#you know i’m tired when i make even more grammar mistakes than normal

[keylimejuice]

resisting the urge to suddenly change pfps

[sprinkler-ashes]

begin again // aaron hotchner x reader

begin again

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

description: in which there are five times that aaron hotchner restores your faith in love and one time where you restore his. inspired by begin again by taylor swift.

words: 6.1k

warnings: cursing, a touch of angst, hotch in a quarter zip and casual clothes (yes this requires a warning), fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, reader has an awful ex (gn pronouns for ex), mentions of violence and injuries

a/n: i’ve been working on this all throughout the week every night at like 3 am running on, at best, 4 hours of sleep so i’m very sorry if there are grammar/spelling errors – i will edit soon. also i fear i’ve been watching too much dharma & greg, and this was the product. enjoy!

i've been spending the last eight months

thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

but on a wednesday in a cafe

i watched it begin again

One.

It was week one of your new job at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit when you knew with absolute certainty that as soon as you arrived back at the bureau, you were going to hand in your resignation.

You were sitting away from the rest of the team who all sat together, though a little cramped, and deep into discussion about something that you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to. They were talking normally as if everything they just witnessed over the last few days didn’t affect them.

You knew that you were new to this – it was your first week on the job. But you felt like you should be… happier than the way you currently felt. This was your dream job: one that you’ve spent years working towards. One that you gave everything up for, including your relationship.

However, it was starting to feel like it wasn’t worth it.

The team was very lovely. From the moment the case had begun, each one of them made an effort all throughout the trip to Missouri to make sure you were keeping up and doing okay. They’d even tried to get you to come over and chat with them when the flight started, but you lied and said you were tired.

Your head was leaning against the window, your eyes peering out to see nothing but blue skies and clouds. This was everything you’d ever wanted, so why did you feel the way you did?

A voice in the back of your head told you that your ex was right; you weren’t cut out for this. You were going to fail just like they always said you were going to – this was a mistake.

You couldn’t help but be on the verge of a breakdown with all the thoughts running through your head, but there was no way you could cry due to the presence of someone moving to sit in the seat in front of you. A part of you didn’t want to look up because you knew exactly who it was. You didn’t want to look him in the eyes, but, reluctantly, you did look up only seconds later.

BAU Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner was sitting in front of you with his usual gaze that made you feel slightly intimidated. He seemed to be good at everything he did – or at least everything you had seen him do. He was well-respected, a damn good profiler, and so put-together that it made you feel like a mess in comparison.

“Can I help you, sir?” You asked, attempting to mask the conflicted feelings in your voice.

He ignored your question. “You just finished your first case. I wanted to see how you were feeling. You and Reid really helped by figuring out the geographical profile.”

You should’ve known he would know. This was a plane full of profilers – they probably all knew.

“I’m good,” you lied with an attempted smile that never reached your eyes. “I’m glad we caught the guy; I’m just really exhausted.”

Aaron didn’t say anything as he obviously did not believe you with his eyes still watching you, presumably reading more about you in mere seconds than you even knew about yourself. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the chatter from the rest of the team filling the air.

“They’ve all been here for years,” he suddenly said. “It still affects them, but it gets easier.”

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” you told him, your voice cracking in the middle of your sentence. You shut your eyes, cutting off eye contact. You didn’t want to look at your boss after you basically just told him you can’t do your own job.

This is so embarrassing, you thought to yourself.

When you finally re-opened your eyes, Aaron was still watching you. He moved forward, crossing his arms and resting them on the table between the two of you. He was looking at you with what you almost would’ve called sympathy.

“You can do this,” he reassured you, making sure his voice couldn’t be heard by the rest of the team. “You wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t. It’ll get better.”

The sheer honesty in his voice caused unshed tears to form in your eyes. No one had given you the affirmation you so desperately needed in a long time – not even your ex, who often said more unkind things than kind.

“What if it doesn’t?” You asked, blinking hard to get rid of the tears that were threatening to fall.

“It will,” he said firmly, emphasizing his words. “Go home, rest, and come back for a new day tomorrow.” With that, he stood back up, straightened out the sleeves of his suit jacket, and looked at you one last time before walking back over to where he was originally sitting. “You did very well this week.”

Aaron said everything with so much sincerity that for the first time in a while, you felt a little bit better.

—

Two.

You didn’t end up quitting.

It had been a little over a month since you almost quit your job after the first week. Things still weren’t perfect, but you had gotten more used to being a profiler and had gotten to the point where going to work didn’t feel like such a chore.

You were now in a small North Dakota town on a case. It was the second week of December, and the heat was out at the inn you were staying at, which all of you had, unfortunately, found out when arriving back from the police department.

“I probably know the answer to this, but is there any way we could go somewhere else?” JJ asked as she stood by the door. “It’s freezing, Hotch.”

“Actually, in order for it to be freezing, it would need to be–”

“Reid, not now,” Derek cut him off.

Aaron looked up from the folder he was reading. “We can’t go anywhere else. This is the only place to stay in town, and it’s the only place that was approved and booked.”

“They said they will probably have it going again in under an hour. Maintenance is working on it now,” Rossi announced as he entered the room, stepping past JJ. “They apologized for the inconvenience.”

It was eleven at night, and everyone was in clothes they were sleeping in except for Aaron who still wore his suit, minus the tie and jacket. You didn’t know how he wasn’t freezing in only his white dress shirt. The rooms at the inn were relatively tiny, but the team had all managed to cram into Aaron’s room, who got one to himself this time. They’d all flocked to his room in an attempt to figure out if staying somewhere else was possible, except for you, who had already been there.

You were sitting on the couch in the room next to Aaron as you attempted to help him figure out how this particular unsub was kidnapping his victims. The couch was particularly small, leaving no room between you and him. The entire side of your thigh was pressed against his, warmth radiating off of him despite the cold room.

Aaron sighed, laying down the folder and running a hand across his temple. “I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands. Everyone, go back to bed. Hopefully the heat will be back on soon.”

“You coming?” Emily, your roommate for the duration of time you would be in North Dakota, asked as everyone filed out of the room.

You shook your head. “I’ll be there soon. I’m going to look over this one last time and see if there’s anything I missed.”

Emily told the both of you goodnight and left the room, leaving only you and Aaron still sitting together.

He made you very nervous. 

Aaron was older, extremely accomplished, more experienced in the job, and working with him alone was nerve-wracking. You’d proven yourself immensely in the short amount of time you had been a member of the BAU. Still – he was wonderful at everything. The idea of being wrong around him was terrifying.

As you continued to look through everything laid out in front of you, you couldn’t focus. It was so cold to the point where you couldn’t feel the tip of your nose anymore, and you were slightly shivering, crossing your arms in an attempt to warm up a little.

“Looks like I should’ve brought a winter coat to sleep in,” you attempted to joke.

The left corner of Aaron’s mouth tipped upward as he stood up and moved to the small closet. “It is pretty cold, isn’t it?”

Before you knew it, there was a brown blanket being draped across your shoulders.

It wasn’t very thick nor was it very comfortable. In fact, it felt a little scratchy to the touch as it brushed over your bare hands, but Aaron situated it until it was entirely wrapped around you while his body hovered over yours. You stopped breathing momentarily, your heart picking up its pace every time his hands scraped over your own arms. Even through your thick sweatshirt and the blanket, you could still feel his touch.

“Thanks,” you muttered. Your heart rate had gone back down to normal now that he was moving to sit again.

“I can’t have one of my agents going hypothermic,” he joked and gave you one of his rare smiles; the ones that were usually reserved for outside of work.

You weren’t blind – Aaron Hotchner was a gorgeous man, and you wouldn’t deny that just the scent of his very expensive cologne alone was enough to make you feel slightly dizzy.

However, that's all you thought. He was your boss, and you were dealing with a breakup that was still laying heavy on your heart and constantly consumed your thoughts.

But even after the heat started working only half an hour later, you didn’t remove the blanket and temporarily forgot about the person who broke your heart while you worked next to him.

—

Three.

It was six months into your job when you found yourself having one of the worst days ever.

You’d woken up late and to a text from a friend letting you know that the ex you’d been getting over for half a year was now social-media-official with the person they told you not to worry about, you spilled coffee all over your car and your white top resulting in you being even later for work as you had to go back to your apartment and change.

You were a stumbling mess when you finally made it to the conference room for the meeting that you were six minutes late for. All eyes were focused on you as you mumbled apologies and sat down while trying to listen to Aaron’s voice. It was some housekeeping things and maybe you should’ve listened, but your head was elsewhere.

The rest of the day did not go well either. Halfway through the day, you had managed to screw up the fax machine, trip over your own shoes, and give yourself not one but two paper cuts. All of it sounded like minor things – a paper cut shouldn’t have set you off so badly, but it really did.

By the end of the day, you wouldn’t have minded if the ground opened up and swallowed you whole. Once you did one more thing, you would finally be able to go home.

“Come in.”

Aaron’s office was a place that you had grown to not fear so much. In the beginning of your job, every time you had to go in, it almost felt like you were in middle school walking into the principal’s office as he sat there at his desk with a stoic stare and hardly any emotion in his voice.

“I got your email about needing to speak with me,” you told him, coming inside and shutting the door behind you. “What did you need?”

He looked up at you as you moved closer to his desk. “I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

You frowned. “I thought you said in the email that you needed to speak with me about something important?”

Aaron nodded as if it was no big deal. “You’ve been acting off all day. How you feel is an important thing – even if you think it isn’t. So, are you okay?”

Your heart broke at his kindness. He was always nice to you, maybe nicer than he should’ve been, but calling you into his office just to make sure you were okay after a bad day made you wonder why no one else had ever cared about your feelings like this.

“I’m okay,” you told him. “It’s just been a terrible day.”

Still sitting at his desk with his full attention on you, Aaron asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You wouldn't lie – you did think about his proposal for a moment. There weren't many people for you to talk to. You had friends, but not many in Quantico other than your co-workers. You’d moved alone without knowing anyone, and you worked so much that there was rarely time for you to go out and meet new people.

But Aaron was a busy man. He was probably just offering to be polite – there was no way he cared that much to hear about your miniscule problems when his job was as hectic and busy as it was.

“No, Hotch, I don’t want to keep you here any longer–”

He cut you off. “I’m already here; it doesn’t matter. You can talk to me. I’ve been rather concerned about you.”

At that moment, you couldn’t come up with an excuse as to why the idea of him thinking about you was enough to make your heart flutter.

“It’s… it’s stupid,” you started, taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk. “I had a bad breakup right before I moved to Quantico. My ex didn't really care when I went to the Academy, but they exploded when I told them how I finally got this job. It was constant fighting before they gave me an ultimatum: them or taking the job.”

“And you chose the job?”

You laughed, feeling a little pathetic. “No, at first, I didn’t. They really got it stuck in my head that I wasn’t good enough to do this. I was going to turn it down and stay, but I changed my mind last minute. I found out this morning they’re now with someone else. Then, I was late, I fucked up the fax machine, and I got a couple paper cuts. It’s nothing, really – it was just a bad day.”

Aaron moved around in his seat, leaning back a little and crossing his arms. “It isn’t nothing if it bothers you.”

“I didn’t know you were a therapist,” you tried to joke, squirming awkwardly in your seat. You were already feeling vulnerable and the way he was looking at you wasn’t helping.

“Only part-time,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone – someone may think I have emotions.”

His face was completely stoic when he said it, but as soon as you started to laugh, he joined in.

“Really, though, I’m okay – just exhausted. I think the universe just hates me right now.” You stood up to leave. “I want to beat the rush hour traffic, so I should head out, but thanks for checking on me.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and you were on your way out while thinking the interaction was over, when he called out your name.

You stopped, hand still grasping the door you were about to open. “Yeah?”

“It’s their loss.”

A frown appeared on your face. “What do you mean?”

“Your ex,” he explained. “You shouldn’t lose sleep over someone who doesn’t know how lovely you are.”

Lovely.

You’d been called a lot of things in your life, probably even some adjectives better than lovely, but the way it just rolled out of Aaron’s mouth as if it was a casual, every-day-like occurrence made you feel warm.

Aaron Hotchner thought you were lovely and knowing that kept a smile on your face for days after while the wounds that had been given to you by someone else slowly healed.

—

Four.

After a year of working with the BAU, you ended up with your first unsub-related injury.

You thought going to the hospital was pointless because you truly felt fine, but both Derek and JJ argued relentlessly for you to go due to the nasty gash on your head. Unfortunately, you were outnumbered and sent to the hospital for an evaluation after the unsub you were after thought it was okay to slam you on the ground a little too hard, resulting in a blow to your head when you went down and hit the concrete.

JJ rode with you to the hospital in the ambulance that you, very much, did not think was necessary. After seeing a doctor, it was determined that you had a concussion. With a thick bandage on your wound and a drive home from JJ who gave you strict rules on taking care of yourself while you healed like the mother she was, you were finally alone in the comfort of your apartment after a long day spent in Manassas – the location of the latest case.

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, you were starting to feel the symptoms and the sound of knocking on your door felt like nails being drilled into your head.

However, the person standing on the other side when you opened the door made your head spin faster than the concussion did.

Aaron was standing on the other side of the door, one hand holding a brown paper bag with a look of worry on his face. He was dressed casually in a navy blue sweatshirt and jeans, nose slightly red from where he had walked through the cold November air to get inside your apartment building.

In other words, he looked very good. It was hard to not grab and kiss him.

You’d developed somewhat of an attraction for your boss since that fateful day in his office. Not that you hadn’t been attracted to him before, but it now felt more like a serious affection and not some small crush – the first time you felt this way about anyone in a long time.

“Hi,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to another upon seeing you. “How are you?” He paused after his eyes glanced at the very obvious bandage on your forehead. “Wait, I don’t think that’s an appropriate question right now. I’m sorry.”

You giggled despite the throbbing in your temple, moving to let him into your apartment. “I’m as good as I can be right now. Come on in.”

He walked into your apartment, following you into the kitchen after you shut the door and locked it. Aaron had only been to your apartment once after giving you a ride home from work, but this was the first time he’d ever been inside.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” He asked while you got a glass of water.

You nodded slightly, careful to cause any more pain. “Probably, but I can’t get any rest until my medicine kicks in and my head doesn’t feel like it’s about to bust.”

Aaron winced. “I tried to come to the hospital, but JJ had already taken you home by the time I got there, so I came here. I apologize for coming unannounced and so late, but I had to make sure you were okay.”

“You do that a lot,” you told him, leaning against one of the counters in the kitchen. “Making sure I’m okay.”

“I happen to care about you a lot.”

Hiding your smile behind the glass of water, you took a sip before focusing your attention back on the bag he brought with him. “What’s in the bag?”

It seemed as though he had forgotten he was still holding something. He raised it up and held it out to you, an almost-shy look dancing across his face that you’d never seen before on him. “I, um, made a stop at the store for you on my way over. It’s just over-the-counter medicine, extra bandages, and a couple snacks that I know you like. I figured it might help you out since you can’t drive for the next two days.”

You couldn’t stop the grin that appeared on your face. It was almost as if every time you thought Aaron couldn’t get any more perfect, he would prove you wrong.

He continued as he sat the bag down on the counter next to you. “I also wanted to tell you that Strauss said take all the time you need to recover.”

You gave him a quizzical look. “She did?”

There was only silence between the two of you as you looked at each other until he shrugged. “Well, I told her that you’re going to be taking all the time off that you need, and she didn’t really say anything so take all the time you need.”

“It’s just a concussion,” you told him. “I’ll be back to work soon.”

“A concussion is a serious thing,” Aaron said with a frown, not liking the way you brushed the injury off as nothing. “I’m glad you’re okay. Morgan said you hit the ground pretty hard before he cuffed the guy.”

You took another sip of your water before sitting it down. “I’m alive and well – Derek was just worried.”

As much as you were enjoying the feeling of talking with Aaron in your kitchen, the heaviness you felt in your eyes reminded you that it was nearly midnight, and you’d had a long day. The yawn that escaped your mouth didn’t go unnoticed.

“I should go and let you get some rest.”

You really didn’t want him to go. There weren't many other opportunities where you would get Aaron in your apartment like this. It felt oddly domestic, and you hated the fact that you loved it so much. But he was right – you did need the rest.

“Thank you again for stopping by,” you told him as the two of you walked the short distance back to the front door. “And for all the stuff you bought. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he said, his hand lingering on the door knob. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call.”

He was opening the door before you called out, “Wait,” your mind flooded with déjà vu from the time he stopped you on your way out of his office.

Aaron paused and turned to look back at you. His body hadn’t left the room yet, but the door was slightly ajar where he opened it. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you walked over to him and threw your arms around his broad torso engulfed in the softest sweatshirt you’d ever felt.

“Thank you,” you softly said. “Not just for tonight, but for, well, just caring about me.”

He didn’t waste a second reciprocating the hug as he wrapped his arms around you even tighter, careful not to get near the bandage on your forehead and further hurt you. He was like a human heater – warm, tall, and you fit perfectly against him.

One hug from Aaron was like a band-aid healing any problem you had – even the external ones. Maybe this was what the placebo effect felt like and if this was it, you wanted it over and over again.

“Of course,” he muttered, arms still locked around you as if he needed this more than you did.

When you finally parted, his cheeks were dusted with a slight red shade as he wore one of his grins that you’d grown to love and receive more often. “Goodnight.”

Even though you had a raging headache and a painful cut on your temple, it had nothing on the big smile you kept on your face even as you drifted off into sleep that night still feeling warm and giddy.

—

Five.

It had been almost two months since you hugged Aaron in your apartment.

Since that night, something changed in the relationship between the two of you. You couldn’t really place your finger on what had changed, but there was a shift. Tension was thick – not in a bad way but in a way where you wanted to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him to you any time you were alone.

You also had the feeling that he felt the same way. Aaron had been a profiler for many more years than you had been, but you liked to think you were good at your job. You could read him and from the way his eyes watched you, you could tell he was feeling the same tension in the air.

It was New Year’s Eve, and David Rossi had, after a lot of pleading from Penelope, agreed to host a small get-together for the team plus family including Will, Henry, and Jack – the latter two were currently running around the, very expensive, house, which was driving Dave insane as kept watch to make sure nothing got damaged due to the kids.

You were standing outside in the backyard, the late-December air hitting your face as you glanced down at your phone that told you it was almost midnight.

When you thought back to who you were around this time last year –  a woman in a new city with a demanding job and hardly any friends, still crying yourself to sleep over someone who didn’t deserve your tears – it made you want to smile.

It had been a little over a year since you started working at the BAU and as you glanced inside through the large glass doors, you felt like you belonged. There was no more doubt, no more tears, and no more days where you wanted to run away.

“What are you doing out here? You’ll freeze to death.” You turned around to find Aaron closing one of the glass doors and moving towards you.

He was wearing a black quarter zip and jeans – a casual outfit but one of your favorites. For reasons that you couldn’t understand, Aaron Hotchner in a quarter zip made you feel things.

“I came out here because it’s cold,” you told Aaron, leaning against a railing and crossing your sweater-covered arms. “It’s so hot and stuffy in there. It’s like Rossi is trying to burn us all alive.”

Aaron laughed and walked over next to you. He leaned against the railing, his arm brushing against yours. “He does keep his house pretty hot.”

“Is Jack having a good time?”

Jack Hotchner was probably your favorite kid you’d ever met. He was a total sweetheart, and you instantly got along with him from the first day you met him.

You didn’t miss the way Aaron’s face lit up a little as you mentioned his son. “Yes, I think so. He’s a big fan of celebrating the New Year because he gets to stay up late.” You then watched his face fall a bit. “He’s been missing his mom a lot lately, so coming here tonight – it’s good for him.”

You knew of Aaron’s ex-wife who had died before you joined the team, and you knew the terrible way that it happened. You’d also heard that it greatly affected Jack and Aaron, even though he hid it more than he should’ve.

“It must be hard on him, but I’m glad he’s having a good time tonight.”

Aaron smiled. “He loves the team, but I think you’re his favorite.”

You grinned. “No way! I’m honored.”

A comfortable silence grew between the two of you with no sounds other than distinct chatter and laughs from inside of the house. You glanced over to Aaron who was pulling out his phone.

“Eleven fifty-eight,” he said. “You want to head back inside and watch the ball drop?”

You almost said yes at first because you actually did want to see the ball drop, but you also wanted a moment alone with Aaron considering you rarely got them in a setting outside of work. Maybe you were being selfish, but you didn’t care – a few more minutes with him wouldn’t hurt. “I think I’m going to stay out here.”

He didn’t say anything. Aaron kept his phone out so the two of you could keep an eye on the clock app, its tiny, orange hand moving around the twelve, now signalizing that it was eleven fifty-nine.

Your eyes kept watch on the clock as it got closer to passing twelve again. You were starting to get nervous. A part of you expected Aaron to go inside after you told him you weren’t going back in – it wasn’t like he was obligated to stay out in the cold with you.

However, he never went back inside and as the clock kept getting closer to midnight, only seconds away now, you wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were: the traditional New Year’s kiss.

You discretely searched for any sign on his face that gave away if he was going to kiss you or not. You so desperately wanted it but if he wasn’t thinking the same thing, there was no way you were going to embarrass yourself by trying to kiss him.

Ten.

Still no sign – you were starting to panic a little.

Nine.

What were you supposed to do?

Eight.

Would he rather have a handshake? He did have a pretty firm grip.

Seven.

No, screw a handshake. Who gives someone a handshake at midnight on New Year’s?

Six.

He put down his phone and was starting to turn toward you.

Five.

Was he actually going to kiss you?

Four.

“Forgive me if I’m reading this wrong, but can I kiss you?”

Three.

You couldn’t form words, only a nod, eyes slightly widened.

Two.

He was moving his hand up to your cheek and, oh dear, this was actually going to happen.

One.

Aaron’s lips were warm against yours, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever been kissed with so much delicacy. He was gentle and respectful. Your hands pressed against his chest before you finally moved them up to the nape of his neck under the collar of the quarter zip you loved so much, pulling him even closer to you.

You felt secure and safe pressed up tightly against him with one hand of his cupping your jaw as the other rested firmly on your lower back. Your mouth was opening up before you could even stop it. Aaron smiled against your lips as he felt it before he deepened the kiss.

 This time, he was kissing you much more firmly and with the feeling of his tongue moving against yours, you couldn’t remember the last time, or if ever, you felt the way you did. His hand pressed even harder against your back, making you inhale sharply during the kiss.

There was a time in your life when you thought you would never find someone else – that maybe you were destined to be alone all because of one person who didn’t see your worth, but Aaron made all the pain go away to the point where you hadn’t thought of the person who hurt you in months.

