:

Kōtarō, despite people thinking he’s not the smartest, is a very intelligent person.

Especially when it comes to emotional intelligence.

Which is why he figured out about your family issues, within a month.

Poor boy wished he could do something, though other than the constant sleepovers in high school, there wasn’t much else he could do. It broke his heart.

But that changed, when you both graduated high school together.

He didn’t allow you to stay any longer in that house. You’d dealt with the constant yelling and the lack of care for your feelings, long enough.

Though, that didn’t mean you’d escaped it when you went to reunions or to visit them on holidays.

They always managed to drag you into going.

And they always managed to drag you into their bullshit.

Kōtarō hadn’t been able to go to this year’s reunion - a practice game held him up.

His presence usually encouraged your family member to back the fuck off and not drag you into things.

But, this time...

He was just glad he’d gotten there when he did.

Pulling up in the driveway of the designated home of this particular family reunion, he could hear the yelling, as soon as he stepped out of his car. The volleyball player tensed up as he quickly walked towards the home, throwing the door open without care.

    Kōtarō wished you wouldn’t put yourself through this. You didn’t deserve it. He enters the living room, most of the arguing falling silent at his presence, already knowing that he wouldn’t hesitate to get on them for their bullshit. Walking over to you, where you sat, slumped at the dinner table, your head in your hands, he frowns.

   He wasn’t surprised when he found tears in your eyes as he gently picked your head up to look at him. A frown befalls him, once again and he guides you to stand, pulling you into his embrace, his hand holding your head against him, practically cradling you.

   He holds you for a few long moments to let you calm down, before he turns towards your family, letting you go so he can take your hand. “We’re leaving. They’re tired.”

   No one argues. They’d seen how angry Kōtarō got when it came to you and they didn’t want to face the wrath of the angry volleyball player.

   Without another word from you both, or spoken to you both, Kōtarō escorts you out of the house. As soon as you’re out, you can hear the yelling ensue, once again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he whispers as he pulls you into him, once again. “It’s going to be okay.” He whispers to you, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

   “I promise. We’ll go home and take a long bath... We can make some cookies and relax. We can even watch some Disney movies and make a pillow fort. How’s that sound, my sweet owl?” Kōtarō cooes as he begins to walk you to the car, smiling at you as he noticed how relaxed you seemed to be out, away from them and with your fiancé.

   No matter if he could help your family’s constant fighting, he’d always be here to whisper soft reassurances to you and make sure that everything was okay.

Oikawa Tōru:

Dating Tōru isn’t easy.

Living over 18,000 kilometers from one another was no easy feat.

Somedays are easier than others.

And this wasn’t one of those ‘easier’ days.

No, not at all.

Instead, today is one of those days that you tug on Tōru’s old volleyball jacket and bury your nose in the collar, hopping it’ll smell somewhat like him.

One of those days that you watch his dazzling face appear on the screen of your television and pretend he’s here with you.

It’s one of those days that you shoot him an ‘I miss you’ text and he’s unable to reply.

You both make it work because you love one another and want to watch the other succeed and do what they love.

But sometimes, it would be so much easier if you both lived on the same continent.

What you didn’t realize was that he hadn’t been to reply to you, because he was caught up getting his stuff off of the plane and into a car.

He was exhausted, but excited to see you.

He wasn’t expecting to come home and find you asleep on your couch, wrapped up in his jacket with dried tears on your cheeks.

Tōru dropped his bags at the door - he could worry about them later, right now he needed to get to you. With his signature grin, he walks through the kitchen, “Cutie,” he cooes through the apartment, before halting as he enters your living room, head tilting like a confused puppy’s would as he spotted you.

   His brows furrow and a frown crosses his lips, walking over to you and dropping to his knees in front of your sleeping form on the couch. He brings his hand up to gently stroke your cold cheek. “Y/N...” He cooes as he caresses your face, waiting for you to stir. Once you begin to open your eyes, a smile returns to his face, seeing your excitement overpower the sleepiness in your features.

   “You’re here...” You whisper, pushing yourself forward to hug your fiancé, no matter how unconventional this position was for you both. “I missed you,” you mumble into the soft cloth of his shirt, inhaling deeply. Peppermint. He always smelled like peppermint and it was a scent you had immensely missed.

   “I missed you too, cutie... But it’s okay. I’m here, now.” Tōru reassures, shifting so that he can scoop you up into his arms while you curl up into him.

   Not hesitating to want to fall asleep with you in his arms, once again, he brings you to the bedroom, dropping you onto the bed and pulling out comfier clothes for the both of you. Unpacking could wait later. Explanations of the vacation he was taking could wait. You being comfortable and in his arms was all he wanted.

   He undresses you, putting one of his shirts on you, before he undresses, as well, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, before he pulls back the covers and slides under them with you.

   Long, toned arms come to wrap themselves securely around you, pulling you into a tanned chest. “I missed you so much... But I’m here now, alright?” He whispers to you, kissing your head with a tenderness that only you got to see from the Argentinian volleyball player.

    “Go to sleep, we’ll talk when you wake up.”

    It was safe to say you fell asleep peacefully in his arms, finding peace in the fact that you’d soon be happily waking up in his arms.

General Taglist:

@thathoneybee3 @bratkugo

[citydreamgrls]

they were roommates - part two

a weasley twins x fem!reader fic

summary: she had nowhere to go, fleeing home to pursue something along the lines of freedom, so being welcomed into the entrepreneurial twins life was a whole world of new experiences waiting to happen.

an: thank you for the overwhelming love for the first part of this series, which i will link HERE for you guys!! also MASSIVE thank you for over 700 followers, when i posted the first part i was just hitting 600, so this has been crazy, love you always and hope you enjoy <333

words: 4,949

A warmth covered y/n’s face as she grumbled to herself, trying to roll herself away from the light that spilled in from the large windows. Her eyes squinted uncomfortably and the noise of the room finally settled into her head bit by bit.

The sound of a coffee machine whirring, doors opening and closing, and the faint sound of the morning radio show that Neville would often play at the inn. It all felt so new, yet so familiar.

“Morning sleepyhead,” The girl frowned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes to see one of the twins place a mug on the small coffee table nearby. “Feelin’ better?” The girl nodded, feeling guilty that she once again couldn’t tell whether it was Fred or George that was talking to her.

“I’m sorry- this is really rude but, are you Geor-”

“I’m Fred.” He didn’t seem bothered by her wild guess, standing up as if nothing was amiss and heading to the kitchen. “Come and get something to eat will you, or else it’ll get cold!” He called back, disappearing to find his brother and leaving her to pull on a nearby hoodie.

She shuffled over to the table, a small chuckle sounding out at the sight of their plates. Piled high with more food than she’d usually eat in a whole day, the girl sat down and started on a piece of toast, hoping they wouldn’t mind her starting a little prematurely.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” George laughed, his twin obviously urgent to have them sit down together for breakfast. Was this normal for them, or was she the exception? They both wore matching suits, dressed for their day of work, with the difference being that Fred’s tie was red and George’s blue.

One glance at the clock and the girl wanted to head straight back to bed, but if she wanted to thank them properly for their hospitality, then it needed to be before the shop opened anyway. Their sofa had felt like heaven, and now she needed to leave it behind and fend for herself.

The two men sat across from her at the table, as they had done the night before. But now the jeans and t-shirts had been forgotten, and their once loose hair was now fixed neatly. It was funny to the girl how they could pull off two extremes so well.

They sat with a grin on their face, watching her sip on her coffee warily, unsure as to what they were waiting for.

“Are you two okay?” Please don’t let them be creeps, not now. She begged to herself, seeing them exchange a nod before looking back to her once again.

“We have an idea to offer up,” Fred started.

“One that will benefit both of us.” George added in, y/n urging them on with her sunny smile. She couldn’t help but smile around them, it was like they were made to make people laugh.

“We’ve been saying for a while that we need help in the shop,”

“Someone to cover the tills when we’re talking to customers mainly,” “Oh yeah, we hate the tills.” They went a little off track, but managed to catch train of thought again.

“Anyway,” George chuckled, seeing her look of confusion. “You need somewhere to stay, and we can’t afford to pay for someone to work in the shop.” “So, if you agree to help out then we’ll let you stay here.” “With us!”

They waited, a small moment of silence as they watched her face for a reaction. The news took a second to process, as she realised it was the ideal outcome for both of them. That way she wouldn’t feel in debt to them if she stayed, either.

Her head bobbed up and down very slowly, the two men sharing a look of pride as they high fived like kids. The girl stood up, racing over to their side of the table and wrapping her arms around them both.

“Thank you so much,” She didn’t dare speak too loud, in case she broke the floodgates on their shoulders.

Fred and George chuckled, squeezing an arm each before reassuring her that it was fine, they didn’t want her to feel as though she owed them the whole time.

“I’ll help out anywhere I can, I mean it, not just in the shop either-”

“Y/n,”

“I can cook, I can do the laundry or- or even just shop for food every week.”

“Calm down,” Fred laughed, seeing her fall into a rant over her possible chores.

“We don’t need you to do all that!” George teased, ruffling her already messy hair and heading off to the bathroom.

“Better get ready quickly, looks like there’s already a queue out there!” He chimed, peering his head to look from one of the windows to the street below, where hoards of excited kids were already waiting to get inside.

“Come on then y/n, we’ll show you everything don’t worry.” Fred had noticed the way her smile faltered at the warning of so many people all at once, she’d never had a job before working at the leaky cauldron and now she needed to learn everything in one go.

She got up, wasting no time, and made herself look presentable. The girl grabbed her open case and pulled out some black trousers and a green cardigan to put on, slipping into the bathroom once George was finished to get changed.

“I’ll go open up!” She heard him shout once the door was shut, and she stumbled around trying to be as quick as possible. Once she charmed her hair to wave nicely and cast a quick freshen up spell, y/n found Fred waiting in the living room.

“Here,” he held a little badge inside his large palm, the swirly writing showing her name. “That way, everyone will know who you are.”

Y/n took it from him, a wide smile on her face as she placed it onto her cardigan. Only a handful of people had ever bothered to learn her name when she was pulling pints, the twins included, but now everyone would know it. They wanted people to know it.

Fred felt his cheeks blush at the way she squealed with excitement, her previous nerves nowhere to be seen as she bounded towards the door of the loft.

“Wait for me!” He laughed, running after her, grabbing his jacket that hung on the back of the chair.

The girl ran down the few flights of stairs that were out of sight before running into the chaos. Now, the shop that she had seen sleeping the night before burst into action before her eyes. The entire place was a cacophony of lights, sparks and laughter. A small crowd of children watched in awe as George showed off yet another variety of firework, their cheers of delight echoing up to where y/n watched from.

“Come on then, better get on the tills before people start nicking things.” Fred nudged the girl’s back a little and she happily weaved through the shop to reach the little counter where an old till sat waiting for them. People were already waiting to pay, so Fred took charge, giving her a chance to watch what he did before giving it a go herself.

-

After the initial shock of the morning, y/n easily settled into the flow of the shop, working well between the two twins who watched her proudly while she served customers. It was around midday, and less and less people were coming in as the time passed, giving the three of them a chance to relax after the neverending hoard they’d dealt with.

“It’ll pick up again-” Fred laughed, leaning against the counter as she sat upon it and sighed happily.

“It always does, every single day-” George joined. “Without fail.”

“At about two normally.”

Working there was such a difference to the bar that she almost felt surprised when people would greet her with the same smile she’d give them. That had been a rarity when all she had been to people previously, was a barmaid.

“I love it here,” The girl admitted, swinging her feet off the side of the counter like a child. George was moving boxes from the back onto the shopfloor, opening each one and emptying the contents onto shelves. She wondered how he hadn’t run out of space yet, there was already a surplus of things everywhere she looked.

“I’m glad you do.” Fred beamed, turning to look at her.

“Hey! You guys, we’ve got a new shipment of bottled weather!” George pulled them from their daydream, calling the pair over to see what he’d found.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“Well it’s weather… in a bottle.” Fred tried to explain, but saw he wasn’t much help. “It’s probably just easier to show you.” He chuckled nervously, fishing through the cardboard box until he found one he liked the look of. “See, this one’s a rainbow.”

He screwed open the top, leaning back a little so that the beam of colour could release itself without hitting him in the face. Him and George had learnt to avoid it the hard way when they started selling them a year ago.

Y/n’s face lit up, watching it bounce around in the air until it found its place and settled into a perfect curve.

“Wow,” Her eyes surveyed it intently, wanting to reach out and touch it, but knowing that would most likely end up bad. “That’s incredible!” The man beside her swooped the jar over it and pressed the lid on tightly, the strip of colour disappearing once again in front of her eyes.

“Oh yeah, they’re incredible, until every fourteen year old boy wants to open one and suddenly there’s a load of rain clouds in here and plenty of puddles for me to clean up!” George grumbled, finishing up with that box and heading off to find another. The girl giggled, unable to picture his tall figure with a measly mop.

“He’s not a fan of the rain.” Fred whispered to her, not helping the giggling to go down. “Personally, I love it.” “Me too, well, I used to.”

Their quiet moment was caught off guard by the sound of the bell tinkling, telling them that someone was coming in. A voice called out, one that she vaguely recognised, but couldn’t for the life of her know the name to go with it.

“Fred! George! It’s Harry!” Well, that was always helpful.

“By the till mate!” He called back, standing up from the counter to give him a quick hug.

She recognised this man’s face, he’d been in the leaky cauldron with them a couple times over the past months. But he had very rarely spoken to her, just the quick exchange when he would get another round for everyone.

Harry’s face seemed to reflect his confusion, surprised to see her sitting with a nametag on that matched the twins’ instead of behind the bar. Still, she smiled his way, which he eventually returned.

“It’s good to see you again y/n, are you- do you work here now?” He looked to Fred for confirmation, to which the man just nodded.

“She’s staying with us for a bit, and INSISTED on helping out.”

“So you’ve set her to work so soon, how charming.” Harry joked, greeting George when he reappeared with another handful of boxes to unpack, surely they didn’t do this every day?

She watched the sun outside as it danced through a select few shop windows, including one of their own, the stream flying in and lighting up the small flecks of dust that flitted across her line of sight. It was easy for the girl to get lost in her own thoughts, drowning out the sound of Fred and Harry talking enthusiastically about quidditch as she basked in the warmth that hit her legs.

George came up behind her, placing a few boxes down beside her.

“Could you do me a favour,” She jumped a little at his voice, nodding when she realised what he’d asked of her.

“Of course,” “I took some paperwork up to the loft the other night, it’s on the desk in my room, could you grab the invoices for these wonderwitch packages and bring them down. I need to go set up the blasted thing, and god knows Fred won’t be helping any time soon.” He grinned, rolling his eyes at his brother and their friend getting more and more excited about something.

The girl got up with a smile, taking a quick mental note of how many different products there were before the man took them away to be set up near the front window. She scurried off, bounding up the stairs with a spring in her step. By the time she reached the top she was well out of breath, but it didn’t matter. Never in her life had she been treated with such kindness from almost strangers, not to mention that they actually seemed to like her.

George’s door was half-ajar, his open window blowing the light curtains around gently, as she walked inside. It felt cosy, yet fresh, in there. His bed was neatly made and everything seemed to be put away very methodically, much like how he preferred to display things in the shop. Whereas Fred was the one who would just shove things anywhere.

As long as people buy it!

He had told George nearly four times just that morning, unfazed by the way his brother went around correcting it all once he was seemingly out of sight. Fred never mentioned it, leaving the other twin to do as he pleased.

But it seemed as though George’s desk was the one place where all the rules on organisation went, quite literally out the window, as there were sheets and quills and parchment all over the place. She sighed, getting to work on finding what she needed.

-

Downstairs, Fred and Harry had just about talked each other's ears off about Ginny’s last match, discussing how amazing she had been as her teams substitute seeker when the actual player had gotten a mild concussion.

“She’s training all day today so that’s why I’m delivering her messages today.” Harry chuckled, knowing that Fred would make some kind of remark about his sister bossing him about so easily. In truth, he didn’t mind. “She wanted me to let you know that she’s gonna pop by later and visit after practice.”

“Ah! So we’ll be seeing her more than you, poor boy.”

“Be quiet, I’ve booked her all weekend.” Harry huffed, just glad to have his fiance to himself for more than one evening at a time.

“So, how’s things with y/n getting on?” He asked the twins when George came over to catch up with the younger wizard.

“She’s doing great, given that it’s only her first day.”

“Yeah, and we’re actually sorting out a surprise for her.” Fred peeked up the flight of stairs, seeing no sign of the girl. “Come on, we’ll show you before she comes back.”

The three of them went to the storage room round the back of the counter, where George had been ferrying boxes out of all morning.

“We’re gonna clear all this out and then get her some furniture and posters and the like, make it feel a bit more homely for her.”

“Woah, so you guys must like her.” Harry laughed, nodding at the large amount of room there was when nothing was stacked up inside.

“She’s worth it, isn’t she Freddie.”

“She deserves it, you mean.”

-

By the time the girl found the paperwork George had asked for, Harry had left to go see Neville and Hannah, just in time for the afternoon rush to start up and distract them all once again.

Fred kept an eye on the girl, who continued to happily serve behind the till, from the safety of the shelves where he was taking a break between product demonstrations. George, he hoped, would finish clearing out the storage room by the end of the day so that they could get to work fixing it up for her while she slept in the loft that night.

The two twins became so overwhelmed with jobs to do that day, that both of them forgot to mention to y/n that their sister Ginny was to visit that evening. Only getting a chance to speak to their new worker once the last customer left and the front doors were locked shut.

“That seemed like more people than last week eh Georgie?”

“I could barely reach the back shelves; there were so many of them, at least most of them are small so I can just reach over their heads.”

“Still, it’s good business.”

“Hey- where’s y/n gone?”

Fred found the girl near the back of the shop, her cardigan slumped over a nearby chair, as she swung her wand back and forth. The broom beside her followed perfectly, sweeping the floor of mess that had been trudged about throughout the day. She clocked the man behind her and smiled.

“I’ll finish up sweeping then do a once over with the mop.”

“Jesus, I don’t think we’ve ever cleaned that much!” Fred laughed, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Why don’t you head up and chill out, you’ve done more than enough for us already.”

“Are you sure?” Her eyebrows joined together in a concerned frown, but the man could only smile down at her and nod.

“Go on, we won’t be long anyway.”

The girl thanked him and went up the stairs, flashing a grin George’s way when she passed him.

“Good idea, now we can get some furniture in without her seeing.” He whispered, crediting his brother’s sharp mind.

“Come on Georgie, you need a break sometimes too, we can finish it off tomorrow anyway.” They both looked up in the direction of the loft when music came filtering down.

“Do you think she’s really happy here Freddie?”

“She seems it.” He shrugged. “She always seems happy, but do you think she really is.”

“Probably… I hope so.” “Me too.” George hummed, finally giving up his task of the day and offering to get them dinner from a nearby muggle restaurant while Fred finished brushing up behind the counter.

The music got louder, but he didn’t mind. Most days, him and George would be too tired to do much together besides their weekly pub visits. And even then it was only because someone else would persuade them to take a break. Now, just having y/n around, was like taking a breath of fresh air amongst their hectic and exhausting days.

Fred saw a flash of long blonde hair pass the front of the shop window, flattering slightly before moving off again. He scrambled to his feet, watching as he saw his little sister’s friend a little further down the alley.

“Luna!” He called out, waving when she turned slowly, a genuine smile on her face. She always was happy to see people.

“Hello Fred. It’s been such a long time, how are you?”

“I’m not bad, how are things with you- how is Rolf and the Boys?”

-

Y/n flung herself on the sofa, her legs aching with the day’s work well behind her. The guitar whined out in its case to be used, but she couldn’t find the energy to even pick it up, let along strum something decent. So she flicked her wand towards the radio, the stations passing by until she found one she liked, turning it up with a content smile.

Not long after, there was a flash from the fireplace that sat lonely at one end of the loft’s long living room. The girl jolted up, not having seen a floo line used very often when she lived at one. For a second the green flames put her in a trance, her mind forgetting that it meant someone was going to appear in the room before her.

A tall girl, wearing just jeans and a hoodie stood before her, a bewildered and yet excited look on her face. She turned towards the radio that was blasting out an old rock song, the red hair on her head bobbing as she dropped her sports bag and laughed.

“I love this song!”

-

“Give the twins a kiss from me!” Fred called after Luna, glad to have caught her when he did. With her husband always off exploring new magical creatures, she was often left with her hands full looking after the young twins. Still, she seemed composed as ever.

“There you are, took long enough!” George rolled his eyes at his brother’s words, holding out a bag for Fred to take from his one hand.

“Yeah well I was just going to get enough for the three of us but remembered Ginny was coming and thought she must be hungry after practice.” He explained.

“Oh yeah of course- wait!”

“GINNY!” They both exclaimed, the twins rushing to lock the shop doors behind themselves so they could warn their newest tennant of their little sister’s arrival.

But when they both burst into the loft, they realised there was nothing to worry about. The sight of both girls dancing around the kitchen together and laughing along to the way neither of them could get the lyrics right, settling their nerves.

“So I see you two have met.”

“Brothers!” Ginny laughed, making no moves to greet them, too enthralled in the girl’s company. She had friends on her quidditch team of course, and her siblings and their fiances. But god she loved new people, especially when they were always up for a good time like she was. “I love her! Can we keep her! Please, please, please.” She begged, gripping the girl’s arm like a whining child.

“Y/n’s our guest okay, so play nice.” Fred grumbled, setting down the food and letting everyone help themselves.

“I’m always nice, see I got the drinks ready for everyone.” Hey! That’s ours.” George pointed to the bottle of wine she had already cracked open.

“Exactly, ours.” Ginny giggled, passing him a glass, which would no doubt keep him quiet until he had one too many, then you’d never shut him up.

All four of them clinked glasses, the twins soon loosening up and matching their sister’s party attitude as they joined in with the girls’ dancing. George was headbanging like a madman, his grown out hair flying all over his eyes. His mother had been begging to cut it like she had done when they still lived at home, but he realised he had always preferred it longer. Fred had done the same, keeping his a bit neater around the edges than his brother, but enjoying the length over the breeze he felt whenever it got shorter.

Ginny had always seen the twins as nuisances when she was younger and still at school, but after the war ended she learnt to enjoy her life a little more. That was when she finally realised that they had been doing so all along. The youngest Weasley sibling then decided to join a professional quidditch team and take life one day at a time, her mother had been horrified of course, but like the twins she couldn’t deny how good Ginny was when she whizzed through the sky.

-

Y/n got to know the girl better, as their glasses were refilled by George everytime they took a sip. He always did enjoy hosting, especially when he was getting as drunk as everyone else. The four of them had danced for what felt like hours, grateful for the lack of neighbours, then collapsed onto the sofa where they continued to share stories and finish off another three bottles of wine between them.

“These two threw water over me and blamed Ron!” Ginny laughed, reminiscing on their summer holidays at the burrow.

“Mum would have never believed us!”

