#even to the point of having my name removed from auditions and told to my face I’m not a real musician | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewolvesof1998 · 5 months

Text

Created by @mostlyinthemorning

Day 12 pt. 1

Okay, so I thought I would do something special for the last day, here is a list of all of my favourite fics from all of my mutuals (I've read like 95% of these and others are highly anticipated!) I'm going to have to do this in two parts!

Lets Go to Bed by Wildgirl93 @wildlife4life

Eddie just wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend and take a nap. Chimney just wanted a quiet place to sleep and steal Buck's bed just for a short time to do so. And Buck was just finishing his shower.

to you i'm just a man (to me you're all i am) by Underhung_Aura @eddiebabygirldiaz

Buck is fucking tired of living with his parents. He’s nearly thirty years old for Christ’s sake, and he is sick to death of being at their beck and call, of having to bend to their every whim, of being constantly scrutinized while also being constantly ignored. For his entire life he has been buried beneath their thumbs, his weak, aching, fragile body pushed further and further into the ground until dry soil and broken twigs flood his mouth, left to rot with the mark of their fingerprints burned so deeply into him that there’s no way of removing them. OR Buck is the son of the president of the United States and is finally moving out of the White House. His new home comes with new neighbors, Eddie and Christopher Diaz, who quickly become the center of Buck's world. But despite being out from under his parent's thumb, Buck's life is messy and complicated and ruled by the fact that he is the First Son which means he is always under the watchful eyes of his bodyguards. None of that stops him from pursuing a life with the Diaz boys, but there are many complications, some of which he isn't even aware of. Yet.

Your heart or mine? Yours every time by Spotsandsocks @spotsandsocks

Buck and Eddie get trapped in an elevator, which would be fine except Buck’s skipped a few meals recently and he’s a little hungry. He’s also not exactly told his best friend everything about himself so the secret he’s been keeping is about to be revealed at the worst possible time in the worst possible way. Buck can handle it though and if it comes to it he knows what he has to do to keep Eddie safe. Eddie however has his own thoughts on the subject and sometimes secrets aren’t as secret as you think. A soft concerned voice and a hand on his arm jerks him back to here and now, “Hey you ok? You’re breathing funny.” It’s the touch that does it, it’s both too much and nowhere near enough. Eddie looking at him like that, touching him gently, it’s too close to what he wants, and he wants a lot. He wants far too much from this man and he can’t have any of it. Unable to stop himself Buck jerks away, the movement far too fast and abrupt not to cause more concern in his friend. “Buck” Eddie’s hands are held up in a gesture designed to soothe and comfort, all it does is show Buck his pulse point.

we are a fresh page on the desk (filling in the blanks as we go) by heartbeatdiaz @loserdiaz

"Interesting read?" Buck asks and when Eddie shoots him a confused look, he nods towards the book in his lap. "Leave The Light On?" "Oh! Yeah, it's one of my favorite books." Eddie smiles, shy and charming. "I've read the series like, a thousand times." "Really? Huh?" Buck feels his heart thump erratically inside of him. Holy shit, holy shit. Eddie Diaz read his books. Honestly, how is Buck supposed to act normal after such revelation? "I'm actually flying to an audition right now. Hopefully to be part of the movie for the book." Eddie says and then frowns. "Oh shit, I don't know if I should've told you that." "It's okay." He leans forward and grins, squinting one of his eyes and shrugging. "Your secret's safe with me.' or; Buck's a best seller author under a pen name, Eddie is an actor auditioning for the movie adaptation of his books, and somewhere along the way, they fall in love.

Castles Crumbling Downby jesuisici33 @jesuisici33

Eddie sits down on the bench, laying his head back against the cold stone wall. With his eyes closed and arms crossed, he hopes it fools the guards into thinking Eddie is more calm than he really is. That they can’t tell how much his heart is pounding or how his skin itches to start punching things. Again. Just like how they found him when his hood fell off and people let out cries that the Princess Assassin is here amongst them. OR: i had a tumblr prompt in my ask box and when i watched nimona things finally clicked.

you been looking for love (let me show you how it's done) by wikiangela @wikiangela

“Are you-” he frowns, the confusion somehow winning with the urge to just lean in and kiss him so thoroughly he’ll forget about any other kiss he might’ve shared with any dates. “Are you doing all this on purpose?” “Doing what?” Eddie tilts his head, licks his lips, and – Buck’s almost a hundred percent sure – drops his gaze to Buck’s lips for a second. “Eddie.” Buck takes a deep breath, and wants so badly to kiss the smirk off of Eddie’s face. “Please.” “What for?” “You’re driving me insane.” he whispers, nails digging into his palms to prevent himself from reaching out. But Eddie’s thigh is pressed against his, and somehow his hand is on Buck’s knee now, and Eddie’s looking at him in such a way, that it makes Buck hot all over – or, hotter, his palms are sweating, actually. “And I feel like you are doing it on purpose.” or, Eddie is a tease, Buck is horny and jealous of Eddie dating, and a regular evening takes an unexpected turn.

so you've got the looks but have you got the touch? by BekkaChaos @bekkachaos

The 118 team spend a night out to celebrate Maddie and Chim’s engagement and wind up at Karaoke. They take turns singing and Buck thinks Eddie is so predictable and tells him so, only for him to throw a complete Louisville curveball and surprise him. But that doesn’t impress Buck. Not much.

Don’t spoil him because you feeling guilty (just love him how you really mean it) by disasterbuckdiaz @disasterbuckdiaz

“First of all, if I remember right, two months ago you were too old to have plushies,” Eddie points, looking at his son. He even portrays how Chris said it to him, which causes Chris to roll his eyes in response. “Don't roll your eyes, Christopher Diaz. Secondly, we agreed that since I'm buying you the fancy console you dreamed of, you don't ask for anything else for a whole month, do you?” Christopher sighs but nods in agreement. Eddie can't help but smile at how cute his son looks and raises his head to share this moment with Buck, who is not standing next to them. Eddie almost starts to panic when he sees Buck at the checkout. He returns a minute later and hands the penguin to Chris, who lights up brighter than the sun. or, 5 times Eddie tries to understand why Buck spoils Chris more than ever after his coma, and 1 time Buck tells him why

come close, let me be home by Daffi_990_ao3 @daffi-990

“Looking good out there, Buckley” Eddie says as he hands him a beer. Buck accepts the bottle and takes a seat beside him, popping the cap off to take a drink. “Any chance we’ll see you bust some moves on the dance floor, Diaz?” “Maybe, if I have the right partner”. Eddie’s looking right and him and Buck can feel a blush creeping its way across his cheeks. It’s shit like this that has him thinking maybe this thing between them isn’t just one sided. Buck takes another pull of beer, keeping eye contact with Eddie and watching how the other man tracks the bob of his adams apple as he swallows. “The night is still young and full of possibilities.” Buck replies, and he swears he sees Eddie’s eyes sparkle OR Buck and Eddie slow dance at Maddie and Chim’s wedding

merle said mama tried, but the prison still won by oklahoma @malewifediaz

“You’ve made bail, Diaz.” Eddie stands, wipes his sweaty hands off on his jeans, and clears his throat. “This isn’t even a real jail, Dwight,” he says, stepping through the makeshift cell door held open for him, and looks over at his rescuer. “Hi, Buck.” - Eddie goes to (mall) jail.