Aaron made you feel like you were floating all the time. He reminded you of your worth instead of breaking you down. He was a man who did both the small things like throwing a blanket around your cold body and the big things like bringing you snacks and medicine after a hit to the head – the definition of “if he wanted to, he would” in the best way possible.

“Hey! You guys missed the – holy shit!”

You flung yourself off Aaron and looked behind him to see Emily standing there, her mouth wide open. You’d never seen her utterly speechless like she was at the moment. She opened and closed her mouth for a moment, glancing back and forth between the two of you before she finally found something to say.

 “Morgan and Reid owe me fifty bucks.”

—

(+) One.

It was three months into Aaron Hotchner’s relationship with you when he knew with absolute certainty that he loved you.

His job was difficult, and today was no different but instead of shaking it off before going home, he couldn’t help but feel a cloud of emotion follow him all the way back home to his apartment.

He knew that you were waiting on him because the two of you were supposed to have dinner. You’d gotten to leave at a reasonable time and not, he glanced down at his watch, at nine at night. Aaron had a lot of duties and responsibilities as Unit Chief, but he sometimes wished he didn’t in order to come home at a normal hour.

Aaron saw you sitting on his couch as soon as he unlocked and opened his front door. You smiled sweetly as you looked over at him, no trace of frustration or anger at how late he was getting home.

“Everything go okay with those reports? I know Strauss was giving you a hard time,” You said as you glanced back down at your phone you were holding. When he didn’t answer, he saw you look back up at him again but this time with a frown on your face.

He knew the look he had on his face was giving him away, but he just couldn’t force himself to not feel the way that he was feeling.

You put your phone down on the coffee table and stood up to move in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“That’s usually my line to you,” he attempted a joke, but it never reached his eyes.

You responded with a half-smile. “Bad evening?”

Aaron nodded, not saying anything further. You moved closer as you wrapped your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, honey,” he said, instantly feeling a little better just from your touch. “I missed dinner. I’m not the one who should be upset.”

You pulled back and rested both hands on each side of his face as he kept his situated on your waist. “Someone told me once that how you feel is an important thing even if you think it isn’t.”

He chuckled a bit. “Using my own words against me, huh?”

You cracked a smile. “It’s okay that you missed dinner. I know you had a rough and busy evening. Don’t worry about me. We can have dinner another night – it’s not a big deal that you couldn’t make it.”

You were looking at him so sincerely and touching him with so much care that he couldn’t help but pull you back in again, eyes closing at the feeling of another hug from you.

“Let’s go to bed,” you mumbled to him. “You look like you could go for an early night.”

Aaron wasn’t sure what he did to deserve someone as good as you – someone who cared for him even on days when he didn’t care for himself. You were kind, understanding, and patient. Sometimes he couldn’t even believe he was lucky enough to be with someone like you.

So while he wasn’t sure of how deserving he really was, he was one hundred percent sure of the fact that he loved you and your lovely self.

[naturalbornsnickerdoodle]

sick of you | bang chan (fluff)

Pairing: sick!Chan x reader

Word count: 2.1k words

Rating: SFW / PG-13

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Some curse words here and there, suggestive conversations. Not proofread

Summary: Chan gets sick during preparations of a new comeback and reader takes care of him. 

Author’s note: Imagine it’s a scene from a sitcom or romcom. I made this longer than intended, my apologies. But I hope it entertains you <3 I’m open to feedback, please let me know if there are grammar mistakes or mispelled words. Thanks for reading, enjoy!

It was a normal afternoon, you were typing away at your computer, sipping at your iced tea while listening to the city’s sounds, a light breeze coming through the open windows.

Happy with your written progress, you stretched your arms above you when your phone started buzzing. It was a text from Felix.

🐥: Y/N, Chris is on his way home, whatever he says don’t let him talk you into thinking he’s okay, ‘cause he’s not.

Y/N: oh no, what happened?

🐥: not sure, but he looked really tired and was cranky af. It took all of us plus the managers to make him leave.

Y/N: Jesus...this man and his hyper independence is gonna be the death of me. Anyways, I’ll check up on him, Lix. Thanks for the heads up ❤️

🐥: No problem, good luck!

You put your phone down as you heard the apartment’s front door open. Soon enough, your boyfriend entered the living room where you were currently working. Your heart sank at the sight of Chan. The man looked pale and exhausted at first glance, but then his face lit up as he saw you and tried to greet you with a sweet smile.

“Hey baby” you smiled back at him, typing a little on your computer saving your document, as he put his bag down and entered the kitchen

“Hi babe, I’ll be back in a sec, want some water first” he called back

You stood from your working station stretching out some more before making your way to the kitchen.

“Hi” you say as you came close to him puckering your lips a little to properly greet him, but he was busy chugging down on his water bottle, holding up a single finger, signaling for you to wait.

“What, no kiss? Man, chivalry is dead after all”

Chris side eyed you as he took his last gulps of water. He chuckled at your comment when he was done with his water.

“Sorry, babe. Was pretty thirsty, it’s really hot out” he said while discarding the empty plastic bottle in the recycling bin

“Is it? thought the weather was kinda nice today”

He chuckled a little “yeah well you’ve always been more sensitive to cold, can’t tell how hot it’s out there”

“Fair point. So what’s with the hoodie?”

He stopped on his tracks at your question. “Pardon?”

“Hoodie’s are for chilly days, yeah? You said it yourself, I’m sensitive to cold, and I’m not even wearing one. So, hoodie?”

“Oh well uh I wore it during practice and didn’t feel like taking it off, that’s all”

You let out a soft “a-ha”, your tongue pushing your inner cheek, arms crossed as you looked at him warily.

“Whatever, you must be hungry, want something to eat?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m good. I’ll wait til dinner time”

You stared back at him not saying a word for a few seconds blinking a few times

“That’s it, I’m not having it”

You marched into the living room to retrieve your phone, pretending to call someone. Chan followed immediately

“hey hey where are you going? Babe, what are you doing?” He asked as he saw you tapping away at your phone screen.

“Contacting JYP to file a complaint. They broke my boyfriend”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous”

“I mean it’s either that or they somehow managed to clone their idols and sent me the wrong one”

“this is crazy”

“oh is it? Help me out here: you came home in the middle of the afternoon, with no appetite, sweating profusely, white as a ghost AND didn’t even come close to say hello to me properly. Does that sound like the Christopher we know?”

“Yes???” he said increasing the pitch of his voice 

You narrowed your eyes at his poor attempt of justifying this nonesense.

“Bullshit. I’m calling the boys”

“Okay okay okay you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well, alright?”

“I knew it!”

“But I mean, it’s not that bad”

“If it’s not that bad, why didn’t you kiss me then?”

“Oh come on, what if was a lil sick, I didn’t want you to get sick either”

“sure...”

“I swear I’m good! Honestly I would’ve stayed practicing for longer but the guys wouldn’t let me. So they asked me to come home”

You chuckled at the last part

“What’s so funny?”

“They kicked you out, Christopher. Ha-ha”

He let out a long sigh, clearly not amused at your comments as he usually would be, but still planting his famous thin lined smile on his face (the one that looks like this :] )

“Okay, enough with the sitcom jokes. Come here, you said you were feverish?”

“I think so, I didn’t feel this warm back in the practice room”

You came closer to him and placed your palm on his forehead, eyebrows knitting together as you felt how warm he actually was.

“Yeah, you must’ve gotten warmer on your way here. Did you get one of the company cars to drive you?”

“No, I walked here”

“You walked all the way here from the JYP building?!”

“It’s a 20 minute walk, it’s not that far, Y/N”

“for a person that’s burning hot, it is”

“Aww stop babe, you’re making me blush” he lightly pushes your shoulder

“Funny. And that blush is from your fever, you dummy. You should be more careful next time, Chan.”

“I thought the walk would make me feel better, okay? you know, with the weather being nice and all.”

“Well, we need to break that fever ASAP, come on”

You took his hand on yours and led him to your shared bedroom. You instructed him to remove his clothes and put on some comfy ones.

While he was at it, you grabbed the first aid kit which had a thermometer and your stash of over-the-counter meds. You took the little device out along with the Tylenol bottle.

“Put this under your armpit while I bring some more things, yeah?”

He just nodded and took the little device from your hands, doing as he was told.

You were done getting some ice water and washcloths plus a new water bottle from the kitchen when you heard Chan call from your bedroom.

“Babeeee”

“Yeah?”

“The um the the, the thingy says 38.8ºC” struggling to get the device’s name right

“Okay I’ll be there in a sec” you replied, and you weren’t wrong, his fever was in fact high.

You found him cross-legged on the bed, still looking pale and kinda drowsy. Your heart sank once again after seeing your boyfriend stay so still and weak. You knew your heart would do that a lot today, at least until his fever broke.

“Sit back for me, honey” you asked him while removing the covers

“Say please?” he said arching his eyebrow at you

You let out a short yet exhasperated sigh at his teasing, then tried to smile at him so he would comply to your requests

“I’m joking, babe” he chuckled and then sat back against the headboard.

You got to work quickly, handing him the medicine first, following with the open water bottle. After he took the pill, you asked him to lay down so you could put the ice cold compress on his forehead. He, being the drama llama that he was when sick, yelped the moment the washcloth barely grazed his face.

Laughing at him you said “Babyyy I can’t get it on you if you keep squirming! I promise the cold will vanish after a while. Pleaseeee”

He held his breath right before you put it on him, still yelping and closing his eyes but not moving this time.

“Thank you, now try to rest for a little, I’ll make you something to eat. Chicken soup sound good?”

Without moving an inch, Chan tried to look up at you through the compress that was blocking his view, and only managed to do a thumbs up and say “sounds great”

You planted a kiss on his cheek before leaving, asking him to let you know if he needed anything.

After a little while, you entered your bedroom holding a tray with a big biwl of soup and some mini breads, that way the medicine wouldn’t make your boyfriend’s stomach upset.

You set the tray down on your night table, then slowly sat down on the edge of your bed, gently placing your hand on his abdomen.

“Chan? Babe?”

He abruptly woke up from his slumber, supporting himself on his elbows with the compress hanging over one of his eyes.

“What? Yeah? I’m up, what’s- I’m up”

You chuckled at how confused he looked.

“You fell asleep for a little bit, it’s okay” You told him, now both of your hands on his body, trying to get him to relax.

“I got you some soup, but I’m gonna need you to sit up, okay? please?”

He mumbled in agreement and quickly rested his back against the headboard once more.

“I was resting my eyes for a minute” he said removing the now warm compress from his face

“Seems like the meds kicked in pretty hard, huh? Careful, it’s hot” you said as you placed the tray in front of him, above his legs. Then took the compress from his hand and placed it in the bowl full of ice water.

“They better, got lots to do before the next comeback”

You hummed in disapproval “well, if you rest properly I’m sure you’ll be ready”

“By properly you mean only tonight, yeah?”

“You’re on thin ice, Bang”

“Oh come on, I told you it’s not that bad. I’m sure it’s just like a mild cold or something” he said taking a spoonful of soup, then yelping at how hot it was.

“Told you it was hot”

“Thought you meant I waz hot” tongue hanging out of his mouth from the burn

You laughed throwing your head back “Oh lord, take it as karma for not wanting to rest for a couple more days”

He took a sip of his water then grabbed the spoon once more to take another spoonful of his chicken soup.

“Blow it” you reminded him, and regretted saying it as soon as the words left your mouth, closing your eyes.

“Babe, I’d love to but I’m sick you know?”

“I MEANT BLOW ON YOUR SOUP YOU LITTLE SHIT”

His laugh filled the room, body shaking with amusement as your hands covered your face in a mix of frustration and laughter.

Once his laughter died down, you looked at him fondly, watching him carefully eat his soup.

You talked a bit more about this and that. Then you took his plate and tray away from him so he could rest properly now.

Back in your bedroom, you put on your pajamas and got a clean t-shirt on the bedside table, hoping chan’s fever would break in the middle of the night. You let him know where it was so he could change into it later.

You laid on your side of the bed, propped on one of your arms, you checked Chan’s cold compress and took it from him, putting it in the bowl. While you waited for it to get cold, you pressed your cheek to you boyfriend’s, who was taken aback by your action and tried to move away, afraid of getting you sick with whatever he had.

“Relax, I’m just checking how warm you are”

“Oh here I was thinking you just wanted to take advantage of an ill person” voice a little hoarser than before

“Me? Nah. I mean, I guess I could but you’re too tired to do anything”

He chuckled “I’m not too tired. I just don’t wanna get you sick, babe”

“Oh, but I am sick”

He looked at you puzzled, eyebrows knitting together and guilt spreading quickly across his face

“What?”

“yeah, sick of your shit” you burst into silent laughter at your silly dad joke, grabbing your own belly with one arm and hitting chan’s arm with the other

“should’ve seen it coming” slowly joining you with his own giggles

Once the laughter died down, you reached for the cold compress in the bowl.

“Okay, I’m putting a new washcloth on, babe”

Chan grimaced in anticipation and said okay. You counted to 3 then set the compress on his forehead. And yes, he did yelp again.

You couldn’t help but giggle, he looked cute with his rosey cheeks and a white little towel on his face. You planted a few kisses on his cheek before laying on his chest. Chan took the arm that was resting under your head and started caressing your arm, pulling you closer to him.

“Hey. Thank you for today, I appreciate it.” he squeezed your arm as he said it

“It’s alright, babe. I like taking care of you”

“You’re lying”

“I am”

You both chuckled at the last joke of the night. You said your I love you’s before closing your eyes and drifting into dreamland.

Chan was an awful, stubborn, terrible patient even, but he was yours and you’d take care of him for as long as you could.

Hope you liked it!

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | xiii

Gold Dust Woman finally learns how to pick up the pieces and go home.

Read part twelve here

Listen while reading: unknown/nth - Hozier (listened to this and cried the entire time I wrote this 🤭)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: ANGST, sadness, crying, breakups, feelings of regret/heartbreak, sad jake, swearing, smoking, some fluff! Sorry if I miss any!

only one more left after this one 😁 buckle up for the last bit of the ride (I was going to wait till the poll ended but I could NOT wait any longer. I’m so excited to finish up this piece as it’s been my main focus for so long. also lightly edited. my apologies 🫶🏻) as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

Another city, another show. You were so caught up in the whirlwind of your life that you seemed to have forgotten what home truly was. Hotels were more familiar than you thought they ever could be, and you craved for a moment alone in your own house despite previously hating the emptiness that screamed from the walls. The show the night before went by without a hitch, and the weight of your decision was sitting heavy on your shoulders. You knew what you had to do, you just hadn’t yet gotten the chance to do it. After the concert came to a close, you were all too tired to even think about managing a night at the bar. You drove to the city over which you would be playing for tonight, and checked into the hotel rooms with no intent on leaving until the next morning. Dylan had fallen asleep in your bed with you, mid conversation about the high points of the night.

When you woke, she was still deep in slumber in her jeans and hoodie, neglecting blankets and pillows completely. You crawled from the mattress, a headache lingering but making a promise to leave as long as you had a sip of coffee. You showered, did your makeup, and dressed all before she even made a shift in her position. You opted to leave her there to catch up on her sleep, knowing that out of anyone, she deserved it most. You thought maybe the early morning would be the best time to execute your plan; not many were awake, and you might be able to reach Sam’s room without interception from anyone else. You knew that if you had to see any sad eyes or wistful faces, you would crack and crumble to the ground before you could even get to your destination. You slipped onto the patio attached to your room before making the leap to end the race, needing a moment to collect your thoughts before the inevitable end.

You sat on a flimsy deck chair, a cigarette smouldering between your fingers as you gazed out at the city. Despite your own drowsiness still existing, the world was awake and begging you to join it. Cars passed, honking angrily at pedestrians and other drivers in hopes it would make them hurry. The sun was bright, casting a glow over the ground that made even the busiest of streets seem inviting. Sidewalks bustled, and shops were decorated with neon signs inviting potential customers inside. You wondered if when the pain passed, you could resume some semblance of normalcy that you had been craving for so long. Then, you wondered if normal would be better than your previous sense of the word with Sam by your side, taking on the world with you. As excited as you were to find out, your hands still shook with anxiety for the future.

You were not doubting your certainty of loving Sam; you knew that to be true in every sense of the phrase, and you had known it long before your revelation in the bathroom the night before. Loving Sam was one of the easiest things you had ever done, and you knew that regret for picking him was implausible. Sam had an iron grip on your heart from the minute you met him, and he showed no signs of letting go. What you were doubting was your ability to choose the right path, and your willingness to let go of Jake. As much as you loved Sam, you knew you felt it for him, too, and you were not prepared to accept that you would never have Jake again. As much as love terrified you, letting go was also high on your list of fears. But, as they say, when one door closes another one opens, and this was not a grievous end as much as it was the next chapter of your life.

You loved Jake completely, and so much so that when you thought about it for too long it made your chest ache and your head spin. He did not lack anything in the slightest, but your driving force was justified by the fact he was just too similar to you. You shared the fear of intimacy as well as commitment, and you both struggled with vulnerability and communication. Because of that, the emotions housed between you were often volatile and difficult to navigate. You were a self-assured hot headed person who needed someone to ground you, and you feared that Jake would feed into that side of you because he housed so many of the same traits. So, it was not a lack of love causing you to walk away; it was simply because you knew you had the same ability to hurt him as you did love him, just as he did for you. Loving someone means taking risks, but a risk that large could be fatal, and you were not willing to sacrifice him or yourself at the hands of pleasure.

You thought for so long that your cigarette burnt to an end before you had the chance to enjoy it, and the sun had slightly shifted positions in the sky. Now, it was shining directly on you, illuminating the extent of your sins and showcasing it to anyone who cared to watch. No matter what the right decision was, hurt was inevitable, and you all but paved the way for it to be. It was only right for you to play the game in which you thought it should be, because dragging it out any further would only be torture for everyone involved. You tossed the cigarette to the ground, not even a cherry falling out to reminisce on the fire it used to have. You felt the same, discarded and out of place as your flame slowly flickered away. Your only hope was that after the day was through, you would begin to shine brighter than ever before.

When you went back inside, Dylan was still snoring peacefully with no sign of stirring anytime soon. You chuckled at the sight, grabbing a blanket that had been pushed to the foot of the bed and gently throwing it on top of her. You stepped towards the door, letting your hand rest on the knob as you gave yourself a pep talk. You knew what needed to be done, but had doubts about your strength to do so. Underneath your hard and confident exterior, you were nothing but a mess of cowardly second-guesses and insecure assumptions. You feared that once you stepped outside, any sense you had talked into yourself would flee and never return. With a deep breath, you swung the door open and stepped outside. The silence was astounding, and it seemed to be loud enough to deafen you. The sheer emptiness of the hallway was overwhelming, and it felt like it was slowly paralyzing you as it encouraged you to run circles.

With an unsteady nature, you stepped forward in the direction of Sam’s room. You made it halfway, then had to stop and reconvene your thoughts. “Why is this so fucking hard?” You whispered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. You leaned back against the wall, inhaling deeply in hopes that it would aid you in your search for confidence. You ran your palms across the fabric of your jeans, the scratchy material sending a shiver down your spine and regulating your body. “Okay, y/n. You can do this. It’s not that hard. Just knock on his door, and take it from there.” You whispered, knowing that if anyone were to see the state you were in they might have genuine concerns about your mental well being.

Just as you were about to continue on your journey, a door swung open just ahead of you. You snapped your head up, looking in the direction of the noise as a genuine fear flooded you. It looked like Sam’s door, which only prompted you to want to run. After a few seconds, a body stepped into view, and almost all of your nerves calmed. “Oh, hey, Aaron.” You sighed, laughing at your own foolishness.

“Y/n!” His eyes lit up as if he’d won a grand prize by finding you in the hallway. “I was just coming to get you. Makes my job easy.”

“Oh, me? No, actually, I-I have something I have to-“

“I think you’re going to want to come with me.” He chuckled as he walked towards you. He held out his arm, beckoning you away from the wall.

“No, Aaron, I have something really important to do, and-“

“This is more important, I promise you.” He said, waiting for you to join him. You watched him, hesitation clear in your face as you looked between him and Sam’s door. When he raised an expecting eyebrow at you, you let out a sigh that trailed off with a groan, slumping your shoulders as you walked to join him. “I will make up for whatever I’m taking you away from, but I really think you’ll be happy to come with me.”

“Whatever you say,” you sing-songed, letting him guide you towards the elevator. You both disappeared behind the doors, leaving Sam’s room as nothing but a memory as you were transported down to the first floor. “So, what’s this about?”

“It’s a surprise.” He chuckled. “I’m just thankful you were awake so I didn’t have to fight with you.”

“Come on, Aaron. You can’t drag me away from my very important things and not even tell me what it’s about.” You complained, tapping your foot against the ground as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, how about this: I’ll tell you what we’re doing if you tell me what you were doing that was so important.” Your movements paused as you racked your brain for an answer. There was no way you were willing to tell him the true intent of your journey, and the elevator dinged before you could come up with an excuse. “That’s what I thought.” He laughed, walking out without another word. You let out a huff of annoyance as you followed behind him, but you could not argue with his clear advantage over the conversation. He led you into the lobby of the hotel, making sure you were close behind him in case you had any inkling to turn away. The room was oddly quiet for a morning; nobody seemed to be waiting impatiently to check out, nor did the staff seem hassled with work.

When you made it to the front doors, Aaron greeted the bodies that were waiting for you. You could not see past him, so who was there would come as a surprise once he stepped out of the way. When the doors swung open and your manager stepped forward to exit, your heart sunk and your stomach churned. Jake was looking down at his phone, sunglasses on and wearing what looked to be the clothes he slept in the night before. When you woke that morning, Jake was not the first brother you had hoped to have an interaction with, nor was he the one you had the courage to face. You barely had enough nerve to walk towards Sam’s room, and you knew you would not have the strength to maintain any kind of normalcy with Jake.

“Didn’t know you were coming along.” Jake smiled, joining you by the side, but his excitement did not seem to match his words. He knew you were coming, and he had been shaking with anticipation since finding out about it. This was not your idea of a worthwhile trip, not because you did not want to see Jake, but because you wanted to see him so badly that it made your chest ache. You did not know if you would make it through the day without cracking under his pressure, and you knew if you did let him back in, you would only be breaking his heart even further.

“Guess everyone’s full of surprises this morning.” You tried to smile, but it came out with more similarity to a grimace rather than anything welcoming. “Not even sure why I’m here.”