“I can’t remember why she did?” The twins protested, their many pranks over the years made it hard to recall smaller ones such as drenching their sister in her sleep.

“Because you timed it so that when mum went to find Ron he was filling up a bucket to water the plants!” She explained, having heard the other brother’s recollection every time it was brought up at a family dinner.

“Ah yes!” They said in unison, the girl in between them in fits of giggles over their mischievous side.

“You two really are trouble,” she chuckled, keeping her nearly empty glass out of George’s sight in fear of having a horrible hangover the next morning. At least the shop was closed on Sundays, or else they would have all struggled.

“You can’t escape!” Fred boomed, acting like a brainless zombie.

“We’ve trapped you.” His brother joined in.

“Good luck with these two, they’ve obviously tried to keep the chaos hidden… but it’ll come out sooner or later.” Ginny laughed, checking the time with a humorous face. “Good lord, I better get back before Harry starts sending owls after me.”

“He can wait!” George whined, pouring into her glass as she tried to stand up.

“I know he can Georgie, but I’ve also had a very long day at the pitch so I need to get some sleep soon.” Her legs turned to jelly as she wobbled over to her sports bag, staggering under its weight. The redhead waved goodbye from the fireplace, taking a handful of floo powder and announcing her address before bursting into flames.

Y/n sort of wished that Ginny would have stayed longer, as she was only just beginning to know her properly. But she too couldn’t deny the wave of fatigue that hit her like a brick wall the second she blinked a little longer than she should have.

“Tired darling?” George sneered from beside her, waking her again.

“Oh no… not at all.”

“Leave her be, you can sleep if you want- we won’t disturb you.” Fred leant over her to shove his brother playfully.

“You should sleep too Georgie-” She teased, her drunken smile still just as perfect as her regular one.

“And why’s that sunshine?”

“Because you’ve been moving all those boxes, you must be exhausted by now!”

Both men froze a little, concerned that she’d noticed him working on the storage room all day. Fred eyed his brother, urging him to say something in the awkward silence they had created.

“Uh- yeah- well, we need to make space for a new shipment.” George lied, in a panic, the other twin silently grimacing and how awful he was under pressure.

“That means things are selling right? That’s good?” She looked between them, seemingly oblivious to the way the men were freaking out in their heads.

“Alright- alright we’ll go to bed!” Fred laughed, breaking the tension, and standing up to clear the coffee table of glasses and plates. George joined him, wanting to avoid any more possible interrogation if he could help it.

The girl reached for the bowls before her but they cut her off.

“We can do all this, you get some sleep okay?” George smiled sweetly, to which she just nodded, too tired to argue back this once.

“Thanks,” She murmured, reaching into her case to find her pyjamas.

While she went to change in the bathroom, the two men stood together in the kitchen, very aware that they were quite drunk by now.

“She’s good isn’t she,” George mused, stacking more plates into the sink that washed them.

“See, I knew you’d come round to her.” Fred accused. “I didn’t dislike her!”

“You weren't mad about her.” 

“And you are?”

There was a moment of silence, which worried George, as he knew his brother all too well. If what he’d asked wasn’t true, then Fred would immediately deny it, in turn sounding guilty. But the silence always meant he was right.

“She’s different,” He finally spoke up, focusing his attention on drying whatever came from the sink.

“She’s also living here Freddie.”

“I know, it’s not ideal, but I just like her.” “Everyone likes her, she’s well- she’s her.” George stuttered, never having heard his brother talk about a girl this way before. Even his high school crushes had been purely based on appearances.

“Exactly, I can’t help it.”

“And say you tell her- and she doesn’t feel the same, which is very possible-” “I know.” Fred snapped.

“She has nowhere else to go, and telling her something like that would force her away… you know it would.”

The sound of the bathroom door opening echoed across the loft, making both men jolt into action, trying to seem as natural as possible despite the air of awkwardness around them.

“Night you two,” Y/n smiled, leaning into the kitchen.

“Night darling.” George replied, wondering whether he should drop that nickname around Fred.

“Night y/n.” He barely looked up from the sink, watching his reflection distort in a handful of spoons, with the hope that she would just go to bed.

The girl, luckily for him, was still very much tipsy and didn’t notice anything wrong with either of the twins as she turned and headed for the sofa. George stepped closer to the sink, watching to make sure she couldn’t hear them.

“Look Fred,” He whispered.

“It doesn’t matter okay, leave it.” He threw the cloth down with an agitated sigh, obviously not having thought over the consequences to his little crush, and went to leave.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

[blackch-rry]

“His side of the bed”

p. sunghoon x female reader (1.2k)

warnings: angst? shitty writing. this is from months ago and idk why i’m posting it in the first place. it’s supposed to be multiple parts but i don’t think i’ll be doing that :) 

***

She always appreciated having the night shifts. Maybe there's something in the air when its long passed sunset that makes it so calming; addicting. If it was safe enough she would take nightly walks all by her lonesome. Walks that would last hours while her mind went off running.

 Her deepest wish in life is to let the free spirit that resides in her body float up into the sky and find a home on the clouds. There's something holding her back of course. There always is. It could be the pile of late assignments she has no interest in completing. Or it could be the obvious.

A broken heart that was shoved into the darkest, deepest, place in her. She doesn't like to admit when she's hurt or hurting. She guesses it's because her pain is something only she wants to feel. It's nobody else's business besides the person who put her in this state. There is a part of her that wants this pain to escape and travel somewhere far away. Possibly to him. Him. She would like him to feel this way too, because she thinks he has no idea at all.

The store's interior is new and freshly renovated, but the outside is a work of art only decades on earth could do. Green vines crawling every which direction. Cracks and broken chucks missing from numerous bricks. Personally, she prefers the run down, old, look. But she won't disagree that the inside looks much sharper and modern. 

Her co-worker just stepped down from the ladder on the farthest left wall.

"It's time for me to head out. Hopefully since it's a thursday," He pushes his sleeve up to check his wristwatch, "and almost eleven there won't be a lot of late night shoppers."

She always thought Jungwon had a nice smile since her first day on the job. He's a nice guy from what she knew. Apparently, they attended the same high school three years ago. She was a senior when he was a junior. "Don't forget to turn off the backroom light before you lock up, okay? You left it on last time and, ironically, Joy wasn't too happy about that."

Jungwon placed the last few books from his hands into their respectful places before heading back and grabbing his belongings. She halted him by placing a hand on his shoulder before he left for the night. "Thank you by the way. For saving my ass with Joy." She quickly put her hands behind her back and put on a smile of gratitude.

Jungwon would be lying if he said he hadn't noticed anything different with her the past couple of weeks. He noticed everything of course, how she lessened conversations with customers and shortened her responses to everyone. It's just the two of them working the later shifts of the day. Jungwon thinks she could be a great actress.

"It's no problem at all. Have a good night, okay?"

She did a slight nod of her head. She walked back behind the counter and continued where she left off. It was quicker than usual how fast she got distracted and rummaged through her bag for a certain notebook. She pulled out a dark blue pen and got to work. Draw a flower. A rose. Then, draw a butterfly. Write a phrase. I miss you on your side of the bed. No... cross that out...please.

She straightened her back when her phone chimed. Glancing at the time, it had been a little over thirty minutes since Jungwon left.

I won't be home when you get back. Probably be back around tomorrow night.

A text message from her roommate. As she typed out a couple words the bell above the door alerted her of someone's presence but she didn't lift her head from her phone; assuming it was probably some middle aged customer. She replied some minutes ago but got distracted, once again, by her Instagram feed. Definitely not employee of the month. All previous sounds were blocked out, but there was a sudden clearing of a throat less than four feet away from her.

She never thought movies made sense when a character would say 'It happened in slow motion', but she could say she felt her chest burn the second she saw him and the way his eyes met hers was painfully slow.

"Sunghoon..."

She hated how she said his name instinctively, no thought or hesitance at all. Her eyes shifted to his hands. A book. No, two.

"Wow, it's...been so long hasn't it?"

"A year isn't that long."

She guesses she made him uncomfortable because of the way he laughed off what she said. She can't seem to take her eyes off the books. Especially not when he puts them onto the space between them.

"Just these two?" Her voice is stable but low and quiet. She gets nothing but a nod in return.

"I didn't know you were back."

"How could you have? I didn't tell anyone besides, well, h-"

"Her? I figured."

She supposes there has been something eating inside of her since the very beginning of their end. It's not done yet, but it's made some sort of breakthrough that day. She holds in her scoff as best as possible.

"Two of the same book?"

"She wanted me to read it at the same time as her."

That made whatever was there eat faster. She hadn't even rung up the second book yet. He clearly noticed how slow she was going and sighed out of irritation.

"Does she make you do everything with her?"

"What's with all the questions?"

"I just find it funny. You always told me to stop wasting my time on books and letting my head get stuck somewhere non-existent. You never picked up a novel. It's-"

"Yeah, I know. I'm a hypocrite." He ran a hand through his hair. Something he did when he was running low on patience. She decided to state the painfully obvious.

"You're doing it because you love her. I mean, you're in love with her."

"Can you just tell me what the total is?" His card is sitting pretty in between his fingers. She knows his hands are ice cold. No... she probably makes them warm.

"$29.98."

He makes sure they don't touch when he hands over his card. She notices.

When midnight arrives, she double checks the backroom light is off and the door is locked. The short walk back to her apartment is relatively quiet if you don't count her inner thoughts.

She's got a free spirit somewhere in there, no doubt about it. But the reason why she's not letting herself get a taste of the wind has just moved back to town. The pain she hasn't let go of for more than a year is ready to see the sky, touch the stars. It's been ready, but she's grown so used to it she wouldn't know what to do, how to live on, if it escaped.

She's come to the realization that it's not fair how people could be so okay with leaving behind their other half. It doesn't matter if she's still in love. It never does.

No matter how many times she sleeps on her side of the bed, how warm it can get, his will always be cold and it eventually spreads to her as well.

[bakugouisabitch]

Ziggy i work two jobs now and the second job is retail where i'm on my feet all day.

If you feel up to it, tell me how yb and malik would help each other relax after a hard day.

Omg this is so fucking cute of you 🥺 i sure can!!

((i’m so sorry to hear that that sounds so exhausting :(( i used to work in retail too and my sister still does work in retail where she’s on her feet all day and she always tells me how tiring it can get.. i can imagine what you’re going through might be even harder... i’m so sorry 🥺))

okay hc time:

hmm let me think 🤔

I can actually see Malik working in retail in a classy clothing store. But only as a “last option.” As the pretentious little bitch that he is, he’d actually be the type to aim in what is generally seen as a “higher option” in the working environment. I can see him wanting to do a job where he gets to feel important, like an office job for example. Whether it’s just as a secretary or an accountant, i can see him working in more “conservative” places, where he can put on a neat suit and walk around feeling classy and bossy, or feel a sense of accomplishment by communicating with customers in polite ways and telling them what to do 💆‍♀️ But if his choices are narrowed down i can picture him working in a clothing store as well. But that’s like the only retail he’d work in, otherwise he’d feel far too “above it all”. It’s like his last option because, pretentious as he is, he wouldn’t enjoy a job where he has to “serve” people in any way - and that also includes packing their clothes in a bag behind a cash register.

Bakura, on the other hand, is much more laid back with that like,,,,, he doesn’t give a fuck as long as he gets money sgsjhs If it was up to him he wouldn’t be working at all. He’d survive by just stealing what’s necessary to live (but ofc that would be impossible - unfortunately for him). Like, less communication with people and more manual labour is what he’d pick. I can even see him working in really “easy jobs” (also because it’s easier for him to adapt as a human in society after having been a spirit for so long) like for a fast food chain or delivering the mail or even just as a dishwasher. You know... working in places where he might even get the chance to steal something >.> (i might draw him in working clothes one day 🤔 the idea really amuses me)

Now, coming to your post-work relaxing HCs:

When Malik comes home after a hard day’s work I can totally picture him complaining. And like, a lot. He wants Bakura’s full attention and he wants him to listen so he can talk and talk and complain and lament how everyone is wrong and he is right. Yk at the end of the day, he is no boss or CEO in the office or whatever working place he chooses (unless he really builds his way up but that would take a lot of time) and that in itself frustrates him. No matter how much he can keep up the illusion of being the one who orders his colleagues around, as a matter of fact he isn’t. He also has superiors to listen to and he has to collaborate with others and, because of all of his complexities and issues he had growing up, he'd low-key feel humiliated by something so mediocre. So, as soon as he gets home he has to let it all out and complain about everyone. He mostly overdoes it in his stories tho’ and is quite the drama queen for even just minor things that didn’t go as he planned at work...

Bakura kind of sees through all of this, ofc, but he’s totally here for Malik in these moments. He gives him his full attention and nods and agrees to whatever Malik says, even if he knows he’s being a tiny bit extra with his tales. But he knows Malik needs his attention and a lot of praise and reminders of how good he is. Most of all in these moments. So he complies ofc to please his distressed boyfriend.

(kinda angsty HCs:) When his working day goes really bad, there are even moments where Malik would take out his whole anger on Bakura and start accusing him of being the problem (shameless self-promo: kind of like in the beginning of my fic here) . And it’s in these moments where Bakura stops with all the sympathetic demeanour and actually fights back. Because enough is enough, and Malik has a tendency to go too far with his words and his insults at times. But even if they end up arguing it’s a coping mechanism for Malik as well to let out some of that pent up rage he’s been feeling all day. And with Bakura actually fighting back instead of just caving in, Malik gets a low-key unhealthy sense of high/satisfaction too: One, because he has Bakura’s full attention that way, and two, because he longs for that kind of conflict. He’d even go as far as provoking Bakura on purpose to rile him up and get him to direct his whole anger back at him. And Bakura never fails to put him back in his place so Malik gets exactly what he wants at the end of the day. Yes this would also lead to a lot of steamy fucking but i‘m trying to keep these HCs sfw and it’s really hard with these two sdfghjkIn Whatever their way, they make up for it at the end of the day anyway and it’s like nothing happened once the stress leaves them so, no worries.

When Bakura comes home after a hard day‘s work he hates everything. But more in a grumpy/don‘t-talk-to-me kind of way. Unlike Malik, he won‘t be complaining about his job because he doesn‘t want to waste another second thinking about it now that it‘s his free time. He won’t be mentioning the “W” from work unless it’s totally necessary. As soon as he’s done working, he wants to pretend it doesn‘t even exist and like, use every second out of work for his own personal benefit. Being a thief/cheater of rules in life, he always makes sure to do as little duty as possible and he would even be the type to falsely call in sick and do stuff like that to not work. ANYWAY (sorry for digressing) once he leaves work he wants to make the best of his time and as soon as he enters home he‘d throw himself on the sofa and take his favourite drink (beer) and make sure he‘s as relaxed as possible. He‘s also particularly needy to have Malik on his lap in these moments and would love for him to just stay close to him and cuddle and caress and touch him. Ideally he’d want Malik to be his perfect nice malewife in such moments and when Malik is in the right mood he even complies - he’d do anything to hear more praise from Bakura over how good and perfect he is and would even prepare him a nice non-vegetarian meal just to please his boyfriend.

Unlike Malik, Bakura would love to have less conflict possible in his post-work moments and craves to touch and just have Makik all to himself in his arms. But if Malik happens to be in the wrong mood as well and kind of neglects Bakura in these moments, Bakura could become petty enough to scowl and brood away for eternity. He’d be low-key/indirectly demanding that Malik makes up for it later on. And this would lead to nsfw hcs as well sfjhdj sorry Malik would be like “hey what’s up?” and Bakura would just grumble with his arms crossed and looking away. Malik would have to tip-toe his way slowly in to not let him be moody and disappointed for the rest of the day, calling him “Habibi” or “Bakura-sama” (since he adressea himself with ore-sama so gladly) to soften him up, until Bakura can’t help but let a smile form on his lips and they would end up cuddling and fucking ofc and everything is fine once again.

Idk i just really like them exactly because they seem to clash for being so different but they always find a way (sappy as it sounds) to be perfect for each other at the end <33

((I hope these were the kind of HCs you asked for 🥺 sorry if they got far too long or psychological sgksjak I wish you good good luck and i hope in future you may find something that is less stressful for you 💙💜))

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (12/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11]

A few minutes before closing time the next day, Clarke was waiting at the end of the counter for surprise customers. Gaia was already wrapping her scarf around her neck and Wells was pulling out ingredients for the next day. He had stayed much later today, going over resumes for their interviews tomorrow, but also reorganizing the kitchen.

After giving Gustus a call to offer him the job, Wells had realized that things would get crowded quite quickly. Gustus was a big man and the kitchen was on the smaller side, but it was workable with a different layout. Clarke thanked her lucky stars for her best friend's ability to adapt to situations, as she herself disliked big changes. Regardless of the possible growing pains ahead, it was an exciting time for the café.

Right after Gaia left with a tired wave, Wells found Clarke absentmindedly drawing the branches of the weeping fig. The last customers had left as well and the sun had already set. The mugs were clean, the plates drying, and the day's crumbs swept from the floor. It hadn't rained at all today; a small mercy given that Clarke couldn't stop thinking about her date with Lexa. She wasn't sure where they were headed, but heavy rain might've halted Lexa's plans and she didn't have the patience to wait another day.

Wells peeked at her drawing pad and sighed. "God, she's a beauty," he said dreamily.

Clarke snorted. His fondness for their Ficus was a running joke between them. "Weirdo."

Wells gave her a tired grin as he buttoned up his wool peacoat. He always looked so sharp in winter wear, whereas Clarke always felt like a bulky bear. She'd dressed up a little today - fitted dark pants and a knitted sweater with a nice scoop neck. Her boots were clean and if her hair's curls had loosened over the day, she had still clearly made an effort to look presentable.

“So, you had your vision," said Wells.

Clarke dropped her pencil. "Wh- I- what?"

"It was a few weeks ago, wasn't it? When you came in looking like you hadn’t slept a wink."

Shame gripped her. "Wells, I-"

“You’re looking more crimson than cranberry juice,” he pointed out with a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to bring it up," she said. She'd always felt guilty for keeping it from him, but it wasn't the easiest topic either. "Did Raven tell you?"

"Nah, she even deflected when I wondered aloud. You just started acting weird whenever someone mentioned visions. You hate lying, so I figured you didn't want to be asked if you'd had one."

Clarke closed her notepad. She should have known he'd catch on. "I didn't mean to be secretive. You know I would've told you the minute it happened, it just wasn't… family friendly."

"Yeah, I figured. It's good though? I mean, you're happy, right?"

It was a surprising question, though it shouldn't have been. Clarke hadn't really thought about it. It wasn't something she asked herself or even expected. For so long happiness had just revolved around the café. Finding the right name; the right building; the right theme. She'd judged her days based on their achieved goals and for a while it had been a thrill. And it still was - her work made her proud and it made her happy too - but it wasn't everything. She'd come to face that recently, and though the wake up call had been… unconventional, certainly, she was grateful for it.

"I am. I'm seeing her, actually. The woman from my vision. You'd recognize her - she's a regular."

Wells nodded as if he'd already put two and two together. “At Octavia and Lincoln's party I saw you talking to her. Then it clicked she wrote that article on Finn - I remembered checking her profile on the Gazette when it dropped."

"Yeah, she works there. She's writing a piece on the visions actually."

"So it's getting serious?" He asked hesitantly.

And really, Clarke couldn't fault his curiosity. She'd been so wrapped up in Lexa that she'd neglected their relationship and now he was unsure if he should gently prod or wait.

“It’s new and we’re taking things slow, but yeah, I'm hoping it'll work out. I really like her."

Wells looked over her shoulder toward the entrance and smiled. "Seems like she really likes you too."

Clarke turned around and saw that Lexa had parked her car and was just crossing the street toward the café.

"Are you coming in tomorrow?" He asked her.

Clarke whipped around, her cheeks flushed. "What? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?"

"Dunno, you tell me." He laughed as he checked for his keys in his pocket. "Gaia and Harper have the early shift, in case you forgot. We just have those three interviews in the afternoon, but you already know that."

"I do know," she replied with a frown. "There's no reason I wouldn't be here earlier. I'm always here. What are you saying?"

He shrugged, entirely too proud of himself, and walked toward the back exit. "No one will fault you if you take a break. Enjoy your date!"

"I will! And I'll see you in the morning!" Clarke replied stubbornly.

"I'm sure you will!" he retorted, still snickering, before closing the door behind him.

A hand touched Clarke's shoulder and she startled.

"Sorry," Lexa said with a gentle smile. She'd put on her black coat today, the top buttons undone to reveal her sweater - a reddish brown this time, perfect for the fall. Her hair was down and her eyeliner perhaps more pronounced than usual. Clarke wondered if she'd applied it in her car. She looked beautiful.

"Hi, baby," she softened, forgetting all about Well's teasing. He didn't know what he was talking about. Tonight was just going to be a nice date. Some food, wine - whatever Lexa had planned. They were still going slow. Clarke didn't have any expectations other than enjoying their time together. She liked their pace. It was… frustrating at times, sure, but it was working. They had both opened up to each other.

"Hi," Lexa whispered before she inched forward so that she could kiss her over the counter. Clarke sighed into it, having imagined such sweetness all day long.

"Am I too early?" Lexa asked. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

Clarke brushed her thumb over Lexa's jaw. "No, I'm done. I just need to grab my coat and close up."

"Was that Wells who went out back?"

"Yes, he was being ridiculous."

"I thought he usually left earlier?"

"He does, but he's been rearranging the kitchen. I think he's worried Gustus will find it too small."

"Gus has an entire farm and acres of land at his disposal, but he sleeps in his shed because it's warm," Lexa said. "He won't mind."

Clarke beamed, delighted to hear it. "I'm going to give you Wells' number and you're going to text him just that. "

While Clarke left to grab her coat, Lexa worried her lip. "Oh but he doesn't really know me…"

"He will."

Clarke came out from the back with her coat and scarf on. She pulled out her set of keys. "He's my best friend and you're my-" she stopped herself. "I think you'd get along great. He loves theater, devours literature, and he already thinks you're amazing for taking Finn down. So don't worry about it."

"Well, that reminds me: Collins went ahead with suing the Gazette."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

They made their way to the front, where Lexa opened the door for Clarke. "No. It'll never stand, but he aims to waste our time and money."

"Waste of time and money - that's been his motto since birth."

Lexa wrinkled her nose. "Let's talk about something else."

"Please. So where's my carriage?"

Lexa laughed.

* * *

Lexa may not have found a pumpkin to turn into a carriage after all, but her car smelled like apples and she drove so smoothly Clarke could've closed her eyes and imagined they weren't moving at all. She had never thought 'great driver' would do it for her, but here she was eyeing Lexa's hands on the steering wheel and feeling hot.

"How's the writing going?" Clarke asked, clearing her throat when her voice started off slightly rough.

Lexa took a left, which would've surprised Clarke if she'd paid any attention to the road. But all she could think about was Lexa's razor-sharp focus and how she yearned to be the reason for it.