The Bridge by escapethroughreading @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese

"Dad? I think Buck isn't okay." "Why would you say that, mijo?" "I use 'find my friends' to keep an eye on him sometimes. Since he doesn't come over anymore. You know the bridge we drive over to get to school? Buck's been there for two hours. The weather's really bad. He shouldn't be out there."

i like the summer rain (i like the sounds you make) by fleetinghearts @shitouttabuck

Death comes for Eddie in the form of a small fluffy bunny. Several small fluffy bunnies, actually. He’s not being hyperbolic, okay? This is how he goes. Hen and Chim can take their Drama Queen Diaz eye rolls and shove it. He’s having a perfectly reasonable reaction to the sight before him. And if the classic bright white light everyone talks about is more accurately a kind of warm glow dotted with sparkles and floating cartoon hearts in his current experience? Well, that’s between him and his God. or, it's truly tragic that eddie diaz isn't kissing buck buckley, especially when everything he does makes him so damn kissable The one with all the nicknames by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew) @911onabc Eddie has never been overly fond of pet names. He uses them on Buck a lot, though. OR: 5 times Eddie calls Buck a platonic nickname + 1 time he doesn’t.

Feels Like Magic by 42hrb @exhuastedpigeon

“You used too much magic again,” Buck’s voice was quiet as he spoke, but he knew Eddie heard him. “You’re alive,” Eddie’s eyes were closed, but Buck knew the look Eddie would be giving him if they had been open. It was the same look Eddie had given him when he had said ‘because, Evan, you think you’re expendable but you’re not’. It was a look that made Buck feel truly and completely seen in a way he never had before. “There’s no such thing as too much if it saves you.” “Go to sleep,” Buck said, because if he left himself say anything else he’d be telling Eddie he loved him and he didn’t think in the bunk room at two in the morning after an exhausting call was the right moment, but then again, Buck was pretty sure he’d be taking that secret to his grave. -- An urban fantasy AU where most things are the same, except there's magic and supernatural creatures!

now go stand in the corner and think about what you did by eddiediaztho @spagheddiediaz

Buck was the most forgiving person Eddie knew. In fact, Eddie was pretty sure that Buck was the most forgiving person that anyone knew. He had forgiven Maddie for leaving him when he needed her the most. He had forgiven his parents for their years and years of emotional neglect (amongst other things.) Hell, he had even forgiven that psychopath that blew up the fire truck that almost cost him his career and his life. Which is why Eddie was beside himself that he was going on hour twelve of the cold shoulder from his best friend.

you can see it with the lights out by yourcatfishfriend @your-catfish-friend

Eddie has Halloween plans: stay home and mope because Chris is trick-or-treating with his friends instead of his dad. Buck interrupts to introduce Eddie to the joys of Adult Halloween, and Eddie realizes a few things.

i could get used to having you around by HungryHungryHippo @hippolotamus

Even so, there’s a certain intimacy in knowing Buck is comfortable there, cooking a meal with Eddie’s kid and saying - in different words - come home to us. The thought tugs at his heart, and within seconds, Eddie tosses his phone aside before throwing his truck in reverse. He thinks he might hear music when he approaches the front door. Inside, it’s difficult to decide what he notices first. Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now playing through the Bluetooth speaker, the aromatic blend of spices emanating from the kitchen, or the way his heart skips a beat when he sees Buck standing next to Christopher, laughing and stirring something on the stovetop. “What a homecoming,” Eddie praises. He’s 87% certain there’s a dopey, lovesick grin on his face. Chris and Buck both stop what they’re doing to turn and look. Buck smiles warmly, like someone much more important than Eddie’s just arrived.

Too busy being yours to fall for someone new by LadyDorian05 @ladydorian05

Natalia helps Buck pick a couch for his apartment, but when the wrong one gets delivered he starts to think maybe it's some kind of cosmic sign from the universe. Determined to not let his best friend mope to death, Eddie decides it's time that he helps Buck find a couch so that he can stop associating a piece of furniture with the success or failure of his romantic relationships. And he does, Buck finds the one.

Flickers of Fate by steadfastsaturnsrings @steadfastsaturnsrings

"Did-Did the man who helped me pull out the dead solider survive?" Eddie mumbled, "He-He....said he was right behind me but then disappeared...Is he okay?" "There was no other man, Diaz, You were the last one out of the helicopter. You pulled out that solider all by yourself" The official standing over him responded, looking at Eddie curiously. Eddie opened his eyes again, trying to sit up. "Easy, Easy Diaz" The official soothed, putting his hand on Eddie's chest so he would lay back down

Paradise Blue by king_buckley @king-buckley

When Evan Buckley ran away from his problems to a resort in Italy, he never thought that the enigmatic bartender would have quite the impact on his life that he did. alt title - i went to italy and fell in love with the bartender and had to make a bartender!eddie au

tagging: @hippolotamus @exhuastedpigeon @steadfastsaturnsrings @monsterrae1 @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @buddierights @jamespearce9-1-1

#9-1-1 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #fic recs #thewolvesof1998 fic recs #12 days of fandom joy #ao3

48 notes · View notes

4townie · 2 years

Text

Road to 4☆TOWN

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Taeyoung Na and Aaron Mendez stood outside the auditions together, staring at the flier on the window. Taeyoung was bouncing up and down, and Aaron smirked at him.

“You good there, Tae-Tae?” He asked, briefly removing his lollipop from his mouth.

“This is so exciting!” Taeyoung exclaimed. “We’re gonna get a shot at becoming real celebrities!”

Aaron chuckled, juggling his lollipop with his tongue. “Y’know, I never took you for the type to be all over that celebrity life. Whatever floats your boat.”

“C’mon, Aaron.” Taeyoung shook his friend. “Think about how many ears I could reach with this platform. I could start an animal rights revolution!”

Aaron laughed at Taeyoung’s enthusiasm. “You know you’re auditioning for a boy band, right? You’re not running for office.”

Taeyoung calmed down a bit. “Well, I’m only doing it if you’re with me.” He smiled. “It wouldn’t be fun otherwise.”

Aaron smiled back. “I know your parents told you they’d only let you come today if I did. You don’t have to flatter me to make me stay.”

“Ugh, my mom and her big mouth always ruin my plans.” Taeyoung groaned. He hesitated. “Aaron…what are we gonna do if one of us gets picked and the other doesn’t?”

“Well, I know you have nothing to worry about. You’re too charming and talented to get cut.” Aaron assured him. “And even if I don’t get in, I’ll still be there for you every step of the way. What are best friends for?”