“He didn’t tell you?” You shook your head, avoiding looking over at him for as long as you could. When you felt his hand grace your lower back, you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Trust me, you’ll be happy you came.” He said, tightening his grip ever so slightly. You had to fight every molecule in your body to not give in to the touch, to lean into him and forget every single thing you had sworn to that morning, but you persevered. Even if it was with great difficulty, you still considered it as an accomplishment.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You breathed, climbing into the backseat of the vehicle they had waiting for you. He slid in beside you, closing the door gently and locking you into seclusion with him once more.

“Have I ever lied to you, Gold Dust Woman?” He asked, looking over at you. You caught his eye for the first time that morning, feeling the breath catch in your throat.

“Not yet, Jacob.” Out of all the times you wished you could be alone with him, you never once thought you would wish you could get away from him. You looked out of the tinted window, mindlessly drumming your fingers against your leg in a clear show of anxiety.

“You seem tense.” He noted, inching closer without even realizing it.

“Oh, just tired.” You lied, hoping it would ease his worry enough to give you some more time to collect yourself.

“You know you can’t lie to me, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, sneaking his hand towards you and settling it on top of your own. You closed your eyes, revealing in the intimacy that would not last long. You hated knowing that you would have to put the moment to an end even if you were enjoying it so much. No matter if you still wanted Jake, you knew that all the conclusions you had drawn were correct and of grave importance. The longer you let the dance continue, the worse the situation would end. You had hurt him enough to know that you no longer had any right to be selfish, even if you so badly wanted to.

But, delaying the inevitable had always been your area of expertise, and for simplicity’s sake, you thought it alright to do it one last time.

“Can we just… can we just be friends, today? Co-workers?” You asked, avoiding looking at his face. You knew the pain that stemmed from your words was evident and quick to surface. “Yesterday was just… it was a lot for me, and I think I just need to sort my thoughts out before jumping right back into it.”

“Friends…” he deliberated, slowly releasing his hold on your hand. “Did you just friend-zone me?” He asked, almost laughing at the incredulity of the question.

“Just for today, Jacob.” You assured him. Even if it was a lie, you knew it was for the best. Your intent was to get both of you through whatever Aaron had planned for you, and then deal with your personal matters afterwards. If you were to break the news to him so bluntly and so soon, recovery would not be possible in the near future.

“Just for today,” he pondered, looking out the window. “Don’t think we’ve ever been good at being friends, sweetheart, but for you, I’ll try my best.” And he was right. Jake had been much less of a friend than any of the other boys. For a long time, he was an active participant of the party lifestyle that was so accessible in your home, and he grew into an acquaintance. Neither of you were fond of the bonding process, and fell into routine of knowing each other while remaining strangers. Within the months leading up to his confessional session in your bedroom, you had managed to bridge the gap between stranger and friend. You were caught alone more often, sharing secret hangouts away from the others to avoid jealousy or confusion, usually filled with shared music and drunken fun. It was never anything serious, or so you thought. Now, thinking back to the few days you spent with him as a ‘friend’, it was clear to you that Jake was trying to tell you he loved you without actually needing to say the words.

You felt even worse recalling his silent show of adoration, because you realized you had always been doing the same thing to him as Sam had done to you, yet he never seemed broken or bent out of shape because of it. Jake had grown familiar with the idea of loss, but he had not let it get in his way. Friends was never in his itinerary, but when it came to making you happy, he would sacrifice everything including his own life. “So let’s try for a day,” you said, more intrigued by the idea. “Even if we suck at it, it’s worth a shot, right?” He looked back at you, thrilled that you had finally found the strength to look in his direction. He gave you a small smile, not pleased about the idea, but curious as to what it would be like. “Can you spend an entire day not trying to get me into bed?” He chuckled, holding your gaze as he thought of a response.

“That would be the ultimate test of willpower, but I suppose I could try. Do you think you can spend the whole day rejecting me if I can’t?” It was your turn to laugh, finding the nature of the conversation easygoing and comforting. You missed laughing with Jake, and you hoped that after the day was through, you would still be able to laugh with him again.

“I think I can manage.” You nodded.

“Alright, Gold Dust Woman. Friends for a day.” He said, extending his hand towards you. You grabbed it, shaking it with a little bit of force. You felt guilty knowing that he was ultimately agreeing to the loss of you, but you were enjoying the happiness too much to break his heart.

“Friends for a day, Jacob.” You reiterated, dropping your hand back to his side. The rest of the car ride was silent, both of you wondering how you would be able to separate love from your relationship. It was a daunting task, but you were both too stubborn to admit you would not be able to do it. When the car rolled to a stop in front of the venue you were supposed to play at later in the evening, you were confused as to why you needed to be here so soon.

You broke out into the day, squinting at the stinging sunlight in your eyes. You waited for Aaron to join you so you knew where you were headed. He guided you into the back entrance of the building where you immediately noticed a crowd of people much to large for so early in the day. You bit your tongue instead of inquiring about your curiosity, knowing that you would find out why you were there in only a few moments. Jake immediately found himself busy with a crowd of people who were stationed outside of his dressing room, and Aaron guided you towards your own. He had a smile stuck on his face, clearly excited to see your reaction to the news of what you would be doing. When you peered inside your room, Rachel, your stylist, was sitting inside and on her phone to pass the time. “About time you got here,” she said, looking up with a smile. “I was beginning to think that you would never show up.”

“I’m here,” you laughed, giving a small wave to serve as a greeting.

“Sit,” she ordered, directing you towards the wardrobe chair. You did as you were told, taking post in the seat as she grabbed some items from her suitcase of supplies. “We’re going to spend a lot of time together today.” She said as she ran her fingers through your hair.

“Don’t we spend lots of time together already?” You asked with a small smirk on your face.

“Today’s a special day,” she informed you, turning your chair so she could see your face. “Did nobody tell you why you’re here?”

“No, and I’m assuming by now that nobody will.” You didn’t mean to sound so annoyed, but after being pulled away from Sam so early in the morning with no good reason as to why, you couldn’t help but feel slightly put off. She laughed at your comment as your personality showed through and as usual, it didn’t bother her in the slightest.

“You look better today. Brighter, more relaxed. You sleep good last night.” Her comments hit you like a truck. You knew the last two weeks your appearance had been lacking, so run down by the exhausting back and forth you had found yourself in. Running without a destination was tiresome and pointless, but now that the finish line was in sight, you could not lie and say that you did not feel better just by seeing it. You had your energy back, and your mind was finally calmed down just by knowing that you had a real chance at happiness. Until it was in your grasp, though, you refused to accept that this was the end. Your hesitancy to accept finality was not because of doubt in your decision, but because you knew the brothers too well to think they would let this go without a last word.

“Yeah, we did sleep really good last night.” You said, closing your eyes as she began applying makeup to your face. “Think the tour life is just catching up to me.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, dusting eyeshadow over your eyes. “Or the Kiszka life, maybe?” You peeked at her through the eye she wasn’t focused on, surprised that she made such a bold comment.

“Well, they do say that you shouldn’t fall in love with your coworkers.” You said, closing your eye again. With how public your ordeal had been made, you couldn’t even find it within yourself to be upset that she was commenting on it.

“Especially not two of them.” You both shared a laugh, finding it easier to joke about it than make it into a conversation. “Don’t let them steal your shine, Gold Dust Woman. They may be special, but not as special as you.”

“I’m trying,” you assured her. Within a few moments, she was finished with your makeup and pointed you towards an outfit she had picked out for you. She allowed you to change before pinning everything in place, and only took a few moments to do your hair. “Casual today?” You asked, looking the mirror as she worked on the waves in your hair.

“Simple, but beautiful.” She said, spraying on hairspray as she continued. She styled your bangs, making sure they would stay in place before stepping away to take a look at the finished product. “What do you think?” She asked, waiting for an answer. You looked to the mirror, dawning over the detail of your makeup. It was so well done that you could barely tell you were wearing any. Your hair was perfectly in place, and your clothes matched the look effortlessly.

“Very 70’s,” you noted, looking down at the bellbottom jeans. The tank top you were wearing was very low cut, one half a burnt orange and the other a rustic brown. The fabric was connected just under your breastbone with a large gem, and the shirt settled just around your rib cage. She threw a leather jacket your way with a smile and shrug of her shoulders.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it’s a great thing.” You corrected, throwing the tan coloured jacket over your shoulders.

“Then it’s showtime.” She smiled, ushering you to stand. She guided you into the hallway where groups of people were standing with cameras and sound equipment. You looked back over your shoulder at her, nervous about what was to come next. Between a cluster of bodies, you caught sight of a familiar head of hair. You felt relief flood through you, knowing that whatever Aaron was putting you up to, Jake would be there to do it with you.

He looked around, noticing you almost as soon as you emerged from your dressing room. He broke off the conversation he was stuck in, and pushed through the crowd to join you. When he was fully in your line of sight, you felt like you had been punched in the stomach from his beauty alone. He was dressed in an all white suit, a flash of his chest showing and the lower button of his shirt loose. He had a ring on his finger, a chain around his neck, and a smile on his face that matched the ethereal aura he possessed. You managed a smile to match his despite your anxiety, comforted by his familiarity and always happy to be in his company.

He joined you by your side, clearly itching to wrap an arm around you, but stuck his hand in his pocket instead. He was always open for a challenge, and if being a friend was the subject at hand, he would try his absolute best to achieve the desired outcome. “You know what we’re doing, yet?” He asked, looking down at you. Even if he was adamant on complying with (in his opinion) your ridiculous request, he could not hide the pure adoration he held for you in his eyes. It was hard to ignore, even when you weren’t looking for it, and the strength in which he felt for you nearly sent you to your knees. On top of trying to force yourself out of love with him, you had to try not to punish yourself for the choices you made. Breaking his heart was never something you intended, but it was something you both knew was a possibility.

“Dressing up and taking pictures? That’s usually all you guys do.”

“Ha,” he rolled his eyes, mocking your weak insult. “You’re so clever, you know.”

“I try.” You grinned. He was trying to ease your mind with humour, and it was working. The longer you laughed with him, the less you thought about anything else.

“Pictures will definitely be involved, but not necessarily the focus of the day.” He said, giving you a hint in hopes you would figure it out on your own. You looked around, thinking hard as your eyes gazed at the bodies in view.

“An interview?”

“There you go, sweetheart.” He nodded.

“Like, a real interview?” You asked again, the reality setting in. “For like, a magazine?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, chuckling at your excitement.

“They actually want to interview me, too?”

“Of course they do,” he said, finally reaching out and placing a friendly hand on your upper back. It did not strike you as romantic, rather just a friend sharing your elation. “I meant it when I said that you were meant for this, y/n.” Your heart warmed at his soft smile, and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrap your arm around him, too. It was not laced with any implication, much less like any other touch you shared with him previously. Instead, it was just a physical show of your appreciation for each other. Even if you were not going to end up with Jake, you knew that you had a wicked respect for him as a person and never wanted to see a lifetime without him in it. Even if you were in love with him now, you knew he had the ability to be the best friend you had ever had, and you were holding on to that knowledge to get you through the rest of the battle.

Aaron stepped towards you two, happy to see the comfortable dynamic the two of you were engaged in. He had a small fear of you two not wanting to try and get along for the occasion, especially since the last few weeks he had seen nothing but the two of you ignoring each other. “Alright, are you guys ready?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Jake nodded.

“They’re going to take some pictures first, then the two of you are going to sit and answer some questions. That sound good?”

“Together?” You asked. Aaron nodded. “Okay, sounds good.” The manager gave you both a smile, then nodded his head down the hallway as if to tell you to follow him. When he took off in a fast walk, you both followed suit without any further questions. He lead you down to a nearby room that had been cleared and set up with loads of photography equipment. There was couches off to the side, and beside the white screen for the photography background, both of your guitars were set in stands, clearly polished and shined for the occasion. “They look awfully pretty together, don’t they?” You asked, looking over at Jake. He gave a small chuckle, slowly nodding his head at your words.

“Yeah, they do.” He replied, looking off at the distance but not necessarily at the guitars in question. A sad smile crossed your lips, but you didn’t let it linger. Before you had a chance to move on from the minor hurt, a photographer was quick to join you in the room.

“Alright,” she said, looking between you both. “Let’s get some individual shots, then some together. Mr. Kiszka, we’ll do yours first, if that’s okay.”

“After you, Mr. Kiszka,” you noted, a laugh stuck in your throat. You stepped to the side, allowing him to take the centre of attention. It wasn’t long before she was positioning him and snapping pictures. Some of them on his lonesome, but mostly of him with his SG. You were thankful for Jake’s growing collection; after the tragic loss of his SG due to the altercation between him and Sam, he at least had a backup to play for the meantime. You couldn’t hide your smile as he posed, finding yourself lost in the small details of his face. Even if you knew that a relationship with Jake was not in your future, you couldn’t deny his blinding beauty. His presence took up all of the space in the room, and you couldn’t find it within yourself to complain. You didn’t mind living in Jake’s shadow for the day, as a guitarist and as a person, because he deserved the attention. His talent and his personality was well deserving of recognition, and you were happy to witness it first hand.

“You’re up,” Jake said, placing his guitar back on the stand.

“Okay.” You nodded, making a move to stand in his previous position. You tried to relax yourself as much as you could, lowering your shoulders and putting on a blinding smile. The flash from the camera was overwhelming every time it went off, but you tried your best to not let it bother you. She took a few pictures of you in different positions, getting your best angles before asking you to grab your guitar. You did so, carefully holding it in your hands and positioning it as she asked you to. Eventually, she asked Jake to join you. He grabbed his SG, waiting for her to direct him further. She stepped forward, guiding him towards you and placing you back to back. She helped you position your arms to show off the instruments before taking a step back to see if she needed to change anything.

You were standing, leaning against each other as you held your guitars upright, slightly turned to face the camera. She took a few with no smiles, and a few with. You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t thrilled about the outcome; she showed you both the product of her work, and you had fallen in love with the last picture. You were both standing in the same position, guitars shining brightly under the studio lighting, and you had smiles on your faces so large that you would never be able to guess there was any turmoil beneath the surface. Your eyes were glistening with the joy of being with each other. Despite the impending heartache, you had to stop and appreciate the moment of warmth. It was a memory you would long remember, likely until the end of your time, and the fondness would be solely accredited to Jake.

“Can we get a copy of that one?” Jake asked, feeling the exact same as you did about the picture.

“I can edit it before I send it, if you’d rather me do that.” She offered, but he was already shaking his head before she finished speaking.

“No, that’s okay.” He said, looking to you in hopes you agreed.

“Yeah, just like that is fine.” You nodded.

“Alright, sounds good to me. I’ll get started, and the interviewer will be here in a few minutes.” She said, smiling at the two of you. “Thanks, guys.”

“Thank you,” you said, head still spinning at the idea of being plastered on a magazine. Jake placed a gentle hand on your back once more and guided you towards the couches as the photographer left the room.

“See, that wasn’t bad.” He offered, taking a seat first. You sat down behind him, shaking your head.

“It was so cool.” You tried to hide your own gushing about the situation, but it was evident in your features. He laughed at your face, unable to hide his feelings for you as he did so. He settled back on the couch, fighting every urge to touch you in hopes that you might give in first. You settled back, too, also finding it difficult to keep your hands off him. You hoped that once the truth was spoken and the storm had passed, the desire to be with him would somehow disappear.

A few moments later, a young woman stepped in, different from the one who took your pictures. Behind her, there was a crew of people with audio equipment who would take care of the filming. She moved to greet you, shaking both of your hands and introducing herself. She settled on the chair beside the couch, pulling out a clipboard from her bag. “Alright, I won’t take up too much of your time. We just wanted to ask a few questions for the next issue of Guitar World. This tour is the talk of the town, and Gold Dust Woman is one of the biggest up and coming bands around.” She smiled at you as she finished her statement. You thought you were going to choke on your own shock, your heart racing and your eyes widening as you tried to process what she was saying. You had no idea the interview was for ‘Guitar World’, and you had no idea that you had gained enough popularity for such a prestigious magazine to know you by name. “They’re going to film, just so I have the interview on record to write the article later, so don’t mind them.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jake smiled, eyes lingering on the interviewer for a second too long. You noticed, shamed at the rush of jealousy you felt flood your body. You had no right to feel such things about him anymore, and you needed to get yourself out of that headspace as soon as possible.

“So, if you guys are ready, we can get started.” She offered. You both gave a nod, not finding any argument for the statement. “Perfect.” She said, settling back in her chair and giving a thumbs up to the staff running the filming. One they gave her the go-ahead, she started slow, getting you both to state your names and your band’s names. After that, she jumped right into the bulk of the questions. She started with Jake, asking a few simple things about their new album and their plans for the future. She noted the Grammy nomination they had received very recently, and inquired about his excitement on the topic. Eventually, she turned to you and began her deep dive into your musical career. “So, y/n, you and your band seemed to come out of nowhere; have you been a band for long, or is this something new for you?”

“Well, we’ve been a band for quite some time now, but we mostly played at local bars and restaurants around home. We’ve always been fond of the idea of doing something more, but never really had the chance to do it until now.”

“That’s fantastic,” she noted, making sure you knew she was listening. “Now, ‘Gold Dust Woman’, is that a play on the infamous Fleetwood Mac song, or does it mean something more to you?”

“I suppose both,” you chuckled. “I’ve always been a huge fan of their music, and Stevie Nicks in particular, but I was actually given the nickname a while back by a very important person to me. When we agreed to tour with Greta, we hadn’t really talked about an official name. I brought up the idea and they all seemed to love it. From there it was history, I guess.”

“So it’s almost like you get to carry a part of that person with you wherever you go?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, unable to hide the smile that was forming. “I owe a lot to that person, even outside of music, too. They helped me get to where I am today, and I couldn’t think of a better way to thank them for it.” You tried not to look over at Jake, wanting to avoid any sneaking suspicions from the public that it was him you were talking about.

“How has touring been so far for you? You said this was your first time?”

“Yeah, it is. It’s been fantastic so far. Seeing the world, spending time with my best friends and doing the things we love most… I couldn’t have asked for better.”

“Do you have any plans for an album for yourself?” She inquired.

“We definitely talk about it, but we don’t really have a label or anything of the sorts. I’m actually a recording artist when I’m not on stage, so if we do something, I can see it just being a private event for us.”

“I think now you’ll have labels fighting for you; the energy you have on stage is electric, and I don’t need to mention the talent, because that’s just a given.” You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat with a blush at her statement.

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to ease your nerves as you spoke. “That’s the dream, really. Music has always been a passion, and to think we have a shot at doing it full time is absolutely mind blowing.”

“I think we’re all wondering about your relationship with Greta. Have you been friends for long, or only in the recent months?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been friends for years, now. It’s been really cool touring with friends, because even when we’re exhausted, the work still doesn’t feel like work. Just like a little family living life together.” She smiled at the statement, nodding along with your words. Then, she turned her attention to Jake.

“What are your thoughts on the matter?”

“Oh, me?” Jake asked. “I agree wholeheartedly. Given the opportunity to work so closely with such fantastic people has been nothing short of remarkable. They’re all very passionate about their work, and they have proven to us beyond anything we ever expected that they were meant for that stage. It’s been an honour to work so closely with them, and if I could have it my way, I’d tour with them for the rest of our careers.” You looked over at him, a small blush dusting your cheeks at his kind words.

“You guys really seem to fit together in terms of visuals; has there been any hardships along the way? I know that sometimes everything might not be as perfect as it seems.” After a moment, he gave a slow shake of his head.

“No, not that I can think of. The benefit of working with people who you connect with on a higher level is that even when we struggle and all of our ideas seem to clash, we always come out stronger.” He said, confident in his answer. “I can’t speak for the future, but so far, it’s been delightful and almost cathartic in a way to connect with people who live and feel the same way about life as we do.”

“Awesome,” she grinned. “And of course, this might be a loaded question, but from one musician’s perspective on another, what is your opinion on Gold Dust Woman?” He drew in a long breath, leaning his head back for a moment as he thought about his answer. Eventually, he looked over at you while he collected his thoughts, then looked back at the interviewer.

“I think that they embody the spirit of what music used to be, and in todays age, that’s incredibly hard to find. As a musician, I have so much respect for their work and the energy they put into it and as a guitarist, I feel like there is so much that I learn from her all of the time. It’s wonderful to share a love for something so beautiful, especially when it’s something we can teach each other more about every day. I’m grateful for her talent and all of the ideas that she brings to the table, because watching her work her magic on that fretboard has inspired me to work harder with mine.”

“You seem quite fond of her,” she noted. Jake let out a small laugh, nodding his head.

“Yeah, you could say that. She’s more than my colleague; she’s my best friend. Family, even. I mean look at her up on that stage when she performs. It’s like she’s the modern day Stevie Nicks. I hear it in her voice, in the passion and the love for music, but it see it in her eyes and her heart. She’s got this aura that follows her around wherever she goes. It screams rock and roll, and power, and all of the other wonderful things that come with it. No matter who you are, I think it’s hard not to admire her when she’s doing what she loves most. And aside from the talent, she’s just a great person, and I can confidently speak for all of us when I say that it’s been an incredibly inspiring experience to be able to work with her.”

You could not seem to tear your eyes away from him as he spoke, your throat constricting and your eyes threatening tears. You had never heard words from Jake that were quite like the ones he spoke, then. They were full of truth and more profound than anything you had ever heard before. You never would have believed someone could speak about you with such admiration, and the fact that he was willing to admit it to the world was overwhelming. You had to pry your eyes away from him, feeling yourself falling in love all over again despite knowing that you couldn’t have him like that, anymore. You had made your decision, and you had to stick with it. It was the only way you would make it out alive.

“How do you feel on that subject?” She asked you, pulling you out of the trance you were stuck in.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you shrugged. “I mean, Jake is a phenomenal guitarist and working so closely with someone who can create magic with an instrument has been enlightening and encouraging. Despite popular belief, it’s never been a deterrent for me to work with someone who is so skilled. If anything, it’s been a huge benefit, and I find everything he does it’s very influential. When I feel like I should give up, I can look to him and find the inspiration to keep going. He teaches me just as much about music as I have for him, and as a musician, I envy the talent he has. I hope that I continue to have the opportunity to grow and play alongside of him, and that I can continue to know him as a person. We owe our success as a band to Greta, but I owe my success as a guitarist to him.” You could feel him staring, but you did your best to fight the pressure to look back.

“My final question for you guys is quite a simple one; we couldn’t call ourselves a guitar magazine if we didn’t ask the most important question of all. What guitars do you both play?” You both laughed at the simple nature of the inquiry, looking to each other to see who wanted to go first.

“I have a 61’ Gibson SG. Although, back when they first produced the line of guitars, they sold them under the name Les Paul. It’s my go to, and my pride and joy. I have a few other ones I use, but that guitar is definitely my number one.”