"Good, I finished a first draft. My writing partner is looking at it for now. I need it out of my sight for a few days."

"Partner, huh?"

Lexa smiled as she kept her eyes on the road. "Echo. She wrote most of the FC&B article."

"Did you write for other newspapers before?"

Lexa nodded. "Two. I've been lucky, professionally. Smaller papers have always been more interesting to me, so I stayed away from national ones. I was able to climb the ladder a lot faster than some of my old classmates."

"The Gazette must've been a change of pace. New city, new job - I don't think I could handle it."

"When they hired me I was so happy to be working I just threw myself into it," Lexa admitted. "I got the idea on the Mountain Men soon after, just from reading old archives about them. That kept me busy, so I didn't have time to worry about fitting in. It was nice. Exciting. It felt like falling in love with my job again. Then one day Echo invited me to grab drinks with other colleagues and… I realized things had fallen into place already."

"Costial is pretty magical like that," Clarke said with a smile. She loved it when Lexa talked about her time here. Sometimes it was easy to forget she hadn't even been here a year yet. Clarke remembered her first year in the city - how she'd felt like she'd always belonged here. How she couldn't wait to build her life here. And college had been fun, and sometimes she walked by the campus just for the nostalgia of it, but it was the years after that had really shaped her life into what it was today. There had been many tears and failures before the café, but she'd never once thought of leaving. She hoped Lexa felt the same.

One glance outside the window and Clarke finally had an idea where they were headed. They were quite far from the center of the city now, just a few miles away from Busy Moose Park and its lake on the outskirts. Lexa took the road that led to the park, but she didn't make the turn Clarke had expected and instead continued straight.

"Are we going to the factory?" Clarke asked.

The chocolate factory and its surroundings were certainly a sight to behold, and popular with teens because of its smells and aesthetic quality, but there wasn't much to do unless you brought a picnic. Which was unlikely to be comfortable anyway in this cold.

"Not quite," Lexa answered with a secretive smile.

A few minutes later she finally pulled over into a small parking lot, checking for Clarke's reaction as soon as they got out of the car.

“I know I said I’d take you somewhere more upscale, but I thought you might really like this place."

Because the factory was just a ways down the road and it was windy tonight, the bold smell of chocolate permeated the air. They had stopped in front of a rustic restaurant surrounded by a garden. Small lights glowed softly against the brick walls, complimented by the dancing shadows from a few lanterns. There was a patio with beams covered in twining vines, the plants and wisteria also covering the top like a ceiling. Powerful heaters kept the biting cold at bay, no doubt, making the entire place look like a winter fairytale.

It was the kind of romantic setting Clarke would have made fun of in front of friends while secretly hoping to experience it one day.

“How the hell have I never been here before?” She asked in astonishment.

With a hand on her back, Lexa led her toward the entrance.

“Did you know Icicle? Italian restaurant?”

“Yeah, that rings a bell.”

“This is it. The owner retired and her son took over - revamped the whole place from top to bottom and gave it a mountain lodge theme. He figured they should capitalize on the location more, especially the constant sweetness in the air. It just reopened a few weeks ago. Featured in the Gazette and everything.”

“Oh, that might’ve been when I was a bit angry at you," Clarke remembered and gave Lexa a teasing grin. "Deleted the app like it was some kind of statement."

Lexa scrunched up her nose, not too eager to remember that time. The hostess seated them inside at a secluded table for two. The light was dimmed and there was a candle between them; and even two squares of chocolate wrapped in gold foil.

After they took off their coats and sat, Lexa bit her lip. “It's not too much, is it?"

"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous." Clarke reached for her hand. "You're always surprising me."

A waiter gave them a menu and a basket of bread. They looked like mini baguettes and Clarke was temped to steal one for Wells.

“God, I almost forgot about this smell," she said, taking a deep breath. The chocolate from the factory still wafted faintly in the air, and mixed with the smell of food it had Clarke already salivating for dinner. "In college we used to hang out by the lake a lot. If the wind was on our side we’d always get a whiff from the factory. Not even edibles could beat that.”

Lexa arched a brow. “Edibles, huh?”

“Please, I know you’ve dabbled," Clarke scoffed.

“What makes you think that?”

“You have the vibe.”

“The pothead vibe? I thought I was unreadable.”

“Oh you have that vibe too," Clarke laughed. "But then there’s the tattoos, the plants, the way you write about nature. You’re curious, open minded, andyou went to a liberal arts college. You must’ve tried it at least once. I think that’s how you approach most things: don’t knock ‘till you try it. Am I close?”

Lexa looked away, slightly flummoxed. “It sounds like I’m more of an open book then.”

"Maybe that's a good thing…" Clarke offered with a hopeful smile, thumb caressing the back of her hand.

"Maybe it is," Lexa agreed.

They both picked the apricot glazed chicken with roasted potatoes, pairing it with a white wine. Throughout dinner Clarke felt such pleasant warmth, both because of the wine and Lexa's steady gaze on her. She was relaxed and unfairly charming; a great listener by all accounts, but also coming out of her shell when it came to her own past. Clarke knew it wasn't easy for her, which made it all the more special.

"In retrospect I should've figured politics weren’t for me when I started screaming at my television every time the news came on."

Clarke grinned, knowing the sentiment all too well. "Good thing you don't work for a newspaper or anything…"

Swallowing the last of her wine, Lexa gave her a playful smirk. "Local news. I can take the city hall drama. I actually enjoy it with my morning pastry."

"That I can believe. You always look so deep in thought when you read. Harper dropped a cup once and you didn't even flinch."

"Really?" Lexa asked. "Is there anything else I do that I should know about?"

The waiter stopped by with their desserts: molten chocolate cake for Lexa and a slice of pear tart for Clarke.

"It's not like I stare or anything," Clarke clarified as she grabbed her spoon. "Your seat just happens to be in my vicinity."

"Mm." Lexa smirked. "I guess I just pop up sometimes…" she trailed off, her tone heavy with implication.

She did this occasionally, but more boldly recently. Alluding to Clarke's vision seemed to greatly entertain Lexa.

"Ha, you're funny," Clarke deadpanned.

"Did I also crack jokes while I was kissing you - and I quote - everywhere?" Lexa goaded.

Clarke shrugged as she chewed on her tart. "Actually you were a lot more suave than you are now. Pity."

Lexa laughed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Please, you're very proud of yourself. And it's not fair all I have to go on is your distaste for coffee." Clarke remembered how frantic she had been after her vision, her mind firing questions every second. “Did you know I went to a vision reader right after?”

It had been an impulse and she'd regretted it, but she figured Lexa was familiar with them.

"Really?" Lexa asked, surprised.

“Yeah, the one by the market. Becca’s Reading or something. I bailed at the last minute.”

“I actually haven’t spoken to one. I was toying with the idea, but it might be an entirely different article.”

Clarke grimaced. “They’re just opportunistic money grabbers.”

Lexa offered a spoonful of her cake, which Clarke took before plopping a bit of pear on top of it. The warm chocolate melted the pear in her mouth and she sighed at the taste. Lexa smiled.

“It’s a different point of view. Besides, listening to so many stories might’ve given them some valuable insight even if they opened a shop for the wrong reasons. If my job’s taught me anything it’s to not judge a book by its cover.”

"Hmm you're good at it - your job. And I'm not just saying that because you're wining and dining me."

Lexa looked bashful. "You know, I remember when you yelled at me to get over myself."

"Not our finest moment…"

"No," Lexa agreed. "But it was needed. Before that there was so much I wanted to tell you, but… couldn't."

"I know." Clarke remembered that feeling as well. After the vision she'd look at Lexa and be so certain there was so much left unsaid between them, yet neither of them knew where to start, or if it was reciprocated. "I should've let you interview me - just ripped off the Band-Aid. It would've explained a lot."

"I would've never made it past the first question," Lexa said. "Can you share what you saw, Clarke?"

Clarke smiled cheekily around a mouthful of her tart. "Well, I would hope that kind of confession would score me a date at least."

"Oh I would have asked you out on the spot," Lexa replied with a smirk.

Clarke gasped. "How very unprofessional of you."

"If you hadn't noticed, my professionalism hangs by a thread whenever I'm near you."

Clarke let out a small laugh. "Well, that's one thing I'm glad for."

* * *

After their dinner, Lexa suggested they walk in the park before it closed. It was cold but their coats were thick and the wind was minimal. Clarke had no desire to part just yet, and so took Lexa's hand in hers as soon as they left the car by the park's entrance.

They had a little less than thirty minutes before it closed, but enjoyed every second as they strolled by the lake. The half-moon was reflected on the quiet surface, and though there were a few other people, Clarke felt like they had just stepped into a world of their own.

Clarke nudged Lexa toward one of the Beech trees, its autumn leaves still clinging bravely to its thick branches. They settled beneath it, lying down on the soft ground where leaves piled atop the grass. Between the branches they could see some stars, and Clarke wondered if maybe the park could close and leave them be. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

She heard some rustling and then saw Lexa look down at her, her face framed by her wavy hair and the stars above. She took Clarke's breath away.

"You're so beautiful," Lexa murmured, struck by a similar thought it seemed. "You have the kindest eyes and the warmest smile. It's the first thing I ever noticed about you."

Clarke reached up to kiss her, parting only when she felt Lexa's hand on her stomach. Even atop her coat and thick clothing, she could feel its warmth.

"I think you're drunk on wine and chocolate."

"Then you'll be relived to hear I'm a very sincere drunk."

Clarke giggled, which made Lexa's smile stretch in such a fond way. She pressed closer to her, the tip of her nose brushing against her neck. She kissed the small spot, as if to apologize for her cold nose.

"I wonder so much about you, Clarke."

Clarke hummed. "What do you wonder about?"

“I’ve spoken with a lot of people. Heard the visions about reuniting with loved ones, getting over addictions, graduating. There’s been some romance of course,” Lexa said. “Aden’s first kiss, though he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s face. Echo celebrating a wedding anniversary with her husband. But so few - even online in anonymous circles - so few like yours.”

Now Clarke felt warm again, mostly from the blush on her cheeks. “I don’t believe that.”

Lexa lifted her head from her shoulder. “Have you personally heard of any?”

“Raven saw Wells naked.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Okay, so I'm a pervert, what can I say?”

“No,” Lexa replied, tickled by Clarke's little huff. “You’re a mystery. You intrigue me.”

Clarke cleared her throat. “Well I’ve had a bit of a dry spell. I had flings, but… I didn't allow myself anything more. The café was taking up all my thoughts and for a while it worked for me. Then the days got long again, and lonelier… Raven said it was probably just my body wanting me to snap out of it.”

“And what do you think?”

Clarke did wonder about it then, or at least differently than she had in the past. It wasn't so long ago she'd asked these questions herself. She'd been so frustrated she couldn't discuss them with the person she'd shared it with, and here she was, lying right next to her in a bed of leaves.

She touched Lexa's hand on her stomach, lacing and unlacing their fingers, gently playing with them as she tried to make sense of everything.

“Have you never fantasized about a stranger?" She asked quietly, catching Lexa's eyes. "Someone who knows nothing about you and yet knows exactly how to make your body soar?"

“That’s not what you saw though, is it?” Lexa murmured. “I wasn’t a stranger in your bed. I knew you and you knew me."

Clarke felt her heart beat faster. She wanted so badly to kiss Lexa again; to feel her body against hers like the night on her couch.

"Lex…"

Their lips were just a hair's breadth apart now. To anyone else, they would've looked like they were kissing.

"How was it different, Clarke?"

Clarke swallowed, trying to find the words. “How? The way you handled me - needy and possessive, but tender and attentive too. Like you were in charge of my pleasure and you had to remind me."

She saw Lexa swallow and so continued, eager to share everything this time: "You said my name and it almost sounded like a prayer - like you couldn’t believe we were together. I never heard my name like that before. I never thought I could make someone feel lucky."

"God, Clarke, you have no idea." Lexa exhaled before closing the gap and kissing her. It wasn't like any other kiss they'd shared tonight. It felt like a promise, almost. Lexa tasted so sweet on her tongue and Clarke could only wonder if all of her was just as heavenly.

She cupped the back of her neck and felt herself throb with desire, her mind filled with both the reality of Lexa and the last of her vision.

"I can even remember the smell of us," Clarke sighed between kisses. "How sticky my skin felt, like we'd been in bed for hours."

"Clarke - fuck."

Clarke pushed Lexa on her back and cupped her cheeks, claiming her lips quite quickly again. She licked into her mouth and moaned at the silky feel of Lexa's tongue.

"Sometimes I'd try to picture us again but you'd disappear," Clarke continued, eyes closing when Lexa started kissing down her neck. "I wasn't sure if it was you anymore. But then you'd come back. I'd feel your hands, your mouth on me… lower, and lower…"

Lexa let out a groan and pinched the bridge of her nose before falling back on the ground, the leaves rustling beneath her. Something in the way she set her jaw made Clarke frown.

"Baby…" she said, tracing a finger over her cheekbone.

"Did you call her that?" Lexa asked without thinking.

Clarke retracted her hand and paused. A grin spread on her face. “What? Are you jealous… of yourself?”

Lexa glared petulantly. “No.”

“You are."

Lexa remained quiet, so after a moment Clarke poked her arm. “Well what about yours?”

"Mine?"

"I wasn't even in it - how do you think that makes me feel?"

Lexa shook her head. "You were in it."

"You said you were just standing in a random kitchen making coffee."

"Yes."

"So?"

They heard the echo of a bicycle's bell on the pathway and turned to the sound, but the couple soon rode away. Clarke looked at Lexa again, finding her staring at the sky.

“What are you keeping from me?”

A small smile grew on Lexa's face - but she remained tightlipped.

"How was I there?" Clarke asked again, deeply curious.

"The doodles," Lexa simply replied.

Clarke remembered that she'd found that to be a strange detail before. She didn't put up her doodles on walls and she didn't frame them. These had to be important. Something that made her identity unmistakable in Lexa's eyes. Sure it could be that her style was recognizable, but Lexa made it sound as if it was something else.

“Lex…"

She lifted Lexa's chin to catch her gaze.

“If I tell you, I worry it might not happen," Lexa admitted.

Clarke bit her lip, finally understanding. It was almost like saying a wish out loud - fearing it might not come true if you broke that single rule.

“You want it to happen?” She asked instead.

A breeze passed as Lexa looked at her intently, leaving no room for doubt. “Yes.”

There was no waver in her voice. Not even an ounce of hesitation. The sheer confidence set Clarke alight. She’d forgotten how it felt to feel so wanted. Whatever it was in that frame… Lexa clearly hoped for it in their future. The fact that she wanted it with her, and no one else, made her desire swell.

She leaned down and kissed her right against the grass and by the slumbering tree, forgetting all about the doodles. Lexa believed it was her - that was all that mattered. After weeks of being unsure of where they stood, if her feelings were even shared, she didn't need anything more.

Lexa wound her arm around her waist, her mouth still as hungry against Clarke's. When they pulled away, she pressed their foreheads together.

“I wish I could see us like you did," she murmured wistfully.

"What would it change?"

“Maybe… maybe if I knew I was good enough for you… If I was sure that I wouldn’t- that I wouldn’t hurt you-"

Clarke shook her head. "Don’t fill your head with thoughts like that. Let's just be here, together, and worry about the rest when it comes. I know it's hard for you, but this - us - right now… it's good, isn't it?"

Lexa nodded. "It's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

Relieved, Clarke tucked her head beneath Lexa's chin. "Then just be with me. You can be happy, baby. You have a right to it. Don't let anyone or anything tell you otherwise."

Eventually they made their way back to Lexa's car, neither of them interested in picking up their leisurely pace.

"I'm sorry we ended up walking so much," Lexa said.

"You fed me beforehand, so it's forgiven."

Lexa smiled. "Good to know."

Before they reached the parking lot, Clarke decided to ask what had been on her mind: "I know you said Costial feels like home to you; that you found your place here, but… do you see your future here? Because this is it for me. And I'm… I like you, Lex. I like you a lot. I don't want to be an interlude. I don't think I could take it."

"Clarke," Lexa stepped closer to her. "You're not an interlude, you're - God, you've been in every act of my life here. I don't want to go anywhere. I- I want to be with you. That's what I know for certain. Is that alright for now?"

"It is."

Lexa kissed her softly and then smirked. "I may not have had erotic visions of myself entwined with a hot local, but I still want to stay here."

Clarke shoved her playfully. "I don't even like you anymore."

They laughed the whole way to the car.

* * *

It seemed like a tradition already; Lexa walking her to her door while Clarke racked her mind for a way to linger. When they finally arrived she leaned against her door and sighed.

"Tonight was amazing."

Lexa hummed. "I'm glad."

"I'm definitely taking you out this weekend," Clarke said.

"You are?" Lexa asked, tilting her head to kiss her again.

Clarke closed the gap as she wrapped her arms around her neck. The kiss was slow; amatory, but as always it could not go on for too long before hands wandered.

"I hope you have sweet dreams," Lexa said, her eyes hooded and her lips slightly redder.

"Oh I will."

Lexa glanced at her mouth. "If I pay you a visit again maybe you could keep a journal close by. I'd love some notes on my performance."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Remind me why I ever told you?"

"What? That we lasted hours?" Lexa husked.

Right. Clarke narrowed her eyes and let her hands slowly drag down Lexa's arms. Now, Clarke wasn't innocent. She knew fully what made her look good, even when her coat was buttoned up. She had let Lexa tease her and goad her about the vision all night, and she had kept her retort to herself. But no more.

She pressed her body closer to Lexa's, unmistakably provocative with the way their breasts touched.

“Make fun all you want, Lexa, but remember this: I’ve seen all of you while you haven’t seen an inch of me.” She felt Lexa’s hand tighten on her waist. “I’ve felt your body against mine. Your mouth on my thighs. I’ve felt your tongue inside me.” She glanced down at Lexa's lips and then back up, proud of the gobsmacked look on her face. “So you can tease me. You can push my buttons. I can take it. But you? You only have your imagination." She stepped back and gave her sultriest smile, "And trust me, it’s got nothing on reality.”

She turned around and quickly unlocked her door, then looked over her shoulder. "Thanks for the date, baby."

As soon as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, Clarke knew she'd just played a dirty hand. But Lexa had teased her at all night and all was fair in lust.

With a wicked grin, too pleased by the night's events, Clarke took off her coat and slipped out of her shoes and socks. And because she just couldn't resist one last look, she walked to her window and waited. Finally she saw Lexa walk out of the building. She seemed unfocused, going right and then left, forgetting where she'd parked.

But then she stopped and turned around.

Clarke's smile fell. Just watching Lexa like this, seeing the effect she had on her… it changed something. She had closed the door in the spur of the moment - because they were good at testing each other. Because she had thought tonight should end there, on another game of theirs.

But she didn’t want to play anymore.

And maybe Lexa realized it too. She looked up and found her apartment's window.

Their eyes met.

Clarke reached out for the curtain, gripping it so tight her knuckles went white. She couldn't look away from those eyes in the moonlight if she tried. Even if the ground started shaking beneath their feet.

"Lexa-" she started before stopping herself. It had to be Lexa's decision. Clarke had already made hers. She couldn't call out to her. Not for this. Lexa had to choose.

Clarke held her breath, unsure she'd even be able to leave this spot if Lexa did walk away after all. Until-

Lexa bolted back toward the building.

Clarke watched her disappear from view and then heard her intercom. She rushed toward it and pressed the buzzer, her heart in her throat. Still barefoot, she pulled the door open and waited. Footsteps thundered up the flights of stairs, closer and closer.

Tonight had not ended. Not yet.

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Final Fantasy XIII Review

Year: 2009

Original Platform: PlayStation 3

Also available on: Xbox 360, PC, Android, iOS

Version I Played: PlayStation 3

Synopsis:

On the planet Cocoon, those who come into contact with anything from the planet Pulse are purged to that planet. Pulse is a feared planet full of monsters and strange creatures. Both planets are ruled by fal’Cie, mechanical godlike beings who sometimes brand humans as their servants for specific tasks, called a focus. Those who fulfill their focus are turned into crystals and obtain eternal life. Those who do not fulfill their focus turn into mindless monsters. Lightning is a former soldier whose sister, Serah, is branded by a fal’Cie and taken to be purged. Lightning sets off to rescue her.

Gameplay:

Going to say this now – the worst gameplay in the entire Final Fantasy series.

The battles are Active Time Battles but instead of you inputting individual commands, there are what’s called paradigms. Paradigms are somewhat like Job Classes from the old Final Fantasy games, except less fun and more automated. You can switch to a Medic paradigm in battle and every time you press “Auto-Battle” your character automatically performs a series of necessary cure and restore spells, based on what’s going on in the battle. The Sentinel paradigm specializes in keeping the enemy at bay. The Ravager paradigm uses magic. The Commando paradigm uses physical attacks. You get the picture.

As a result, the gameplay could be best described as:

With occasional switching of paradigms whenever you see fit. You can set up a number of combinations across the characters. Two Commandos and one Sentinel. One Sentinel and one Ravager and One Commando, etc.

The party automatically heals after each battle – you can even press start during a battle and restart the battle.

I probably only used an item once or twice. I honestly don’t see why they bothered putting any items if you hardly ever use them.

You can upgrade your weapons with pieces and junk you find after battles. You find so many of them that you hardly ever think about what you’re upgrading so long as whatever you make upgrades your stats. Is this better? No? What about this? Okay, good. Moving on.

Like Final Fantasy X, the game is linear. Much more linear. You follow a long hallway for about 30 hours of the game before you can do sidequests. The sidequests involve completing other people’s focus. That’s about it. There are no towns, no inns, no villages. You are entirely on the road, constantly in battle (Okay, there’s like one time where Sazh and Vanille are in a casino or something but that’s about it).

I wrote a blog piece a while back about what exactly was wrong with Final Fantasy XIII, and it’s not that it’s linear. We play really great linear games all the time. It’s the automation – the feeling that you’re not really doing anything.

There isn’t an ounce of customization. Leveling up is similar to the Sphere Grid of Final Fantasy X. It’s called the Crystarium but it follows a strict path. You can’t actually stray anywhere or customize anything. If that’s the case, why bother making you open the menu to level up through the Crystarium? Why not just automatically do it? I guess they want to give you some ounce (more like a milligram) of control over the game.

Basically – you’re watching a long movie and occasionally get to move the people around. That’s how I see it.

Graphics:

PLAYSTATION 3 HD GRAPHICS HOMG DO YOU HAVEA BONER YET? LOOK AT THIS. FIRST FINAL FANTASY GAME IN GLORIOUS HD.

Everything is pretty in this game. Everything. There is nothing wrong with this at all.

Story:

The characters appear to reference those in Final Fantasy VII. Director Motomu Toriyama wanted Lightning to essentially be a female Cloud Strife. She’s a no-nonsense, athletic female lead. While Cloud and Squall were introspective and antisocial, Lightning is slightly different by actively ordering people around. She comes off as a dick to everyone, and that’s due to her ex-soldier background. Think of your stereotypical ex-cop/ex-CIA/ex-military action movie hero, like Liam Neeson (Bryan Mills in Taken) or Bruce Willis (John McClane in Die Hard). That’s basically Lightning.