Taeyoung was quiet for a moment before a wide grin slowly crept onto his face. “Thanks, Aaron. That makes me feel better.” He took a deep breath and grabbed Aaron’s hand. “Alright, it’s our time to shine. Let’s do this.”

———

The five boys exchanged awkward glances as the manager, Beckett Martin, paced around in front of them.

“So you’re the chosen five.” Beckett paused with a grin. “I knew scouting local talent would be good for the label. Take that, Harrison!”

“Uh, we haven’t even done anything yet.” Aaron Zhao arched an eyebrow. “How do you know we’re good for the label?”

“Shut up!” Robaire nudged him.

“Mr. Martin,” his assistant stepped forward, “we do have one problem.”

“Problem?” Beckett turned so fast he could’ve gotten whiplash. “What problem? We can’t have any problems.”

“Calm down, sir. It’s minor.” The assistant pointed to the two Aarons. “These two have the same first name.”

“Oh. Whew!” Beckett wiped his brow. “Easy fix. We’ll just give you stage names.” He froze. “Hmmmm…but what to rename you…”

“We could just add a letter to the end.” The assistant suggested.

“Caitlin! You’re brilliant!” Beckett praised with a huge smile.

“Uh…it’s Courtney…”

“Courtney, that’s what I said.” He waved a hand and turned back to the boys. “You. What’s your last name?”

“Zhao.” Aaron answered in a monotone voice.

“Perfect! You will be known as “Aaron Z” from here on out.” Beckett waved his hands like he was imagining a lit up sign. “And you, other one. What’s your last name?”

Aaron raised an eyebrow at the words ‘other one’. “…Mendez.”

“Mendez! Aaron…no, that doesn’t work. We need a new letter.”

“What, so he’s just gonna change his name?” Jesse furrowed his brow in confusion.

“It’s no big deal.” Beckett shrugged. “No one will be calling you Aaron Mendez anymore anyway. It’ll be Aaron…—”

“T!” Aaron’s eyes lit up. “For Tae-Tae.”

Taeyoung gasped. “Awww, that’s so sweet.”

“Excellent! Looks like we have our boys.” Beckett said excitedly. They boys all smiled at each other. “Now onto the miserable part.”

Their smiles vanished. “The what?”

#4town fanfic #4town headcanons #4town #4town taeyoung #4town aaron t #4town z #4town robaire #4town jesse #turning red 4town #turning red #4townie

23 notes · View notes

spacebarnes · 3 years

Text

TOM AND Y/N BEING A GOOFY AND ADORABLE COUPLE FOR EIGHT MINUTES STRAIGHT.

SUMMARY: when a video has your name, it catches your full attention.

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: none, just fluff.

A/N: I saw this on youtube and immediately knew I had to do it with some of my favs, so this came out! I want to do it with Sebastian and even with some more, tell me if you want me to do it with someone! as I always say, english is not my first language so I hope this is good! take care of yourself pls! (not my gif)

the sun was beginning to disappear and the last rays of it filtered through the thin white curtains that the apartment had. it was a warm day, but it was beginning to get dark and the cold wind was beginning to appear.

Tom was on the Spider-Man 3 set and you were sitting on the couch with a big black blanket, a bag of jelly beans and the remote control in your hand pressing buttons while you were looking for what to watch on YouTube. a video appeared with the title "Tom and Y / N being a goofy and adorable couple for eight minutes straight." and without a doubt, you said to put it.

the first clip was a instastorie which was recorded by Chris Hemsworth on the set of Infinity War. first Chris's face would appear and then the camera would flip over to show Tom and you sitting side by side laughing at something that was showing up on your phone.

"what are you doing?" Mark Ruffalo's voice was heard from the side of the camera.

"I'm recording teenage love." Chris said and with his fingers he zoomed in on the screen making the camera get closer to you two. "teenage love, teenage love." he began to say the words with some melody, creating a rhythm.

°•

"stop recording me, Tom." you said while applying a little gloss to your lips, you had seen by the reflection of the mirror that Tom was recording.

"i can't, you look so gorgeous." he said without stopping recording, then he stood by your side and I wait for you to finish applying the gloss.

you closed the small container and settled down next to him, feeling how he passed his free hand around your waist. "damn, we look good." when you put your direct view in the mirror, you could see how good you two looked. Tom wore a black suit and a sky blue tie that matched your dress, while you carried a small bag and black heels to match it.

"we do, we do." agreed with you without stopping recording. "'key, let's do a little dance, go!" this took you by surprise and you made the first move that came to your mind, which was to clench your two fists and make circles with them at the height of your shoulders.

after a few seconds, the two of you started laughing and that story was posted on your boyfriend's instagram.

°•

since the quarantine had begun, the activity that the two of you did most was listening to new artists to discover new music.

Permanent Vacation by 5 Seconds Of Summer played in the background as you two danced and jumped non-stop. the smiles were not erased from your faces and that was a moment when everyone could tell that they were soulmates.

in a slip, you slipped and fell straight to the floor, causing Tom to stop dancing to quickly check if you were okay. "darling, are you okay?" He knelt before you and took your hand. "you are so dumb." he said with a smile as he helped you stand up.

"excuse me?"

°•

"so do you have any tradition with your family for Christmas?" Jimmy asked, putting his mug on his desk.

"with my family no, but with [Y/N] i do." when he answered and your name was named, the crowd started to make noise. "we wake up and the first thing that we do it's bake cakes." he said simply and a small smile formed on his face.

"cakes? tell us more." the interviewer encouraged him.

"so, we bake two cakes, one for the dinner with the family and other just for us." he explained with hand movements. "then we decorate it and finally we sit down to watch The Grinch while we eat the cake." the smile on his face grew bigger when he heard the "aw" from the entire audience.

"that's really sweet and sounds fun." Jimmy told him with a smile.

°•

the countless interviews Tom had to do since Spider-Man: Far From Home came out kept the two of you apart. actually now he was playing with his cast friends and he wasn't doing an interview, but there was a surprise for him.

you felt nervous after not having seen him for a few months, because even though they lived together, you had to fly to Canada to be with your family and not feel alone while he was filming.

"alright, so." Jacob switched cards so he could read the following sentence to Tom and Jake, who were wearing loud music headphones. "[Y/N] ...

"what?" Tom interrupted him not understanding what he was saying.

"are we sure that he is gonna understand?" Zendaya looked at the production and then went back to reading the card. "[Y/N] is here."

"who is here?" Jake asked and brought his hands to the sides of his ears to press the headphones further. "i don't get the name."

"[Y/N] is here!" Jacob yelled at them, hoping they could understand the sentence. you appeared in the room, but you stayed where the light was not so strong so that they could not see you and you waited for the producer's signal to appear.

"wait, what?" Tom asked again. "say it slow."

"oh my god." Zendaya rolled her eyes when she saw that he wasn't understanding. "your girlfriend it's here!"