“I mainly use my 57’ reissue. It’s a Les Paul Gold Top style, and it’s been my tried and true since I started writing music.”

“Alright,” she grinned. “Thank you both so much, it’s been a pleasure speaking with you. I hope to talk again sometime, and I hope that the rest of the tour brings just as much happiness as the first half has seemed to. Maybe next time we see each other, you’ll have a new record for us to fawn over.” She told you.

“Thank you so much.” You said, reaching out to shake her hand. Jake did the same, and the both of you settled back in your seat as the crew filed out of the room. You let out a long sigh, heart still pounding in your chest. When the room was empty aside from the pair of you, you finally turned to look at him. “Did you mean all of that?”

“Of course I did, Gold Dust Woman.” He whispered. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling the sting of heartbreak begin to make its appearance once again. You had no idea how to let him go after he said such beautiful things about you. He checked the clock on the wall, noting the time of day before he spoke again.

“Did you want to grab some lunch before soundcheck?” He asked. “As friends, of course.” He added, making sure you were aware he was still adhering to the agreement.

“That sounds like fun.” You agreed, almost wishing that you did not agree to be friends for the day. The longer you spent with him, the more your morals seemed to disappear.

“I’ll go get changed, then we can go?” You nodded, unable to speak any more words without either ending things forever or professing undying love for him, and neither seemed like an option you wanted for yourself. Without any other conversation, he stood and left you on your lonesome.

You leaned back into the cushions of the couch, praying that they would swallow you whole and hopefully end your incessant misery. You knew that going out with Jake would only worsen your predicament, but you couldn’t seem to refuse the offer. Much like the beginning, he was irresistible in his charm and impossible to forget. You weren’t even sure if the devil or the angel was behind the decision, and you didn’t seem to care enough. Whether good or bad, you were bound to enjoy the experience anyway. If you had to leave him, you would at least have one good memory to end the experience with. You settled your shaking hands, satiating your thoughts with empty promises to yourself as you stood. You knew that in no way was entertaining any further relationship with Jake the right thing to do, but you were just too much of a coward to confess it.

You walked into the hallway, almost immediately running into Aaron. He gave you a pat on the back and a few words of gratitude for your cooperation. You made it a note to genuinely thank him later on once the turmoil in your heart had settled. You walked towards Jake’s dressing room, waiting patiently for him to finish up. You did not have to wait for long, because within a few moments, his door swung open and he was back in your company dressed in his regular clothes. He had a pair of sunglasses settled low on his nose and a lazy smile on his lips. It only took a few seconds for sandalwood to choke you and your sin to catch up in time for the kill.

Wordlessly, you walked out of the back door of the venue. You headed in the direction of the street in search of somewhere to eat. The sidewalks were barren in contrast to the cars passing by, and you only had to walk for a short while before you came across a strip of buildings. There were a few local shops, but your eyes landed on a coffee shop that peaked your interest so much that you couldn’t bother to see what else the town had to offer. Jake noticed your expression, not needing to ask if that’s where you wanted to go. When it came to caffeinated beverages, you were always the first in line. He led the way to the front door, opening it for you and allowing you to go inside.

The vibe in the air was immediately calming and the smell of coffee filled your nose. You let out an audible sigh of relief just knowing that you would have one in your hand soon enough. Jake stood beside you in line, silent but relaxed as you both looked over the menus. “What do you want to eat?” He asked, turning his head to look over at you.

“I think the ham and cheddar looks good,” you noted before looking to the next board. “Oh, they have soup!” You exclaimed, keeping your voice quiet. He had to laugh at the glee you felt for such a simple idea. Before you could say anything else, he took a step towards the cashier. You followed behind him, but clearly didn’t need to aid him in ordering. He listed off your coffee, the sandwich and your favourite soup out of the list they were offering. He ordered for himself and paid before you could even think to grab your wallet. “You didn’t have to do that, Jake.”

“I know, I wanted to.” He assured you, moving down the line to wait for the order. When everything was ready, you both carried the items to a secluded booth in the corner. When you sat down, silence became you once more as if it were your destiny to have so much to say but be unable to speak it. You were so wound up with anxiety that you found it difficult to begin eating. Instead, you sipped at your coffee and found yourself delighted at the taste. Once again, he proved to you his ability to remember the details that nobody else cared to look for. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he noted, grabbing his phone from his pocket. He was occupied with the screen only for a moment before you felt your own vibrate. You grabbed it, checking the message he had sent you. There was an attachment, and when you clicked on it you felt a whole new wave of shame wash over you. It was the picture the two of you had gotten together during the photoshoot. “She emailed it to me during the interview. Figured you might want it too.”

“I do, thank you.” You muttered, never letting your eyes move from the photograph. It was an infinite reminder of the elation the two of you felt when around each other, and it would forever haunt you because you knew you had to let it go.

“Speak your truth, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, taking a bite of his own food.

“What do you mean?” You asked, cracking the lid of the disposable soup container.

“Something is on your mind.”

“No, I’m okay.” You shook your head, another punch of guilt thrown when you saw he had somehow also known what your favourite soup was. He seemed to know everything about you without you ever needing to speak the words, and it seemed like every higher power had intent to punish you, and they were doing their job splendidly.

“How many times do I have to tell you, you can’t lie to me, y/n.” You looked up to meet his eye, immediately crushed under the weight of his stare. You had to correct your previous thought; it was not the picture that would haunt you for a lifetime, but rather him as a whole. How strange it felt to be haunted by someone was still alive, but that was exactly how it felt to be in his presence in that moment.

“What do you want me to say, Jake?”

“Anything,” he pleaded, although not blatantly apparent in his desperation for an answer. “You didn’t ask me to be friends for a day because you can’t make a decision; you asked me to be friends today because you already have, and it’s not me.”

“No, Jake.” You shook your head hoping he would see reason. You hated that he could decode every lie and half-truth that came out of your mouth before you even spoke it. “It’s not like that,” it was like that, but you were nowhere near ready to profess it.

“Then what is it, sweetheart?” His voice was not condescending, nor angry. It was inquisitive, like he just needed to know what the truth was.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, closing your eyes to block out the tears that were begging to be shed. “I know that it hurts, but I don’t know where it hurts. It doesn’t stop, and I don’t think it ever will. And I know that we suck at being friends, because I’ve spent the entire day falling more in love with you than I ever was before. You get on camera, and you say those sweet things that nobody else has ever thought about me, and you look at me like I’m the best thing to walk this earth, but I’m not, Jake. I’m far from it, and you need to realize that, too.”

“So that’s your plan? You want me to stop loving you so you don’t have to pull away, first?” He knew, and he knew from the minute he saw you. You couldn’t back down and you couldn’t run away. He had you cornered, and you felt like you were going to snap under the pressure. “If so, that’s never going to happen, angel. I’ve loved you quietly for years, and I can keep loving you quietly while I hope you come back. Falling out of love with you has never been an option, so I’ll learn to live with it, even if it hurts.”

“And I’ll love you forever, even if it hurts.” You said, a grimace taking hold on your lips. “I can’t figure out how to stop loving you.”

“Then why are you trying if you haven’t made up your mind?” You looked up, tears blurring your vision as they landed on his face. He had locked you into stalemate yet again. You wished that you didn’t have to feel it anymore, but you felt everything. The pain sprinkled with regret, the shame mixed with sadness, and the love coated with desire. You felt everything for him, but you knew you shouldn’t. It was a terrible game to play, the one in which you tried to differentiate between right and wrong, especially when it came to him. From the very beginning, the rights felt wrong with Jake and the wrongs felt right. When in his company, you had no idea how to draw the line between needs and wants, and you had no idea how to implement any sort of morality when he was more powerful than any sin or holy force. “You can say the words, y/n. I can take it.”

“I don’t want to.” You shook your head.

“You have to.” He said, defeat clear in his face. He had lost, and he needed to hear you say it in order to begin to heal from the wounds.

“Jake,” you sighed, hands shaking as you reached for your coffee cup “don’t do this, now. That’s not why I came here with you.”

“Maybe it’s why I came, y/n.” He offered the idea, knowing that you hadn’t yet thought of that possibility. “I love you, and you know that, but if I’m not what you want anymore, I need to learn how to be your friend. It’s going to suck, but it’s something I have to do, and I have to start now if I’m ever going to be able to do it.”

“I love you,” you whispered, biting the inside of your lip to stop the tears from falling.

“But you love him more.” He said, watching your face to try and understand if he was reading the situation right. “It’s okay, angel.”

“It’s never been about that,” you shook your head. “It’s not about loving someone more, or even wanting someone more. It’s just been about what feels right, and what you and I have been doing is fantastic, but it’s just as hard as it is good. I don’t know if I can do that for the rest of my life.” Your heart ached for him, and the pain that was clear in his eyes. He had no fight left in him, and neither did you. It was a horrible thing to say, but it was the truth. You and Jake had been no stranger to struggle, and perhaps the complications lied within the lust that so often overshadowed your emotional need. You had forgone the emotional connection in hopes that sex would solve it for you, but the truth of the matter was that you both had no idea how to love one another despite feeling it so strongly. The good days were great, but the bad days were horrible. Days of ignoring each other, the name calling and yelling all pointed straight to failure.

You knew you could love Jake forever, but the work that you would need to do was extensive, and the idea alone sounded exhausting. He was worth the work, but the knowledge that heartbreak was still such a huge possibility if you chose him was a major deterrent. It was not a lack of love that was driving you away, rather just your fear getting in the way once more. If it were any normal type of pain, you would be able to see past it, but heartbreak over Jake was entirely new type of pain that was worse than any other.

“That’s okay, Gold Dust Woman.” He assured you, but you saw a glisten of tears in his eye. It was gutting, and you had to look away to stop yourself from crying, too. “We tried our best, and that’s what matters.” He cleared his throat, trying to cover the quiver in his voice, but you noticed it more than you heard the words he was saying. “No matter if you’re with me or not, you are the fire that burns in my heart, y/n. It has been a privilege to love you, and I really hope that maybe I’ll get the chance to love you again someday.”

“Jake,” you pleaded for him to stop. Your heart could not take the weight of his grief, and you were certain if he continued, you would succumb to the temptation of loving him.

“I get to speak my mind, too.” He defended himself. “I love you so much, y/n. More than I ever thought I could, and I’m happy if you’re happy. Loving you has never been a selfish thing for me; I do it even knowing that it could hurt me, because your happiness is above everything else. I’m just grateful to have spent time with you at all.”

“I love you, Jake.” You said, reaching out for his hand that was resting on the table. “I keep thinking that things would be easier if we did this the right way, but there is no right way, and it hurts no matter what I do. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s okay that this wasn’t for us, but it kills me. I wanted it for us so badly, but sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“I know, angel.” He said, running his thumb over the back of your hand. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Can we… just wait until we’re back at the venue? One last date, in love and happy.” You asked, but it was more like begging. You could bear the weight of the separation yet, and you would do anything to delay the inevitable.

“You don’t look very happy, baby.” He said, reaching across the table and swiping a tear away with his free hand. You closed your eyes, fighting back a sob as he held your face in his hand.

“I’m with you, so of course I am.” You breathed, but more tears fell just from speaking the lie of happiness.

“Come on, beautiful. Look at me.” He said, voice so quiet that it barely broke through the air of misery. You did as he wanted, eyes opening only to be met with his own saddened face. “Dates are supposed to be fun, there’s no need for tears.” His comfort served little purpose, because there was one falling down his own cheek as he tried to calm you. You lifted your hand, settling it atop of the one he had on your cheek. You managed a small smile through the mess of tears, uncaring for the public display of emotion.

“You’re right,” you sniffled, nodding your head. You wiped your face clean, taking a breath to calm yourself down. “Dates are meant to be fun.”

“So much for friends,” he chuckled, wiping his own cheek free of tears.

“I told you, we sucked at it anyway.”

“We did.” He agreed. “Destined to be lovers, stuck being friends.” He attempted to make the joke, but the reality of his words was harsh. You took another drink of coffee, hoping the beverage would warm your soul and give you the energy to make it through the day.

You both got lost in small chatter, ignoring the outside world and choosing to remain in the little comfortable bubble you had created in the cafe. Inside, nothing could hurt. At that table, you were free to love each other forever and never have to worry about stopping. Outside, the cold world would put an end to the relationship you had worked so hard to save. You wished you could stay in the cafe until the end of time, with Jake and away from any other worldly trouble, but it was just not plausible. Eventually, when both of your phones began to ring, you knew you had to move on and let go. Letting go was the hardest part of living, but you knew you had to face it sooner or later. You could only hope that when the storm cleared you could both move on and better yourselves from the mistakes you had made with each other, but the thought of learning from your mistakes with Jake only to use the lessons with another was sickening. As much as you knew that you needed to, letting him walk away was terrifying, and the thought of him loving another was gut wrenching.

When it came time to leave, you both were dragging your feet walking out the door. With his hand in yours, you began the slowest walk of your life, using a snails pace to avoid the inevitable end that came with your arrival. The building came into view like a grim foreshadowing of the future. Before your reached the door, you had to stop him in hopes of savouring one more moment of peace. You turned to face him, hand still resting in his own as you tried to catch his eye. His gaze seemed glued to the ground, fearful of looking up at you in case you caught sight of his weakness. “I love you, Jake.” You whispered, snaking your arm around his neck. He pulled you into him by your hip, so close to your face that your noses were brushing together.

“You could take any type of love, multiply by a million, and you still would only have a glimpse of how I feel about you.” Your heart was shattered, all of the pieces lying sharp in your chest and stabbing into you with every breath you took. You leaned forward, kissing him softly as a show of affection, but also as an apology for the pain you caused. For a few beautiful seconds the world seemed right, but as always, it had to come to and end. He placed another soft kiss to your lips, just like rubbing salt in a wound. “I’ll always be here, Gold Dust Woman. If you ever change your mind… I’m here.”

“You’ve always been too good for this world, Jake. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be more for you.” He shook his head, face still unbearably close to your own.

“You are everything, angel.” He corrected, not willing to accept any slander towards you. “In another world, you and I are happy together. Just because it’s not this one doesn’t mean that you aren’t enough for me. Maybe you’re just too much, and I don’t know how to appreciate all of it yet.” He leaned up and pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment too long. He had to force himself away from you, knowing that it was doing nothing but hurting you both more. “Thank you for everything, y/n. These last few months have been so amazing, and it’s all because of you.”

“Thank you, Jake. You have no idea how much you’ve done for me.” He gave a tight lipped smile and a curt nod, knowing he shouldn’t continue feeding into the conversation, but wanting it more than anything.

“Here’s to being friends, Gold Dust Woman.”

“To being friends,” you let out a shaky breath, feeling the tears begging to make a return. You both let your stare linger for a moment longer before you eventually took a step towards the building. He watched you walk away, desperate for you to stay but unable to muster the courage to say it. He knew the most amicable thing was to let you go, but it was horrendous for him knowing that once you walked through that door, you would never be his again.

You nearly broke down the door with the strength you used to open it, tears flooding your cheeks once again as you walked towards your dressing room. As you stepped inside, you managed to stop your sobs just enough to catch your breath. Unfortunately for you, it was not enough to evade the questions of the person who took post in your room, waiting for your return.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” You looked up, shock and sadness written all over you with no way to hide it. As if the universe was playing a trick, another violent lesson after your months of nothing but learning, Sam was sat on your couch, looking up at you with major concern.

“Fuck, Sam.” You swore, wiping your face free of the mascara stains. “You scared me.” That was not what you truly wanted to say; in fact, you wanted to send him away and cry in solitude, to tend to your wounds without an audience, but you thought that maybe his comfort was exactly what you needed. The rainbow shining after the storm, sitting on your couch waiting for you just to prove that life could still be beautiful despite the pain.

“Sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” you shook your head, taking a step towards him. “It’s okay, I’m okay, everything is okay.” You promised, but you were trying to convince yourself of the fact more than anything else. “I’m glad you’re here, I’ve been trying to find the time to talk to you all day.” You chuckled, shaking your head at the days events.

“Well, I’m here now.” He assured you, standing to meet you. He reached out, drawing you in to him with an open arm and an invitation. You gravitated towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He responded with the same energy, holding you tightly and revelling in the warmth of your touch. You settled your head on his chest, taking a deep breath to relax your mind. In his arms, it felt like the war was over; you had won, and it was time to go home and rest. “Oh, I got you a coffee. I heard you were here early this morning, so I figured you didn’t have time to stop and grab one for yourself.” He said, pulling back from you only slightly. Your heart warmed at his words, comforted by the idea of him thinking of you.

“Thank you, Sammy.” You smiled, already feeling the pain begin to melt away.

“Oh, and congratulations on the interview.” He grinned, reaching behind him to grab the cup sitting on the table. “I know we’re supposed to be keeping our distance, but I just had to come and see you. Being on the cover of Guitar World is a huge deal, and I’m so happy for you.”

“It’s okay, I’m happy you’re here.” You assured him, feeling your heart speed as you prepared to confess all of the things you had been waiting to tell him.

“Me, too.” He smiled, handing you the coffee that was still hot. “I’m always happy to see you.” You closed your eyes, letting the cup warm your hands as you mustered the courage to speak. Before you said a word, you brought the lid to your lips and took a long sip of the beverage. As you swallowed it down, you almost grimaced at the taste, immediately looking down at the lid. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I couldn’t remember how you liked it, so I got some cream and sugar on the side.” He said, suddenly recalling the bag of items that was also laying on the table.

You felt frozen, your eyes stuck on the lid marked with nothing but a big, bold red flag. The blood drained from your face, leaving you pale while dread seeped in to take its place. The interaction, although small, spoke louder than anything had before. A flash of memories took over you, recalling all of the coffee cups presented to you from Jake in the past, all marked with hearts and smiles, and the exact order that you would have had if you bought it yourself. You thought you might be sick, your stomach churning with unease and anxiety as you continued to stare down at the cup in your hands. The interaction was earth-shattering, making it obvious to you of one horrific thing; Sam knew you, and that was true, but just not enough. After months of dates at cafe’s and restaurants, he couldn’t seem to remember the simplest of things, and for some reason, the fact was abhorrent for you to choke down.

Sam knew you, but he did not know you as well as Jake did, and after all of this time, he was still not the one for you.

You had spent so much of your life wishing that Sam would notice you, that he would suddenly become the person you had always hoped he could be, but it was all too much to ask of him. All of those months ago, the euphoria of finally hearing that he cared about you the same as you felt about him seemed to overshadow the reality of the situation. Your love for Sam had clouded your judgement in the worst way possible, so much so that you had put him in a pedestal and opted to ignore every flaw and red flag, just so you could continue viewing him as this perfect person you had created in your mind. If Sam wanted you so badly, he would have cared enough to notice how bad you wanted him. He would have taken the step, crushed the fear of rejection and loss so he could have his chance to be with you, but he did not. He waited until the very last second to speak, until you were emotionally vulnerable and unable to see the difference. Sam loved you, and you loved him, but it was never enough to make the difference. If Sam was meant to be with you, the universe would have allowed it long before now, and it never would have sacrificed Jake in the process.

As much as you hoped Sam was the one, he was not, and your former self wept for the person you wished he could be. You were such a fool for Sam that you disregarded every warning the higher powers had been trying to show you. Jake making his move on you that night was not a cruel trick, nor a joke made by the universe to laugh at your struggle. It was a sign and even more so, a reminder that if Sam was meant to be yours, he would be. It was the universe begging for you to move on, to actually see the world you had been missing out on due to your blind loyalty to someone who refused to notice you. Jake approached you that night because he loved you wholly and selflessly, the same way you had been loving his brother. He took the chance despite knowing you were foolishly in love with someone else, and he did it with strength and courage, even if he knew he was bound to lose sooner or later.

Choosing Sam was not a way to avoid heartbreak; it was only the beginning of a lifelong struggle with what-if’s. Sam had the opportunity to love you for years, but never managed to take the leap. Jake loved you so much and so quietly that it killed him, and when he finally understood he couldn’t just stop loving you, he found the courage to confess despite his own fear of vulnerability. By choosing Sam, you would only be admitting to your inability to grow and change, and you wouldn’t be facing up to any fears that you had been trying so hard to conquer. Loving Jake had risk, but real love always did, and he was more than worth the risk. If you truly grew as much as you believed you did, you would have recognized that your fear was for good reason, but nothing close to what you previously thought it was; you weren’t scared of Jake breaking your heart, you were afraid of losing the only person in the world you had ever genuinely loved with every single part of you. It was not a fear of hurt, rather a fear of failure, but in that moment, you knew you loved Jake enough to make anything work. Failure wasn’t an option, because you would die before losing him.

As you sat, staring at the coffee in your hands, you challenged every single thing you had ever believed in. When you looked up at Sam, you knew that you had made a mistake. Sam was not your person, and he never would be, but you had already broken the heart that had sacrificed everything for you. With little hope and little faith, you knew you had to right your wrongs one last time, to atone for the sins you had been recklessly committing for weeks. You had already broken two hearts, and now you had to break a third before ever having a chance at peace. You knew you had to, but the struggle lied within finding the strength to do so. Your only solace was in the idea that you may still be able to salvage the relationship with Jake, and that after so much heartbreak, you might actually be able to mend two back together.

It was time to pick up the pieces and go home, and home was a person, this time, and not the one you previously thought it to be. Jake had always been home to you even if you failed to realize it, and your only hope was that home still had his heart open to you. If not, you wondered if you had the right words to get Jake to find room in his life again for a Gold Dust Woman, because his Gold Dust Woman was more than ready to love him for the rest of her life.

pale shadow of a woman, black widow, pale shadow of a dragon, dust woman

haven’t i always said that it’s not over until it’s over? ;)

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr @sinarainbows @jakesmustache @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @profitofthedune

[ch-ao-tic1]

Burn out

❀ ✧༺ ✩ ༻∞ ❀✿＊*✩*＊✿❀ ✧༺ ✩ ༻∞ ❀ ✧

A/N: so this is my first time doing something like this so go easy on me. Idk if yall know anything about shifting but this is a scenario I came up with for my DR. I decided to turn it into a story…because why not 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️ hopefully yall like it I’m planning on doing more stuff like this

This is set in a reality where Draken owns D&D Mikey, Koko, Inupi work there and shinichiro is the manager. I added a few OC’s that are in my DR also.

(I apologizing for any spelling, punctuation, or grammar mistakes I really tired 😭😭😭 but other than that I hope you enjoy🩵🩵)

❀ ✧༺ ✩ ༻∞ ❀✿＊*✩*＊✿❀ ✧༺ ✩ ༻∞ ❀ ✧

It was a normal day at D&D; Koko was in the front working the reception area, Mikey surprisingly was actually working on a bike in the back instead of messing around like usual, same with Inupi, and Draken who both were also working on their own bikes.