Can we go on a short tangent for a moment to talk about how weird it is that Lightning was also used as a model for advertising in Japan?

Here she is driving a Nissan.

And wearing Louis Vitton.

Cool? I guess? Unless you start to realize that Toriyama wanted to design his own personal waifu, and that he’s completely obsessed with her. That gets really weird. And sad? A little? Anyway.

Vanille has some reminiscent of Yuffie from Final Fantasy VII, although with more character via her inner monologues and narration. Fang is vaguely like Vincent Valentine. Sazh takes the place of Barrett as the token black dude, except instead of being aggressive he’s more like the comic relief and wants nothing to do with anything. Every time you control him, jazz music plays, because black people I guess. Hope doesn’t appear to be reminiscent of anyone – he’s just this boy who yells and complains a lot with Lightning. Snow meanwhile is a ripoff of Zell from Final Fantasy VIII, except somehow even more annoying.

(Every time I see his picture I think about your typical dude bro at a frat.)

The story starts of a bit choppy as you follow almost each character separately, then they run into each other, then separate again, then join again. The first 30 hours or so gives flashbacks of 13 days prior- BECAUSE IT’S FINAL FANTASY XIII GET IT? Vanille actually narrates some events but it’s not exactly clear why or from when – but that’s a spoiler. Along the way, I got really confused because I didn’t know why some people were fighting each other when they were on the same side a moment ago. The concept of the “focus” is really weird and sometimes confusing. People with a focus simply have visions or a general idea of what they’re supposed to do, but they don’t actually know for sure unless they actively seek it. If the gods granted them a focus, wouldn’t it make more sense if the gods just told them what to do? Seemed to work in Final Fantasy XII. 

In short, the narrative weaves around a lot. If you stop playing in the middle and pick up the game again months later, you’re bound to forget what’s going on. I know I did.

The characters didn’t annoy me as much as you would think they would on paper. They all have character development and that’s good. The only character that effectively got on my nerves was Snow. Snow is Serah’s fiancé, and Lightning hates him because of course you need some family drama. I don’t blame Lightning though. Snow shouts cheesy lines left and right, like “Heroes never die!”. He shouts Serah’s name the same way Christian Bale shouts Rachel’s name in the Christopher Nolan Batman films. Snow is quite possibly the most irritating character of all the Final Fantasy games. He will not shut the fuck up about what it means to be a hero.

The rest of the cast works well in that their motives and desires clash with each other. But I’m still sore about the wasted potential for a great character in Jihl Nabaat. Sazh wants his son Dejh back, who was taken to be purged by the sinister and extremely hot Jihl Nabaat.

 Goddaaayyyum. Seriously, look at her.

Too bad, because she’s only featured in a handful of scenes and then dies. Her death isn’t a major spoiler, at least one that I consider, because she hardly does anything except get in the way for a moment. You don’t even fight her. How lame is that?

Then you have this annoying bastard – Primarch Dysley.

When I think of him, I think of Mitch McConnell.

Old. Disagreeable. Been in power for too long. Always in the way of progress.

Primarch Dysley happens to be as annoying as Seymour from Final Fantasy X, so expect to be overjoyed every time you run into him.

Overall, the story isn’t as bad as you’d think. You just have to pay close attention. The gameplay is far worse than the story. I could easily slip into a coma while playing this game and still make it pretty far.

Music:

Final Fantasy XII saw the departure of Nobuo Uematsu (well with the exception of the pop song “Kiss Me Goodbye”). Final Fantasy XIII continues to head into the unknown without the beloved longtime composer. This game’s score is composed entirely by Masashi Hamauzu, who if you haven’t been paying attention, already partly worked on Final Fantasy X.  I immediately saw how “Saber’s Edge”, the boss theme, is similar in nature to the boss theme of Final Fantasy X.

Final Fantasy XIII made the most radical changes to the score. There are no signature themes from the series. No “Prelude” theme, no “Main Theme”, no “Victory Fanfare” theme. Instead, we get a theme called “Fabula Nova Crystallis”.  It plays frequently throughout the game, and almost acts as Serah and Snow’s love theme. In some portions of the game, some woman is singing along. Yes – this is the first time where you roam around a world in a Final Fantasy game with actual pop music playing in the background – “Sunleth Waterscape” to be exact. Final Fantasy XIII’s music gets pretty poppy.

Not saying it’s a bad idea.

Just.

You got pop music playing in the background now.

“Lightning’s Theme” is pretty sick. Her theme plays during the battles in a rendition called “Blinded by Light” – HA GET IT BECAUSE SHE’S LIGHTNING. SO CLEVER.

But Hamauzu was a good choice – the entire score holds up well and sounds like a movie score, with varying motifs running across. It can be a bit more subdued but that’s how contemporary instrumental music is nowadays, especially with film composers like Hans Zimmer.

 Notable Theme:

“Blinded by Light”

Really epic, unique song. I always scat along to it as it plays.

Verdict:

Uff. 

Look, if you just search on YouTube for all the cutscenes, there you go. That’s the game. And it’s entertaining to watch. But it has the worst gameplay that doesn’t feel like you’re even doing anything. No sense of customization or originality.

Direct Sequel?

Yes, two.

Final Fantasy XIII-2.

I started it around the time it first came out, but I’m still in the middle of playing it and I have no idea what’s going on in the story. NO idea. NONE at all. They use time travel but none of it makes sense. Apparently changing things in the future can change the past. I don’t know how. I only understand a vague semblance of a plot with the bad guy Caius. While it doesn’t tarnish the dignity of the original like Final Fantasy X-2 did, it’s still offbeat with its metal (yes, metal) music and utterly confounding story. It’s infamous for this metal rendition of the sweet and innocent Chocobo theme.

Then there’s the third game, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII

I plan on playing it after I finish Final Fantasy XIII-2, if I don’t already die from an aneurysm by then. It’s supposed to be better than Final Fantasy XIII-2 but lacking in graphics.

[shnuggletea]

This is my attempt at EdWin pairing from Full Metal Alchemist. It’s for @kalsies​ bday and since you like EdWin and FMA I thought I’d switch it up for you. I also realize that you don’t really know me but I’m a fan of your work! And I hate it when I miss a bday; we all deserve some love especially on our bday!

I’m going to post this on Tumblr only for now to see how it goes. Idk if this is any good and I kinda rushed it but here goes. 

I do not own Full Metal or the art used in the cover above (came from here) I just own the story!

Happy Birthday Kalsies the Derp!

I also made a playlist but it is also a WIP! You can listen to it here!

The Coffee House

It wasn’t like I was looking for the place or planned to ever go inside. I blame the damn wind. It blew my hair free of its tie and damn if it didn’t want to quit! So I had to duck in somewhere and I’m not a coffee drinker. As soon as I stepped in out of the wind I was nearly pushed back out by the smell of the place. 

I never had a problem with the smell of coffee really. It has a decent scent to it. But I knew that the scent was misleading and that the taste was far from the enticing smell. So much so I had distrust in coffee and everything to do with it.

Especially the baristas that slung it at you with a false smile.

And this place had all the bells and whistles of your usual coffee house. Tables and ‘comfortable’ chairs. Dark lighting and soft music. Everything you needed to get people to stay and drink more. The only difference was, this place had huge pieces of twisted metal sticking out of the walls and hanging from the ceiling. Probably considered ‘art’ but I wasn’t buying it. I did find the piece that was half an engine from an old tank stuck to the wall interesting. 

There weren’t a lot of people inside so maybe this place made even shitter coffee? It made getting my hair back in its place a hell of a lot easier, slipping off to the bathroom for a mirror. That turned out to be an added blessing because I hadn’t noticed the smudge of oil on my face. Undoubtedly from work cause not even Al would tell me it was there. They would laugh while I walked the streets unknowing.

A few more bodies were in the place once I returned. It made the place loud and I hated loud. “You have to buy something!”

Turning to the shrill voice, I expected a doughty old maid. Instead, it was just a girl. She was pretty... I guess. If you’re into tall blondes. With her hair pulled back to the top of her head and the dirty apron covering her front, it was hard to say anything else about her other than tall and blonde. And irritated since she was still glaring at me for some reason.

“Huh?”

“Are you dumb? You used our bathroom; I saw you. Only customers are allowed to use it so either buy something or I’m going to punch you in the dick.”

I laughed because it was ridiculous. But that only pissed the blonde off more as she started to jump over the counter to get to me. “Okay, okay I’ll buy something. Jeez!”

She stepped back and stopped all attempts to get at me… with violence. Now she had arms crossed over her chest (couldn’t tell how big her chest was still) and went back to glaring at me. “Well? Order something!”

“Look, I just needed to fix my hair…”

She snorted. “Your hair? Seriously?!”

I growled back at the woman. “Yeah, my hair! Like you have room to talk!”

“I do since my hair is actually cute.”

“Who the hell do you…”

“Are you gonna order today or next week?”

I took a glance around. It wasn’t like I was holding up the line or anything. “I don’t even like coffee…”

“You’ll like my coffee,” the strange and annoying girl said, stepping back to a large and intimidating machine, “my coffee is the best in town.”

“Hasn’t this place only been open a week?”

“Two!” She shouted with pride and pulled down a lever. It was like an old fashioned slot machine that was ready to explode. Cause as soon as she pulled down the lever the whole thing shook and twanged like it would get up and breakdance. “It’ll just be a minute.”

The wall behind me became mine as I leaned against it. The girl didn’t talk her eyes off me so I didn’t take mine off her. She was… strange. Pushy and arrogant and rude. Her eyes eventually got to be too much and I didn’t like how she was studying my body. Not that it would help but I crossed my arms over my chest. Which most people took the hint when someone did that but not this girl.

“Who did your Automail?” The packs of coffee beans that held my attention for a second could have been set on fire and it wouldn’t have changed the glare I was giving this nosy woman. “Doesn’t look like they did a very good job. I can see it hitching at your shoulder.”

The hell she could. I had on an undershirt, long sleeve henley, and my red leather jacket. Add in my gloves and there was no way. “I haven’t been in for a tune-up in a while, that’s all.”

 She couldn’t see shit, she was guessing or something. Messing with me. “How did you lose your arm?”

“That’s none of your business,” I shouted as fiercely as possible. She nodded as if I told her I didn’t want sugar though. “You know, I didn’t even use your damn bathroom. I shouldn’t have to…”

“So what are you? Street cleaner?” The woman was unphased by my angry stupor. “You have some dirt here.” She pointed to her left temple and I wiped at mine. “You do look familiar, have we met before?”

She was leaning on the counter between us, scrutinizing and sizing me up even more. The only part of her skin that was visible (other than her face) was her hands and they were covered in little bandaids. I was marveling at how tiny her fingers were and a snarky response slipped past my filter. “Maybe I cleaned your street before.”

Then she giggled. I swear there was a twinkle in her eyes, I didn’t imagine that. And adorable, mischievous, god damn annoying twinkle that made me want to burn the place down. Even more so when she stood back up and twisted a small golden tendril around one of her tiny fingers. “How do you like your coffee?”

“What is it with you and personal questions?!” She held up a small cup, innocently and I felt flames lick the skin on my cheeks. But she said nothing about it, staring at me with doe eyes that would have reminded me of a lake on a calm day but they were far from calm. More like the ocean before a hurricane. “I don’t like coffee at all so…”

“Right, cream and sugar then.” She moved away from me and I moved towards the counter. “How tall are you?”

She was crouched inside a small fridge pulling out bottles but looking up at me. Her golden hair almost touched the floor and yet she still had all her attention on me. “What’s it to you, Blondie?”

I struck a nerve with that one, finally. She slammed the fridge shut and handed the coffee to me so hard I nearly got burned. “It’s Winry.”

If she hated the name then why did she have blonde hair? It was nothing to change the color of your hair these days. She flicked a few loose locks behind her ear and showed that it was full of metal. Studs and hoops went from her lobe up to the corner of her cartilage. A lot of girls had their ears pierced but not quite like that and it made me curious if the other looked the same.

“Are you always this nosy, Winry?” 

If she was offended, she didn’t show it; shrugging and looking at her bandaged hands. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh, you asked. About everything that has nothing to do with you.”

Saying nothing else, she held out her hand and after a minute, I pressed a few credits into her outstretched palm. She took them and then plastered on a smile. “Come back soon and tell all your friends!”

“Tell them what? Come here and get pushed into buying?”

Her smile faded, but it was fake to begin with. “Well, just tell them the bathroom is for customers only then!”

The woman (Winry) was done with me so I left. The wind blew my hair out of my tie again but I was already at the shop by then. 

“That was the longest lunch break you’ve ever taken, Edward!” Louis yelled from somewhere in the back and although out of sight, I still glared in his direction. 

“Shuddaup you Bald bastard and mind your business!”

The bald man with the fabulous mustache just chuckled and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in irritation. Slamming the door behind me I walked over to where Al sat, looking up at me as I approached. “You got coffee?”

I had actually forgotten, still holding the cup in my hand. “Sorta.”

He took it from me and I let him. “Shouldn’t drink coffee. It’ll stunt your growth.”

I ignored his smirk. “I freaking hate coffee and you know it. I only got that cause I was forced.”

Al chuckled while I still simmered from the barista Winry. “When has anyone ever forced you into anything, brother?”

I smirked back at him but not because of his teasing. He tried to duck but it was too late, rubbing my knuckles into the top of his skull hard and making his dark blond hair fly all around. “Get anything done while I was gone?”

He shoved me away as hard as he could with his free hand. “We got a lot done for once!! Must be you holding us back!!”

Chuckling, I let him off easy and took off my jacket to hang up. Looking back at Al I caught him sipping on the coffee. “Hey! What about stunting your growth?!”

Al wore a sad smile but at least it no longer reached his eyes. “That’s not really a problem for me, is it?”

I had nothing to say to that, watching as he rolled himself away in his ancient wheelchair. I couldn’t even afford to get him a nice one; like the kind that roll where you want them to with a single thought. But that wasn’t what was important. What was important was getting the funds for Al’s body. 

It was why I worked at this shop, rolling up my sleeves to get back to work. There were a few projects still waiting for my touches so I had to hurry up. I needed to get to work and get it done for tonight. I’d already wasted too much time dealing with crazy coffee house girls. 

oOo

It was a warm night but I still wore my red leather jacket. It protected my skin and it had my symbol on the back. I never intended for that symbol to mean anything, I just thought it looked cool. But now I almost have to wear it so people know who I am and what to expect. 

That symbol was why (when I rolled up to the line) others either stepped out or changed their bets. 

My bike wasn’t anything special but I knew how to take care of it. Unlike the others here who spent thousands of credits to fix up or buy new bikes; mine was old and cheap. Before I made a name for myself, it was what gave me the advantage. Everyone knew how I raced now so there was little point. The only reason I came here night after night was for the money cause the thrill had left long ago.

I had my hair tucked up inside my helmet so it didn’t get knocked like crazy; not to hide even as my helmet hid my face. Anyone that saw me on the street would know it was me thanks to my jacket. But not everyone here wanted to be known. It wouldn’t be a surprise if an Under was mixed in the crowd. My jacket made me known but also gave me deniability on the streets in daylight. 

It was this reason that I wasn’t surprised when a stranger pulled up next to me on their bike and had a blacked-out helmet. Mine was blacked out as well but that was more out of preference than fear. It had been years since a new person showed up to race here; so I busied myself sizing them up. Their bike was nice, a newer model than mine. And an actual brand; a Tomoaki. It was a decent ride but I wasn’t worried. 

The new guy refused to look anywhere but the track ahead. They were clearly a Newb, it was showing in their laser focus as well as the small shake in their arms as they waited for the ‘gun’. It had me chuckling in my helmet and fogging up the glass. 

It was me, Newb, and three other guys ready and waiting for this race. Two of them were from the Homunculus gang so they would be trouble. As they were every time they lost. The other guy I knew pretty well; Roy on his trademark Mustang bike was hard to miss. That meant Risa was somewhere in the crowd. He was a good guy and a decent racer. But I was better.

This was going to be another easy win; easy money.

Olivier stood before us, taking her place with the flag to start. She was how I learned about this place; her brother complaining about the illegal activities his dear sister was involved in. Not sure what he’s so worried about; there are far worse things to be into as far as illegal activities go. Far more lucrative too but I was pushing it with Al doing this much.

The tall and buxom blonde lifted her arms for our full attention. A few idiots in the crowd with death wishes whistled at Olivier. She was a beautiful woman but if you ever told her that she would break your face. Olivier started the races for one reason only; to be a distraction and throw a few of us off guard. I looked at the Newb next to me to see if it worked. The rest of us were used to it by now. Newb didn’t look shaken in the slightest but he still shook. 

Olivier dropped the flag and it was time to stop dicking around, hitting my accelerator and jumping ahead of the rest instantly. There was no one ahead of me; the track was mine. Our location switched every week and you had to be in the know to find it. You also had to use the GPS to stay on the assigned track. Mine was beeping that there was a hard left turn ahead. This was one of the reasons I was unbeatable. Without skin on it to worry about losing to the pavement, I was able to dip lower on left turns and take them faster than the rest. 

It was right turns that slowed me down and this track had two right at the end. Even so, I still have the lead and little to fear. 

This was it. Alone on the track, going as fast as I pleased. The only thing missing was the wind in my hair and on my skin. This was where I felt peace; felt free. Winning was no longer a thrill for me. I only enjoyed this moment now; being my own boss and in control of everything. My speed, my movements, and my life. It was easy to forget the troubles I faced daily while I raced away into the night.

Nearing the end of the track, I leaned into the first right turn. Of course, I slowed and dipped a little less than before. This was my real leg, the only one I had left. It was expected. What wasn’t expected was the other racer that passed me in the middle of it. 

It was the new guy, flying by dangerously on the turn. I had been cocky and stupid, getting lost in the freedom instead of actually racing. Now they had the lead. If it was a straight away or another left turn, I could have taken the lead back. But it was neither of those and even as I dipped lower and went faster than I was comfortable with, they still had the lead. 

The Newb was going to win.

There was a strange pressure that I felt in my chest. I hadn’t felt it in a while. It was… excitement. 

I pushed my machine to its limits to gain a few seconds on the Newb’s lead but the race was pretty much over. We crossed the line with a two-second difference and the crowd was a mix of shock, awe, and anger. Just like the first time I raced and won. 

A lot of people just lost a lot of money.

The Newb stopped and I pulled up right next to them. “Follow me, NOW!”

They shook their head at me. “Why? I want my money.”

Their voice was garbled by an electronic voice changer. It wasn’t weird; a bit uncommon but again there was always the possibility of Unders in the crowd and with this person a Newb it was a good thing they were protecting their identity.

“I’ll get your money tomorrow and give it to you later. You need to get out of here!”

Newb glanced behind us at the crowd and I looked as well; even knowing what I would see. The crowd was restless, shouting, and pushing. There were more races to be had (the night was still young) but it was clearly over as the others were already fighting. 

“Great. How am I supposed to come back with that?” The Newb asked.

“It’ll be fine, they’ll get over it. But those guys,” I said, pointing to the two Homunculus members that had raced and lost to the Newb, “they will come and tear you apart if we don’t get out of here now.”

There were no more questions after that and as much as I wanted to help the guy out, I couldn’t force him. So I was glad the guy shut up and followed closely. The Homunculus followed for a while but it wasn’t too hard to lose them. We came to a stop miles from the track. A few quiet shops sat to one side while an empty park on the other. Without a word or sign, we both made for the park and killed our engines; turning our bikes into chairs with our kickstands out.

“That was too easy.” The Newb spat. “I thought they wanted to tear me to pieces?”

Even with the voice changer, I could tell they were mocking me. Resting on my bike, I pulled my helmet off so I could get more air. “Yeah, well they probably figured that they’ll get you next week. You should consider taking a little break for a while.”

They huffed, the automated voice struggling with the sound and came out like singing. “You just don’t want to lose again.”

My Automail was stiff from the ride. As were both my shoulders. So I stretched my hands high above my head and then rolled my shoulders around. “Nah, you got lucky this time. It won’t happen again.”

Newb was silent and I enjoyed the quiet while it lasted. “Why did you help me?”

His question was soft but in the silence, it was easy to hear. “Why not? I used to be right where you are now. New and talented. The Homunculi are a bunch of jealous assholes who don’t care about rules as long as they win.”

“What about you? Is winning that important to you?”

I looked at the dark window of their helmet, trying to see through it even with it impossible. My mouth still pulled into a smirk. “Of course it’s important. You get more money if you win. But only if I do it by my own merits.”

“So it’s the money you really care about?”

I shrugged, looking at my gloves and fixing the loose hold they had on my hands. “I need it. Everyone there does. It’s how this all works, right?”

“I’m in it for the racing, not the money.”

I grimaced hard back at the guy, thankful I took my helmet off so they could see the fire in my eyes. “Then you should be going pro, not slumming it with the rest of us.”

This Newb really needed to learn when to shut the fuck up; still talking away but I was no longer listening. I cut him off with the roar of my engine. He was a stranger; he had no clue who I was or the life I’d lived. My past was as much a mystery as his was to me. Only I no longer cared to know his past or present. His judgment could eat shit; I took off and left the fucker there.

He could find his own way home.

[cynthiaandsamus]

Custom Toonami Block Week 70 Rundown

Code Geass: So Lelouch is gonna go join Nunally’s ‘let’s all hold hands and get along’ area but literally no one wants to go after Euphy murdered everyone last time. You’d think there’d be at least one dumbass like “Maybe it won’t be a massacre.” But yeah Zero’s like “Oh well I just happen to have a million people I can give to the zone if you exile me and let me go scott free” and everyone’s like “that’s a super shitty thing to do but okay” so then Zero tells Suzaku that culture is stored in the titty and all the one million people do their I am Spartacus thing and wear Zero’s costume which had to be a logistical nightmare, like Zero’s outfit already is pretty expensive with the fancy clothes and the helmet and shit and some of them are randomly customized even though that defeats the purpose like how do you do this on a terrorist budget in a few days without anyone in the government finding out. Like “we received an order for a million pounds of the thing used in Zero’s helmet on the black market” seems like it’d stand out. But yeah, the million Zeros get away, partially because of the “dogs playing basketball” rule that they’re all Zero because their culture of being Zero is stored in their titty which wouldn’t hold up in court but also because if they just kill a million people who’re just trying to leave that’d be bad for the government, not that they’re not used to genocide and being hated as Imperialists but Suzaku specifically doesn’t want that on his and Nunally’s hands while they’re trying to actually do shit for Japan for once. Feel like there’s probably a good cause for peaceful detainment and not letting them just walk out but it’s not like they’d find Lelouch or whoever the supposed second Zero was anyway even if they strip-searched everyone since he was never there and if it isn’t Lelouch the only thing that makes him Zero sight-wise is the mask.