"your girlfriend it's here!" Jake guessed for Tom and did a little victory dance before removing his headphones.

"you have a girlfriend, Jake? i didn't know that." the brunette said with surprise as he took off his headphones. immediately everyone started laughing and he looked at them without understanding what was happening. "i don't get it."

"who's gonna tell him?" Jacob asked and looked at the people behind the cameras.

"tell me what?" Holland asked not understanding what they meant. you started to move forward until everyone except Tom could see you.

"that i'm here, dumbass." you spoke and you saw how quickly your boyfriend's head turned to be able to see you with surprise.

"stop playing, are you a hologram?" he asked in disbelief as he got up from the chair so he could approach you and put his hands on his waist. "you're not."

"i'm not, i'm really here." you said and put your two hands on his cheeks and then get closer and be able to kiss him after so long apart.

°•

"can anyone tell him that Isaac Lahey is a character and does not exist in real life?" your voice was heard on the speaker of your phone while you were recording Tom, who had gotten up from the couch and was right now at the kitchen counter. "because Tom got jealous of him."

"you said that he is hot!" your boyfriend's scream was heard from the kitchen.

"so what? you think Lydia is pretty." you said with a tone of indignation without stopping recording.

"but i think that you are so much pretty than she." Tom's voice began to be heard closer, as did his footsteps.

"that doesn't justify you." you crossed your arms, causing your cell phone to shake a bit.

"that's not even the point! the point is, you said Isaac was hot." seconds later, he appeared with a bag of M&M's and a glass of milk. "you're cheating on me."

"I'm dating a five years old, just to all of you know." you rotated the camera and now you were recording yourself.

"i want the divorce." he said and stood in front of you to hand you the bag of M & M's you had asked for.

"we are not even married!"

°•

"you're currently dating Tom Holland, but we want to know how did the two of you met? because you are not in the Marvel movies." James asked and settled into his chair while you did the same.

"well, everybody thinks that we met at the Golden Globes." you started talking and your eyes brightened. "we actually met at the auditions of my first movie. Tom was there for the paper of my brother, but he didn't got it."

"you met at there? I really thought that the first time you met was at the Golden Gobles." the blond commented in great amazement.

"we didn't met there, but we took a selfie in there for the first time and we talked beyond a few lines of a script." you gave the data with a big smile and looked at the audience.

"and when did you fall in love for him?" he asked and this made the crowd make some noise that was combined with your laughter.

"you know, actually the first time that i saw him i was like 'damn, shawty', but i think it was in the moment that we were at a friend's party and he approached me and told me to go to another place with him because he was not comfortable and I was the only person who knew who would say yes. " and if you thought your smile couldn't get any bigger, the moment you remembered that moment, it did.

the video ended and just then the apartment door was opened, forcing you to take a look. "hey, darling." your boyfriend's voice sounded behind you.

"hi, baby." you said and felt how he hid his face in your neck, leaning his body on the edge of the chair.

"what are you watching?" he asked and pulled away from you, not before leaving a quick kiss on your neck.

"it was a video of us being the goofy and adorable couple of all times." you answered with a smile as you watched him take off his shoes and approach you to take a seat on the couch.

"and there are no more of those?" he asked and sat next to you and then wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head on your shoulder. you took control and pressed a button to see the video suggestions.

"well, here is this one" you said and put the video called 'Y/N and Tom being the sexiest couple in the whole fucking world'.

"oh, i see what people think of us." the brunette said when he saw the title of the video.

"what do you mean with that? of course we are the sexiest couple in the whole fucking world." you wrinkled your eyebrows and lowered your gaze a bit to connect with his.

"yes, we are." when he finished talking, he leaned to you so he can kiss you.

#fanfic #marvel #oneshot #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine

3K notes · View notes

caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years

Text

patton and the no-good day

5.9k words | AO3 link | warnings: angst, alcohol, swearing, arguing, lashing out, minor injury, crying, fire, repetition.

“Patton wants to know what it’s like to make the right choices, so he tries...And tries. And tries and tries andtriesandtries-

(aka: a time loop fic where patton manages to revisit the day of svs, this time with the goal of making everyone happy. he quickly discovers that he's bitten off more than he can chew.)”

________________________________

Patton was unhappy. And he was unhappy because everyone else was unhappy. After the wedding, he had become so intimately aware of every mistake he had made. From Logan’s quiet dismissal when he tried to talk to him, to Virgil’s obvious avoidance of everyone, to Roman’s complete shutdown.

The only sides he could assume weren’t mad at him at the moment were Janus and Remus. And Remus was only a maybe, just based on how excited he’d been to hear that he had turned into a giant muscular frog alone.

Patton could only grimace upon recalling his breakdown. It was supposed to be the turning point for him, an indication of ‘Hey, I've come to realize that I’m deeply flawed but now I’m able to start fixing things!’. But of course, it didn’t turn out like that. Every day that passed only grew harder and harder with his mistakes staring him in the face. He was tired of waking up, dreading the insurmountable process of trying to make things right and failing, only to fall asleep and try again the next day.

It was like he was trapped in a loop of identical days, each one as ineffective as the last.

Patton could barely imagine the end of this tunnel, until one morning, he woke up and for once everything felt... different.

He ignored the feeling at first as got ready as usual, heading out towards the kitchen with the expectation of seeing empty chairs at empty tables once more. Except when he walked in this time, preparing to make a breakfast no one would eat, everyone was there already seated. It was just like how everything was before-- Janus and Remus were absent, but Logan, Virgil, Roman...all of the sides he considered his best friends were there, all togeher in one place for the first time in weeks.

He burst into tears on the spot and they collectively startled, immediately questioning what was wrong. It took a few minutes to convince them all that he was fine, that he just got emotional seeing them all because he loved them so much (which wasn't even a lie!), and in the end they accepted his explanation because sometimes that was just what Patton was like. As he sat down and tried to act as normal as possible, he couldn't help but stare at all of them, so carefree as they chatted and poked fun at each other. There wasn't a single furrowed brow, or a hidden frown, or a look of hurt. It was unfortunately because of that that he knew his gut feeling was right; there was something strange going on here.

Throughout the morning, Patton couldn’t put his finger on what was so familiar about this day until he felt a certain series of events occur: Thomas gets a call. He picks up the phone and talks with the casting agent for a famous director. He’s told that he got the callback for his audition and he’s terribly excited, so excited that his sides come out to celebrate with him and-

Oh. Oh! That was his cue, wasn’t it? Patton bit back a frown, rising up to share their excitement and then to remind them about the wedding that was scheduled for the same day. It was hauntingly familiar, seeing the way Thomas and Roman became dejected and knowing that this was only the start of an uphill battle.

And then Fauxgan came in- or rather Janus, disguised as Logan- and when Patton saw his new snakey friend, his chest swelled with excitement. This was his opportunity to change things! He knew that in the current script, Janus would soon reveal himself and begin pushing back against what Patton had said. So when that happened this time, he could simply agree and make it seem like he had been convinced to change his mind. That way, they could reach a different solution and everyone would be happy. Simple!