Usually Shinichiro was also around doing something or the other, but today was his much needed day off. I was in the back with the boys at a table not to far from where Ken was.

I was working on my laptop with a pair of my favorite overhead headphones on. I usually use them wireless, but since the battery had just died I had to use them plugged in. I had the left side off my ear just in case one of them needed me.

Usually I wouldn’t even be back here when they’re working, but surprisingly it’s a slower day, and I really just wanted to be near Ken.

We haven’t been able to spend much time together lately because of our work schedules. Actually this is the first time in weeks I’ve gotten to see him in person instead of over FaceTime.

I’ve been stressed out the last few weeks getting prepared for a festive tour me and my best friends/bandmates are participating in. It’s been constant rehearsals, last minute setlist changes, wardrobe fittings, and more.

Don’t get me wrong I’m excited for everything that’s happening this is the first time our group has ever performed something this big before, it feels like a dream, but everything that glitters isn’t always gold.

“Mamas” I looked up when I heard Ken call out to me.

“Hmm” I replied back giving him my full attention

“You see that red tool box on the right of you? Can you hand it to me?” I nod turning towards it. Once I had it in hand I go to get up so I can bring it to him forgetting that I had my headphones plugged in causing my laptop to fall off the table, and drop to the ground.

“FUCCCCK” I yelled dropping the tool box back onto the table to pick up my computer. Mikey, and Inupi both turned towards me because of the crash, and my loud outburst. Once I had the computer back on the table I tapped on a few keys to see if anything would happen, but my screen stayed black.

I started getting frustrated, which resulted into me whining. Now I’m not a crier, it takes a lot to make me even shed a few tears (A/N: detachment is a bitch always try to feel your feelings/emotions when you can) but in that moment I could feel myself about to burst. I slammed my laptop shut, threw my headphones off, and put my face in my hands.

All of a sudden everything really just hit me; the stress, the long nights, and early mornings, the aching pain my body is in from rehearsal, and now my computer that mind you; has all my work on it. All of the burn out begins to settle in, and all I can do is silently cry into my hands.

I felt Ken’s strong arms wrap around me, and turn me into his chest. He had one arm around my waist, and the other on my head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying” I said barely getting the words out

“Shhh it’s ok” he replied back in a hushed tone.“you’re burnt out, an under a lot of stress no one’s judging you for crying babe” being in his arms along with hearing, and feeling the vibration of his voice helped ground me enough to speak.

I pull away a little to look at him tears still falling down my face, he must of sent the other two away because it was just us in the back now. “All of my dreams are coming true right in front of my eyes, and I’m crying over it” I go to wipe my eyes

“I’m so grateful, and excited for everything that’s happening, but I’m so tired. I haven’t been able to sit down for less than five seconds before I have to get up, and do something else it feels like” more tears fall as I continue trying to wipe them away.

Ken grabs my wrist gently, but firmly pulling them away from my face. He moves one of his hands up to caress my right cheek, while the other hand holds onto mine.

“Mamas it’s okay to feel multiple things at once. Being grateful doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t feel tried too” he says in the same low shushed tone “it’s your day off, why don’t you go upstairs, and take a nap?”

“Because its the first time I’ve gotten to see you in forever. I want to spend to with you even if that means sitting off to the side quietly” I whined to him.

“I know babe, but you need to get some rest. I’m basically done with this bike I just gotta do a few more touch ups, I’ll check with koko to see if I got anything else to do if not I’ll get off early alright?”

I nodded my head after thinking about it. He wipes away my last few tears before kissing my forehead, and tells me to go sit on the couch in the corner and wait for him to come back before he disappears to the front.

I sigh as I gather my stuff putting them back in my big fluffy black tote bag, once everything was away I walked over, and sat on the couch texting the group chat my friends an I have to let them know what happened.

Me: sooooo guess who’s laptop with all their shit just broke 😋 ✌🏾

Me: And also had a mental breakdown in front of their boyfriend and his friends 😆😆

Mya: oh nooo I’m sorry Pooh 😩😩😩

Alex: are u ok?? Do u need me to pick you up??

Jess: how?? What happened??

Me: I’m good A thanks it fell off the table now the screen is just black. I’m just tired and burnt out I’m gonna stay at Ken’s place at least for the night but I’ll keep yall posted

Alex: ok get some rest love 🩷🩷

Mya: we finally got a week off so get some rest I’m already knowing you were probably working on something before it dropped

Me: I will I promise same to yall tho I’m sure yall are feeling just as drained and burnt out as me

Me: but anyways I just wanted to let yall know what’s going on and where I’ll be tonight so no one goes filling out a missing person case 

Jess: that was one time what was I supposed to do u weren’t answering your phone I was worried 😭😩

I shock my head laughing a little before turning my phone off and throwing it in my bag.

“Alright let’s go” Ken said as he walked back in from the front. “We’re leaving now? I thought you were gonna finish up the bike?” I replied back with a confused look on my face.

“I’m gonna finish it tomorrow I told you there’s not much left to do on it” he said walking over to me

“Yeah but won’t that add on to your work load for tomorrow or push you back?”

He chuckled grabbing my hand, and pulling me up from the couch “shhh you think too much little one” he said hushing me “let me worry about all of that right now my main focus is to get you upstairs” he lifted the hand he was holding up to his mouth to kiss it all while looking me in my eyes.

I gave him a tired smile, and nodded “ok, but only if you’re sure” he gave me the smallest smile while rolling his eyes, and said “I’m sure now come one dumbass”

“Watch that dumbass word, I’m not too drained to beat your ass” he laughed brushing me off as you walked towards the front “yeah aight” he said.

Koko was still behind the reception desk, but now Mikey, and Inupi were there also with him. Mikey sitting on the counter, and Inupi leaning against it.

“We’re heading out” Ken said Koko, and Inupi both nodded while Mikey jumped off the counter, and walked over towards us.

“Since you’re leaving can you bring me some food Kenny” Mikey said while giving him puppy dog eyes which Ken rolled his eyes too “no get it yourself when you go on break”

“Awww Kenny you never do anything for me…do you not love me” Mikey whined back “no” Ken said in a deadpan voice which made me giggle Mikey’s pout turned into a small smile when he heard it.

He walked toward me, and gave me an unexpected but very appreciated hug. “Hope you feel better punk” he said once he pulled away “thanks Michelangelo” I replied back with a small smile.

I waved goodbye to the other two as we left out the front door. D&D is part of a mixed used building ken lives in one of the apartments above it. Once we were inside his apartment we made our way into his bedroom to change out of our clothes from the day.

I changed into one of his shirts, and a pair of sleep shorts I keep here. While he went into the bathroom to take a quick shower.

I walked out of the bedroom already feeling more relaxed. I sat on the couch, turning the tv on to find something to watch, or at least be background noise. I finally decided on some random light hearted anime. After the day I had I just wanted something cute and light.

“You hungry?” Ken asked me after a while now out of his work attire an into some grey sweats, and a black tank top. “Mmm yeah I could eat” I said back “what do you got?”

“Not much…you wanna just order DoorDash?”

“Yeah I’m down for that lord knows I don’t have the energy to cook anything” he scoffed setting down next to me “cook? You don’t even cook, I’m the one that’s always cooking” he said

“Ummm that’s not true I cook all the time” I argued back

“Like what?”

“Like food duh” he scuffed again pulled out his phone “bullshit. What do you want?”

“Mmm I don’t know…chipotle?” He nodded sending in our usual order throw DoorDash. Once he was done with that he put his phone on the coffee table, got comfortable, and pulled my leg into his lap. He gave me a small calf and foot massage. He did all of this without even batting an eye at me all his focus was on the tv.

I couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face. I placed the remote down on the coffee table, crawled over to him, and sat on his lap. For a quick second he had a mixed look of confusion, and shock on his face, but that quickly turned into a smirk once he realized what I was doing.

Once I was in his lap he wrapped his arms around my hips to help keep me sturdy as I got comfortable. When I got fully situated I wrapped my arms around his neck, and smiled at him. He raised an eyebrow at me waiting for me to speak which made me roll my eyes, but smile even more.

“Thank you” I said “for what?” He replied back making me roll my eyes again “for being you, for caring, for loving me” I shrugged looking down because it was too hard to look him in his eyes while saying this.

“Sometimes I forget to take care of myself and you always pick up the slack for me. I appreciate, and love you so much for it” it was quite for a few minutes, I still hadn’t looked up yet, instead I chose to focus on my hands that I was fidgeting with now in my lap until he broke the silence with a scuff.

“You dumb ass, you don’t need to thank me for that” he rolled his eyes “I signed up for that when I became your boyfriend. I knew the moment I met you I’d spend the rest of my life looking out, and taking care of you even if we weren’t together as a couple I’d still do all of that and more”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face into his chest “doesn’t mean I can’t say thank you and show my appreciation though” I pulled away to look him in the eyes this time “you know I’d do the same right? Take care of you I mean, even if we weren’t together like this I’d still take care of you” he smiled and nodded “I know mamas I know” I kissed him overwhelmed with all the emotions I was feeling.

I poured all the love, happiness, and appreciation I felt for him into the kiss and he did the same. I pulled away not before giving him one last small kiss. “I love you” I said push back his black stray hairs that frame his face “love you too mamas”

I played with his hair for a little longer before punching him in his shoulder “ayyyeee the fuck was that for?!” He said not actually hurt, or mad more shocked than anything.

“I told you watch that dumbass word” I shrugged he smacked his lips and flips us over onto the couch so I was now laying on my back while he was basically on top of me “see now we really gonna have to fight” he said tickling me

“Get off of me!!!” I cried in between laughs “you too big for all of dat”

“Nah we fighting” he said back still tickling me all I could do was laugh and weakly try kicking him off me. After a little while he did eventually stop so I could catch my breath, but he was still laying on me. “Ken if you don’t get your big ass off of me”

“Nahhh I’m comfortable now”

“Comfortable my ass get up” he smacked his lips and finally sat up I gasped dramatically making him smack his lips again “dramatic ass shut up” I laughed and sat up as well “I’m tired now I need a nap”

“I bet you do” he laughed “c’mere” he said with his arms opened. “Shoot don’t gotta tell me twice” I said as I laid down in his arms “wake me up when the food is here” I said already half asleep “yeah, yeah just go to sleep I’ll wake you”

❀ ✧༺ ✩ ༻∞ ❀✿＊*✩*＊✿❀ ✧༺ ✩ ༻∞ ❀ ✧

Bro how do yall do them pretty divider things 😭😭😭 anyways I hope yall enjoyed again i apologize for any spelling, grammar, or punctuation errors please don’t be afraid to give tips and pointers on how to better my writing. Much love 🩵🩵🩵

P.s if any of yall are shifters PLEASE dm me I wanna hear your stories, progress, etc 🩵😩

❀ ✧༺ ✩ ༻∞ ❀✿＊*✩*＊✿❀ ✧༺ ✩ ༻∞ ❀ ✧

[yunrulestheworld]

At this point Red is begging me to write the SBG x Reader fanfic I started.

I’m 16.2k words in, the fic is called Haphephobia, on Wattpad if anyone is interested, the first few characters are going to be posted soon. Theirs no confirm love interest yet.

And here’s a clip of my favorite part from Chapter 3:

I sat on the edge of my seat and put the bag in front of Aiden. Shaking the bag a little. “Do you want some?” His smile is bright as he shoves his hand in it. I almost lost my grip and he pung his hand in there. I felt myself tense up as his arm brushed against my fingers. My heart picks up speed at the feeling. “Most people would say this was a sign of a crush”. I thought to myself as I tried to think of something else. I can't be scared right now. I have to be a normal teenager, and normal teenagers are not afraid of touching people.

“Thanks!” Aiden said and that caused my eyes to snap back toward him. “Ask Ashlyn if she wants some.” My arm was getting tired from holding the bag, and having my anxiety strike again was not helping. I saw Aiden call out to Ashlyn, shaking her a little as her attention was pulled away from the cube she was toying with. She looked up and gave a little thanks, her gaze not meeting my eyes as she took some and started eating. I finally pulled my arm back, resting it a bit as I looked at the rest of my group.

I reached out again and poked Taylor with the chip bag. She looked at me with a confused smile. I returned with a smile of my own as I offered her and Tlyer some. I hope my smile isn't wobbly or awkward in any way. Yes thanked me before taking the bag in her hands, getting some for herself, and opening the bag towards Tyler. She thanked me again as she handed the bag back. I was glad she asked Tyler if he wanted some, he intimidates me so I wouldn't know where to start.

I moved in my seat again facing the last two members of my group. Logan and Ben. I didn't quite know how to get their attention. I tapped into Logan's book. He looked up at me. A small frown or more like a neutral face. I took another deep breath before asking him for some. Logan gave me a polite smile. “Sure! Thank you.” He grabs some as well, being careful not to take too much. He thanked me again as he tried to spill anything on his book. I pulled back a bit and took another deep breath. Steadying my nerves, I stood up, one leg on the ideal as I moved the bag past Logan and up over to Ben. Ben himself looked startled at the bag, he looked up and at me, I was slightly shaking but it wasn't too bad. My wobbly smile was showing as I tried to offer the snack without having to say anything.

From the week I have known Aiden and Ben, Ben and I would usually interact without saying anything while Aiden dragged Ashlyn to do something with us. Although I didn't know Ben, I liked our small ways of interaction, no talking and no touching. It felt nice despite also feeling bad at times when I'm too overwhelmed.

Ben reached his hand in and gave me a nod, his way of saying thank you. I nodded back at him and sat down on my seat. It felt harder to do than it should be, but I'm glad I could make the group happy, even though I'm feeling nauseous now and the moving bus wasn't helping. I closed the bag and switched it with some water. I took a couple of sips before I heard Aiden's voice call out to me.

“Hey, (Y/n) can I have some more?”

….

Currently Chapter 3 is under editing to make sure the writing style is consent and to fix grammar mistakes

[schrodingers-romy]

Promise? [Choso x Reader]

Pairing: Choso x gn!reader Word Count: ~1,000 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Star Wars AU, Choso is a medic and reader is an injured Rebellion fighter.

Warnings: non-graphic mention of injury, blood mention

Notes: Hiiii. So. This is the first thing I've posted in a while. Anyway, I saw @strawberrystepmom 's Star Wars JJK AU collab It Takes a Galaxy and my brain exploded a bit and I wanted to join in! I kind of have an idea of a bit of a backstory, but it's pretty vague what reader's exact job is in this work. Apologies if it's OOC, or has grammar mistakes. Anyway...uh...enjoy?

“Ow!” You shriek, even though the stinging sensation on your forehead is nothing compared to the pain from your wound. “You’re a medic! You’re supposed to heal me, not hurt me!”

The first thing Chōsō does when he sees you sitting propped up against the wall, blood dripping from your torso, is walk over to you and flick you on the forehead. Hard.

Chōsō looks up from where he’s crouched at your side. He doesn’t look amused. “I doubt you even felt that, considering how thick your skull is.”

You gape at him, shocked. He can be standoffish at times, but he’s usually a bit softer with you, even when you tease him. “Hey! What did I do to deserve that, huh?”

He’s silent for a moment, as he pulls up your shirt to look at your wound. You feel a bit flustered, sitting there with your shirt half off as his broad hands run over the skin by your injury.

Are you blushing? Why? It couldn’t be the feeling of the calluses on his fingers scraping softly against your stomach. It was probably blood trying to get away from your wound or whatever, so you didn’t bleed out. Yeah, that sounded logical, and not at all like you were lying to yourself about your attraction to Chōsō.

Chōsō still hasn’t spoken, and you’re getting a bit worried. “Hey? Chōsō?”

He ignores you, instead reaching into his medical bag to pull out bacta spray and something to clean your side.

“…are you mad at me?”

Still nothing.

You’re starting to feel a bit upset. Here you are, propped up against a dirty wall in whatever backwaters planet the rebellion has set up shop in now, injured, bleeding, and your favorite person here won’t even speak to you. Great.

“Did I do something? Is that why your mad? Cause I didn’t mean it. I make mistakes a lot, it was probably one of those-“ your speech cuts off with a hiss as you feel the uncomfortable sensation of gelatinous bacta being sprayed into your wound.

Chōsō uses your silence to quickly wrap your wound. If he is mad at you, he’s still being remarkably gentle, so all hope isn’t lost, you suppose.

He looks even more tired than normal when he looks back up at you. You feel a spike of concern, and wonder if he’s been having trouble sleeping again. You know he had nightmares, and you wonder if they’ve been happening again while you’ve been gone.

“I’m a little mad at you,” he admits. Your heart drops to your stomach. He won’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to stare at the wall behind you.

“Why?”

He sighs wearily, and finally meets your eyes. You can see a flicker of concern in those fathomless purple eyes. “I…don’t like you getting hurt. And you get hurt a lot.”

You can see the genuine vulnerability in his gaze, and you melt, just slightly. “It comes with the job description, Chōsō. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up. It’s the risk we all decided to take, to save our galaxy.”

He doesn’t look comforted. “I know. But I wish you looked out for yourself more. You won’t be helping anyone if you’re dead.”

There’s a pause, as he looks away, uncomfortable with the amount of emotion he revealed.  You didn’t often think about what might happen if you messed up, really messed up. You usually tried to ignore the fact that every time you went out, you might never come back. Most people in the Rebellion did the same. You couldn’t be paralyzed by possible futures or what-ifs. You went out, and did what you had to do, because only in the moment could you act.

But for just a second, you wonder what would happen if you were gone. If someone would have to tell Chōsō you were dead. You had seen him grieve his brothers…you never wanted him to feel like that again. Especially over you.

“Tell you what,” you said. One of your hands, tentatively, comes up to rest on his cheek, making him meet your eyes again. He tilts his head ever so slightly into your palm, and you run your thumb over the skin under his mark. “I promise I’ll always come back to you. I can’t promise I’ll never get injured, because we all know I’ll do something stupid, like stab myself with my own pen-”

This gets a small smile out of him, barely a twitch at the corner of his mouth. You can’t keep a happy grin off of your own face. His smiles are so rare, you cherish every one.

“-But I can promise I’ll always come back to you.”

You both know that you can’t always keep promises like that in your line of work. But you’ve also never broken a promise, and you’re very stubborn, so you think you’ll be okay.

“…okay,” he says, barely a whisper. “I believe you. Just…be careful.”

“I will be.”

You’re shocked out of your bubble by a voice down the corridor calling for more medics to be on standby for the next incoming ship.

“You should probably go,” you say, giving him a small half-smile and removing your hand from his face. He sighs, and you wonder if he feels as disappointed as you do with the loss of contact.

“Yeah.” He stands up, grabbing your arm to haul you up with him. The pain is basically all gone; you can feel yourself healing already. Still, you hiss as the sudden motion pulls at the tender flesh of your side.

He quickly steps forward, closer to you. His arm hovers by your side, as if to steady you, but he lets it drop instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around?” he asks, concerned.

“Go ahead. I’m fine.”

He takes a deep breath, exhaling in a soft sigh. Your faces are so close you can feel the warmth from his breath.

Unexpectedly, he cups your chin with one of his broad hands, tilting your head just right so he can press a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’m holding you to that promise,” he says seriously, staring you straight in the eyes as you feel your face heating up.

And then he’s off, in the blink of an eye, leaving you standing flustered and alone.

You unconsciously raise your hand to your forehead, finger tips brushing the spot where he kissed you. You can still feel the phantom sensation of his warm, dry lips on your skin. They were a bit chapped, you think distantly as you stumble out of the room. Your clumsiness is due less to blood loss and more to the rapid beating of your heart, and the rush of blood to your face. You wonder if you should get him some lip balm to give to him next time you see each other. Maybe something…flavored. You like cherry. Cherry is a good flavor. Maybe you’ll go with that. If anyone notices you mumbling to yourself about lip balm as you stalk down the hallway, they don’t mention it.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hey. I’m not sure if i need advice or if i just need to vent but i’m pretty angry and you’re really good at listening to random people talk abt their problems. (Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes)

So i had to to work the evening shift both days this weekend, and because of my particular brand of anxiety, i cant really do anything leading up to my shift. Like i get super nervous that i’m going to forget abt my shift if i do anything other than scroll through my phone or stare off into space. And then i found out that i’m also working the Monday and Tuesday after this weekend after school. At this point i’m pretty tired and knowing i wont even have a break after school is even worse. So, for my mental health I decided to skip school this Monday.

This is where the issue comes up. My mom was super against me skipping and we had a whole argument abt it. Basically i shouldn’t skip bc i’m “technically” truant, meaning i’ve skipped more than 11 days since school stared and they COULD either send me to court or have me pay a fine. Ik that sounds bad but they almost never send anyone to court or even make them pay any fines and most of my absences are from the first semester so i actually haven’t skipped in a while. Also half of those absences are my mom’s fault bc she forgot to email the school that i was sick or send them my doctors note which accounts for about 5 of my absences. And as long as one of my parents excuses the absence (which my dad is always willing to do) it doesn’t even count towards my truancy. When i tell her this she immediately pivots and says that well if she has to go to work then i have to go to school. Now i’ve always been really big on independence, i’m only an 18 year old senior in l Highschool but i KNOW thats bullshit, She works from home all the time and i was planning to do basically the same thing where i do the majority of my work at home and catch up on sleep until my work shift in the evening. So far this is pretty normal for my arguments about with her. Until i put my foot down and tell her that i’m old enough to have the right decide these types of things for myself and that i don’t think its fair for her to just decide for me. Usually she would relent but this time she threatened to CALL THE POLICE ON ME. I’m not exaggerating the escalation from a regular argument to a full screaming match was insane.

I was just so upset and it felt like she didn’t even see me as person who just needs a break sometimes. I was too scared to see if she would really call the police so i went to school. So, here i am silently fuming in class. I don’t even know if i’ll get through school with how mentally exhausted i am. Thats basically it. Just tell me if i’m in the wrong or over reacting or if i’m in the right. I’m such a mixture of angry and exhausted that none of this might make sense, but whatever. Thank you so much for listening.

Hi!!!

Well, I think there are separate parts to this:

Your mom isn't listening to your emotions. This happens a lot with parents, and it's frustrating. Even though she was making a valid point with the truancy, threatening to call the police and throwing her own (irrelevant) work in your face wasn't the way to do it. I've always wondered why parents think kids are going to listen if they aren't given the respect of the acknowledgement of their feelings.