Inuyasha: So yeah we get the conclusion of Shiori’s story for Inuyasha and I just can’t help thinking about how nice it is that she went on to help a lot of other half-demons in Yashahime because of an act of kindness that Inuyasha showed her right here, really good ripple effect shit. But yeah Shiori gets pissed that her grandpa killed her dad and Kekkaishi YEETs him and his followers out of the barrier so Inuyasha can backlash wave the lot of them. We still got fifteen minutes left though so even after Inuyasha says he’s not going to murder a little girl for a powerup that’ll get power crept in a few seasons, Shiori offers him the blood coral crystal to break to give him the powerup instead as thanks for not fucking murdering her. We can’t have the climax of the episode just be Inuyasha smacking a crystal ball though so Taigokumaru’s spirit yeets itself out of the crystal and fights with Inuyasha and attacks Shiori but her dad makes a barrier to bounce him off of so Inuyasha can kill him a second time and get the Red Tessaiga. There’s some navelgazing about how life as a half demon is rough but how Inuyasha thinks that hardship will be good for Shiori and he’s rooting for her in his own way and in Yashahime we see he’s right and all in all that’s pretty nice. Anyway next time we have the Panther Demon filler arc which is honestly probably one of my favorite filler arcs in Inuyasha so that’ll be fun.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Yusuke continues his fight with Suzaku and Suzaku splits himself into seven, which this doesn’t seem to be the Multi-Form or Shadow Clones deal where it divides his energy, each one seems as strong as the original so that’s just kind of broken. Keiko pulls a bait and switch on the zombies which neither Suzaku nor Yusuke see coming despite watching the whole thing on Spirit TV, guess Suzaku had the camera point at the door instead of on Keiko for some reason even though the point is to make Yusuke watch her die. Anyway Yusuke flashes back to Genkai telling him he’s a little bitch that always doubts himself and splits his energy across multiple plans instead of having the confidence to go for something with everything he has and make it work instead of holding back in case it doesn’t. This and remembering his mom crying over his death and all the relationships he’s formed makes him go Super Saiyan in what I can only describe as a Fully Body Shotgun which I don’t think ever comes up again. He knocks down all the Suzakus but it’s just time to start the real fight since Yusuke’s lifted his limiter again like he does in every fight.

Fate Zero: So the clusterfuck in the middle of Saber and Lancer’s battle continues to grow as Iskandar just fucking dares everyone to come at him and five of the seven servants actually do. Gilgamesh is all like “Ugh, why do I have to do this shit, breathing sucks, I’m a king, someone breathe for me.” And tries to murder everyone with spears and shit but turns out Berserker is Darth Vader this time around and uses the force to steal his stolen weapons until Rin’s dad is all like “Dude you’re showing the whole world our fucking moveset, get the fuck out of there. Which given that Gilgamesh is an archer which are supposed to be independent and he’s a fucking snobby asshole, even with a Command Seal I’m surprised that worked. Also Waver’s racist teacher is all “hah wow, I was supposed to have Rider and the token teenager character stole it from me” and Iskandar’s like “I like this kid that’s ride or die with me even though he cries all the time way more than someone who doesn’t even step onto the battlefield you stuck up prick” and then Lancer and Berserker double-team Saber (giggity) and Lancer’s not happy about it because he was fighting Saber first and doesn’t wanna just jump her with Darth Vader but more Command Seals are thrown around until Iskander runs over Darth Vader with his fucking Lightning Chariot and that’s kind of shitty because Racist Teacher man wasted a Command Seal to have Lancer attack Saber for like five seconds before making him retreat. Bug Dude is also kinda freaked out that Berserker just kinda went for Saber meaning she must be pretty pissed at Saber about something anyway so basically everyone runs away and nothing is really accomplished, we didn’t even really need Kiritsugu’s sniper shit or Assassins’s Ninja Bullshit for this everyone’s just had enough and goes home. Also Caster is a creepy yandere simp for Saber but really who isn’t in this series.

Konosuba: So Aqua’s ready to sit in a lake for a few hours to make some money but for the first time in her live her divine booty is not enough to solve this problem. She gets traumatized by getting attacked by demon alligators and Kazuma and co. are honestly uncharacteristically worried about her and ready to try and help her. Meanwhile generic isekai protagonist has a crush on Aqua despite already having his own harem of bland girls and wants to steal Aqua back but basically the whole group is so totally anti-White Knight they can see right through his shit and turn him down. Kazuma beats him up in the most Kazuma way possible and steals his magic sword, proving that not only is he not doing anything to defeat the devil king but he’s actively sabotaging those that are. Aqua fucking decks the guy and blackmails him so she’s rich now and Kazuma’s rich from selling his OP Isekai Cheat Sword. Also the Dullahan dude is back for revenge about bombing his castle and Kazuma’s like “Wait were we still doing that? Thought we stopped, oh well everyone in this world’s problems are our fault somehow so it sounds about right.”

Sailor Moon Crystal: So this time we get Makoto’s story who’s probably my favorite thus far because her job is punching shit and making sure Usagi doesn’t die from the hundreds of things ready to hit her on a daily basis. I have sort of found a redeeming trait for Usaig in that she’s willing to reach out to anyone and everyone, like she’s not what I would call traditionally ‘nice’ but she is friendly and that ability to pull disparate people together does kind of make more sense for why she’d be the leader rather than the other girls who have useful but more specific talents. But yeah continuing with the trend of things teen girls like trying to destroy the world, haunted bridal shop that also reveals Makoto’s tragic backstory of being a more believable version of Tall Girl. Makoto transforms and beats up the Bride lady with a combination of Zenbonzakura Kageyoshi and Azula’s lightning bending, no fair that she gets two powers but I guess she is the tough one so it make sense. Now we’ve basically got the whole crew except for the one that we already know is active but hasn’t joined the group yet so we’ll see how this goes.

Durarara!!: So Mikado’s in deep shit after stealing the girl away that half the town is looking for, all because he has it hammered into his head that whenever a girl asks for his help he has to give it. There’s a bit of discussion about the nature of the Dollars that I’m sure won’t be important later but both Izaya and Celty show up outside Mikado’s school and he’s kind of in an awkward position since there’s nowhere he can really go but home and lead them to the girl. So he decides to find out about them, or at least Celty, Izaya’s just kinda along for the ride. He gets Celty’s backstory and agrees to take her to the other girl only to get jumped by Yagiri thugs and pull out some Death Note animation internet shit that has even Izaya stunned, Mikado about to actually become the main character of this anime for a bit.

[mieohmy]

drafts... // yjh

to start with: hi everyone again 💕 you can probably tell by the title but sometimes I can’t write shit so I have a bunch of wips/horrible writings that I’ll never finish or just straight up hate -which means I’ll just post them so they can rot away and I never have to look at them again(and no they are not proofread) 🙂

D I S C O N T I N U E D

yoon jeonghan x matchmaker!reader

genre: fluff, humor, angst, strangers-to-lovers?

warnings: cursing

wc: 1.9k

summary: yoon jeonghan- your toughest matchmaking customer yet. flash forward thirteen dates and still insatiable. your only choice is to further investigate the reason behind all his failed attempts....but maybe it’s because he only wants you?

“How was your last date?”

He leans back with a bored sigh. “Uninteresting. She looked like her face was gonna melt with all that makeup on.”

And as much as you were starting to ‘dislike’ his presence here, yoon jeonghan was still your client and a fucking funny one at that.

You press your lips to prevent the laughter and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Neither does the shake of your head to collect your thoughts.

If there was anyone else in the room, literally anyone, they would’ve known exactly who jeonghan wanted really to go on a date with. (Hint hint: actually- no. you don’t even need one.)

“Well, i know she wasn’t the best choice, but we’re running out of options.” You hated forfeiting, but this guy was truly giving a run for your money.

“Are there other choices? Anyone?”

You rub your temple in frustration, scrolling through the options of contenders.

Honestly, you had no clue why he was constantly coming back to your office.

If you’re just gonna reject and complain about every girl, then why are you still here?

But you are indeed a professional- so the only thing you do is smile that polite worker smile and say, “Okay then. There’s another available person that’s willing to go out. Should we try one more time?”

The look on jeonghan’s face is unreadable. It almost makes you nervous. Does he.... does he not want to-?

“Okay,” he simply states.

When he gets up to leave, your eyebrows furrow. But you didn’t have the time to dwell on his strange action when his voice interrupts your further thoughts.

“Just text me the details. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait-! You don’t even know anything about them....” your voice falters.

After a solid five minutes of making sure he was truly gone, you whip out your phone, furiously typing for the familiar contact on the screen.

“...yes?”

“Josh, I’m fucking quitting my job and moving to Alaska.”

There’s a pause.

“Is it that one guy again?? Jungle juice or whatever?”

“..... his name isn’t even hard to pronounce, and yes. More than 13 dates and jeonghan hasn’t found a single match. You know how stubborn I am but maybe it’s time to give up. I mean, is he just extremely picky or what?? I don’t get it.”

You spin circles in your chair, a perfect representation of how your mind felt.

“I don’t know y/n... could the problem might not be his dates but more him instead?”

The chair stops. “Him? What do you mean?”

The voice on the other line suddenly gets quieter. “I dunno, maybe there’s something wrong with junkyard and that’s why no one wants to date him?

The urge to correct him again is strong but the newfound thought distracts you.

“Huh.... Joshua, you might be onto something. I’ve never had problems with my clients being straight up horrible at dating though. But then again, thirteen failed dates and not a single success?”

You stare at the twirling ceiling. “But he must really want to find love, why else would he keep asking for my services?”  

Joshua’s voice turns suspicious. “You’re right... why else would he keep coming back to you?”

You snap your fingers, the perfect plan in mind. “I’m a genius, josh. I’ll take him out to really see what’s been happening on all the dates. Then we can figure out the problem.”

“So... you’re saying you’re gonna ask him out on a date to see what he’s been doing wrong on his other dates?”

The chair squeaks. “Oh. Uh. I guess so?”

“Okay.... just be careful. See you later.” There’s a certain edge to his voice that you notice.

After the call ends with a beep, you stare at the black phone screen.

Did josh mean something when he said that?

Shrugging it off,  you text jeonghan a few minutes later, surprised when he responds almost immediately.

You hesitantly tell him the reason for the so-called “date”, not expecting him to agree so quickly.

“Jeonghan, I-“ you stop and instead pass him as many tissues as you can, purposely avoiding looking at him and his very much see through shirt.

After a tense silence of just cleaning up, you mutter, “Did you really not wear anything underneath?”

He laughs. “So you were looking?”

“Haha, funny. And no. But when a mad person throws a drink at your white shirt, what do you expect?”

You soften, helping him with all the used wet napkins. You admire his strength to stay calm and not get angry in a situation like this.

“Are you really okay though? Do you have a jacket or anything to cover up with?”

He shakes his head.  

Coughing, you reach behind you, giving jeonghan a sheepish look.

“Well, I brought mine?”

Once you reach your car, you finally bring up what’s been buried in the back of your brain for quite a while, actually.

“Jeonghan.”

He looks at you curiously, your jacket still draped around him.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

You exhale, trying your best to seem unaffected and upbeat.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can help you anymore.”

His heart stops. 

“...what did you say?”

“I think we should stop the whole matchmaking stuff, whatever this is. It’s not working out, which was obviously proven today. How many dates has it been? Why waste your time when we both know that it’s most likely not going to lead to anything?”

You smile, but it looks more like a grimace. “I suggest you find someone else to assist you if you’re that desperate for love. Once again, I’m sorry.”

Even with the feeling of defeat making you sink inside lower and lower, there was just simply nothing else you could do.

And jeonghan watches as you drive off, leaving him alone in the parking lot. The jacket -no, your jacket still wrapped around him, but suddenly it feels a lot colder than before.

But when you thought jeonghan finally left your life for good, he shows up once again, this time at your house.

What’s even worse is that it’s late at night and pouring outside. And you were stuck at home in possible the most embarrassing and ratty clothes to be caught wearing.

“What the hell jeonghan? What are you doing here?”

You examine his soaked body, aghast.

“I came to see you. And return your jacket, but mostly to see you.”

“Did you walk in the rain or something? Go back home. It’s so late -you must be crazy.

“No.”

His hard-set expression only makes you more frustrated.

“Listen. If you’re looking for more help, I can’t do anything. You- yoon jeonghan- are my hardest customer. I really don’t know what you want from me. I’ve tried everything and nothing’s worked.”

You can tell he’s getting increasingly annoyed, eyebrows furrowing and teeth gritting.

That causes you to sigh, arms crossing and uncrossing.

“I’m sorry. You’re just a case I can’t help. It-”

“The case isn’t about me. The case is that I’m in love with you.”

His voice is strained and controlled, like he’s barely able to hold it back.

.....huh?

You stare at each other for a solid minute.

Then comes the uncomfortable feeling of his eyes boring into yours and you feel the urge to close the door.

Unfortunately, that’s the one time your body actually listens to your brain and you swing the door shut in his face.

Even more unfortunately, it takes a minute for you to come back to your senses and let out a horrified, muffled scream.

Your hands scramble to reopen the door again.

There’s no one in sight, only the rain still coming down strong.

“Jeonghan?” you call out tentatively.

You walk out under the safety of your front porch, glancing for any sign of him.

After a couple more seconds of no results, you sigh and turn around to go back inside-

“Oh my god jeonghan.” He was to the side of your door, barely out of your peripheral view.

Jeonghan looks up from his small huddled position on the ground.

The sight of him looking like an abandoned puppy makes your heart squeeze.

Coughing, you attempt to smile feebly.

“I’m so sorry. Please come inside? It’s raining hard and you’re very much wet.”

Luckily he doesn’t protest much and follows you in. You force him to take a shower while you dry his clothes. There was some spare clothes found that might possibly fit him? It was better than nothing. You really did not want to see nothing. you don’t think you could handle that.

It all makes sense. Why he kept coming back to you. Why he was so eager to go out on that fake date with you, even if it was only an experiment.

But that’s not the real question. The real question is, how did you feel?

When the bathroom door finally opens, you start from your anxious seat on the couch.

But when he sits next to you, you slowly feel a wave of anger course through your body-no matter how good he looked.

“Are you stupid?”

His effort to dry his hair with the towel stops with your words.

He only stares at you.

You stand up, snatching the towel from jeonghan and beginning to dry his hair for him.

Quite forcefully, he notes.

Jeonghan heats up from your touch, noticeably getting softer and gentler. On the other hand, you were very much annoyed while also focusing on drying his hair to your best ability.

“Who the hell just goes in the rain like that? And shows up at someone else’s house without notice? And then proceeds to confess their love for them?”

Jeonghan says nothing. Eventually, you finish drying his hair and throw the towel to the side.

“How long?” Your voice is tight, attempting to hold back the emotions. But the look in your eyes is different-desperate, curious. You really just want to know.

This. This isnt what you expected. Your job is to find someone perfect for him, and that someone couldn’t possibly be you yourself, right?

Out of all the people in the world, jeonghan only wants you. That one thought is enough to make you shiver.

For the first in a while, jeonghan speaks up. “Since the first time we met.”

“Stop lying. I know for a fact you don’t give a shit about love at first sight.”

He laughs. “That’s why I like you. You get me, my jokes, and pranks. Basically everything I say and do. Ah, and it was like after three failed dates or whatever. What can I say, I really liked seeing your face after all those boring dates.”

It’s hard for you to hold back a smile.

“Alright, since I believe you this time, I guess I’ll  accept your confession.”

“Wait, what? You like me back?”

“Well,” your voice cracks and you shoot him a crooked grin. “I don’t know, but we can always try?”

He stifles a laugh at your obvious attempt to hide your shyness, looking back at you with a glint in his eyes.

“Okay. Bet.”

Your head tilts in confusion.

“I bet I can get you to fall in love with me in one week,” he says, trademark smirk pasted on his face.

And jeonghan already knows -you’re not one to back down to challenges.

“Oh, it’s on, lover boy.”

a/n: EWWW ALSKJFASL anyways- sorry for typos and yes there are so many random cuts and scenes (ones i liked and didnt want to delete) that probably make no sense since my unproductive ass doesn’t want to rewrite the whole story-like there is nothing going on with this aHA that’s all :) 

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 08 + 09.11.20 lbs

08.11.20

lmaoooooooo i really love the ice cold way siya operates in. truly a raisinghania sib!

“siya chal sakti hai!!!” behen, iss ghar mein tumhare dimaag ki alaava sab kuch chalta hai.

dadi trying to cheer raja band baja hua beta up with his favt. chole bhature. he doesn't seem like the kind who'd eat that kinda food, but ok.

CHOLE BHATURE ARE NOT CHEERING HIM UP. MATLAB MAAMLA SERIOUS HAIIIIII.

lmao he's literally twisting and turning in place like kids do when they have a tantrum. i mean, i like it. it shows a more human side to the character, ki just how much anguish and helplessness he's feeling.

dadi like babe, you can't control everything in life, stop being such a bloody control freak ki things not going your way turn you like this.

blah blah anguished rant on how he lost something so important to him.

dadi giving cliche ~~~if it's meant to be yours, it'll come back to you~~~ advice. which is kinda working on him. huh. all kindsa out of sorts behaviour.

“jab tuney kisi ke saath galat nahi kiya hai, toh tere saath galat kyun hoga?” uh okkkkkkkkkkk, that's not how life works. bad shit happens to good ppl all the time. also, he's done lotsa galat shit ok. what did riddhima do for this fucker to paralyse her huh?????? YEH SAB USSI KA NATEEJA HAI. BHUGAT AB.

carbs therapy. BEST HAI. ALWAYS WORKS. IT'S SCIENCE, BITCHES.

dadi saying why don't you talk to riddhima about your issues, and lol he's whining about she dgaf about him coz she left him alone last night when he asked her not to.

dadi left praying ki hey bhagwaan these two fucks’ relationship is in your hands now, this is beyond human interference.

kabir being informed of new developments and accusation of kidnapping ragini is being heaped on siya. BASED ON WHAT EVIDENCE YOU STUPID TWIT??????? THAT SHE CAN WALK??????? SO CAN EVERYONE ELSE YOU KNOW!!!!!!!!!!

“mujhe usse vansh ke aage expose karna hoga.” LMAO BITCH EXPOSE YOURSELF FIRSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

“tum kya mujhe expose karogi? expose toh main tumhe karungi!” YES SIYAAAAAAAAA FUCK  HER UPPPPPPPPPP

NOICE. WE LOVE A FIERCEASS SISTER WHO’S READY TO KILL FOR HER SIBLINGS. ESP. WHEN IT’S THE SCARY BIG BROTHER WHO’S EVERYONE’S PROTECTOR.

siya saying she just miraculously got cured a few days ago, and was waiting to surprise everyone. sounds sus, but whatever.

but also what kinda terrribleasssssss physiotherapist is riddhima that she didn’t even identify her patient’s progress?????

LMAO SIYA POL KHOLING OF VANSH BHAIYYA SAYING HE MADE HER DO ALL THE SHADY MASK SHIT. “TO KEEP RIDDHIMA SAFE”. haaaan behen, khooooob safe rakha tumne, baar baar behosh karke. pehle se hi iska dimaag nahi chalta, now you’ve managed to give her some kinda degenerative brain disease.

i love how vansh didn’t bother to ask siya how she stopped riddhima’s plans and knocked her out multiple times if she’s in a wheelchair. there’s literally only one person in a wheelchair in this house?!?!?!!!!!! wouldn’t riddhima KNOW who the person in the mask is???? god vansh. you’re such a dumbass.

lellllllllllllllllllllllllll i am livingggggggggg for siya reading riddhima to filth with a knife in her hand THIS IS THE BEST SCENE OF THIS SHOW YET. esp in her small, child-like voice, it’s fucking amazing.

riddhima admitted to being a spy, AND SIYA RECORDED IT ALSO. OMFG SHE’S MY NEW FAVE CHARACTER I LOVE HER THE MOST.

i wish vansh was the person he is to siya, instead of the fucker he actually is. she literally thinks the worldddddddddddd of him. ugh, i am so soft for this relationshippppppp.

but i also wanna know what the ishani/siya relationship is like? we hardlyyyyyy see them interact. like, we even see aryan push her wheelchair around sometimes, but ishani neverrrrrrr interacts with siya. why????

ugh riddhima managed to convince her that she really cares for vansh and is trying to do the right thing. she’s literally asking her to kill her rn if she doesn’t trust her. baby sis you’re farrrrrrrrr too trusting.

“mera dimaag tumpe trust karne se rok raha hai, riddhima, par jiss dil ne tumhe bhaabi bola haina, woh tumhe ek mauka dena chahta hai. ek aakhri mauka. iss baar mera bharosa mat todna. 24 ghante hai tumhare paas. apni taqdeer badal sako toh badal lo warna yeh audio main vansh bhaiyya ko suna doongi.” SERIOUSLY, WHERE WERE THEY HIDING THIS MOST SAYAANI CHARACTER OF THE SHOW TILLLLLL NOW????????!

riddhima has a condition for siya too. i think i know what it is.

omg vansh IS COLLAR PAKADKE YELLING AT ANGRE IN THE WORST WAYYYYYYY POSSIBLE. god vansh, you’re honestly the fucking worstttttttttttttttttttt. angre you need to take up work with someone else, istg, you don’t deserve this shit. kabir treats his sidekick so much better. yet another point in the kitty for kabir >>>>>> vansh.

seriously, why would you wanna blindfold this dude when he’s in THIS mood????? save it for the bedroom, sis.

empty wheelchair dekh ke he’s yelling at everrrrrrrryone ki how could they leave siya alone somewhere. god. i can’t imagine having to live with such a toxic personality.

everyone in the house is soooooo happy for siya. like, aryan’s not beaming as much as the others, but he does look kinda pleased. BECAUSE SIYA IS BEST CHARACTERRRRRRR OF THIS SHOW EVERYONE LOVESSSS HERRRRR.

oh my heart, i am so softttttttt for sibling shit like this. he’s hugging her with suchhhhhhhhhhhh fierceeee affection, i’m crying happy tearsssssss.

heart eyes for riddhima who supposedly cured her. pls. she did nothing. jo bhi karna tha, siya ne khud kiya hai. iss ridhimma manhoos ko jasoosi se kab fursat mili to do PT with siya and cure her???

siya being gracious and giving credit though. ugh, honestly, this show and this family don’t deserve siya.

lmao she’s saying vansh brought riddhima in though, so actually allll the credit goes to bhaiyya for intimidating this poor woman into treating his sister against her will.

THE AFFECTION. THE SHEER MAGNITUDE OF HIS LOVE FOR HERRRR. I CRIEEE. THIS IS THE ONLY RELATIONSHIP THAT MATTERS TO ME IN THIS GODFORSAKEN SHOW.

anupriya giving some fakeass congrats. i hope siya tells vansh that she was the one who pushed her down the stairs a while back. aur kuch nahi toh just for that vansh is gonna kill her dead.

riddhima and vansh still all tense and sad about the ragini thing. OUFF JUST LIVE IN THE MOMENT YOU FUCKS.