Patton watched and waited patiently as the others made comments back and forth; Virgil and Janus snarking each other as Janus made his case to be listened to.

“That...can not be where the bar is!” Virgil protested in disbelief once Thomas agreed to hear him out, based on his vague 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend' ideal.

“Well, the bar for skipping an important opportunity should be higher than a...social engagement.” Janus replied distastefully.

This was where he originally jumped in to disagree. Patton saw Roman grow shifty out of the corner of his eye and knew: this was it!

“Maybe Janus is right! This is a huge opportunity. We should try to figure out a way to make both events if we can, but this means a lot for Thomas so we shouldn’t just skip it.“ Patton said confidently, even though the argument felt strange coming out of his mouth. At least he knew this time around he was making the right choice by backing down.

But the others only looked at him strangely, with varying degrees of confusion across their faces.

“Who’s Janice-”

“You’re agreeing with him?! I knew you were acting weird-”

“How do you know my name-”

Patton’s eyes widened, realizing his subconscious mistake. He had gotten so used to referring to Deceit as Janus over the weeks that they’d been friends that his name just automatically slipped out. It was too late to take it back; the conversation was quickly derailed, with too many accusations coming out at once to even try geting back into the dilemma. At one point Janus wondered aloud if Remus had somehow gotten out and taken the form of Patton, which only raised more questions and ended with a sword pointed at his throat.

It was a disaster. They make the last-minute decision to go to the wedding out of spite for Janus and Patton.

________________________________

The next morning, Patton woke up with a start, looking around his room to find that it was exactly the way he had left it the day prior. Normally this wouldn’t be such a cause for alarm, but today it was because Patton was certain he had thrown a few things last night in childish frustration at himself for messing things up. Only soft items, because he couldn’t bear to accidentally destroy anything in his sentiment-filled room, but the fact remained that seeing his pillows lined up at the end of his bed again was a strange sign, one that had him suspicious about how this day was going to go.

To test his theory, he went down to the kitchen without bothering to change out of his pajamas, only to see the other three sides already sitting there in the exact same places as yesterday. He paused in the doorway, waiting for them to show recognition of the day prior-- for some kind of hostility or accusation. The only thing he received were snickers.

“Nice PJs, Pat.” Virgil smirked over his bowl of cereal before going back to scrolling on his phone.

Patton’s mind slowly processed this. It was as if the day had reset, back to the world he had woken up to yesterday. He sunk down into the last remaining chair and forced himself to make a joke about ‘having a PB&J sandwich to match this PJ day’, despite Logan’s protests that he would not be sharing the last jar of crofters (He always said this to deter them from eating his jam, but it was always a lie and he'd always let them have some in the end. Patton didn’t realize how much he missed that habit of his until he almost started crying again over Logan passing him the jam jar).

After a perfectly normal breakfast, he quickly returned back to his room to change and prepare for what was ahead of him. Now that he knew the day was definitely repeating and could recognise where he went wrong yesterday, he just needed to ensure he didn’t make such a silly mistake right off the bat again.

He went through the motions: Thomas getting a phone call, him reminding them of the wedding, and then the beginnings of debate.

“I agree with Deceit.” He said this time, smiling as he remembered to not use Janus’ name.

Despite his conscious effort, it doesn’t go over much better. Janus was surprised and suspicious of Patton’s sudden change of heart and Virgil immediately got on the defense. Once again, the argument quickly escalated.

“Why would you side with him?! He’s one of the others! You can’t trust him!” Virgil cried, hands tugging on his hoodie strings as he desperately tried to convince them. It was currently three against one. He must have felt cornered, having no one on his side, Patton realized belatedly.

“And how are you so sure of that?” Patton still responded back, feeling offended on behalf of his friend. He had promised himself he wouldn’t make things worse this time, but seeing Virgil get so angry at him hit a sore spot. As long as he was right about his theory, this day was already ruined the moment he sided with Janus, anyway.

“Because I was one of them!” Virgil yelled, and his expression quickly changed from frustrated to devastated to frightened. And then he sunk out, giving no one the chance to stop him.

The remaining sides stood in silence before Janus broke into hysterical laughter. Patton could hear it echo in his mind as the day reset for the third time.

________________________________

The next time, he didn’t bring up the wedding at all.

Patton didn’t want to kid himself; he was scared from seeing Virgil sink out so suddenly. After having Virgil’s anger directed at him twice and seeing him leave upset once, he figured that meant that outright siding with Janus was a risky thing to do if he wanted to make sure everyone was happy by the end of this.

So instead of trying to change his stance, he simply removed the confusing aspect out of the equation altogether and made sure no one remembered it or brought it up. This way for sure, he thought, everything would go a lot smoother.

...He was wrong.

Weeks passed after the phone call and everything was peaceful-- Patton didn’t experience any resets and he took this as a good sign, enjoying the time with his family which he had dearly been missing out on. The sides were excited for the opportunity, which only grew when the callback came and went and they aced it. It was like Patton had finally achieved the dream scenario, until one day later when Thomas summoned them with a horrified look on his face.

“I skipped Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding when I went to the callback.” Was all he said.

“...Huh? How is that possible?” Virgil asked, simultaneously looking like he was going to faint and/or run away. “That couldn’t have been yesterday, could it? I mean, the odds of that…”

“It was. However…” Logan spoke up, and everyone watched as he summoned his calendar, wearing baffled expressions when he pointed to yesterday’s date-- revealing that the wedding had never been written down at all. Thomas had somehow pushed it completely out of his mind.

“But...it was for a big opportunity! Surely they’ll understand if you explain why you had to miss the wedding.” Roman argued, glancing around at the panicking sides.

“That’s the thing, they’re upset that I didn’t tell them about it beforehand and they think I blew them off on purpose. Now all of our mutual friends think I only care about myself.” Thomas stressfully looked down at his phone as he got another text message- and not a very kindly-worded one at that. “I don’t know what to do to fix this!”

Patton paled. Surely that couldn’t be right. Could things really have gotten this bad, just because he hadn’t reminded them of the wedding?

“It looks like Thomas has become a social pariah.” A smooth voice cut in. “And I’m sure you all know who’s to blame.”

No-

________________________________

The next time, Patton woke up in tears, unable to get the image of Janus turning against him out of his mind.

This time he doesn’t try to avoid the debate. Debates were crucial; they were how they got through most of their problems! In retrospect it was silly to try and skip that part of the day altogether, but at least now he had a clearer idea of what to try next. The issue from the last attempt was that Lee and Mary Lee weren’t spoken to, so this time he’d back Roman up when he suggested communication.

When they were next able to arrange a meeting to talk, Thomas explained the situation to the couple; how he had gotten a last-minute once in a lifetime offer. They were excited for him and encouraged him to take the opportunity, but Patton saw it in their eyes, how they gave Thomas sad smiles and looked at each other with disappointment.