The entire argument is difficult because, there are layers here. from what you're telling me, your mother is some of the reason you have some of these unexcused absences, because she hasn't done the paperwork. But I also am wondering, how can you even be considered truant if you're 18? And, at age 18, isn't it your decision? I'm confused on the laws here.

Given all of this...would I personally risk skipping school if I was risking truancy? Probably not. But I've always been afraid to get in trouble.

But I feel like that's not even the biggest issue. Can your mom not send the doctor notes to school to get some of your previous absences excused?

Also...the petty part of me is like...your mom is saying she has to go to work...but you have to go to work and school. so that's not an argument.

I feel like your mom didn't handle this well, to be honest. I know she's trying to prevent you from getting in trouble, but there were other ways to do it. I hope that makes sense?

Also, I hope work is going well! I'm naming you school anon.

[bardic-tales]

Sinking

Rating: General

Word Count: 1299

Warnings: pet illness. Pet death. Death. Illness Religious mentions

Summary: Dealing with a pet’s fatal diagnosis just days after learning about it.

Author’s Note: We learned about Loki’s illness May 5th, and the doctor told us that it was fatal and there is nothing we can do. He can be gone two weeks to a year from now. I’m having trouble coping, but I’m also going through the stages of grief. I’m at anger now.

I also want to thank everyone for being so supportive. I'm not fun to be around at the present, but I want to say that the likes and comments have touched me.

I don't know when I will feel up to working on Cold as Ice, as his diagnosis killed any drive I may have. I just roleplay to keep me distracted, and that is not working now.

Forgive any grammar mistakes. I wrote this as a free writing exercise, and ran it through Pro Writing Aid to catch the more obvious grammar mistakes. I'm just too tired emotionally and physically to edit deeper than that.

1.

Black. Sickening. Sinking Thoughts. Those are all feelings that I am experiencing right now. They all tell me to be thankful that you are still here, but they don’t understand that I am watching you waste away. What can I do to make them understand?

You’re more than just a pet to me. You were the one who was the support for my daughter when her grandfather passed on just two weeks after we got you. Your fur was slick with tears.

And for all of this support, you only asked for love, and that is what you got from us. Unconditional love. An abundance of treats to eat, the comfortable bed you rest in, and all the snuggles you desire.

Grief grows in me like the cancer grows in you. I don’t see you lesser than what you were, but I can’t help but feel as if it were my fault. If I could turn back time, I would insist that you had that $2,000 cat scan, but it would have been a Hail Mary. There is no guarantee it would have even caught the tumor that must have been growing in your brain. I only could do one thing: make your last days comfortable.

For two years, I have been waiting for a diagnosis or a reason you had that awful seizure, the one that rushed us to the emergency vet an hour and a half away. For any kind of explanation of why your seizure happened. I got comfortable. I thought the worst was behind us and the wonderful days were ahead. They were, but at the end of that hopeful tunnel lay shattered glass. This diagnosis broke my soul into a million pieces. All I can do is act as I normally do.

I pray. I pray to the gods I worship and the ones that I don’t. I bargain. I plead. I clench my fists, rally against all of my beliefs, and cry to the heavens. It’s unfair. It’s akin to a knife shoved deep into my heart, and the wound feels like it will never heal. It will fester and grow. It blackens my heart and my soul.

If it hurts this much, how will it feel when you are gone? When I can’t reach over and stroke your fur or wipe the drool from your mouth. They say I will know when to let you go, and as I sit with the morning light creeping through the darkened sky, trying to brighten the day, I realize that my day will never be bright for a long time.

In the morning light, I blink. I type these words in watery, blurred vision, and I asked myself one question. How could I ever have prepared myself? How could I say goodbye to the one who has taught me how to love, what life and living are about? The one who would wrap his body around my head as a migraine blazed or curled up against my back as I lean over and throw up in the bucket by my bed.

My heart is in pieces as days with you are ending, but I try to look on the bright side and show you how much I love you. If I had to live my life over again, I would have decided earlier that I was ready to adopt another animal, and then, you wouldn’t have spent those two years in the shelter, hoping for the day that your family — my husband, my daughter, and us — would come and get you.

When we gave you a forever home, that was the start of our bond. You became sick and almost died when we brought you home. There were moments when you were still and I brushed your luxurious fur, hearing you purr at the attention.

Now, I groom your dull fur. Your coat is thinning, and we can see the muscle loss in your hind legs, the legs that you used to jump to catch all those bird toys.

Tears spill from my eyes. The grief continues to be all-encompassing, the type of grief that burrows into you and eats away at all of your emotions. I have stopped feeling numb, and I now am questioning what type of God allows a family member like you to develop a cancer like that? Haven’t you suffered enough before you came to me?

I asked myself every day how someone could have left a box of kittens on the SPCA’s doorsteps in the middle of February. The staff loved you. You were their office cat, and you adored their affection. When we adopted you, they wept. You — the sweetest and most gentile cat — would turn a dog lover into an animal lover.

As I stroked you, I promised you would never feel pain again a day in your life. I promised you would never lack for love, and you return that tenfold. As you reached out for my daughter’s affection, you helped her overcome her fear of cats. You saw through my husband’s breakdown, and my own grief at hearing my grandfather and Logan might not survive the coming year. When we heard of Julia’s death, you offered a kind paw to my daughter and licked her cheek as tears streamed down her face.

I should mourn you when you are gone and not feel grief now. The family member’s words still echo in my mind. This family member is not the one who is charting your good and bad days. I know if more bad days outweigh the good that we will have to speak of euthanasia with the vet, and that is one talk I do not wish to have, but if it will make you hurt less, then I will have the conversation for you. Your comfort means more to me than a festering migraine I get from crying.

As I sit here and write this, reflecting upon the good and the bad, a small, tiny ginger blur darts across the floor. Sky. I clung to the notion that you have led Sky to us, to help us when you are tired of this cruel, forsaken world.

He has your pattern in his ginger fur. When he looks down, all we can is you, but this is dangerous. Sky will not grow up in your shadow. Your paws are too big for him to follow in, but he, most likely, will try. We will love him, but Sky is not you. He will never be you. Sky is Sky.

Since Saturday, I felt numb as if I was floating on air. This is how I would rather deal with the possibility of you being gone in two weeks. My family told me to look on the bright side as I should just 'put you to sleep', but that is easy for them when they haven’t experienced a bond like ours. They do not know that you still eat, still drink, still use the restroom, and still play like you did in December. But how much longer do we have those times? When will you stop zooming around the house? When will you stop daintily picking your food from your bowl — which is now just a flat plate as I don’t want the tumor to cause you discomfort?

The dam holding all my feelings back cracked yesterday. I sat on the bed as I was wiping you down with the bath towelettes. My face felt moist and hot to the touch. Lifting my hand to my face, I pulled it away and looked at the fingers where wetness clung to the digits. Tears.

Once again, I feel stuck and sick. I no longer feel numb. The emotion overwhelming and darkening my thoughts. Black. Sickening. Sinking thoughts.

[geraniums-red]

800 days of Duolingo

I’ve now done 800 days of learning languages on Duolingo.  This means I passed the two year mark about 70 days ago.  Congratulations to me!

General thoughts

Duolingo practice is still a thing that I’m happy to do every day.  It’s got less fun as the lessons have got harder, but the positives still outweigh the negatives.  I’ve changed how I use it to make it easier so it stays on the right side of the fun/frustrating scale, but I am still tinkering with how I use it.  I now only do one language a day, and I rotate through the three, so each gets its fair share of training time and brain.  The Duolingo UI update has changed how progress is recorded, so it’s hard to get a sense of how much new stuff I’m learning vs how much I’m doing consolidation of stuff I already know, but I think it’s more on the consolidation side, and has been for some time. 

French

French is my ‘easy’ language, in that I am going through sections that I tested out of, in order to make sure I actually know the content.  There are normally a couple of things I don’t know, but mostly it’s just revision, so I’m making quite rapid progress.  Duolingo approves of this, and is happy to award me lots of points. 

Duolingo thinks I should be on section 62; I am actually working on converting section 40 from gold to purple via doing the little tests at the end of each section.  This at least means I have something to use as a bookmark for progress.  The new Duolingo UI update has turned the sections into an extremely long ribbon, and there’s no way to compress sections or jump between them.  I spend an annoying amount of time guessing how far to pull the scroll bar at the side of the screen, and then navigating from there to where I actually want to be.  There are about five more gold sections, and then I’m into a solid block of purple that Duolingo thinks I already know (probably because I did at one point in the past).  I’ll probably have to do some more revision to get through that, although at that point it’ll be harder to keep track of where I am. 

French has two phantom mistakes which it dutifully reports that I have, and then refuses to test me on.  This doesn’t stop me from doing anything, but it’s annoying that I never get the congratulatory ‘you have cleared all your mistakes!’ screen.  (Welsh also has a phantom mistake.)

Japanese

Japanese is a tricky language for me.  I think the UI refresh has actually improved my experience for this one, because it spends more time drilling me on past stuff, so I no longer have to choose between ‘too easy’ and ‘too hard’.  It’s nice to have the mix of difficulties and content in a single lesson, and it’s nice to have the drills that test my ability to match kana (phonetic representation) to kanji (symbolic representation) or English to Japanese without having to deal with the rest of the phrase. 

As with French, I am working at well below what Duolingo thinks my ability is.  It thinks I am on section 20; actually I’m starting at anywhere between sections 10 and 14 and working backwards through the practice exercises until my brain gets tired.  I’ll promote myself when the exercises start feeling easy enough to be boring.  I have a feeling that won’t be for a while, though.  

Welsh

Duolingo and I are almost in agreement about where I should be in Welsh!  It thinks I should be working through section 8, and I think I’m repeatedly hitting my head on the test at the end of section 7.  My main complaint for Welsh is that the practice exercises don’t replicate the difficulty, or even the vocabulary, of the tests that come immediately afterwards.  Testing should be for checking what I know, not for teaching me new vocabulary! 

As well as this, the UI update has removed the old grammar tips for Welsh and not replaced them with anything.  This is very unhelpful, as Welsh has a lot of grammar, and it would be nice to have an overview of how agreements work rather than a bunch of isolated examples. 

However, I am slowly getting to grips with the past tense, and each successfully translated sentence feels like I have solved a little logic puzzle.  In Welsh, at least, I am making progress. 

[michael-aftons-nonbinary-lover]

Hello :) I saw that your requests were open so i’m taking the chance now but if they aren’t feel free to ignore this by all means!!

William with a child who’s normally really quiet and shy that has been holding in everything and when they eventually can’t anymore they just scream and cry and break just a bunch of things and he kinda just lets them because he knows how much they need this? and he lets them take as much anger out that they need on him if they have to and when they finally pass out from exhaustion he just brings them to their bed?

Sorry if this is a weird as i just thought it was a nice idea :) if you’re uncomfortable with this ask due tell me.

That's it. You guys keep sending me painful asks so this is what you get>:(/lh

Smile for the Picture

-(Dad!William Afton and Afton kid!reader)-

-(Summary: the ask, eel oh eel)-

-(TW: mentions of child death and missing sibling, underaged drug use, divorce/split parents, slight religious mention)-

-(I know Crying Child doesn't have a canon name, so please pretend his name is Evan for sake of the fic. Also, sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes, I don't wanna fix that rn🤩)-

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Everything was getting to be too much.

Your younger brother, Evan, had died last year. The devastation of his death still haunted you daily, and you had frequent nightmares about the incident. Your sister Elizabeth was still missing, probably dead in a ditch on the side of the road in some place only God knew of. Your older brother Michael was constantly high, never making time for you. Any time he did try to, he smelled like weed and was completely out of it. His eyes were always red and watery, a tired, melancholy smile sometimes gracing his face.

You wanted to slap the shit out of him just thinking about it. It wasn't fair that he got to forget his problems all the time. It was his fault Evan was dead. His fault that you and your father went to see Evan's grave once a month instead of being able to see Evan whenever you wanted to.

Speaking of your father, it felt like he was never there either. He went to work early in the morning and came home late at night, sometimes completely forgetting that you and Michael even existed and spending days at his job instead of home with his children where he needed to be.

You both needed him. Of course, Michael had given up hope that your father would come back home and give two shits very early on.

"Eventually he'll turn out just like Mom and up and fucking leave us for some big city life in New York or some shit. Here, come take a hit, it'll make you feel better."

Michael was a dumb 16 year old, but maybe you were an even dumber 15 year old.

You were just so mad and so tired. You never let anyone know that you were mad or tired or anything. It would just cause more problems for everyone you knew.

Stomping down the stairs, you went to grab a glass of water. You let yourself fumble with the tap as you waited for the glass to fill. You had just woken up from a dream about your father leaving you and your brother. Just like your mother had. You didn't want him to leave, but he kept spending more and more time away from you. What if Michael was right?

Emptying the glass, you set it gingerly on the counter, debating on filling it again. You stared at it for a while, as if it would make all your problems go away. As if the glass could make your sister return home. The small 7-year-old, would have to be around the age of 10, by now. As if the glass could make your mother return to you, make her come home and return to smothering you all in her love and warm gestures, instead of modeling and drinking wine with strange men in New York. As if the glass could make your older brother stop going to bonfire parties with his friends, only to come home at the ass crack of dawn, smelling like weed, cheap beer, and cigarettes. As if the glass could make your father love his family more than his business.

The thoughts enraged you, causing you to raise the cup over your head and throw it to the ground as hard as you could. The tempered glass shaped into a cup shattered easily, scattering a million tiny shards all over the floor.

That wasn't enough. You were still so fucking mad. As you began to pull dishes of all types out of the cupboards in which they were stored, you didn't notice your father's mauve Mercedes pull into the driveway.

You continued your rampage of blind rage, knocking over end tables, chairs, coat racks, shoe racks, and anything else that was in your way. It wasn't until you had accidentally broken the picture frame of the last sibling photo with all of you in it that you came back to your senses.

The summer of '81, when your family had taken a trip down to California. The picture was taken at Santa Monica Pier by your father, and you vividly remember him and your mother making silly faces at the four of you to get you all to pay attention to the camera. The best part of it, though, were the contents of the photo itself. It featured Evan sitting on your hip, eyes watery from lightly crying about the roller coaster Michael had made him go on. He made a brave face for the camera, laughing at both the silly faces of your parents and the kisses you had bombarded his forehead with. The then 9-year-old was small for his age, very short and seemingly malnourished compared to the other kids in his class. But he was happy, usually playing by himself anyways. Michael, being the rambunctious 13-year-old he was, held your 7-year-old sister on his shoulders, was sticking his tongue out at the camera and crossing his eyes. Elizabeth laughed from her seat on Michael's growing bones, head thrown back, a large smile evident on her face.

She had gone missing three months later. Then Evan had died two years after that, and now everything was shit. Complete and utter shit.

"NO, no no! Please, please go back! GO BACK!" you yelled, trying in vain to fix the broken frame.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing with that?"

Your head snapped towards your father's booming voice, tear-streaked face looking up at him from your place on the ground.

"Let go of that, you've hurt yourself! What are you thinking?"

A new fit of rage stormed inside of your heart, a fresh wave of tears clouding your vision.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! All of this is your fault! Lizzie's gone, Evan's dead, Mom fucking left us, and it's all. YOUR. FAULT!"

Your father took light steps towards you, gently dropping to his knees and shrugging off his suit jacket.

He tore off the left sleeve, then ripped it in half, trying to quickly get his hands on a makeshift bandage.

"Come here, come here, you're all right, it's ok. Let me see your hand, please."

"NO! All of this happened because of you. I- I don't know why but it did, and it's all your fault, and it can't ever go back. WHY CAN'T WE JUST GO BACK TO HOW IT WAS? Everything hurts, Dad, I hate this. I hate this, and I hate Mom, and I hate Mike and I hate you too!"

William's felt his heart nearly stop at your words. Things like this were never supposed to happen. You were all supposed to grow, and live long, and be happy, but now his youngest two were dead, and his second eldest was crying themselves to near dehydration near the family sofa.

He pulled you into his arms, and you gave into your exhaustion quickly, loud sobs slowly turning into quiet sniffles. He rocked you gently, petting your head, and shushing you every so often.

Eventually, you passed out from crying. Michael had gotten home from tutoring in that time. Your head hurt and your hand was still bleeding. William carried you to the kitchen first, washing and bandaging your hand before it could be hurt more.

He trudged up the stairs lightly, softly opening the door to Michael's room. Mike had fallen asleep with his head on his desk, pencils digging into his cheek. William placed you gently onto Mike's bed for a moment, shaking Michael awake.

"Hm?" Michael zipped around, dazed.

"Go to sleep, grades can wait."

Mike nodded, flopping down onto the part of his bed not being occupied by you and instantly falling back asleep.

William lifted you again, carrying you back to your own room. Placing you down on your warm duvet, he tucked you in lightly, kissing your forehead and hugging you once again.

You softly hugged him back.

"Goodnight, Dad. I'm sorry I broke so much, and I'm sorry I said I hate you. I don't hate you, I-"

You cut yourself off with a sob, William patting your back once more.

"Just go to sleep for now, Sweet Pea, we'll work all this out in the morning."

You nod tiredly, laying back down and turning away.

William stood, flicking the light switch off and closing your door.

He had a lot of cleaning to do.

(sorry this is so long. Also, since I've gotten so many angsty requests, you guys finally get angst. This is my first time writing angst tho, so please be nice, ok bye!)

[forsakenmis]

Calming her down

Title: Calming her down Pairing: top!Wanda Maximoff x female!reader Rating: 18+ Incredibly NSFW Warnings: Dark Wanda, kind of non-con, strap on, fingering, mummy kink, post-WV finale so spoilers if you haven’t seen it. also i haven’t editted it so beware grammar and spelling mistakes. Word count:  4215 words

It had taken far too long to track her down. Why they asked you to do it, you weren’t really sure. It’s not as if you and Wanda ever really talked, or even made eye contact, during the years as an avenger. Yet you were given the task of pulling her back onto the rails, rails she’s apparently veered pretty badly. You really think Doctor Strange, the Gandalf of wizards, would be a lot better at handling her than you would be. Or even Clint, the guy who was her mentor. But no-no one wanted to reach out to her, even though they spent years arguing that she needed to be supervised. You could go on for days how you being the person being sent is the most ridiculous idea they could have had.

You weren’t even a super, or an avenger, you started off as a shield agent who was then thrown into Stark Industries as Tony’s intern. Fury wanted an in and you were that in. Then everything went bottoms up and you became a slightly more valuable member of the group. Support, really.

After the snap, you just wanted a stable life. A normal life. By the time they contacted you to do this, you’d applied to a college. No, a university. In Australia, which was far, far away from New York. The briefing was simple. Wanda, left to her own devices in her time of need, went to try to handle her own grief after stealing Vision’s body from S.W.O.R.D. You were being asked to go try to talk some sense into her. Then, within the week of you repeatedly saying no, it turned out the head of S.W.O.R.D. was a bastard which you could have seen coming from a mile away, and Wanda was god knows where.

They promised you they’d leave you alone after this.

So you said yes.

What could go wrong?

You were still asking herself that three weeks later when you were sitting there still trying to find out where exactly she went. Wanda wasn’t going to be easy to find, especially considering she didn’t want to be found but you did it. It was four in the morning when you finally narrowed down a list of ten possible locations that she could be in. You were too tired to even crack a smile, you fell back onto your bed to sleep.

Your celebration was sleep for by the next morning, you were trekking across the world and came to the outskirts of a property with the view of the mountains. Pretty, sure, but you didn’t think Wanda was here for the view.

It was eerily quiet when you walked up to the door. That type of quiet they put into horror movies before they pulled out a jump scare. You didn’t trust it. Then again-not that there was anything around to make noise. Wanda could be asleep, as maybe all this isolation has meant she’s forsaken a body clock.

Still-you trusted it as much as you could lift Mjollnir and you couldn’t even make it shift.

The curtains were closed, you couldn’t see anything as you walked up the two steps and you had to stop your hand from hovering over your handgun. It would have been more of a self assurance. You couldn’t dream of winning against Wanda in a fight, both of you would be aware of that, but you couldn’t exactly imagine she’d be that trusting of you if you walked in holding a gun. So you fiddled with the watch around your wrist, it was a gift from Tony years ago.

You could have brought reinforcement, sure, but that seemed like a moot point considering you were trying to gain her trust, somewhat. The reinforcement would have been S.W.O-oh whatever, sword, you don’t have the time for formality. And sword made such a huge mess of it the first time round so you didn’t think they were going to help this time round. You tried calling Clint, but he was busy, apparently. Too busy to pick up your calls.

This was definitely a suicide mission.

You knocked three times with the back of your knuckles and listened, trying to hear any hint of movement.

Nothing.

You knocked again. Knock. Knock. Knock. Not even a creak.

Maybe she was asleep or maybe, dare you say it, had gotten it wrong. God, you’d hate for some old man to swing the door open.

Your hand dropped to the handle, going to test the lock, but then it swung open and if it wasn’t for your own instincts, you would have stumbled forward.

Wanda.

Your eyes slammed onto her face and, for the first time in years, you fumbled. She looked different, way too different for your liking, she looked older since Tony’s funeral. Mature. More confident in herself. You could think of a different million ways to describe her in that split second.

She’d always been pretty before but this Wanda was…gorgeous. This Wanda could also read minds.

You cut your thoughts short and took in a slight breath. Wanda wasn’t saying anything and her only acknowledgement was the slight hook of her brow.

“Wanda,” you began before forcing a smile onto yourself, “long time no see.”

“So they sent you, of all people,” Wanda remarked and you made a face. Sure-she was right but that was, quite frankly, rude.

“They suggested I come and I wanted to come,” you lied, “to see how you were doing...okay, look, I know we never talked. Or interacted. I know that. I was probably not the most open to you as I could have been.” Wanda was continuing to stare at you. She was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. A shirt that arguably was one size too small for her. You weren’t really sure what to say, if you were honest, you’d spent so much time trying to find her, tracking her down like a puzzle, that you forgot to plan for this interaction.

“But I like to think we were on good terms,” you continued. Worst thing she could do was close the door in your face and you were more than happy to camp outside. “Enough that you’ll hear me out. I heard about your book, the darkhold–” That’s when you got a reaction out of her. Her eyes narrowed, growing even colder, and you could see her grip tightening on the door. “–we need to talk. Please-just let me in. I’m not going to fight you. We both know I can’t do that.”

You were keeping your thoughts clear. You didn’t want her reading you.

After a second, Wanda swung the door open wider and let you in.  

Your eyes scanned the room the moment you entered the threshold, looking for all the exits, before you turned back to Wanda. Wanda, who had closed the door, and had started walking towards you, close enough that you took a step back but found yourself hitting the back of a table.