I LOVE HER. I FUCKING LOVE HER. BEST RAISINGHANIA HAI YEH.

———————————————————————

09.11.20

riddhima back at kabir’s to try and find ragini. ughhhhhhhhh i’m just so done with this nonsense. we already KNOW that kabir and anupriya still have her based on the precap from like 2, 3 days ago.

lol kabir is so pissed at riddhima and her dimaag chalaana. a mood we ALL share.

kabir trying to turn riddhima against siya and riddhima’s like NOOOO SHE COULD NEVER, “USKI AANKHEIN USKI AWAAAZ SAAF SAAF KEH RAHI THI KI WOH SACH BOL RAHI HAI!” uh huh, yeah, like kabir’s are rn????? and vansh’s were before he paralysed you? just a suggestion i’m throwing out there: is it possible that perhaps, just maybe, you’re just very fucking stupid, riddhima, and tend to trust people too easily????

OUFF I’M SO BORED WITH THIS SCENE. we already know from the precap that ragini will knock down a vase but riddhima will never find out what caused it and kabir will make some lame excuse she’ll believe. FWDING TO NEXT.

JESUS CHRISTTTTTTTT, SIYA IS JUST WALKING AROUND THE HOUSE RANDOMLY LISTENING TO THAT AUDIO CLIP OF RIDDHIMA’S CONFESSION. AND SHE WALKS RIGHT INTO VANSH, WHO’S LIKE HUH, WHAT’S THAT RIDDHIMA IS SAYING?????

siya brushes it off saying its exercise stuff for her PT. sure. uh huh.

OH MY HEART HE GOT HER HEEEEEEELS, WHICH SHE’S ALWAYSSSSSSS WANTED. THIS BHAIYYA-BABY RELATIONSHIP IS GONNA TAKE ME DOWN GODDAMNITTTT. ITNE DIN BAAAAAAAAAAAD ITNI ACHCHI SIBLING FEELS MILI HAI ITV SEEEEEEE.

bhaiyya knows baby enough ki she’s hiding something from himmm. oh noeeeeeeeeeee.

damn, siya a real one. didn’t give out riddhima’s secret coz she wants to give her a fair chance. again, this show does not deserve this character. she’s too good for it.

she says she just believes in him and knows he’ll find whoever murdered mom. 

SOFT. SO SOFT. MY HEART IS SO FULL WHENEVER THESE TWO SHOW LOVE TO EACH OTHERRRRR.

idhar ragini ki marammat shuru. y’all are just exhausting me with this bs. isse maarna hai toh maaro already. ainvayi mein time waste.

oh dangggggggg, ragini batting for riddhima. saying i know she’ll fuck y’all up. dang, we love the sisterhood feels of this episode!

“aap ke liye SPECIAL INTEZAAM kiya hai maine.” said with the most polite customer service obsequiousness. I LOVE THIS PSYCHOPATH THE MOSTTTTTTTTTT.

ragini warning them that once vansh finds out everything, they’re as good as dead. wow, spunky!!!! dude i like her as a female lead better than stupid fucking riddhima. 

“hmmmmmm, you’re right. lekin usse batayega kaun???” honestly, why do i love his deranged ass so much????

anyway mishra has been delegated the task of stashing her somewhere else i guess. so it’s settled that mishra knows he’s not working for the CBI or whatever and is just a hired goon.

dadi is organizing YET ANOTHER POOJA. lordddddd.

this riddhima and her dumbass mandir jaana excuse that she uses constantly.

“bhagwaan tum jaisi bahu sab ko de!” OMFG DADI PLS, GOD FORBID. ISSE ACHCHA AAPKE BETE KUNWAARE MARR JAAYE!

ugh dadi your bloody pota needs a fucking therapist, it isn’t in riddhima’s hands to fix his 1001 mental issues.

great, mangalsutra almost broke. foreshadowing.

ughhhhh mummy managed to steal the memory card from aryan. FUCKING IDIOT I THOUGHT YOU HAD PUT IT IN THE BLOODY BANK ALREADY, BUT NO. HE WAS STILL HOLDING ON TO IT AND TALKING ABOUT IT LOUDDDDDDDDLY ON THE PHONE. jesusssss, why he so fuckinggggg stupid????

oh now vansh is exclaiming GREATTTTTTT JOB ANGREEEE as if he didn’t tell him to GTFO, THE VERY SIGHT OF YOU DISGUSTS ME yesterday. fuck, i really hate vansh as anything but a brother to siya.

aaaaaaand riddhima was standing behind him and he turned around and in a veryyyyyyy contrived move got his watch caught in her mangalsutra and broke it.

sis freaking about THE APSHAGUN!!!!!!!!!!!

he’s like arre nahi achcha shagun hai, angre got the cctv footage now i’ll know who kidnapped ragini! and sis is like OH GOD NO THE BAD LUCK IS STARTING ALREADY I’M SO DEADDDDDDD

“toh main tumhe kho dungi.”

lmao his face. literally the white guy blinking meme.

god she’s having a freakout about how their shaadi and rishta is in khatra. BITCH THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE MS AND INSTEAD THE MOUNTAIN OF LIES YOU ARE SITTING ON AND YOUR EK DARJAN KE INCOMPATIBILITY ISSUES AS INDIVIDUALS.

”tum jaanti ho riddhima, tumahra ek ek aansoon mere liye kitna keemti hain? aisa lagta hai jaise mere dil ke ek tukde ko tod ke alag kar diya ho.”

OH YEAH????? DIDN’T FEEL ANYTHINGGGGG WHEN YOU PARALYSED HER HUH????????? IT’S GONNA BE A LONGASSSSS TIME BEFORE I GET OVER THAT, BITCH BOY.

yeah yeah ok this is a nice moment and all. WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THIS DUDE, HUH?????? WHY’D YOU HAVE TO RUIN ALLLLLLLLLL THE GOOD WILL YOU BUILT UP BY KARWA CHAUTH IN ONEEEEEEE MOMENTTTTTTT?????? fuck, i hate you tellywood men and the shit they put my stupid heart through.

only bappa ki aarti shall fix things now. based on the promo and BTS i’ve seen, things about to get reallllllly realllllllly bad but............ lol let’s wait and watch.

ragini managed to sneak mishra’s phone outta his pocket. SEE????? SO ENTERPRISING!!!!!! I LIKE HER SO MUCH MORE THAN RIDDHIMA. GOD VANSH, THIS IS THE GIRL YOU SHOULD HAVE MARRIED. SHE’S REALLY THE ONE WHO GOT AWAY.

she’s callllllllllling vanshhhh. BUT AARTI KI WAJAAH SE HE CAN’T HEAR THE PHONEEEEEE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

here, have some dhaarmik #couple goals to take the edge off the anxiety till the next episode.

———————————————————————

precap: omfg ragini got through to riddhima and she almost told her that kabir is behind kidnapping her, but kabir got to her and attacked her from the back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DOUBLE OMFG SIYA OVERHEARD MUMMY ON THE PHONE BRAGGING ABOUT KILLING THEIR MOM AND CALLS VANSH TO TELL HIM ABOUT IT!!!!! LIKE SHE TOLD HIM THE NAME ALL CLEARLY AND THAT SHE HEARD IT FIRSTHAND!!!!!!!! VANSH SEEMS TO BE GIVING NO REACTION THO????????????

TELL ME THAT BOTH THESE PHONE CALLS WERE NOT MADE ON SOME FUCKING GHATIYA NETWORK LIKE IDEA AND THE REQUIRED PPL HEAR EVERYTHING THEY NEED TO!!!!!!!! (high hopes, i know. 😔😔😔)

[butterbeeryuta]

the ikea guy

ikea employee!yangyang x uni student!reader | oneshot series | fluff, CRACK| 1.9 k

Fuck Kim Doyoung. Fuck his boyfriend. Fuck the weak ass tv rack you bought. Fuck the human’s Id taking control over people. Fuck humanity.

The last thing you wanted to see was your roommate and his boyfriend, who were both barely clothed by the way, trying to fix the already broken tv rack you bought 2 years ago when you moved out of the dorms to a new apartment 8 minutes away from your university. Short story short, the two men were busy doing their shit— which you honestly did not mind since you yourself bring home some guys to, you know, have fun with. But what you could not understand was why they had to do in your living room, against the tv rack. All you could remember was screaming at Doyoung, while Taeyong was there apologising, but you knew that the little devil was internally laughing, finding the entire situation hilarious. Your roommate, on the other hand, was not giving a shit about what you were saying, which was normal for the two of you. Ever since he moved in with you in your second year, both of you had an interesting relationship. Despite your arguments with one another and ‘uncaringness,’ assuming that is a word, the two of you still looked after another. A month or so ago, Doyoung kept you up all night since he was busy having a little drinking party in his room, and his friends were loud. Especially that Jaehyun guy; his laugh alone could honestly wake up the entire neighbourhood. Then again, Doyoung’s laugh is pretty ugly too considering he literally laughs like, ‘ha ha ha ha ha ha.’ I swear, you love Doyoung. Anyways, Doyoung nicely mailed all of your professors the next day that you were feeling unwell, allowing you to stay in and sleep a bit more. Except, he told you about it while you were rushing to the door to run to your lessons. You two were interesting.

Eventually, Doyoung apologised and gave you the money to purchase a better tv rack. You were expecting him to buy it for you, then again, he was Kim fucking Doyoung. He just ain’t like that. So here you were, at motherfucking Ikea. Every child’s nightmare, including yours. Your aim was to find the cheapest tv rack, yet still pretty good in quality. You were not the type to give a damn about the aesthetics and things; if it’s going to help you store your shit, that’s all you needed. Which is probably why you hated furniture shopping, you could never appreciate the so-called ‘beauty’ of it. Following the arrows printed on the grey floor, buying the tv rack was more complex than you thought. There was black, white, yellow, brown, wooden, grey— more colours than you could have ever imagined. You honestly just wanted the cheapest one at this point, forget quality. Everything else was giving you a headache. Without wanting to use more of your brain cells, perhaps for now, socialising will make it less painful, even if you really hated people as of this moment. Looking around for a person wearing the yellow and blue striped shirt with a name tag on, you eventually found the person you were looking for. Not too tall, but he wasn’t short either. Well, at least he won’t be intimidating.

‘Um, excuse me—‘

‘Ma’am the hotdogs and ice cream are available after you purchase your materials at the cashier.’

What. What the fuck?

‘What?’ The guy turned to look towards you, unamused with whatever you currently had to say. Your eyes slightly widened by his appearance, but you swear to your kneecaps if he remains to be like this, you’re going to bite.

‘You’re looking for the food right? Just pay for whatever stuff you have now and—‘

‘Why the hell would I want to buy food here, I just want to know the cheapest tv rack you have in this store’ you interrupted, not willing to hear any of his bullshit, despite him having a pretty face. Now it was his turn to be taken back by what you said. Goodness, how long has this imbecile been working here?

‘Oh um… yeah I don’t know. Maybe if you’ll look around you’ll know?’ Oh you’ve got to be kidding. Not wanting to waste more time on this pretty idiot, you looked at his name-tag to tell off to another Ikea employee. You were not having it today. See you later Yangyang.

—————————————————————————————————

Okay. Apparently people who work in this nightmare of a furniture store take their shit seriously. You just went to another person to complain about Yangyang, and here you are, at the manager’s office. Literally, what the fuck.

‘I would like to apologise on his behalf again, he’s new here. He does not know what exactly he is doing, but I can assure you the rest of the staff here are kind and willing to help. I sincerely apologise that you had to experience such unacceptable behaviour from our staff’ the manager said, bowing his head for the nth time. You honestly wanted to leave and just purchase the tv rack online; you wanted that Ikea guy to not be a dick— that’s why you complained. What you didn’t want is the poor guy to be fired from his job.

‘No, no, please don’t worry. I’m pretty sure he is a good natured person, probably just had a bad day—‘

‘No, that is utter nonsense! We will get this settled now. Please take a seat Ms. ________’ he said, moving his rather puffy face towards the black microphone, pressing the green button with his stubby fingers. Oh no.

‘Liu Yangyang please come to Mr. Park Yoobin’s office. Liu Yangyang please come to Mr. Park Yoobin’s office, now.’ What have I done.

—————————————————————————————————

You were annoyed that you put yourself into this mess. But the guy beside you, if looks could kill, you would have probably woken up in hell by now. You felt bad, you didn’t want this to happen at all. Like you said, you just complained about Yangyang being ‘not helpful’ when you asked him a question to another man that was slightly shorter than you. You expected no reaction at all, you just did it cause you were in a bad mood thanks to Doyoung and his boyfriend. That was of course, until the older man gasped loudly, shocked to hear the words that came out of your mouth. Today was a really bad day.

‘Mr. Liu, I know that this is your second week working here, but that gives no excuse to treat a lovely customer like Ms. ________ poorly. Even if you didn’t know where a certain furniture piece is, you could have made the effort to look for it with her.’ Mr. Park said, his eyebrows furrowing even more as he spoke. It was quite a funny sight from where you were sitting. Then again, this was not a funny situation, you hated every minute of it because not only is it wasting your time, but you could possibly be the reason why this Ikea guy will lose his job.

Yangyang felt pretty guilty for assuming in an instance that you were wanting to ask for food, when you actually had a pretty genuine question. He also felt useless for not helping you effectively, but he didn’t want this job at all. He wanted to work at the cafe near his university, instead of travelling for another 30 minutes just to be in the corner and see people search for furniture to build their so-called ‘dream home.’ Although he did not exactly have anything against an aesthetic appeal or such, he did judge people like that. And little did he know, so were you. Then again, he didn’t exactly care about that at this point. He wanted to stay away from you as soon as possible for putting him in such a position. He already felt bad for not helping you properly, and maybe he somewhat understood why he was sitting in the manager’s office, but literally, what the fuck.

‘Mr. Park, I honestly did not mean to show such disrespect to the customer. I do admit that I was being a know-it-all, thinking that she— what’s your name again?’ He asks me, actually talking to me for the first time since he walked into the room.

‘Um, ________—‘

‘Ms. ________ wanted to go to the food court. And as you said, I have only been here for 2 weeks. I am still unsure of where certain things are, and I perhaps should have helped Ms. ________, so yes, I do sincerely apologise.’ My, my, was he good at saying bullshit.

‘Mr. Liu I appreciate your honesty, and you should really be grateful for Ms. ________ for being so kind, wanting to make sure that nothing happens to you’ the man in front of you said, both his hands interlocking one another as he looks at his employee. And although you were looking at Mr. Park, you certainly did not miss the widening of Yangyang’s eyes. He must be thinking that I was a hypocritical psycho bitch. He isn’t wrong with that at all though.

‘Um, Mr. Park. If you really want to make it up for me, I just really need the tv rack. My roommate is paying for it, so considering that, it really urgent for me to go soon. I’m sure Yangyang was just having a bad day, so please, give the boy a second chance.’ You began packing your things, eventually standing up, not wanting to hear any more rebuttals from the Ikea manager. You had enough.

‘Ms. ________ hold on—‘ And you closed the door. Fucking rat, why couldn’t he leave me alone and deal with his employee privately?

—————————————————————————————————

You finally got the cheapest tv rack available from Ikea, completely contradicting yourself earlier when you said you would’ve rather shopped online. With the amount of cash Doyoung gave you, Ikea was probably a better choice.

‘Hey, you!’ What the fuck?

You turned around, and of course, it was the Ikea guy, but he wasn’t wearing his uniform. And he looked so much more attractive, no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it. With his dyed hair swept to the side and his oversized knit turtle neck, he looked so much… softer and calmer. Well that contrasted with his character. You crossed your arms, waiting for the man to come closer.

‘What was that about? Look, I know I didn’t help you and I do feel quite guilty about it, but was it really that necessary to—‘

‘Before you act like a dick again, I didn’t want it to happen either. I’m a petty ass person, and though it wasn’t mandatory to tell on you, which I’m sorry for by the way, you annoyed me despite how pretty you look. I’m pretty sure you still have your job, and I got my tv rack. So let’s just forget all of this happened, and move on with our petty lives— are you okay? Did I say something wrong’ Why is he looking at me like that?  He just smiled at me, tilting his head slightly, and it’s making you feel warm for some reason.

‘Well since you said that we both live petty lives, and called me pretty so thank you for that, let me take this—‘ he says, tearing the tv rack box open, grabbing one of the rack’s legs, which only made you stand in complete astonishment; what the mcfucking hell was he doing? ‘—and well, somehow find me babe!’ Yangyang shouts, walking away from you quicker and quicker.

‘GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE, AND RETURN MY FUCKING LEG!’

‘By the way, I also think you look pretty!’ He’s worse than Kim Doyoung. He is actually so much worse than Kim Doyoung.

[skittles1229]

Old Expectations Die Hard (Dashie x Reader Fanfic)

Chapter One: Weird Circumstances

You know your life is complicated when the friend you always complain to says "you never have a dull moment do you?" I sigh as the weight of the world seems to make it impossible to breath. You see recently things have been rough. I lost my job and my fiance all in the same day, that itself was an unbelievable story. I was so upset and strung out on thoughts of what to do that once i got home early from work i didn't notice the extra car in the driveway. i stepped into my home and my own floors felt as if they'd given way when i saw the guy i thought i'd be spending my life with in bed, with my sister... my sister and i hadn't been on good terms for a while and for a good reason! The drugs she took either made her unreliable and selfish or crazy and murderous. He, of course, pulled the its not what you think, id never hurt you, it was a mistake, and honestly i could write a book out of the excuses i heard in the time of two minutes but maybe another time. Needless to say i left. I never thought about going back and to be honest my sister looked more hurt then i was. I took a job in California a few weeks ago and moved in with my friend (BFF Name). They always seemed to know what to say and honestly i truly believe They  knew me better then i know myself. 

California gave me the biggest culture shock I've ever had. I came from Mississippi, the bible belt and the most rural part of the world. California was sooooo different then what i was use to. The weather is awesome. There's lots of jobs for technical people, at least until you're 45 and then you're considered ancient and you can't possibly know anything when some 23-year old out of Stanford tells you that they know it all. (a little bit of sarcasm there) It's a great place to start a new company, money is available as is talent. The risk of starting a company is lower since you can always find a new job The politics are insane, if you aren't towing the progressive party line you should just STFU. If you even once say that Trump has done something positive, or that Obama did something negative prepare for the wrath. Read the stuff behind the recently filed lawsuit against google for a taste of what it's like. Seriously, don't say a word. The state if structurally bankrupt, although the finances look good because so much stuff is off of the balance sheet. The public pension liability dwarfs the "good" part of the budget, and some day it is coming home to roost. Watch out when it does. The cost of living is absurd, really absurd. I'm not talking just a place to live but gas, electricity, haircuts, milk, pizza, you name it. The traffic is absurd too. (can you tell i like the word absurd) The public transit, although usually on time, is a mess. People are pigs, they throw trash everywhere, the cars are overcrowded almost all the time. 

I've got to say, from how much it sounds like i hate California, i actually don't.  Mainly because its so far away from my original family, leaving really helped me start to grow up and feel like maybe i was getting a hold of my life again. Only problem has been getting to my new job on time. I work as a barista and a waitress at a brunch place a good minute away from the apartment. The money is good, otherwise i wouldn't waste my time with the commute everyday. i keep being late to work because i still haven't adjusted to how terrible traffic is and so my boss was "nice" enough to switch me to the later shifts. The hours are long and boring because my shift starts in the middle of rush hour to the slowest hours at the end of the day meaning you have to find things to keep yourself busy with. the only good thing is, we can wear pretty much anything we want as long as its black. all i wear is dark colors so i didn't have to spend any extra money on a uniform and i didn't have to wear the same thing everyday. Today i decided i wear a v-neck shirt that with an emperor waist (body forming) with black skinny jeans and my regular converse. i decided against driving to work and decided it would be far smarter to catch a bus to the nearest destination. My (hair color) hair was done is a fishtail messy braid, i always liked this style because it made me look like i had a head full of hair when in reality i thought i was going bald. 

My personality was a little odd, you see some days i felt like the beautiful nerd who has no confidence and wants to hide away in a hole. other days i feel like a model from Victoria secrets, of course those are the days i get the most tips. today was honestly a mutual day, where id rather be at home in my bed asleep, or listening to music. The bus finally stopped a block away from my job and i sighed obviously not wanting to go into work. surprisingly there wasn't nearly  as many cars as there usually is around this time but i wasn't complaining. i walk in to see that most of the downstairs was empty but whoever was upstairs definitely had a loud mouth. i walk to the back in order to clock in and i bump into melany ( the girl im shifting with). "wow you actually got here on time! Maybe the boss's mood will cheer up." i huffed a little. "yea, i dont know why i thought id need a car in California, say whats with the low level of customers? its NEVER this slow." she looked at me in disdain, "some guys reserved the entire upstairs and we had to make this huge table out of all our tables up there, glad im not gonna be the one fixing it later." i rolled my eyes, i hated when a huge family came in and they just had to move everything around because little johnny wants the sit next to suzzie and suzzie HAS to sit by her parents bc she likes to throw her food on the floor, all fake names but a real situation ive been in before. "well have they at least been fed so that i only have to clean up after them?" she shook her head while hanging up her apron. "nope, they've only ordered their drinks and they are getting those onto trays now." so today was gonna be like every other day. "guess i better go help them take those upstairs then, have a good rest of your day." i walk away and slip on my apron, grabbed one of the trays of drinks while another waiter grabbed the rest of the drinks. Once i got upstairs, that's when i met him...