He panicked, and Thomas changed his tune, pretending to check his phone and coming to the ‘realization’ that he got the time wrong, that he could go after all.

Lee and Mary Lee were thrilled.

But the others hated him for it.

________________________________

The next time for sure, he thought he’d get the courage to do it right.

They talked to Lee and Mary Lee. Thomas explains the situation, and this time Patton doesn’t make him change his mind. They’re disappointed, but despite knowing this deep down Thomas stays firm and decides to go to callback anyway.

During the lead-up to the 13th of April, Roman keeps looking to him for guidance, asking if this was really alright. Patton tries to assure him, but even he doesn’t know. He feels like everything he’s doing is putting them on the right track, but after thinking he was doing the right thing and being wrong several times, he isn’t able to say for certain that they were making a good choice. Especially not with the unknown variable of Lee and Mary Lee's disappointment thrown into the mix.

Eventually Roman learns to stop coming to him with his fears, and when it comes to the callback he chokes during the performance. Thomas messes up and someone else gets the role.

They don’t get to go to the wedding or win the callback.

Roman ducks out the same day and Remus takes his place.

________________________________

The next time, Patton was overly aware of his lack of certainty. He hadn’t realized how close Roman had been to falling over the edge, so during his next attempt he can't help but keep it fresh in his mind.

Throughout the debate he makes sure to agree with the creative side. He didn’t oppose any of his arguments or call him out where he originally thought he was being selfish; he’s as kind and gentle as can be, haunted by what had happened one cycle ago.

It makes Janus upset. He knows Patton’s true stance and can’t understand why he’s silencing his voice so much for one side alone. He ends up pointing out how Patton is being underhanded by trying to use flattery to get things to go his way and then mentions how that must be how he's managed to keep everyone under his thumb for so long. Patton sees red.

It’s nice to get his steadily building frustration out. Perhaps Janus is an undeserving target of his anger, but the criticism just hit too close to home for him to accept lying down. He didn't want to be a manipulative person. He had been trying so hard to let others have their voices be heard and not seize control the narrative too much, but in the end wasn't that what he was doing now? Trying to manipulate everything, even if his motives were good? The realization had blood pumping in his ears, drowning out everything but his own voice.

Everyone becomes tense when he starts yelling and Janus only stares in shock, confused and oddly enough, hurt to be the focus of the usually happy pappy's wrath. Patton yells until his throat is hoarse, and then some more because he knows he can't damage his vocal chords here. He does it for Logan, who had been pushed aside almost every time they've done this. For Virgil, who had so many doubts and fears and was too afraid to share them until they become too much. For Roman, who was the most likely to get crushed whatever they did. For Janus, who was just trying to get a seat at the table. For Remus, who potentially never would.

For himself, who just couldn't get this right.

When he's done the room is so silent that they would have been able to hear a pin drop and he feels a weight off his chest. He's made his point, loud and clear.

Even though the others have no idea what he’s talking about.

________________________________

The next time, Patton wakes up feeling guilty for losing his temper, despite how cathartic it had been to let loose a little bit. He can’t look the others in the eye when he goes to breakfast, and instead spends the whole time in his head, trying to figure out what to try next.

This time he decides to soften his voice. He already knows it’s a mistake based on prior experience, but he doesn’t know what else to do-- doesn’t have the time to consider any other approach to take before Thomas is getting that phone call once again.

Throughout the debate, his statements fall short. He lacks conviction. He subtly tries to side with Janus and Roman, but not to the extent where it makes Virgil upset, and it only makes him look flakey. He’s flimsy; uncertain, and everyone can tell. He can practically feel Logan’s desperation to take his place from the back row.

In the end, Thomas is convinced that he’s a completely horrible and selfish person due to Patton’s lack of assertion otherwise and avoids both events out of a self-induced spiral of guilt and anxiety.

________________________________

The next time Patton is too firm. He keeps assuring Thomas that he’s not a bad person, and realizes too late that he fell back into his old habits.

Roman sentences them to the wedding again.

Patton summons a pillow to scream into in frustration.

________________________________

By the 50th loop, Patton had more or less given up. He starts the day by rolling out of bed and popping open the cork of a wine bottle right into his face. It’s in the moment he starts feeling a black eye form that he makes the formal decision: fuck it.

He skips breakfast to sip wine through a silly straw (because casual alcoholism doesn’t count when you make it fun. Or when you’re stuck in a figurative nightmare), and he changes into the most ‘dad on vacation’ clothes he owned; a gaudy hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. He forgoes shoes because decidedly this isn’t a shoes kind of day, and after 50 god-forsaken attempts at trying to get this right, he thinks he’s earned a little self-indulgence.

When the time rolls around to start the video, he belatedly rises up in the living room tispy and wearing his old 2015 new years novelty sunglasses. The others are immediately taken aback at his appearance while Thomas grimaces.

“Ah… So that’s why I’ve been thinking about cursing people out all day.”

“You should. It’d be funny.” Patton giggles.

“...Okay.” Virgil states, likely finding his behaviour too familiar for comfort. “What the fuck."

Janus doesn’t join them this time around; instead the real Logan shows up because suddenly everything had switched courses into a completely different problem. The four of them try to figure out what’s wrong with Patton, and he refuses to cooperate the entire time, just for the heck of it. Eventually he grows bored of watching them fuss and squabble, so he starts saying the first things to come to mind, the deepest opinions that were buried under all of his repression-- things he wouldn’t dare say if he were sober and free from this hell.

“I hate all of you sometimes.” He announces over their discussion without guilt, too far gone to care how hurt the faces that looked back at him were. He knew it wasn’t real anyway, at least it wouldn’t be when the next loop started.

“I hate how I can apologize forever and it’s still not enough. I hate how I have to accept the mistakes made against me, but you all get to sulk for weeks and not even let me try to make things right. When all I’ve ever wanted is to make you happy.”

“Patton-” Logan begins hesitantly. He looks like he wants to contradict him and Patton doesn't care for it.

“Stupid of me, right Logan?” He cuts him off with a laugh, dry and completely unlike himself. Logan closes his mouth, regret flashing across his face, and it just felt so good in that moment to be the bitter one for once. He’s never done it before; always having to take the high road while everyone else chose to be petty and self-absorbed in their own egos. No fault to them for that; he felt pretty amazing right now, going against the moral code he had built and adhered to for so long. It felt forbidden and like the sort of thing he’d regret later. (And heck, with all the mistakes he’d been accidentally making, perhaps doing something wrong on purpose was like taking that power back.)

“I’m doing all of this- going through this day again and again- for what?” He continues, glaring at them individually. “I’m doing my best here- just to make everything alright again, and- fuck.”

Patton ignores the shocked expression he gets when he swears. He’s getting too close to feeling bad again, so he summons another bottle of wine. He learns from his mistake and points it away from himself this time, and the cork doesn’t hit him in the face; instead it smashes into the tv screen. Roman and Virgil yelp. Thomas stares.