Now that she was right up in your personal space, close enough that you could smell the soap she was using. Your heart was beating now.

“So you came for the book?” She asked, staring down at you. She was only a couple of inches taller than you but it may as well have been more.

“No, I came here to help you. And I know that book isn’t helping you, no matter how much you think it is. Wanda, that book is dangerous,” you said, gaining enough courage that you pushed yourself off the table to step forward, getting into Wanda’s space just as she was in yours.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Wanda remarked but she didn’t move. “You’re as bullheaded as you used to be, never knowing when a fight was too big for you. I remember all those times Nat and Steve had to throw themselves on the line because you’d done something reckless.” “That’s rich coming from you.” “I could protect myself,” Wanda snapped back. “So where are they? The rest of them. The people that said they were my family. Were you all that they had?”

You clenched your teeth. Don’t say the truth. “They wanted a woman’s touch with it,” you lied. “There isn’t that many of us who were close to you back then anymore.”

It was really only Nat and maybe Pepper who were close to Wanda. Both were a little preoccupied as of right now (for different reasons) to come knocking on Wanda’s door.

“A woman’s touch?” Wanda echoed, saying it in a way that made you clench your teeth. It was a raspy whisper. “And what, may I ask, would that entail?”

With the way she said it, you were pretty sure that Wanda wasn’t meaning it in the same way you were. Albeit, your meaning was rather off as well. In that you had no idea what that would entail either.

Wanda must have realised this and took a step back. “I suggest you leave,” she said and you hesitated before shaking your head.

“I won’t do that,” you said and she frowned. “They asked me to calm you down–”

“Calm me down?” She repeated, pronouncing each syllable, and it was as if the temperature dropped ten degrees. “Calm me down.” Then she smirked and it made you roll back on your heels.

“As long as you have that book, yes,” you said, “how about this–I take the book and then I go. You’ll think more rational without it, Maximoff, you know that. Deep down. You’re smart, Wanda, smarter than anyone ever gave you credit for. Besides Vision–”

“Don’t say his name,” Wanda snarled and suddenly she was in front of you again, hand around your throat, “do you understand me? He doesn’t exist here, not with you around.”

You didn’t really know what she meant but you ran with it and nodded. Her hand was tight and your airway was becoming a little too blocked for your liking.

She stared down at you, her eyes hard and cold, but then they softened and her grip loosened but they still didn’t leave your skin.

“You know, I might have pursued you back then, if it wasn’t for him,” Wanda began and you blinked. What? “You were everything I liked in a girl. Besides your recklessness….and stubbornness...but I think I can deal with that pretty easily.”

“Wanda, I’m flattered, really, but how about we focus,” you said, carefully, deciding to take that with a grain of salt and then over analyse it at three in the morning. Like how could you be cock blocked by a bloody robot? “Just give me the book and I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll make sure no one comes looking for you–” “You can’t promise me that,” Wanda remarked before she dropped her hand to take a step back. Then she looked you up and down. “You said they wanted you to calm me down, right? How about I keep both you and the book.”

You would like to say you were able to fight back. Prevent Wanda from knocking you out. But you were gone by the time she finished her sentence.

----

When light streamed into your eyes, the first thing you registered was the soft pillow underneath your head. Then you felt the rest of the bed and your eyes sprung open.

Your legs were bent up and out, Wanda’s red mist wrapped around your ankles and knees to keep them up. Meanwhile, your wrists were stuck to the headboard. Then your eyes rested on….Wanda?

Transparent Wanda reading that bloody book. You swear to god-you’ll burn that book the moment you get your hands–

“You’ll do no such thing,” Wanda’s voice cut through your apparently rather loud thoughts. You turned your head, trying to find her, and there she was in the doorway, sipping a cup of tea, watching you. Then she kicked off it and moved into the room and slid the mug onto a table before coming to the bed. “Maybe I’ll let you hold it one day as I read it.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand, Wanda, let me go,” you whispered as you began to struggle, pulling on the restraints again and again, but they weren’t budging. Neither was Wanda.

“I don’t think I want to,” Wanda hummed as she pushed herself onto the bed, “you see, I lost everything. My brother, Vision, Nat, Steve, my two boys, then Vision again. I lose every single family I ever have. Maybe this time I’ll succeed. I’m trying to find them, you see, with the book. Find them and pull them out. We can live here, happy, away from everyone.”

“We’ve done this story before Wanda, it didn’t–” “This time will be different, I’ll be more powerful, I won’t mess up this time,” Wanda pressed as her hands went to your inner thighs, moving them up and down your clothed skin. “And, when it comes to you, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. I don’t think I’ll let them see you. No, you can be my little secret. I stared at you for too many years, let you whore yourself out to other people. Not anymore.”

You drew your brows together. This couldn’t be happening.

“As you said, you’re meant to calm me down, right? Meant to pull me off some edge because everyone else was just too busy,” Wanda said as she positioned herself between your legs, bending down to kiss your jawline. You throbbed and pulled on the red strands wrapped around your wrist, but to no avail. “But I can think of another edge you can get close to,” she whispered as she pulled away again.

“Wanda, what are you–”

Her fingers slid in between your thighs, pressing into your heat, and a sharp gasp left your mouth. She began to rub through your jeans, cupping your heat, and you tugged again. This time, the red scratched the watch around your wrist and suddenly your clothes had snapped into the red armour Tony had built you years ago. Protective armour that replaced whatever you were wearing in a nick of time.

Useful.

The shift was enough to push Wanda off you and she stared down at the red and black armour with a slight tilt of her head.

“Well, that won’t do, will it?” She asked as her hands trailed down the cool metal. “Neat trick. Tony’s design, right?”

“Of course,” you responded after a moment, your chest rising up and down. There was no point in denying it-it was obviously Tony’s. Right down to the colours.

Wanda’s eyes turned red as the red mist circled around her hand as she lowered it back down. You flinched when you felt it slink in between the small crevices. The suit was meant to be protected against outside substances, able to go into water, but you supposed Tony didn’t exactly build it against Wanda.

“Wanda, you don’t–” “If you don’t be quiet, I’ll make you, do you understand me?” She hissed as she bucked her hand backwards and the suit around your hips ripped off you and tossed across the room. You whined as the cold air hit your bare skin, contrasting the building heat in between your legs.  

You were left with nothing but the top half and the pants that wrapped around your thigh. “Much better.”

With that, she went back to what she was doing before but this time there was nothing to prevent her from slipping her fingers through your slick folds, the tips of her nails teasing your entrance.

“Look at you, already so wet,” she cooed and you gritted your teeth. This really couldn’t be happening. This was a dream. She could control reality, this was just a dream. “This isn’t me in your head, sweetheart, trust me–I would have cut the foreplay if I was creating this.”

She continued to massage your heat and it took you everything you had not to moan.

“Why are you…” you tried saying but you were cut short, once again, when her fingers found your hooded clit, using the tips of her nails to start playing with it. You bucked your hips instinctively and she chuckled.

“You said you wanted to help me, right?” Wanda asked and the building heat was beginning to become a little too much. “So how about this, sweetheart, you help mummy out by becoming mummy’s little stress reliever.”

Two fingers suddenly plunged into your entrance and your back arched. At least your clit got a little bit of a break but it wasn’t long until her palm began to grind against it as she thrusted the fingers into your tight entrance. Each thrust expanded your walls, letting her in even deeper, your own arousal making her movements slick and quick.

“Wand-” you began to moan but it morphed into a sharp yelp when she pulled her fingers out to slap your cunt.

“You’re a smart girl, sweetheart, it’s how you got around Tony for so long. I think you know exactly what you want to be calling me,” she said and suddenly she was back down so that her face was only inches away from yours and her fingers slid back inside of you.

Unlike last time, though, it wasn’t rough and sharp. Her fingers were slow as they moved inside of you, curling at the tips, scratching your walls. Exploring. She was exploring you and you could do nothing but whimper and moan.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know you would. Look at you, already so wet and submissive for me,” she whispered, scattering kisses down your jawline as she reached your ear to nibble on your earlobe. “I’ll keep you in here for as long as I need you. Ride your pretty little mouth as I read that book, fill you up again and again until you’re passing out. All you have to do is be a good little girl.”

Heat was curling through your body, that buzzing sort of heat, that made your vision blur. Your teeth were clamped together. You wanted to moan, they were in your throat, but even when you opened your mouth, no sound came out. Just silent moans. The fingers moving inside of you had grabbed all your attention.

Then she scratched that little sweet spot and it was that that pushed out a moan that bounced around the room. Wanda laughed, hitting it again and again.

“Let your mummy hear your moans, sweetheart,” she said before she pulled back to kiss you on the mouth, biting hard on your lip so you wouldn’t even try to close your mouth and stop the tongue that slid into your mouth.

Your stomach was twisting into knots at this point and seemed like every other muscle seemed to be cramping. You were close to climax. Your walls clenched around Wanda’s fingers. Just a little bit–

You groaned when she peeled herself off you. You blinked up at her, looking through what seemed like tears, as you were denied that relief. Relief from the throbbing coming from your cunt.

“You want to cum, baby?” Wanda asked as she pulled off her shirt. Underneath was a simple black bra that was quickly disposed of. Your eyes, naturally, landed on her chest. A chest that, even under the circumstances, made you drool. Wanda’s clicking your fingers drew your eyes back up. “Eyes on mummy, sweetheart. God, you really are a little whore, aren’t you? Tell me-do you want to cum?” You pulled on your restraints just once more but all it seemed to do was to make it even tighter.

You nodded, jerkily.

“Use your words, sweetheart, I very clearly established you’re not mute,” Wanda remarked as her fingers went down to her jeans, fiddling with her button.

“Yes. Please, I want to,” you mumbled, knowing you won’t be coming back from this point. Then again-if she could make you feel like that again...maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Wanda tilted her head as she hummed, not having to move much to slap your sore cunt again and you jerked. “Say it politely and maybe I’ll consider it.” You scrunch your eyes shut and mewled when she began to knead your pulsating clit again. “M-mummy, please,” you whispered and her hands left your cunt. Before you could even open your eyes, you felt her lips on yours. Soft, gentle...loving.

“Good girl...that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She asked and you could hear the ruffling of her pants as she kicked them off. “Now...mummy’s going into your head, okay? I promise it won’t be long.” You began to struggle again but the warmth of her powers quickly washed over you. Your memories began playing the past three months. You tracking her down. Refusing back up.

Then she was out again.

“You really told no one where you were going? Almost as if you wanted this to happen,” She said as she shifted on top of you. Shifted that you felt something rub up against your entrance and you flinched. She...she was packing. “Of course I am, sweetheart, do you really think I wasn’t prepared for you? I knew you were coming from a mile away, honey.”

And with that, she pushed the strap inside of you, not bothering to wait for you to adjust until she was completely inside of you. You arched your back again, pressing into Wanda’s naked body, as the pain of being ripped open rushed through your body. You moaned and grunted as you grew adjusted to the width and length of Wanda.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Wanda murmured into your lips and suddenly your wrists were freed. But then her own hands came up to wrap around them to press them against the pillows herself. “I know you’ve taken bigger. Do you think we didn’t know? Didn’t know you and Nat were fucking every other night?” The comment drew you out, just for a moment, and you shook your head but all she did was pull back slightly to slam inside of you again.

“Don’t lie to me,” Wanda snarled, “tell me, tell me the truth. Use your words.”

It took only a few more thrusts of her strap filling you up again and again that the words began to spill out of your lips. “S-she found out. About my status as a shield status. Fuck,” you hissed out, barely able to hear your own words over the lude noises of Wanda beginning to pound into you. This wasn’t fair-you couldn’t dream of talking when she was fucking you like this.

“So you whored yourself out to her to make sure she kept her mouth shut,” Wanda said, finishing the sentence and you nodded jerkily. “You little slut. I bet you liked it too, just like how you like me pounding into you. But you’re mine now. Not hers. Not Tony’s. Mine. My little whore.”

She shifted upwards so that her chest was dangling above your face. “Suck your mommy's tit, baby, I saw you admire them before.”

It was a welcome change, you had to admit, to trying to formulate sentences and words around the moans and screams spilling out of your mouth. Your head leaned forward, closing the distance, so your mouth could wrap around her erect nipple and your walls clenched around her strap as you heard her moan.

Her hand moved to the top of your head, her nails scraping against your scalp as she interwove her fingers through your messy hair. Your tongue lapped at the small bud between your teeth and she began to move her hips in time with your tongue.

Your now free hand wrapped around her body so your nails were digging into her shoulder, drawing Wanda down even closer so you could take more of her tit into her mouth.

The same heat that had built before was coming back, and you weren’t sure how long you could hold on at this point.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby, just this once,” Wanda purred, hearing your thoughts, and it was all you needed, that confirmation, to come undone. Your walls clenched around the strap and you could feel Wanda slowing down as thrusting became just a tad more difficult and you screamed into her tits, careful not to clamp your jaw shut, as the orgasm rushed through you.

Even through it, she continued moving inside of you, and you almost felt like you could pass out.

“Good girl,” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I could get used to this. I’m going to keep you in here, do you hear me? Make you a good little whore for me to come home to.” They did say your mission was to help Wanda calm down.

[perpetual-stories]

A Complete Guide To Different Points of Views

happy Friday everyone! Is doing well, I know I’m trying to do better a bit every day.

it’s hard but I think I am doing better...

What Is Narrative Point of View?

Point of view is the “eye” or narrative voice through which you tell a story

you must decide who is telling the story, and to whom they are telling it

Three Types of Point of View

There are three primary types of point of view:

First person point of view. In first person point of view, one of the characters is narrating the story. This is generally revealed by the “I” sentence construction and relies on first person pronouns. (“I went to work.”) The reader assumes that this character is closely related to the story’s action—either a main character or someone close to the protagonist. First person narrative can provide intimacy and a deeper look into a character’s mind, but it is also limited by the perceptive abilities of the character. They are confined to report only what they would realistically know about the story, and they are further confined by their own perspective. Nick Carraway of The Great Gatsby (1925) by F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ishmael of Herman Melville’s Moby Dick (1851) are two of the most well-known first person narrators in literature and great examples of this point of view

Second person point of view. Second person point of view is structured around the “you” pronoun, and is less common in novel-length work. (“You thought you could do it.”) Second person can allow you to draw your reader into the story and make them feel like they’re part of the action because the narrator is speaking directly to them. Writing in second person for any great length is a challenge, and will stretch your writing skills. Lorrie Moore is well-known for her innovative use of second person narration in her short story collection Self-Help (1985). Second person point of view is sometimes referred to as second person POV.

Third person point of view. The author is narrating a story about the characters and refers to them with the third person pronouns “he/she.” (“He was hungry.”) This point of view is subdivided into third person omniscient and third person limited. Third person point of view is sometimes referred to as third person POV.

What Is the Difference Between Third Person Omniscient and Third Person Limited?

omniscient narrator knows everything about the story and its characters

This third person narrator can enter anyone’s mind, move freely through time, and give the reader their own opinions and observations as well as those of the characters

think of the omniscient narrator as having a god’s-eye-view of the characters. (“He had been infected with the virus, but he didn’t know it yet.”)

third person limited point of view (often called a “close third”) is when an author sticks closely to one character but remains in third person

This style gives you the ability to be inside a character’s thoughts, feelings, and sensations, which can give readers a deeper experience of character and scene. (“As she watched him leave, she was afraid he’d never come back.”)

How to Choose the Right Point of View in 4 Easy Steps

Try different points of view. The only way to decide the best point of view strategy for your novel is to try different ones. Likely, you’ll know the right one for your story because the writing will begin to move more quickly, and you’ll feel momentum. First person allows you to create intimacy by granting the reader access to your character’s internal monologue. Second person is often made as a stylistic choice; it is a powerful yet potentially overwhelming narrative device that can evoke feelings of confusion or claustrophobia. Third person narrative is a more flexible choice than first or second person. It allows you to switch between characters’ points of view. You can even zoom in and out from complete omniscience to limited or “close” third point of view.

Once you pick a point of view, establish it right away. Whichever narration style you use, it’s important to establish your point of view quickly. Always let the reader know which character’s perspective you’re following in any given scene. If you’re using third person, you should use the character’s name early in the section. Even a simple statement like “Robert felt tired” is enough to convey this information. While you’re in a point of view, stick to it. For example, if you’re narrating from your hero character’s perspective and, in the middle of a scene, you suddenly switch to the point of view of a different character, the disruption will jar your reader out of the story.

Be aware of limitations. Point of view is an essential tool in character development. You’re describing the world through their eyes and letting the reader know what they think and feel. You’ll need to be aware at all times what your characters’ limitations are. Review your writing frequently to scan for mistakes you might have made in giving a character information or opinions they wouldn’t normally have.

Change it up. You don’t have to be tied to one point of view throughout your novel; some novels move from first to third or first to second. But it’s important to note that when you establish point of view, you are creating another type of contract with the reader: that you will adhere to that point of view for the course of the scene. It’s all right to have different subplots told from different points of view throughout your novel, but you should treat each point of view as an individual section or chapter.

Four Ways to Use Point of View

Create suspense. When a reader knows more than the character, as in Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897), and your reader waits for the character to learn what they already know. This tension will keep your reader on the edge of their seat.

Create an unreliable narrator. When a first person narrator knows more than the reader but withholds information from the reader on purpose, in order to manipulate them. Gone Girl (2012) by Gillian Flynn and Rebecca (1938) by Daphne du Maurier are brilliant examples of unreliable narrators.

Create comedic irony. When a first person narrator knows so much less than both the reader and the other characters that it creates comedy. In this strategy, the reader is laughing at the narrator, rather than with him or her. Examples include Gulliver in Gulliver’s Travels (1726) by Jonathan Swift, in which a plain-spoken narrator tells whoppers with a straight face, and A Confederacy of Dunces (1980) by John Kennedy Toole, in which the narrator complains about the ineptitude of other characters, when he is clearly the most inept character of all. An omniscient narrator can also satirize all a story’s characters, as Voltaire does in Candide (1759).

Create tragic irony. The characters know less than the reader. Narrative irony also involves foreshadowing, when the omniscient narrator leaves hints for the reader about something that will happen in the future. When a tragic event has been foreshadowed, but the characters don’t see it coming, a sense of irony is created. You can also create tragic irony in first person point of view, but you have to walk the fine line of having your narrator foreshadow while remaining truly ignorant of what’s going to happen.

There you have it everyone! Please like, comment and reblog if you find this helpful!

Tag me on Instagram at perpetualstories if you share it there!

Follow me on tumblr and Instagram for more writing and grammar tips and more!

[pigeonp0st]

Hi :,) love your fics so so much and I have so many requests so you’ll be hearin from me a bit as long as your requests are open lol! Hope that’s ok❤️ I was wondering if you could write a Nat x reader fic where reader was kidnapped by hydra and tortured and the team finds her and bring her back to the tower but she’s different now she has powers and is extremely mentally scarred?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #7

Words: 2,565

Warnings: Depression, trauma

Notes:

Thank you! I don’t mind at all, thank you for requesting and wanting to in the first place. I think this is my longest fic? Or at least one of...I did it fairly quickly though so sorry for any spelling mistakes and grammar errors.

———

Natasha is scared.

She is more scared than she has possibly ever been, and she’s reckless, and she’s determined, and she’s stupid.

But she finds you. She saves you, and everything else she’s come to regret about the ways she did it, and the way she handled it, doesn’t matter.

She pushes open about the fifteenth door she’s looked through and she sees you, trapped and bloody but alive, tied to a chair, and she’s so full of relief and happiness she doesn’t notice the new haunted look in your eyes.

She rushes towards you, feet pounding on concrete and uncaring of how loud she’s being, and feels tears rush to her eyes.

You’re okay. She saved you.

——-

Natasha is the last person to realize you’re not okay, but perhaps she’s the first to realize the depths of that truth.

She watches you, for the hundredth time since you returned two days ago, and the first ‘wrong’ thing she notices is the way your hand shakes around the spoon you’re eating with.

Then, a couple of hours later she realizes that you’ve hardly spoken.

She hates herself for not noticing sooner, but she has now so she tries to say something, not just about this but about all of the pieces of the broken image Natasha hadn’t allowed herself to see in the relief that she had felt after she had found you.

You’ve always been open and honest with her and she hadn’t thought there’d be a reason for that to change now, but when she asks and reaches out for you you jerk away so fast you almost fall off the bed.

“Don’t touch me, Natasha.”

You growl it out so venomously Natasha is momentary struck frozen. She wonders in the second before you speak again if she has done something wrong.

Then, you release a shaky sad breath and lower your head. “I’m...i’m sorry.”

Natasha says nothing, and so you leave.

—-

“Y/N...she’s not here.”

The mug of coffee Natasha’s holding drops from her hand and shatters violently on the ground. The room is deathly silent, with nothing but the beep from the finished microwave to fill the quiet, and Natasha see’s nothing but you tied and bloodied in the hydra base and hears nothing but the quiet and broken way you had told her you were a “monster now.”

And then she feels nothing but sorrow because this is her fault. She made you pull away, Natasha made you need space from the compound (she asked too many questions again earlier), but she also can’t let you have it.

She is scared again, and she hates how it’s becoming a regular feeling. She’s afraid you're going to get hurt again, so she can’t let you go. Not without her. Not yet.

“I’ll find her,” Natasha grits out, abandoning the glass on the floor and rushing to grab her keys from the kitchen cabinet. “If I don’t in an hour or two i’ll call so you guys can—” Natasha pauses, feeling stupid, “did you...did you call...or text?”

Wanda nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed together. “She answered.”

Everyone waits for Wanda to repeat what you had told her but she doesn’t. Not for a long enough moment that Natasha just considers leaving anyways.

It’s dark out, and it’s thundering, and you didn’t tell anyone you were leaving, so she’s worried. Natasha is worried.

“She said that she needed to escape for a couple of hours, to not come after her, to tell Natasha that she was still breathing.”

A pause. Natasha sets her keys back down.

“She said she was lost, and that she was tired.”

“Lost?” Natasha repeats, her heart stopping for a moment and then leaping into her throat.

“Mentally,” Wanda clarifies, huffing out a sigh.

But you said that you don’t want her to come looking for you, so with all of the will power Natasha can summon she stays, and she waits for you to come home.

——-

Lost, you had told Wanda, but can you be lost when you don’t even remember what you’re searching for anymore. When you don’t remember what it was like to feel ‘home.’

The rain pounds hard on your back, it soaks you wet and makes your clothes stick to your skin the way it did when they were soaked with blood, and it drowns out every noise that isn’t the beat of your heart and the downpour of rain

Hydra had experimented on you and tortured you, and you came out with nothing left of the old you and flames on your hand.