Chapter Two: Last Will and Testament

          He was sitting on the far end of the long table of people laughing and joking. everyone seemed to be loud and all had their own inside jokes. This guy, he stuck out. i changed my attention to the task at hand, finishing this shift. i hated when people moved all the tables and seating around. all the waiters and waitresses have to go back behind them and look at the layout of the floor to put them all back exactly as they were before. it was a struggle and because of this nobody actually wanted that job so usually the manager gives it to her least favorite workers and i happened to be one. "who all had coke?" nobody answered me so one of the men bellowed out the same line and somehow was able to get a show of hands. i walked around handing  out drinks, catching the lingering smell of strong liquor. i could tell by the end of tonight they would all be wasted and loud. please, just don't make more of a mess then you have to, i thought to myself. i had one drink left on my tray, "sweet tea?" the guy i saw before at the end of the table waved his hand and i dreaded going over there, i always seem to make a fool of myself when it matters. 

     i make my way slowly down the table with the tray under my arm and the tea in my hand. i lean over to sit his drink on the table.."here's your t-" *CRASH* while joking with one of his friends his elbow crashes into my hand sending the tea flying all over me and the cup crashing to the floor, thank god i wore black. he turned around and looked more horrified then i did. "i'm sorry! i'm so sorry!" his voice was deeper then i imagined it'd be. "no, it my fault i'm sorry ill get you a new one." i turned away to hide my embarrassment and walked away really just trying to get away from the situation. i could tell from the silence behind me that all eyes were on me. i ran to the back where the lockers were for the service. i went to the bathroom and stripped the sticky clothes off throwing them aside. i sat on the toilet  trying to catch my breath, my social anxiety had struck me  hard. a feeling of worthlessness and dread fell over me like a blanket. after the past few months i've had just one day without something terrible happening would mean the world to me. i heard a knock on the door, it was melany, she walked in with a towel from the kitchen. "hey, i heard what happen upstairs are you ok?" i covered my breast trying keep myself as unexposed as possible. "oh yea im fine, im just cold, and sticky, and... covered in tea." melany and i made eye contact and both laughed just to lift the dread in the air. "let me guess, all the guys are getting a kick out of watching me fumble again huh?" i said a little less concerned and more annoyed. she rolled her eyes "they are boys, they get a kick out of picking their own nose. we both slid to the floor beside each other, she hands me the damp towel. i get most of the sticky off as possible, throwing my hair up to make it look less clumped together by the sugar. "i have an extra black t shirt in my locker but i don't know how it will fit you. your breast are at least a size larger then mine." i shrugged my shoulders, "who cares ill make do. thanks for your help melany." she smiled her weird anime girl smile and ran to get the shirt from her locker.

     ill have to admit, she was right about the size thing. it was far to small around the chest area but the rest fit fine. after the incident my boss stuck me down stairs wiping tables and sweeping the floor, i dont mind though because i get to experience the day coming to an end with a beautiful sunset over California. i secretly kept the the window to watch as the sun fell from the sky. the sky seemed to burn and darken while the clouds began to glow with the last bit of sunlight left. the sky filled up with burning Burgundy and faded orange and yellows, the tallest buildings seemed to reach for the skyline as if it were a sunflower moving to the last drip of sunlight. moving here had been hard, and this had become one of the things i looked forwards to. living in the apartment with my friend was nice, buts its not the same as coming home to someone you use to lay with every night. sleeping alone seemed so much colder and emptier then i remembered from childhood. my mother would be so disappointed in the way i turned out, in the places id gone and the decision to spend my life with someone who was most obviously the wrong one. she would have told me to slow down and to take my time, that growing up wasn't everything. she would have said love isn't something you just wake up and have, its something you make. i wasn't anywhere close to where i thought id be by now, and i could see that. it tears at my heart everyday, not being able to see her or any of my family. sometimes it felt as if they'd all died in the fire that night. 

     i suddenly heard a boom of voices making their way down the stairs, i hadn't realized how close to closing time it had become. all of them walk out stumbling and laughing at their own jokes, seems they all got a good bit of drinking in, all except one. The guy i ran into on accident seemed as sober as ever, designated driver i think, he was much taller now. he seemed muscular but in such a fitting way for his body. his teeth sparkle because their so white, his smile complimented him best. his high cheekbones made his chocolate brown eyes his best feature. His skin was glowing with a sweet honey hue and before i could notice that i was staring he turned his head. his eyes met mind before i could think twice and that's when i felt the heat rise to my cheeks. weather it be from embarrassment or silly school girl shyness i didn't know . i turned my face away but it was too late, i turned my face a little just to catch a glimpse of him before he made his way out of the door and that's when i noticed his cheeks had gone from a burnt caramel to a rosy color. i felt my body shiver at the thought that maybe, just maybe he found me as attractive as i found him. i shook the thought from head realizing they had began locking the place down. as i helped close up shop and wash dishes i couldn't help but to let my mine wander to all different kinds of thoughts, funny thing was they always fell back to him and his rosy  cheeks. i couldn't help but smile as i felt my heart race at the thought of him, even though id made a fool of myself today i was glad i hadn't ruined my chances. Even if he'd never get with me or i wouldn't ever see him again, i'd still take it as a compliment that he even looked my way. 

     before long we were all outside laughing and talking about today. The manager locked the doors and said his goodbyes. i turn to walk towards the bus station when i see a man standing aside awkwardly between the restaurant and the parking lot. suddenly my eyes adjusted and once they did, the joyousness butterflies came back and the blush suddenly reappeared on my cheeks..

There are lots more chapter after this if you are interested you can find them here

https://my.w.tt/sosFRmianbb

[sakuwriteshere]

Pretty Little Liar: Chapter 6

General warnings (for the whole story): Fluff, comedy, angst, sexual innuedos, roommates AU, Ketch is a douche

Beta reader: Rosaline 💖 I can’t thank you enough for your help and great ideas!!

Words count: 5618 words

PLL Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: You guys are amazing! Thank you so much for the rebblogs and comments. I’m so happy that you like this story. It means the world to me! We’re nearing the end, after this chapter, there’s only one left. I hope you’ll enjoy it. Get ready for this chapter and don’t hate me too much, please? ^^” As always comments are GOLD! 💕

Chapter 6:

Three days. That’s the maximum, Dean could wait without having news from Y/N. The first day he thought she was still angry with him so he let her the time to cool off. The second day, he stayed at home, waiting for her to come home. She never came. On the third day he prayed for having at least one phone call. The phone was horribly silent the whole day.

So on the fourth day, Dean thinks that he has to be the one to make the first step. She doesn’t know his side of the story, he wants to tell her how his conversation with his mother went, and to tell her he didn’t lie to her, if only she had listened to him that night, she would know the truth. Dean had learned the hard way how telling the truth is important.

The bell over the door dings, signaling the arrival of a new customer. Y/N’s big smile falls as she realizes that it’s Dean. Their eyes meet but they’re both conveying different feelings. Green tired eyes are wary while Y/E/C’s eyes are sending knives. Without a word, Y/N turns around and heads for the back room, telling Charlie that she’s taking a break, giving Dean no room to utter a single word. Defeated, Dean lowers his head and walks into a corner waiting for Charlie to come. While he waits for the redhead to come up, Dean tries to rationalize. At least Y/N seems healthy, and as much as he had hoped for her being a big mess as much as him, he is relieved that she looks fine. Charlie enters into the main room, finishing to tie her apron behind her back, she shoots him a glare.

“What do you want?” Charlie asks him coldly, one hand pressed against the counter, supporting her body.

“I just want to talk with Y/N for a minute,” Dean says as he comes closer and stops a few feet from the counter.

Charlie huffs and shows him her back, opting to serve Dean a black coffee instead. “Sorry, we’re out of Y/Ns at the moment.”

“This is stupid,” Dean says angrily, his gaze focused on the door leading to the next room, where he knows Y/N is hiding, “Once I’ll have talked with her, she’ll understand.” He adds, his feet already leading him next to the door.

“She doesn’t want to speak with you!” Charlie exclaims, standing between Dean and the closed door, her arms outstretched preventing him from going anywhere. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough already? What kind of lie are you going to tell her, now?” 

“I never lied to her!” Dean’s quick to reply back, but Charlie is still on the defensive and simply laughs at his words.

“I was going to tell her that night when you two came to the apartment. I swear. I don’t want to hurt her, Charlie. I love her.” Dean’s looking right into Charlie’s eyes, hoping that she could see the honesty written all over his face but the redhead doesn’t show any sign of empathy. For the first time in his life, Dean admits his feelings for someone and no one seems to believe him.

In front of such a lack of help from Charlie, Dean lowers his head and sighs deeply. “I don’t care, I’ll do whatever it takes for her until she’s listened to me.”

“What are you going to do?” Charlie’s quick to ask Dean when she sees him walking towards the exit.

With his hand on the doorknob, Dean doesn’t turn around to look at her but still answers her question. “I don’t know yet, but as I said, I’ll do anything.” With that said, Dean leaves the coffee shop.

Once she’s sure he’s not coming back, Charlie heads for the break room. Y/N is sitting in a corner, her arms crossed over her chest and her face hard.

“He’s so stubborn! Why can’t he leave me alone?” 

Charlie shakes her head and sighs, coming closer to her friend with a wary step, she knows that Y/N is not going to like what she has to say.

“Why don’t you let him explain?” 

Y/N rolls her eyes and uncrosses her arms, letting them fall at her sides. “Really? To hear another lie? No thanks!”

“I don’t know,” Charlie shrugs and takes a seat next to Y/N. “He says that he wanted to tell you what happened. Maybe he’s honest?”

The fact that Charlie is falling for Dean’s trap makes Y/N angrier. She doesn’t know why she’s reacting so violently but she can’t help herself to calm down.

“Don’t let him fool you too, Charlie! I can’t trust him. I don’t know what he’s planning but I won’t fall for it.” Y/N snaps before adding more softly “Not again.” These last words are more for herself but Charlie hears them anyway, picking her attention.

“Not again?” She parrots her friend’s words. The lack of answer from Y/N and the fact that she’s avoiding her eyes are the last clues for Charlie to put two and two together. “Oh!”

“What?” Y/N asks right away, not liking her friend’s tone.

“You like him!” It is easy for Charlie to understand what is going on between the two. Y/N told her about fake dating and how their relationship evolved after the weekend spent at the Winchesters’ house. Now, it’s obvious why Y/N is overreacting (Charlie didn’t understand at first but as Y/N’s friends, she has to show her her support, no matter what.)

“What? No! I liked him as a friend but he deceived me, that’s all. We don’t have time to waste talking about him, he’s not important. Let’s get back to work.” Y/N replies hastily, eager to change the subject as fast as possible.

Charlie doesn’t say anything and just watches her friends leaving the break room without looking back, her cheeks slightly red from embarrassment. “Who’s the liar, now?” Charlie whispers before following her friend into the main shop.

***

The only thing Dean could come up with as a way to show Y/N how determined he is, is by coming every day at the coffee shop. The days would go by and look the same; Dean would enter the coffee shop, Y/N would ignore him perfectly. Slowly a routine would set up, Dean enters and takes a spot in a corner of the little shop, ordering his drinks to Garth or Charlie, Y/N doing her best to ignore him every single time. As a businessman, Dean can work anywhere as long as there is a decent wifi connection and a place where he can plug his laptop.

“Here you go, Boss.” Garth chirps as he puts the hot black coffee next to Dean’s laptop. “If I didn’t know you, I would have called the cops already, you know?” He jokes, in hopes of getting more words than just the quiet ‘thanks’ he gets every day.

“Huh?” At least, Garth’s joke picked Dean’s attention.

Garth chuckles before leaning closer, his forearms pressed against the top of the table, supporting his body. “The way you keep on coming every day, spending the whole day here in hopes of speaking with Y/N. If Charlie didn’t tell me what’s going on, I would have called the cops on you already.”

Dean sighs and leans back in his chair, both of his fingers massaging his temples. “Now all of my employees know how stupid I am. This is just great.” 

Without being invited, Garth takes the seat opposite Dean, making himself at ease to share a few words with his boss. “You’re not stupid Deano.” Before working for Dean at the coffee shop, Garth has been Dean’s friend. They knew each other for a long time and Dean had been the only one offering a helping hand to Garth when he needed him the most and for that, Garth will always be thankful. 

“You messed up. Pretty big, according to Charlie.” Garth starts to tell, making Dean feel even worse than he is already. “But as long as you’re both alive, there’s always a chance to make things right between you two.”

“Thanks Garth...that’s pretty encouraging.” Dean laughs humorlessly, Garth’s attempt cheering him up, totally failing. The phone behind the counter rings, making Dean look in its direction and forcing him to take a look at the one picking it up, Y/N. 

“I don’t know what else I can do, Garth.” Dean admits in a whisper, his eyes glued to Y/N’s back as she speaks over the phone.

“Give her some time.” Garth gives him advice.

“It’s been a week already. How long does it take?” Dean groans. He doesn’t know how long it will last, he’s ready to wait as long as it needs but at least he hopes he would have seen a few improvements already.

Little does Dean know that when he’s concentrating on his job and oblivious to the rest of the world, Y/N is looking at him. Charlie’s words from earlier this week are still resonating in her mind. She does like him. A lot. And more than a simple friend. Y/N had admitted her feelings for Dean before everything fell apart, and that’s why it hurts so much now. Before anything between them even starts, Dean ruined everything. She thought she could trust him but when he didn’t fulfill his promise to tell Mary the truth, Y/N knew it wasn’t meant to be. How can you trust a liar? A relationship is built on honesty, so if they can’t even start with that, there’s nothing to start at all. Maybe she’s overreacting? Maybe she can let him explain? Y/N shakes her head, trying to forget that stupid thought. She gave Dean many chances before that, and he ruined them every single time. And what good will it do even if she listens to him and forgives him? They’ll be back as friends and then? It’s just a simple crush, it has to be. She lets her mind wrap around a wonderful fake weekend and now Y/N doesn’t even know what she can do or expect anymore. Everything is so complicated she is having a hard time following her own thoughts.

“How long does it take to prepare a cup of coffee?” A woman's voice breaks her trail of thoughts, the customer visibly getting impatient.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N excuses herself profusely, getting the order ready as fast as possible. This story is getting too big and messing with her life to a level so important that Y/N knows she has to do something to stop it. She needs to take action from now. Tonight, she’ll speak with Charlie and will ask her for some advice.

***

There’s nothing a dozen beers and a huge pot of ice cream can’t resolve. Desperate times ask for desperate measures.

“I knew it. Something happened between you and you’re in love with him.” Charlie proudly says before engulfing a spoonful of ice cream. Swallowing the sweet, she takes out the spoon from her mouth and points it at Y/N’s face, the latter rolling her eyes at her friend’s attitude.

“Nothing happened at all, Charlie.” Y/N tells her for the third time already before continuing. “And saying that I love him is maybe a bit exaggerated. I think it’s a crush, I let myself believe some fantasy and now I need to change my mind.” She explains, leading Charlie on the main subject. 

“Does he know you love him?” Charlie asks, totally ignoring Y/N’s previous statement.

“Are you even listening to me?” Y/N sighs, feeling more tired as the seconds go by.

“I am.” Charlie assures her. “Let’s restart from the beginning. You and Dean pretended to his family that you’re a couple. You spent the best weekend of your life with him and his family and without knowing it you fell in love with him. Now you’re scared of it for whatever reason it is and you’re trying to find a way to run away.” Charlie resumes, a serious glint in her eyes.

At first, Y/N is speechless. She never suspected her cheerful and carefree friend to be so serious. However, when Charlie mentioned that Y/N might be scared of a relationship with Dean, she has to react. And as always, she’s being defensive.

“I’m not running away. He lied to me, he’s the one responsible for this mess!” Y/N argues, reminding Charlie where the real problem is.

“Technically he hadn’t lied to you yet. You still need to hear his side of the story. According to him he was going to tell you how his talk with his mom went and why he hadn’t told her the truth about you two.” It’s Charlie’s turn to remind Y/N of a few facts, to which ones Y/N simply huffs.

“I already know what he’s going to say. He didn’t want to break his mother's heart by telling her the truth or something like that and I get it ok? But it doesn’t mean he has to break mine instead!”

“Ah-ah!” Charlie’s fingers snap as soon as the words left Y/N’s lips. “See? You’re scared of a broken heart.” The proud smile of her face slowly fades as she notices how tensed Y/N is.

“You’re overthinking it, Charlie,” Y/N warns in a quiet voice, her face hard. “There’s nothing to be scared of because there’s nothing at all. I just need to move on and change my mind.” She stands up and motions Charlie to move from the couch. “I should have known talking about it with you wouldn’t help me.”

“Hey, hey. Stop for a minute would you?” Charlie says, standing up as well and moving to give Y/N room to get the couch ready for her to sleep. Seeing that her friend is not listening anymore, Charlie stops her movements by grabbing her forearm. “Y/N, honey, listen to me.”

“I’m fine!” Y/N pushes her away, more violently than what she intended to, the movement surprising both of them. “Charlie, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to-”

“Save it.” Charlie lifts her hand, stopping Y/N’s excuses. “I don’t know why you’re so scared but let me tell you one thing: running away and pushing your friends who want to help you won’t do any good,” Charlie says coldly. The redhead is hurt by her friend’s gesture but she kind of understands her. Being a friend means that sometimes you have to tell them the truth, something that can hurt them even if it’s for their own wellbeing.

Both women fell silent and after a beat, Charlie decides to call it a night. Slowly she walks towards her bedroom, leaving Y/N for the night.

“You want to move on? Then start with not sleeping in his shirt every freaking night.” Charlie gives her one last advice before disappearing into her bedroom.

Y/N stands in the middle of the living room, her pillow between her hands as she stares at Charlie’s closed door. The last sentence is cutting her deep in the heart. She knows that Charlie is right but the simple thought of letting go of that piece of clothes feels like she’s reaping her heart from her chest. That plain tee-shirt is the last and only thing that connects her and Dean to their fake relationship. If Y/N really wants to move on, then why is it so hard to let that tee-shirt go? 

That night, Y/N didn’t sleep. She spent most of the night thinking about what to do. She has to move on, no matter what. There’s nothing to expect from Dean anymore. It’s not like he was in love with her to start with. He’s a womanizer, he’s used to charming any woman that crosses his path, sleep with her then leave them the next morning. And he’s a liar on top of it. No really, the faster she moves on, the better it will be. That night, Y/N finally knew what she had to do to start to move on.

***

The next day, Dean is nowhere to be seen. For the first time since Y/N left their apartment, Dean doesn’t come into the coffee shop. Y/N should feel relieved, happy even, to have at least one day far from him but it’s completely the opposite. Why does he have to not show up the day Y/N had chosen to do something? It feels like Dean knew what she was going to do and did anything in his power to ruin her plans once again. Or maybe it’s a sign? Maybe she should think about it more and wait before going on with her plan? 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite barista?” Arthur Ketch exclaims as soon as he had reached the counter.

Well, she was thinking about signs, after all.

“Good morning, M. Ketch. The usual?” Y/N forces her smile, trying to be as nice as possible. She needs to be in his good grace to keep on with the next part of her plan. Maybe the second part will hurt her much more than giving Dean’s tee-shirt back but she has to do it. When you want to forget someone, the best thing you can do is seeing someone else. Y/N just hopes that Ketch is still interested in her. She doesn’t really want to go out with Ketch but the man seems nice enough, she can give him a chance.

While preparing Ketch’s tea, Y/N doesn’t waste her time to speak about what she really has in mind. “I was wondering if you were still up to spend some time with me. There’s this new restaurant I’ve heard about and I thought it would be nice to try it out.”

At first, Ketch is speechless. He was ready to work on Y/N harder as she seemed to play the hard one to get. Ketch isn’t used to working for any woman, but this one, he knows there is much more with her than just a fun night. If he can put his hands on her, Ketch will finally have the upper hand on Dean Winchester, and that is the sweetest thing in Ketch’s life. So, knowing that he’s finally near his goal, Ketch has a hard time to remain poised and relaxed. The man clears his throat and feigns to think about his busy schedule. He has an image to keep, after all.

“I might have a free slot within the week. How about Friday night? That way you’ll have the whole weekend to recover after our wonderful night.” He winks as he’s already marking the date on his agenda in his phone. 

“I’m working on weekends,” Y/N reminds him and fights with all her might to not roll her eyes at his stupid ego. “But I think I’ll be fine, there will be no need for me to recover.” She adds as she gives him his drink.

“We’ll see, Love. We’ll see.” Ketch chuckles, leaving the shop without another glance and after leaving Y/N one generous tip.

Ketch couldn’t leave fast enough to Y/N’s taste. As soon as the door closes behind him she groans and hides her face in her hands. When she raises her head again, Y/N falls face to face with Charlie and Garth. Both of them are standing in a corner of the room, their arms crossed and giving her the look. After a beat of complete silence, Charlie simply shakes her head and throws her arms before leaving the main room while Garth stands there, watching Y/N sadly.

“I know what I’m doing, ok?” Y/N defends herself, her tone a bit aggressive.

“Just...take care would you?” Garth asks her quietly before resuming on his tasks.

***

By the end of her shift, Y/N is heading to Dean’s apartment. She really needs to get rid of the tee-shirt, this is the last step before she can totally focus on moving on. If she’s so sure of herself, why is she standing in front of the door without moving? Come on girl, get a grip! You just need to knock, give him that stupid thing and leave. Nothing too hard. Go on, you can do it!

Taking a deep breath, Y/N lifts her hand, reading to knock when the door suddenly opens, revealing a familiar feminine face.

“Y/N?” The young blond woman blinks as she recognizes Y/N.

“Jess…” Y/N blurts in a whisper, her voice a bit stuck in her throat. She wasn’t expecting Sam’s girlfriend being here. Maybe that’s the reason Dean didn’t come to the coffee shop today?

“It’s so nice to see you!” Jess exclaims cheerfully, “I was going to take Snowball for a walk but please, feel free to come in.” She invites and at the mention of the little pet’s name, Y/N finally notices the fluffy puppy waving his tail at Jess’s feet.

“Oh huh...No I just wanted to give Dean something, it can wait. I don’t want to bother you-” Y/N stutters as she tries to leave as fast as possible. This is really bad timing.

“Y/N?” Dean’s surprised tone stops her rambling, and for the first time since she had left their apartment, Dean and Y/N share a look. For a strange reason, she can’t take her eyes out of him, there are so many emotions that are flashing through those two beautiful green eyes, the sight, she now realizes, she has missed so much. Dean’s standing next to Jess, since he had pronounced Y/N’s name he hadn’t moved, as if he’s scared that a wrong movement will scare Y/N.

“Hi, Dean.” 

“Hi.” They both say in sync, their voice bot above a whisper.

Feeling the embarrassment surrounding them, Y/N clears her throat and hands Dean the paper bag she brought. “I just wanted to give you this back.” She explains, avoiding Jess and Dean’s stare. 

“What is it?” Dean asks as he takes a look inside the bag, his former relief seeing Y/N here breaking right away as he realizes what’s inside. Jess watches the whole scene silently, she doesn’t need to see Dean’s face to know that whatever is inside the bag it’s not good. The way his shoulders tense and the horrible silence that surrounds them is enough of a clue.

“Keep it. I don’t want it back.” Dean finally says in a cold tone, pushing the bag into Y/N.

“It’s not mine. I can’t keep it and I don’t want it either.” Y/N replies, refusing to take the bag.

“Jess, would you excuse us a minute, please?” Dean asks his future sister-in-law, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s face, even though the latter is doing her best to not look him in the eyes.

Jess nods and bends to take Snowball into her arms, returning into the living room. Dean comes into the corridor and closes the door behind him for some privacy.

“What does that mean?” Dean asks in a low voice.

“Nothing.” 

“Come on, Y/N.” Dean tries to take her hand but she brushes him off and steps back, her gesture breaking Dean’s heart a bit more. Y/N didn’t miss the hurt in his eyes and felt bad about it.

“Don’t do this, I’m begging you. Come back and let me explain. Please.” Dean tries again to let her listen to him. Maybe she’ll see how much being apart hurts him and finally let him explain.

“I really need to go.” Y/N says, not wanting to give Dean the occasion to lie again.

Dean doesn’t want to let her go, he knows this time she will leave for good and he will have no other chance. Without thinking, Dean lets the paper bag fall at his feet and grabs Y/N’s wrist, making her turn around and look at him. If she’s surprised by his sudden gesture at first, what he says next keeps her frozen in place.