“...Patton, what are you talking about?” Thomas asks.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Patton giggles again after taking a long swig, sliding back against the blinds until he's on the floor. Away from the cameras, at last. “None of you will remember this anyway.”

And they don’t. (They never do)

________________________________

The next time, he wakes up without a black eye or a hangover and considers not leaving his bed today. He does anyway, just to make sure he hadn’t done something irreversible and ruined everything for real this time.

He goes to the kitchen to find everyone sitting like they always do, in the exact same positions at the exact same time with the exact same food, without fail. They acknowledge him the same way they always do as he enters the room and he can’t help but grind his teeth when it feels like mocking. So he walks over to the cupboard and starts pulling out plates to smash against the ground.

They’re surprised, worried, taken aback, and as he stands in a sea of broken china he doesn’t care about what they have to think about him. He already knows nothing he does right now will have later consequences, even if it means cutting up his feet like an idiot.

He’ll just have to do better next time.

________________________________

He doesn’t do better. Instead, he gives into the urge to stay in bed all day. No one comes for him and the discussion happens without him, which he knows because he resists the summons to go testify.

Maybe Logan got to be the lawyer this time. That’d be nice, he supposes. ________________________________

The next time he sets fire to his room, just to see what it would feel like to see everything he cares for burn.

(It doesn't feel much like anything, because he already knows it'll be back the next day. He hates it in unspeakable amounts when he's proven right.)

________________________________

The next, he goes over to the other half of the mindscape and steals Janus’ hat, feeling a bit more carefree as the side pursues him around the mindscape and the rest of the day is derailed.

________________________________

The next, he tries to make a cake to celebrate the callback and accidentally burns it. He feels like there's some sort of cosmic irony there.

________________________________

The next, he does nothing but make puns until the others cry in frustration.

________________________________

Next, he goes to the other half of the mindscape again and hangs out with Remus all day, just to check up on him after not seeing him since he took Roman’s place that one time.

Remus tries to attack him several times but Patton is past the point of being afraid of him. At one point he catches the shuriken Remus throws at his head and he finally manages to earn his favour.

They end up having a good time, talking until everything resets again.

________________________________

Next, he kisses everyone on the cheek and apologizes for getting drunk and being mean to them.

(Despite them being reseted versions of themselves and therefore not remembering any of it. He still does it anyway and it still makes him feel slightly better afterwards).

________________________________

Next, he finds the energy to make a genuine effort once again.

This time Logan ducks out. Patton spends the next few loops in mourning.

________________________________

By around the 75th loop, he’s finally had enough. There’s no more fun to be had messing around with these constantly-reseting sides, and he’s so so tired of trying to keep the peace and failing. Nothing he does was working-- in fact it seemed like he was just making things worse based on the amount of times one of the sides had broken down in front of them or tried to duck out or left with undealt with emotions. (There were so many things he had seen that would stick with him for a while, wondering just how close they were to having something similar happen in reality. He couldn't even rest anymore, kept awake by the questions.)

If he were a different side, one more accustomed to problem solving, perhaps he would’ve had a solution by now, but he just doesn’t. It's not how he was meant to operate. So instead of trying to figure it out, he goes to Virgil’s room after breakfast and starts blubbering in front of him until he’s led onto his bed where he's awkwardly consoled.

Virgil, without even knowing why he’s upset, places a comforting hand on his back anyway which sends Patton into even greater sobs. It had been so long since he'd let someone hug him or show him affection- so upset with himself for his failings that he stopped believing that he deserved any of it. This time he just lets it happen because he needs some comfort and if he doesn't get it he doesn't know how he'll be able to continue forward.

The two of them end up moving to a more neutral part of the mindscape as to not make his feelings worse, and he allows himself to indulge in just being held. He's aware of exactly how long they have until the start of the debate, so he milks his time with Virgil for all he's got, until eventually his crying evens out into sniffles, leaving him with tired eyes and a runny nose.

He knows Virgil wants to ask what’s wrong, but he breaks the silence first when he finally manages to calm down.

“Do you know how to get out of a loop?”

He can’t see Virgil’s face from where they’re hugging, but he can tell that he’s at odds with the question.

“You’re asking me, the MVP of spiralling, how to get out of a loop?” Virgil asked unbelievingly.

“Yeah, you’re right- It was stupid.” Patton begins, pulling away before Virgil stops him.

“I didn’t say that.” He says quickly, worriedly. Then he goes quiet in deliberate thought. “...You have to rely on the people around you to get out of it, I guess.”

When Patton makes a questioning noise, he continues.

“I mean… Sometimes it’s all you can do, y’know? You’re always gonna be biased when you’re living in your own head, and if you’re struggling to get through something yourself... the best thing to do is ask for help. Get a different viewpoint.”

"Sounds scary." Patton laughs wetly. Virgil joins him, sounding relieved.

"Yeah. It's definitely not as easy as it sounds. Being vunerable and reaching out to people, that is."

"...How do you manage?"

"Well..." Virgil pulls back a little. "I don't always. But you just have to trust that it'll be worth it in the end. And it usually is."

After a moment of thinking that over, Patton draws back fully and stares at him. Virgil meets his eyes with barely-veiled worry as he continues. “So… If you’re dealing with something, you can always tell us. You should know by now that you don't have to deal with everything alone, popstar.”

Patton can't meet his gaze any longer when his eyes heat up once more. "...I just want to be there for all of you," He finally admits in a small voice. "It's my one goal, and I feel like I only let you down. I can't expect you to carry my problems with you, on top of that."

Virgil's frown deepens. "It's not us carrying a burden for you, Pat. It's sharing the load equally so you don't fall under the pressure." His hand found Patton's back again, rubbing small circles. "If you feel like you have to be the one to fix everything all the time, then maybe we failed you as friends."

Once again, the dam broke, and Patton sincerely did not know what to say to that. Virgil pulled him back to his side, letting Patton rest his head on his shoulder as he let out his second round of tears for the day. They were spending too much time talking about his issues, he realized as the video started once more, but Virgil didn't make any move to leave his side, and for the nth time that day, he was incredibly greatful to him.

Something about their conversation clicked in his brain, and it was like he knew exactly what he needed to do. When he was finally ready to let go of this day, he gave Virgil one last hug and thanked him for his advice. He then sunk out back to his room and fell into bed, waiting for the cycle to start over again.

Perhaps he had known all along what he would have to do to end this, and Virgil had given him the final shove.

Either way, he so was ready for it to be over.

________________________________

On the final loop, Patton decided to follow Virgil’s advice.

He goes back to acting as normal-- eating breakfast, getting the call, rising up, reminding them about the wedding-- and this time he doesn’t do anything especially different.

Unlike his previous attempts where he tried to change his tune, tried to see through every possibility, tried to stop arguments before they started; he instead tries to do everything the same way the original debate had gone, to be the best of his memory.