They gave you the power to control fire, to summon fire, to be resistant to it.

That’s what they gave but they took too much more.

The fire you’re supposed to master feels like it’s in you, like it’s burning you away bit by bit and leaving nothing but ashes in its wake, and you’re trying. You tried so hard. You tried to put it out, to stop the change, to reverse it, but you can’t. You can’t so you continue to burn and okay—that was manageable—but it wasn’t supposed to burn Natasha.

It wasn’t supposed to burn your friends.

They look at you now and they see it, Natasha is starting to see it, and you know, you know, you know, they can never love this new you. They will only ache for the loss of the past you—and you never meant to hurt them with change.

There is nothing you can do. All feels lost and hopeless, and you're helpless, so you sit in the rain and shiver with the cold seeping into your skin, and for the first time since you were kidnapped your heart and mind releases itself from the burden of its suffering.

For a moment, looking up at the sky, you’re the old you.

At peace.

——-

You walk into the living room, soaked and dripping water everywhere, and you see Natasha curled up on the couch sleeping.

It stops you in your tracks and has you looking around to check if anyone is there and then moving to crouch by her side to study her.

Even though it feels like every bit of you has changed the love you have for Natasha and the others is still the same. You hadn’t taken time to realize it but it’s such a great relief that you almost release a sob before you manage to bite it down.

The love you have for them is the same, they’re the same, the compound is the same.

As you think about the compound you glance around to see if it truly is the way it was and then you spot a shattered glass mug left on the floor.

It’s Nat’s favorite mug, you realize with a bit of sadness on her behalf.

It isn’t broken too terribly…it’s still recognizable, perhaps it can be pieced back together…

Like you. Maybe. If you still love the way you had, if you still have the memories that you had, maybe it’s enough to make your pieces recognizable enough to be pieced back together.

Or maybe it’s storming outside, and you're soaked to the bone feeling too poetic.

Thunder strikes outside and you jump so violently from both the sound and the images that flash through your head that you almost wake up Natasha.

God, you’re still so pathetic.

With an agonized sigh you push yourself up right again and try to remember where the Avengers keep the super glue.

——

Natasha wakes up slowly then abruptly when she remembers that you’re missing. Fuck, had you not come home last night, Nat wonders, are you hurt, did something happen—

“Y/N fixed your mug,” Clinton says from besides her on the couch, gesturing to the mug on the coffee table. Natasha settles back down. “She said that it probably can’t hold liquid in it anymore, but that if you want to test it and it breaks she’ll fix it again.”

“Where is she?” Natasha asks, ignoring the surge of warmth in her chest in favor of her worry. “Did she look okay?”

“In her room,” he answers, then winces, “or yours.”

“How is she?” Natasha repeats.

Clint thinks about it for a moment. “Physically? I think she’s coming down with a fever. Apparently she was out there in the rain for hours,” He sighs, running a hand through his short hair, “emotionally—”

But Natasha doesn’t let him finish before she’s jumping off the couch and rushing towards your room. You don’t go to hers anymore so when she doesn’t find you in yours she worries that you’ve run again...this time she really can’t let you go. Not while you’re sick.

She can’t—

There’s a note on your bed.

“Stop worrying. I’m in your bed...it’s more comfortable than mine.”

She wishes she could hate how much you know her.

———

When Natasha enters her room it’s to the sound of your raspy coughs and then an out of breath; “i’ve been expecting you.”

Natasha laughs unexpectedly and shakes her head at your ridiculousness. “You’re lighter than usual, despite circumstances,” she says quietly after her laughter dies down.

“Usual,” you repeat, the light in your eyes darkening in an instant. “Usual meaning the past week? Is my...is this me your new normal?”

Natasha doesn’t know what to say, and it seems to make you frustrated.

“You should expect more,” you tell her bitterly, “you should ask for more. You deserve more.”

Natasha steps forward and you physically jolt back. She stops. “You got tortured. What did they do to you?”

You shake your head, once, twice, “stop talking Nat. Stop.”

“You asked me to ask for more. You said I should.”

“I meant other things!” You shout angrily, fire in your eyes. Literally. “I meant you should expect more care, you deserve more than me avoiding you, you—”

“I just want to understand,” Natasha whispers, her shoulders dropping. “I don’t care about anything else, I don’t care if you need to avoid me to deal with things by yourself, but I feel like...like I'm lost too. Like I don’t understand the person I've always understood.”

“Natasha, I'm not ready for you to know me,” you whisper, the weight of her words and your sorrow wrapped around your throat and squeezing out secrets you’d rather keep in.

“You’re not a different person.”

“Yes I am.”

“Hold out your hand.”

You blink at her in shock and confusion but do as you're told. Natasha moves towards you, strides towards you, and you try not to wince, you try not to let the sound of her footsteps bring you to places you’d rather not be.

Her hand reaches for you, you close your eyes—expecting pain because it’s all you ever knew in your haunting week with Hydra—and when you open them again it’s because Natasha has interlaced your fingers.

Her hand...her hand looks the same against yours. It feels the same. She’s touched you since you’ve been back but you were too busy trying not to move away to remember that this used to be the only thing you wanted back when she was just a crush. To hold her hand...then when she became your girlfriend it was a comfort that you thought you’d always seek.

“Is your favorite color still the same?” Natasha asks, voice strong and almost as intense as her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Is your favorite song the same, is your favorite movie the same, is your—”

“All of those things don’t make me who I am,” you stutter, unable to hold her eyes. Where Natasha is strong you are weak. Her strength is the sun, and yours is just a dying light bulb.

“They’re small but they matter,” Natasha insists, looking at you so softly you wonder what she sees.

“Are you still trying?” She asks quietly, “do you still care too much?”

“Yes.”

“You’re in pain,” Natasha notes, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and despising the world for the things it’s done to you when you wince. “You’re scared, traumatized, you leave the room when people are being too loud, you constantly look around, you don’t like people being too close,” she stops, tilting her head. “Care to add?”

“I’m...tired. I don’t even want to get up in the morning for fear of what I'll face through the day—just while doing mundane things. I'm so weak it makes me furious.”

Natasha nods, closing her eyes, “you need to run sometimes, you try so hard to look okay around the others sometimes your jaw physically shakes with the effort, you’re hesitant in everything you do now—”

“Okay.” You cut her off, words shaky. “I get it.”

“I love you. Not loved. I love you. I loved you two weeks ago, before all of this, and I love you in this second just the same,” she cups your cheek and you don’t wince. “I hurt for you. I want to know what you’ve been through, I want you to open up to me, but you’re still Y/N, aren’t you? You’re still the woman I fell in love with.”

“Why are you so sure of that?” You ask, eyes watering.

“You fixed my mug,” Natasha says, breathing out a short huff of laughter. “Thank you.”

“You loved it, Nat.”

“You hated it.”

And okay. “I need time,” you whisper, “time to process and then slowly maybe I can…maybe I can heal.”

With all of the certainty in the world Natasha says; “you will”, and you believe her. “And if you need time then you have it.” She moves to step back, to drop her hand, but you don’t let her.

You grasp her hand where it is on your cheek and with your eyes you beg her to stay, and then you do with your voice too; “not from you. Just please don’t ask me questions about what happened yet. Can we just…” you sigh, glancing down. “Can we just exist together?”

Natasha looks at you, really looks at you, and she sees how vulnerable you are in this moment, how strong, She sees it in the way your hand shakes against her, in the way—

“Say something,” you beg, exasperated, “please.”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha says, chuckling at the glare you give her. “I just love you so much sometimes I need a moment,” and then, she says, easily like there is no other option, like she would want nothing else, “Of course i’ll stay.”

And the sorrow wrapped around your throat like a rope only getting tighter, and the trauma burning away at your insides like an imperishable flame, and the anxiety like boulders on your shoulder only keeping you down, it all goes away.

For a moment, you suspect, just like when you were outside in the rain, but the fact that you can feel this way here, with another person in the room this close to you, with nothing there to drown everything out, it gives you hope.

It’s the first time you’ve seen the light in the darkness, but you think that maybe it was always there.

“Thank you, Natasha. For everything.”

She smiles, softly and full of love. “Thank you for everything, too,” and what she’s really saying is; “thank you for giving me you.”

——

For Part 2 click here

(Takes place about a month later)

[madam-agony]

The Exaggeration of Problematic Ships

WARNING: Mention of Abuse, Death Threats

Hello! In this post, I will explain my point of view on this whole thing about “problematic ships”.

The reason why I decided to discuss about this kind of subject is because I’m completely tired of seeing people throwing hate and bullying other people over something so harmless.

By the way, excuse me if there will be any grammar mistakes.

First of all, I will explain what “problematic ship”, “pro ship” and what “anti” means

“Problematic ship” means a ship between two or more fictional characters, regardless if they’re abusive, age-gapped, blood-related, or just considered wrong in general. (examples of proships: Sebastian x Ciel, Hisoka x Gon, Endeavor x Todoroki, Bakugo x Deku, Illumi x Killua, etc)

“Pro ship” means to believe it’s completely fine for people to ship whatever they want, even if it’s a problematic ship.

“Anti" means to be against pro shippers.

Now, I will explain why being a pro shipper is completely normal and deserve respect just like all of us.

Never compare fiction with reality. It’s dumb and makes no sense when you compare these two different things in a case like this.

A problematic ship would be bad in real life because it does harm someone. Though, in fiction, nobody gets hurt.

We can do whatever the hell we want in fictional world and no one can tell us what to do, and that’s the beauty of it. We can do whatever we want without caring about anyone else. Telling someone to stop fantasizing about something just because you find it wrong is pointless and dumb

Fiction doesn’t affect reality. At least, not in the way to be considered as dangerous. It’s silly to blame a video game for a person’s actions, the game has no fault. An adult is completely aware of what they are doing, so they should know that any action they take has consequences they must consider. If it’s a child or a minor, then it’s the parents’ fault for not checking up on them and not taking enough care of them.

I understand that it may trigger you and may be a sensitive topic, but it’s not our problem. I don’t want to sound rude, but it’s honestly not our problem. We can create, post, and discuss about whatever we want as long as it’s not harming anyone directly. If it makes you uncomfortable, just block us. It is not up to us to create content that you find enjoyable or at least decent. It’s our posts, our accounts, our lives. We don’t hurt you on purpose.

Don’t say “but it teaches children to behave badly because they saw in a fanfiction it’s okay to be abusive or be fondled by adults!” just no. As I said, the parents should be more responsible with their children and check up on them whenever possible (not as in “spying your child every time you’ve got the opportunity” but you get my point). Also, if you really need to believe that everything displayed in fanfictions is normal/healthy, then you should get proper education.

I am myself a pro shipper, and while I’m not that hardcore of a fan, I still had previous experiences with angry and frustrated antis.

I know it will make me seem like I’m complaining or anything, but this will be an easier way I can guarantee you that people like these exist, since it was in my own experience.

I once wrote a fanfiction that implied pro shipping. I did put warnings in the description and before the story began, but I see that it was useless because people prefer to get triggered and shocked than read the description and pay attention to the warning so they can insult the living shit out of me later on. The next day, I woke up with 20+ hate comments and death threats in the comments.

All of them were horrible, it made me feel like shit and made me wonder why people are like that. Luckily, after a hour or two, I calmed down and realized that I shouldn’t stress on people like these so much. I should take this bad experience and make it something good to teach other people, something that I can give to other people so they can learn from my experience. I was stronger than before. (as cringe as it sounds lol)

At that moment, I realized that people like that barely even care about the real “issue” here. They only see it as a chance to bully someone without looking bad in front of other people. They are so sucked up in their own mind that they think what they’re doing is right.

People like that are the worst. Their morality is corrupted.

Because, their morals is like: it’s not okay to write things like that, but it’s okay to send death threats and bully them”

Don’t get me wrong, it’s completely fine to dislike a ship! I dislike some ships too, but that doesn’t give me the right to go and jump on them like a wild animal.

Not all antis are mean, but most of them are like that. It’s okay to not like something, but don’t make a mess out of it.

Now here are a few examples of frustrated and crazy antis.

Hell, they are so annoying when they put heart emojis at the end of their comment so they can make themselves look quirky and cool. Disgusting, that’s all I have to say about this kind of people.

If you really believe someone is doing something wrong, approach them in a gentle manner and talk respectfully towards them.

I’m sorry if I sounded rude in this post, and remember that you should look in other perspectives too, not in only yours. Even if someone does something wrong (but pro shipping is not the case), then explain to them what they’re doing wrong, not fuck them up.

Thank you for taking your time to read this.

If you have any questions, just comment on this post or message me privately.

(Yes, I edited this post because I have mistaken the difference between “problematic ship” and “pro ship” and fixed a few typos. Don’t worry, my points in this post are still the same and I fully mean them.”

[aminiatureworld]

Frustration

Characters: Childe, Diluc, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,068 words

Premise: Commissions don’t always go as planned, much to your frustration. Luckily there’s someone there to make you feel better.

Author’s Note: So I’ve been thinking of writing Genshin stuff for months now but haven’t, for various reasons mainly that being how much this blog is already a bit of a disarrayed mess. But after awhile I decided another fandom won’t hurt. Besides I think it’s better to write something than nothing, even if the fandom keeps changing. So… yeah?

This particular scenario was basically my day today. The characters have been chosen out of my own personal will. I was going to do Zhongli as well but I’m exhausted so if this is well received perhaps I’ll do that another day.

Also I’m so tired I’m halfway to a headache and feel a bit floaty so sorry if there are grammar mistakes and such. Anyways, hope you like!

Character Banners in progress

Ao3 link in reblog

Childe

“I’m gonna kill someone.” You muttered, slamming your weapon down on the table, causing the ginger next to you to start.

“As long as that person’s not me I’ll be glad to help you.” You weren’t sure whether you found the comment worrying, insulting, or charming, and decided not to reply, instead throwing yourself in the chair across from Childe, usually reserved for customers or some member of the Fatui higherups, though today you could care less.

“Hey, am I not good enough?” Childe half whined half joked. You only grunted before getting up and walking over to his chair, plopping yourself on his lap and promptly picking at a stray thread on his coat which had caught your eye and was now becoming an increasing source of irritation.

Taking this as a sign Childe gently pried your nails away from the offending thread. Placing your palms in his gloved hands he smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Want to tell me about it?”

“It’s this stupid ley line! You know, the one in the stone forest? I was commissioned to keep an eye on it, normal stuff, but this one seems absolutely crawling with all sorts of slimes and the like, hilichurls too and a stray bandit here or there. They keeping breaking the damn thing and the minute I fix it they’re back again. At this rate I’m not going to finish it!” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking of the hours you’d spent fighting with the thing. You’d even let out a few tears of frustration in the process, and having nothing to show for it was intensely irritating, to say the least.

“Poor darling.” Childe’s smirk was timeless, but there was a softness to it that you took as confirmation that he understood. I mean if anyone was going to understand it was going to be a member of the Fatui. As much as you disliked the group on principle, you did have to admit that Childe was certainly a hard worker, and running around at the whims of the far off Tsaritsa certainly had its trials.

Slumping against his chest you allowed yourself to relax a bit, some tension brought out simply by the act of telling someone about the frustrations that were building up, like someone shaking a corked bottle. Childe kissed your hands, a welcome distraction, before giving you a peck on the nose. You smiled at that, squeezing his hands. It felt good to have someone to complain to, to have someone who understood. But that was Childe, surprisingly understanding. And always looking for a fight.

“So…” as if on cue Childe spoke up, tone becoming truer, his smile becoming more foxlike. “You have something you need help fighting I hear.”

“Don’t let this get you any ideas.” You smirked right back. “I can still whip you when it comes to sparring at you know it. Besides, won’t I get in trouble if you’re there.”

“Give me half the commission rate and we’ll call it square.”

“Such a steep rate!” You gasped in fake horror, nevertheless lifting yourself off the chair. Childe was up no sooner, giving you a mischievous grin.

“Well of course! I can’t have you fleecing me out of my money. Not when I’ve already given you my heart, which is quite expensive by the way.” Giving you a quick forehead kiss he took your hand then, giving some half assed excuse to the poor desk clerk when they asked where he was going. “I have to save someone some trouble.”

You scoffed at that, but it was true. Childe was saving you a lot of trouble, and keeping your pride in some sort of piece. That was Childe. Wild, passionate, aching for a fight, perhaps not a great person – no in fact decidedly not so. But he was also surprisingly caring, reliable, and steadfast. And that was all you could ask for in the moment.

 Diluc

“Do you know where in Monstadt someone is supposed to find 50 Windwheel Asters?”

Diluc whipped his head up at that one; out of all the things he expected you to say that was certainly not one of them. It was almost closing time at the Winery, and this was normally the time when you came up to see him, chatting about this and that, waiting for him to close the ledger so you two could have some time together. In the entire history of your relationship there’d never been an evening that began such as this.

“There should be some around here, and Windrise if you’re in for a bit of a hike. But 50 is an awful lot, and I’m not sure the florists would be happy if you carted off with all their flowers.”

“I know.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall, picking at your fingernails. “I know that finding 50 of anything in a day is a hard task. But I was given a short noticed commission by some wealthy tradesman who’s passing by and wanted some flowers for a gala or some such thing. It’s important for the Guild that I complete these you know, and I’m not looking forward to telling Katheryne about it tomorrow.”

You sighed, glancing out the window of the Winery. You thought of all the places in Monstadt the view was perhaps loveliest here, cozy, with a view of all that made Monstadt, the planes, the forest, even a glimpse of the waterways that ran through it. But right now all you could think about was how in such a vast swath of land you’d still failed to meet the goal, you’d still turned up empty handed.

“Would you sit next to me?” Diluc’s voice broke you out of your depressing reverie and you sat down in the chair adjacent to his – a recent addition to his office – laying your head somewhat awkwardly on his shoulder, running your hands through his soft hair. You two sat in silence like that for a bit, the steady flow of Diluc’s pen keeping your eyes occupied while your hands braided and twisted at random, gentle and absentminded.

Finally the ledger was closed and Diluc turned to you. Smiling he massaged your left shoulder slightly, eliciting a sigh from you.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for things like this.” He began, his tone soft and low. “No reasonable person on Earth would ask you to gather so many flowers in a day. Even Flora doesn’t sell that many to a single customer without an order, and her whole job consists of selling flora. You’ve watched me work long enough, do you think I’d sell 50 kegs of wine to a tradesman on site?”

“No, of course not.” You mumbled. “But it’s my job to do the unconventional requests, how can I pick and choose at random? I can’t very well complete only half of my commissions.”

“Of course not, but nobody expects you to simultaneously catch 50 flowers out of thin air either. The Guild has its own regulations and rules you know, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a violation of one. No one doubts your prowess my dear. You’ve slain Eyes of Storms and have scaled mountains taller than most people in Monstadt might ever imagine. You done what might be considered impossible to some many times. So you should trust in the Guild and in the people of Monstadt. They aren’t well likely to turn their back on you over such a ridiculous request.”

You hummed a reply, resting your hands on Diluc’s. All he said was probably right of course, Katheryne could very well tell you how ridiculous such a request was, and no harm would come to your reputation. But your relationship with Diluc was still young, there was still so much to learn about the other, and so hearing such confident praise from him felt like a sort of gift, recompense for such a frustrating ordeal. Humming once more you leaned your head on his shoulder again. Tomorrow you would go and tell the Guild about the debacle, and let the man know the ridiculousness of his request. But tonight you just wanted to rest with the person you cherished the most. That was all you wished for.

 Xiao

“Something’s wrong.” Xiao’s voice was purposefully flat, and you wondered not for the first time how the adeptus in front of you had become so good at reading your mood, especially considering the fact that he admitted himself that his grasp on human emotions was a tricky one. He always seemed to know when you were upset at least, and your initial urge to attempt to hide your frustration immediately blew away.

“It’s been a rough day.” You admitted, standing next to him on the Wangshu Inn’s railing, letting the cool evening breeze cool you down. It’d been an obnoxiously hot day, and you were glad for any bit of fresh air. Xiao said nothing, but you could feel his gaze on you, waiting for your decision as to whether or not you’d let him know the reason you were upset. Not that it was really a question, at this point you couldn’t imagine a time when you didn’t tell Xiao practically everything, from the most mundane to those things that loomed largest in your life. You’d never met someone you trusted so much in your life before, and it felt rather freeing, knowing that he didn’t mind a bit, something that had scared you when you first began opening up to him.

“It’s just a commission, nothing ground shaking. Thankfully.” You added on, thinking of when Liyue had almost been swallowed whole; the moment when it seemed all would fail, before the miraculous traveler had bound the adept and the citizens of Liyue together. It was something you weren’t likely to forget, and something you never wished to relive. “That being said.” You added on. “It’s something that, well, is distressing me a lot.”

Xiao stood patiently as you explained to him that your deceptively simple commission of delivering food to someone had managed to go horribly awry after a group of Cryo slimes had left the food frozen solid, with the angry customer unwilling to pay or wait for a replacement.

“It wasn’t too expensive thankfully.” You remarked. “I mean it was just food. But it feels silly, and a bit embarrassing. I mean of course I should’ve paid, I don’t begrudge that. I just don’t understand how I managed to screw up something so fundamentally simple. It seems… somehow a bit of a slap in the fact. I mean, aren’t I any good?”

“Of course you are.” Xiao’s answer was firm, but not unkind. Instead it held in it the certainty of one who’d lived thousands of years, and whose trust in you was absolute. Drawing closer, the adeptus glanced around, making sure there was no one around, before slinging an arm around your own, drawing you close and running soft circles around your shoulder.

“You’re a great adventurer.” He remarked, voice filled with as much serious as there was fondness. “I’ve seen many warriors, many adventurers come and go in my time. Those whose feats will fill the pages of books and the staves of songs long after they themselves have been reduced to ashes. Those who will be called great heroes. All of them fell sometimes. And, if you must fall, I’d rather it be over something so simple as a botched food delivery.”

You glanced up into Xiao’s eyes. Normally he was reticent with words, even moreso with gestures. Every word let you deeper into someone’s life, into their past, their personality, their soul. No word was careless with Xiao. And as you stared at eyes filled with pride and love and worry, suddenly you felt as if what had just passed was small, oh so very small. There would be another commission, just as there would be another tomorrow. There’d be another failure most likely too. Many of them even. But they were small stones in a great big pond, quickly sinking out of sight and out of mind.

“I love you.” You breathed, and Xiao’s face seemed to open all of a sudden, shedding a thousand cares and a thousand worries. He pressed his forehead to your own.

“I love you too.”