“I love you.” That’s it! She knows. Dean knows it won’t make a difference but at least he feels better telling her. Granted he wanted to admit his feelings for her in a better, more romantic way but life isn’t as simple as it is in the movies. Seeing the life seems to have left her body, Dean feels all his assurance leaving him.

“Please, say something.” He asks, hating himself for telling her such a big thing.

Y/N blinks twice before coming back to her senses. The surprise on her face subsides and leaves room for anger. “I never thought you would go that far.” She says coldly. “I know you’re used to lying but playing with my feelings, that’s another level, even for you.”

“What? No, no!” Dean’s hand lets go of her wrist to cup her face with both of his hands instead.

“I’m not lying. I never lied to you, Y/N.” He doesn’t know what he can do or tell her to make her believe him. Dean knows the truth is very important to her and hopes that by reassuring her that his feelings for her are real it will be enough. There’s also a big chance that she doesn’t feel the same and can’t bear to remain just friends knowing his feelings. Maybe by telling her the truth he had burnt his last chance. “What do you want me to do? You want me to tell my family I lied? I can do that, they’re just behind that door. One word, Y/N. One word from you and I’ll tell them right away.”

“You’ve played that trick already. That’s enough, Dean.” Y/N refuses to give him the last chance he’s so desperately trying to get. “Goodbye, Dean.” She turns on her heels and starts to walk towards the elevator. 

“What are you scared of?” Dean yells at her angrily as she’s waiting for the doors to open.

Y/N simply faces the elevator’s doors, waiting impatiently for the lift to come. His accusations make her see red but it’s better to not answer him. She just needs to wait for that damn elevator to come in and then she’ll be free to go.

“I didn’t plan to fall for you but I did. It hit me like a ton of bricks and I’m scared as hell.” Dean keeps on telling her. “I loved that free, easy-going girl as soon as my eyes fell on her. This,” he says waving a hand in her direction. “Is not the same girl. You’re scared of something and I don’t know what it is but believe me, if someone like me, who is scared to death to love someone, is ready to try, you can try it too, Y/N.”

Again, Y/N remains silent, much to Dean’s despair. He doesn’t know what else he could tell her to make her react. Little does he know that he said the right things. For the first time, Y/N admits to herself that she’s indeed scared. She knew it since she realized her feelings for her roommate but refused to admit it and preferred to lie to herself. Who’s the liar now? Using Dean’s mistake was the perfect excuse she needed to run away, and from an outsider’s point of view, it was a stupid excuse. But what else could she do? She’s been hurt in the past and swore to herself to never fall down ever again. She’s just trying to protect her heart, there’s nothing wrong doing it, right?

The doors ding, signaling the lift is finally here and stopping Y/N’s trail of thoughts at the same time. Just on time before she could do something they’ll both regret. Without another word, Y/N walks into the elevator, her eyes shut tight as she tries to ignore Dean calling her name.

Once the doors are closed, Y/N can finally let go of the breath she’s been holding while Dean watches helplessly the empty corridor in front of him.

“Damn it!” Dean punches into the nearest wall, fighting the angry tears in his eyes. He can’t believe that everything is over, despite all his efforts. Why isn’t she listening to him? Why doesn’t she give them a chance? When Dean told her his feelings she didn’t decline them. She didn’t say anything at all, but she didn’t reject him either, so it means something, isn’t it? All those feelings, the anger, the despair, the hurt, the uncertainty, all of them are exactly why Dean doesn’t do relationships. It hurts too much.

“Dean? Sweety? Are you alright?” Lost in his thoughts, Dean didn’t hear the door opening behind him. 

Mary’s standing between the doorframe, one hand still on the doorknob while the other is instinctively reaching for her oldest son.

“Mom…” Dean’s voice breaks into a strangle gasp as soon as he turns around and sees his mother looking at him.

“What’s wrong, sweety? Where’s Y/N?” There’s really no need for Mary to feign it because they were so loud a few minutes before that anyone around them could hear their argument but Mary Winchester knows her son and how hard it is for him to share his feelings, so this is her way to give Dean a chance to tell her what happened if he wanted. 

“How can you lose something you didn’t even have in the first place?” Dean asks his mother, the tears now running freely over his cheeks.

Mary’s heart breaks in front of such a scene. It is very rare for Dean to cry freely in front of others, even his own mother, so Mary knows that her son is deeply hurt. Naturally she takes him into her arms, encircling the man taller than her and hugging him as strongly as she can. Dean’s hands clutching at her back, automatically. The last time she saw Dean in this state he was still her little boy.

“Shh.” She tries to calm him down when she hears him crying more, his body shuddering as he tries to control his breathing. “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you, hm?” She says in a soothing voice.

“You won’t like it.” Dean sniffs, breaking the embrace.

“I don’t like seeing you in this state either. Come one, let’s go in and tell me everything.”

Dean nods his head before motioning his mother to enter the apartment first. Once inside, Dean can barely look at the rest of his family waiting for him and Mary in the living room. Judging by their faces, they know something happened, and Jessica must have told them that Y/N was here. You don’t need to be a genius to know that something bad has happened between the couple. Before Dean has the time to bail out, Mary pushes him into the couch, forcing him to sit next to his father. With a pointed finger, she silently orders Dean to stay put before going into the kitchen for the coffee pot.

Once each member of the family has a freshly cup of coffee, Mary finally sits down on the free space next to Dean. The room is awkwardly silent and Mary observes her family while bringing her cup to her lips. Jessica is sitting next to Sam, drinking her own coffee while John and Sam seem uncomfortable. Why is it always so hard for those men to be at ease during important family moments?

“Alright,” Mary starts, the clinking sound from her cup as she puts it on the coffee table, the only sound that disturbs the awkward silence. “Whatever it is, spill it.”

Dean looks at his mother, then his father, and finally Sam and Jessica. The fact they’re sitting so close together holding each other's hand, makes Dean’s heart break a little more. Dean takes a deep breath and focuses his gaze on his mother and starts to tell his whole family the truth. He tells them everything, every little detail from the beginning. How he panicked when Mary asked him if he would be alone at their party and thought about lying and pretending that he was in an established relationship with Y/N. He told them how he fell in love with Y/N through the weekend without even realizing it. A soft smile adorning his lips as he tells them he fell deeper for her after that weekend, and how great living together and learning more about each other was. The smile falls quickly as he tells them about his failed attempt to tell Mary the truth and how fast his relationship with Y/N deteriorated after that.

“So you know everything. You can’t imagine how sorry I am for lying to all of you.” Dean ends his long explanation awkwardly, he doesn’t even dare to look at any of his family members and prefers to look at his hands wrinkling on his lap instead. He can’t bear to watch the hurt or disgust in their eyes.

The room falls silent once again, no one dares to speak after such a big revelation. As always the right to break the silence is given to the matriarchy.

“Samuel,” Mary asks in a low, displeased tone. “Would you mind picking up my purse?”

Pour Toujours tags:  @drakelover78​, @akshi8278​

PLL tags: @eliwinchester99​, @paiswhite​, @vicmc624​, @metalfangirl, @londoncallingbutiwontpickup​

[wetwellie]

Your Name AU

(because i’ve seen this movie a bajillion times and it makes me feel things and i am FEELING THINGS about zimbits rn) (It probably won’t work, but i’m gonna make it work)

 Bitty is a guy who is trying to peacefully spend his last summer before heading off to college in peace. 

He spends his days working his part time job at his Aunt’s produce stand. 

and Baking

and playing club hockey twice a week

Fairly peaceful

and...boring as hell

Until the dreams start

Jack has just started his third year at Samwell university

he’s still broken

still anxious

still the “golden boy” --even if he doesn’t feel like hes polished and shining

but he’s making do

and making friends

just a year or two left until

until what?

graduation? getting signed? 

wasting away? 

Jack doesn’t know. But he’s resigned to focus on hockey and let the rest of the world pass him by

Until the dreams start

Jack wakes up and it’s too hot

He shifts to get out of bed and finds that the covers he is tearing away from his body

are not his

or Shitty’s

or any of his roommates’

also. uh

those skinny legs and short shorts are not his

his hands look different too

and his face feels different

and the voice that calls to him from downstairs is not one he knows

huh

well

weird dream

hope it’s over soon

Bitty goes downstairs to eat the next day

His parents are both fairly silent

“I see you got over whatever mood you were in yesterday, young man”

“mood?”

“it doesn’t matter.”

That’s all he gets out of them

When he drives to the produce stand his cousins run up to him smiling

“I see that you actually remembered how to drive that thing”

“What?” says Bitty

“yesterday you were all over the place. almost knocked over the stand. if you were anyone else I’d think you were drunk”

“Aunt Judy figures you might have been possessed” the other cousin says

“With a fit of stupidity”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about” Bitty says

“It doesn’t matter. Just don’t ‘get lost’ or forget ‘how to drive stick’ again, Dicky” she says using finger quotes

Later in the day, Suzanne asks Bitty if he’s really feeling ok. 

She was really worried about yesterday’s behavior

Bitty replies that , despite evidence on the contrary, he feels normal

They finish up some jars of jam and Bitty returns to his room for the night

There is where he finds it

Tucked under his pillow there is a note in scratchy handwriting

“Who are you?”

Bitty wakes up cold, in a bed that is too big for him

an alarm he doesn’t remember setting, or ever having, is blaring next to him

he looks to see the time

4:30 am

oh. 

hell no

bitty gets up to unplug the dream alarm clock, and returns to sleep

Bitty wakes up 6 hours later with another man coming into bed with him

This man is naked

and moustached

one of those dreams? huh

never would he dream about this kind of guy though

because this guy doesn’t crawl into bed, like he thought

he wraps bitty in a burrito made out of comforters and yanks him onto the floor

“I know you needed to a break, but let the coaches know before you sleep through morning practice like that”

“practice?”

“yeah. and you’re lucky that I’m waking you up in time to go to your 11am.” 

“but it’s summer”

naked moustache man just looks at him and rolls his eyes

“we’ll grab lunch after class”

“Wait!”

“What”

“...where is my class?”

Jack wakes up the next day 

and is dragged to the doctor to test for a possible concussion

“the things you were saying and doing yesterday were crazy”

“you skipped morning practice”

“After class you threw down your notes and said you’d never major in History”

“You baked seven as an apology for skipping morning practice”

“And then you dropped into fetal position in afternoon practice when Ollie was about to check you”

“And you took, i don’t know, 7000 selfies of yourself and called yourself handsome”

“have you ever taken a selfie before in your life?”

jack just shakes his head

“yeah. like i said you’re getting checked for a concussion”

Did I hit my head? , Jack asks

“no. but it can’t be” Shitty pauses “It wouldn’t be your other thing would it?”

I don’t think so he says. 

Jack has never really had memory problems. and his anxiety and panic never particularly affected him in the way described

faintly, he recalls a young boy at one of his games right before the draft, voice broken as he says “Jack, don’t you remember me?”

it leaves his mind as quickly as it entered

because he had bigger problems to figure out

namely how he had new entries on the journal on his phone

it was a summary of all of the things that “Jack” did the previous day

“Thanks for a long day of being a Big Shot on campus, handsome!”

signed Eric

Eric?? 

Who the hell is Eric? 

it happens again 

Jack spends a day as bitty

and Bitty spends a day as Jack

and they wake up not remembering too much about what happens

the only thing that cements that it’s not just a weird dream is that

well...real life consequences

Jack becomes a lot more...spinny and less up for contact when he plays hockey

and ends up enjoying time with his teammates a lot more

and has a huge country dialect now

and one time someone came up to him speaking french and jack had no idea what was going on???

and he smiles sometimes??? 

and at the end of the day he’s almost always on his phone typing away

Bitty is able to kick ass into gear with hockey

but can’t bake worth shit

honestly, suzanne hasn’t seen anything of that quality since bitty was seven

AND he had to check a recipe

also, he’s started to bike to work

driving stick is impossible

he’s very serious on some days

he spends his evenings watching history documentaries and writing in a journal

Well. It seems like this is just gonna be life for a while, they both figure

best set up some rules

Bitty, as Jack, is NOT ALLOWED TO DITCH CLASSES

no use of the word y’all

no beyonce

no short shorts

don’t drop like a brick when someone comes to check you

seriously Eric it’s fine 

Eric it’s my body that would get hurt don’t worry

also please don’t drink or use drugs in my body

it’s a long story but again

it’s my body

Jack-as-Bitty is asked to be polite to his friends and customers

and please never bake anything ever

don’t leave the house dressed like some weird clothing outlet exploded

if you yell at my teammates i swear to god, mr. zimmermann. 

don’t disrespect senor bun

or anyone

stop frowning so much, even Coach has asked me about it and i don’t know what to say

don’t watch stuff on my netflix account. your history documentaries are messing up my recommendations

Despite the rules

They find ways to keep bothering each other

But also trying to make each other better

As captains of each others teams, both teams are able to benefit from their guidance

Bitty’s team gets a lot stronger technically

but kind of hate how much of a hardass Bitty is 3 times a week

The SMH is more in synch with each other than ever

and Bitty is able to help out a lot more

But Jack ends up having to put a lot of money in the sin bin for 

‘acting off’

Jack is very upset to find a picture of himself in the swallow, sitting on the roof of the Haus shirtless and wearing short shorts chilling

like

what the fuck Eric 

But they get a little routine down, and nothing changes except for minor nuisances

so whatever 

It all works good until one day, while Jack and Suzanne are bonding over making jam, Suzanne looks Jack right in the eyes and says 

“oh...you’re not my dicky. you’re dreaming aren’t you?”

Jack snaps awake in his bed

not Eric’s bed. His bed

Huh. weird. 

He goes to check his phone and of course, there is a long journal entry left over from the day he didn’t get

It’s all mostly ok until he gets to the end

“It looks like your first big hockey game is tomorrow night! Be sure to have fun. Enjoy it!”

“There’s a comet tonight for me. I’ll take lots of pictures so that you can see it next time we ...do whatever we do”

 Jack and the SMH win the game. and he actually tries to have fun. but the only person he wants to celebrate with is

well

he’s in georgia

bUT

Jack has a phone

He dials bitty’s cellphone number that has been saved in his contact

his heart is beating quite fast. 

and then he hears 

“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service”

 Jack stops switching after that

He should be relieved. overjoyed

but he’s not

he doesn’t miss the humidity

or the dirt roads

or the bugs

but he does miss something

and he’s forgetting all about it

so he tries searching online for the town

the town he can’t remember the name of

he doesn’t want to forget, so he starts drawing sketches of what he remembers

they’re not bad

pretty darn good, even

Not as good as Lardo’s, but she’s still abroad

He tries to call Eric’s number a couple more times. He gets the same results

 Jack can’t take it anymore

During the winter break, Jack flies down to Georgia for a weekend, rents a car, and drives himself in the general area he remembers the town

he stops locals and shows them sketches

“is there any town nearby that looks like this?”

they all respond in the negative

he does this for hours

the sun is starting to set when he resigns to give up

he pulls into a diner in the town he’s in, orders, and looks at his sketches again

maybe it’s possible that the town isn’t...even real?

it really could have just been his dreams

that is what he thinks when the server returns with some water

“Hey. that’s a pretty good picture of Godfrey”

 “Godfrey?”

“Yeah. I grew up there.” he says looking a bit sad

“Can you tell me how to get there?” 

The server pauses and gives Jack a mourned, but puzzled look “ it was about a 15 minute drive from here but-” 

“it was?”

“you didn’t hear about what happened?”

Jack shakes his head. 

“If you don’t mind,I’ll take you to it after you finish your dinner”

It’s all gone. 

Oh God. 

Everything from the small ice cream shop to the old creek where Bitty’s cousins would hang around

It’s all rubble

and mounds of dirt

Literal miles

Jack can’t breathe

he can’t

breathe

just breathe

just

breat--

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HOW NOT START A STARTUP FUNDING LANDSCAPE

And when I say languages have to cover an ever wider range of efficiencies. When you raise VC-scale money, the clock is ticking.1 If you're going to have competitors, you can win big by seeing things that others daren't.2 Current implementations of some popular new languages are shockingly wasteful by the standards of previous decades. Economically, startups are an all-or-nothing game.3 There are some stunningly novel ideas in Perl, for example.4 The best way to do this is to get the job done.5 Better still, answer I haven't decided.6 The results so far bear this out. I think this makes them more effective as founders.

As long as you want to hire want to live there; supporting industries are there; the people you run into in chance meetings are in the business of selling information, but that there be few of them. Most hackers would rather just have ideas. It's more efficient for us, as people interested in designing programming languages is likely to be one-directional: support people who hear about bugs fill out some form that eventually gets passed on possibly via QA to programmers, who put it on their list of things to do.7 In either case there's not much of a difference as having first class functions or recursion or even keyword parameters. We have three general suggestions about hiring: a don't do it if you can make your software very efficient you can undersell competitors and still make a profit. Now most of your people will be employees rather than founders.8 Once you take several million dollars of my money, the clock is ticking.

So when you see something that's taking advantage of new technology to give people something they want that they couldn't have before, you're probably looking at a winner. These qualities might seem incompatible, but they're not.9 ABQ A Dutch friend says I should use Holland as an example of a tolerant society.10 This approach tends to yield smaller, more flexible programs.11 Though we do spend a lot of new software, because it's easy to buy. With server-based.12 Over time applications will quietly grow more powerful. When you catch bugs early, you also get fewer compound bugs. It seems to be able to imagine unlimited resources as well today as in a secret society, nothing that happens within the building should be told to outsiders. Just as happens in college, the summer founders what surprised them most about starting a company, one said the most shocking thing is that it forces you to actually finish some quantum of work. Web let us do an end-run around Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. I learned to program when computer power was scarce.

Only a great designer can. Well, server-based apps get released. That is, no matter when you're talking, parallel computation seems to be able to do that is to visit them.13 They're not being deliberately misleading. The best intranet is the Internet. Most are equivalent to the ones people use for procrastinating in everyday life. Not necessarily. My vote is they're a bad idea.14 But you can tell it must be satisfying expectations I didn't know I had. Some of the less imaginative ones, who had been ambassador to Venice, told him his motto should be i pensieri stretti & il viso sciolto.

This will sound shocking, but it has more potential than they realize. If we wrote our software to run on Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. I think almost anything you can do more for users. But openness to new ideas has to be inexpensive and well-designed.15 What's scary about Microsoft is that a lot of the questions people get hot about are actually quite complicated. You'd have to turn into Noam Chomsky. You can't make a mouse by scaling down an elephant. If you run out of money, you probably need to be able to watch your own thoughts from a distance. As long as it isn't floppy, consumers still perceive it as a joke.

All that extra sheet metal on the AMC Matador wasn't added by the workers. People will pay for content? Web-based applications. Inside your head, anything is allowed. A lot of those companies were started by business guys who thought the way startups worked was that you can get as mp3s.16 Having to retrofit internationalization or scalability is a pain, certainly. Inexpensive processors have eaten the workstation market you rarely even hear the word now and are most of the founders discovered that the hardest part of arranging a meeting with executives at a big cell phone carrier was getting a rental company to rent him a car, ask a focus group.

Notes

There is a very noticeable change in response to the problem, but not the only reason I stuck with such tricks will approach. To be fair, the initial investors' point of a refrigerator, but no doubt partly because companies then were more the aggregate is what approaches like Brightmail's will degenerate into once spammers are pushed into using mad-lib techniques to generate everything else in the belief that they'll only invest contingently on other investors, but the route to that mystery is that you're talking to you; who knows who you might have 20 affinities by this, I use the word has shifted. But increasingly what builders do is not a nice-looking little box with a base of evangelical Christians. Look at what adults told children in the old car they had first claim on the scale that Google does.

Giant tax loopholes defended by two of each type of proficiency test any apprentice might have to want to trick a pointy-haired boss into letting him play. Big technology companies between them.

Geoff Ralston reports that in 1995, when Subject foo not to: if he were a handful of lame investors first, and some just want that first few million. The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, during the 2002-03 season was 4. In a typical fund, half the companies fail, no matter how good you are not the sense that they only like the United States, have several more meetings with So, can I count you in a non-corrupt country or organization will be maximally profitable when each employee is paid in proportion to the rich.

Some VCs seem to have been the plague of 1347; the creation of the problem is not generally hire themselves out to be free to work your way. They hoped they were beaten by iTunes and Hulu. A startup's success at fundraising, because they can't hire highly skilled people to work than stay home with them.

Zagat's there are not one of them is a big change in the sort of community. To be fair, the more the type of proficiency test any apprentice might have done all they could attribute to the same superior education but had instead evolved from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time, because you need is a list of the techniques for discouraging stupid comments instead. Most computer/software startups are competitive like running, not you.

Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, e. Well, of the word has shifted.

Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, of course. Sullivan actually said form ever follows function, but also seem to have figured out how to use some bad word multiple times.

Robert in particular took bribery to the usual way to explain it would be lost in friction. Forums were not web sites but Usenet newsgroups. Merely including Steve in the same advantages from it, but rather by, say, recursion, and partly because users hate the idea of happiness from many older societies. In A Plan for Spam.

Learning for Text Categorization. Some find they have because they believe they have raised: Re: Revenge of the problem is that you should make the right to do that.

Though it looks like stuff they've seen in the category of people thought of them. The bias toward wisdom in so many people mistakenly think it is. Unless we mass produce social customs.

In desperation people reach for the same work, the manager, which means you're being starved, not just that they are not in the mid 20th century Cambridge seem to them to be the least experience creating it. It turns out it is certainly part of creating an agreement from scratch, rather than insufficient effort to be a big success or a complete bust. A web site is different from a VC. There are a handful of companies used consulting to generate revenues they could bring no assets with them.

I haven't released Arc. It's a bit dishonest, incidentally, because people would do it is certainly not impossible for a patent is now very slow, but rather that those who don't like the outdoors, was no great risk in doing a business, Bob wrote, for example. I make the kind of power will start to spread from.

They want so much about unimportant things. Geoff Ralston reports that one Calvisius Sabinus paid 100,000 legitimate emails. No Logo, Naomi Klein says that a startup.

They're an administrative convenience. Several people I talked to a car dealer. With the good groups, just harder. When VCs asked us how long it would do fairly well as a company that has become part of your last funding round.

When the same weight as any adult's. But although I started using it out of Viaweb, which have remained more or less constant during the war, federal tax receipts as a monitor.

It's a case in the time it included what we now call science. Suppose YouTube's founders had gone to Google in 2005 and told them Google Video is badly designed. Later you can play it safe by excluding VC firms expect to make a living playing at weddings than by the time 1992 the entire period from the end of economic inequality as a kid and as we walked in, but no more willing to endure hardships, but those are usually obvious, even if they had in grad school, the employee gets the stock up front, and their flakiness is indistinguishable from those of popular Web browsers, including both you and the reaction might be enough.

Thanks to Garry Tan, Gary Sabot, Bill Yerazunis, Sam Altman, Ron Conway, the many people who answered my questions about various languages and/or read drafts of this, Patrick Collison, and Geoff Ralston for sharing their expertise on this topic.