He didn’t falter when he said things he now knew to be insensitive, he didn’t hold back on disagreeing with the others, or insert himself into problems that weren’t his to help with yet. He watched as the cracks formed between each side, watched the gavel swing down, watched every other side sink out after shooing Janus away.

And he knew it would be just fine.

He looked into Thomas’ eyes and felt nothing but pride. Just like the real thing, this one looked uncertain, but was briefly relieved by the conclusion they came to, putting his trust in Patton as he reassured him in his decision. He knew that by choosing this route he was accepting the heartbreak that would come later, but he accepted that. He understood now that hiding in fantasies of getting everything perfect was counterproductive and unrealistic. He knew it was time to go back.

As he sunk out to his room for the final time, he realized that if this exercise taught him anything, it was that above making the right choices, above having the right things to say to fix everyone’s problems, all he needed, all along…

Was patience.

________________________________

Patton opened his eyes to the sight of dim spotlights overhead. With a loud dad grunt he was glad no one else was around to hear, he rolled over to sit on the edge of the stage, looking out to the seat in the crowd he had once been impersonated at.

He took in the room once last time before the lights continued to dim, which he instinctually knew to be the mind’s way of telling him to leave. He was ready for it; so he did.

Hopping off of the stage, he walked between the aisles towards the exit, pushing the doors open to be greeted with the familiar space of the mindscape. He stood there for a second, letting his eyes adjust from the darkness of the theatre as his memory slowly returned to him-- compressing the months he had just gone through until he could remember why he had come here in the first place.

“So.” He heard a familiar voice come from next to him as he regained his bearings. “Are you satisfied with what you found?”

“...Yeah.” Patton said softly, turning to smile at the figure.

“And?”

“I didn’t need to change anything in the end.”

There was a sharp exhale, barely a scoff. “Well, I could’ve told you that, and it would’ve saved you a lot of hassle.”

“You could have.” Patton agreed. “...But it was helpful seeing all the way things could have been different, too.”

His eyes fell to the ground, recalling the different outcomes that were wildly different and much much worse than their current situation. It made him grateful for the way everything had turned out-- imperfect but not broken-- and made everything seem so much less bleak than how he first thought it to be. When he was so lost that he had chosen to relive that day for the sake of getting peace.

“Oh? And what exactly happened in there?”

“A lot. One time I stole your hat. You got so mad that you started hissing.” Patton’s smile widened at one of the better memories, even more so when his friend grumbled.

“Wow. I’m so glad the hour I spent out here waiting was used productively.” Janus sighed, pulling his hat down subconsciously. “...I am glad that it helped, though.”

“I am too.” Patton hummed. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Janus finally returned his smile and Patton brightened up. They weren't yet confident that they could fix everything that had happened between the sides, they didn’t even know if it was possible for them to do so alone, but they were at least willing to take that step forward and offer a helping hand.

And that's all that matters, right? No matter how many times they were let down or faced an obstacle, they just kept getting up to try to be better. It didn't matter if things weren't alright again right away; sometimes earning forgiveness meant trusting the other person to come back to you eventually. Waiting for that opportunity to glue back the pieces together.

And if Patton was certain about anything, it was that he was more than prepared to wait.

________________________________

Tags: @nasatshirts @quinnthequeer @mayflowers07 @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @foxxsong @omnicrex @nadiestar @mistythegirlfluxmess @greenninjagal-blog @hit-or-mish @slytherin-halfblood @i-need-a-life-8903 @lemonlinelights @logicaemetus @bluestarfan10 @marshmallow-fluffy @enby-phoenix @arrestjellyfish @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @impatentpending @killjoy-3000 @nonasficcollection @mhep24601 @atomic-cat-dragon @puffydove @qrowdraws-notforyouthough @randommuffinyt @bubblycricket @theactual-devil @viana-dascolli @modsnow

#my writing #sanders sides #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #platonic drlamp #patton and the no-good day #patton angst #OOF IT'S DONE

804 notes · View notes

renaerys · 3 years

Note

Prompt 50. But Berserk & Boomer😔👉👈💕

50. “I thought you left.”

We’re calling this one Unfortunately, She Impressed Him. This is a pair of characters I love with all my heart in any flavor of relationship and can’t wait to write more of in my ongoing multi-chapter fic Trinity House over on AO3.

This fic is part of a prompt challenge that is now closed to new requests, but you can read all the completed submissions here. Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we’re getting creative here.

xxx

Boomer was halfway across the deserted lobby of Faust Keating Rogers, LLP when he realized he’d forgotten his keys at his desk. He groaned aloud because it was 8 p.m. and no one was around to hear him because they had all gone home to their families hours ago like normal people. Boomer didn’t have two to three kids and a house in the suburbs, though, and neither did his boss. The three hour lull reserved for dinner, baths, and bedtimes before the evening work-from-home grind offered him no alternative but to power through. He fully planned to grab take out on his way home and enjoy an episode of whatever was on HBOMax before getting back to the tedious work of reviewing the draft prospectus statement his boss had sent him to proof by tomorrow morning.

Except, his keys were forty floors up and he now had to risk running into her again when he’d managed to slip away so neatly. He’d even removed his tie on the elevator ride down, and now he rubbed his exposed neck, flushed with anxiety over what might happen if she saw him and asked him to stick around to finish the work here.

“Nice going, dumbass,” he lamented as he stepped onto the elevator and hit the button for the fortieth floor.

It wasn’t that Boomer disliked his job. In fact, he didn’t mind it at all. It was better than slinging drinks or waiting tables. He had health insurance, a steady paycheck, and a resumé that could proudly display the name of one of the most elite accounting firms in the country. He could pivot his career if he wanted to, as Brick would say. Boomer wasn’t thinking about his next job right now, though. Right now, he was thinking about this one and how his boss was a hard-ass and a workaholic even if she was brilliant, and how there was a one hundred percent chance she would detect him coming back to his desk (which was annoyingly set up right in front of her office so that he could answer her calls, manage her meetings, and deal with whoever passed close enough to her event horizon to get suckered into the latest heinous audit in need of staffing).

There were his traitorous keys sitting on the desk next to the framed picture of his brothers. He glared at them, as if they were a forgotten household item that had developed a supernatural grudge like in those old Japanese folktales he liked to read online. He half expected them to jingle and alert his boss to his presence, just to spite him.

They didn’t, and he slipped them into his pocket as quietly as could be. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and took a beat. It was quiet. Most of the offices were dark, save for a few poor souls in the large conference room stuck on the ongoing year-end audit for one of the firm’s most important clients: Unicorn, Inc. His boss’s office was also lit up behind her closed door, but she hadn’t called out to him like she would during the day when he got back from his lunch break hoping for a few minutes to catch up on emails in peace before she dumped more work on him.

This, of course, was odd. The small legion of assistants who had come before Boomer were notorious for their short-term employment working this specific desk. The work was demanding and so was the boss, but there was something else that set her apart from other senior associates in the International Tax Services division, something that seemed to intimidate away any support the higher ups sent her way. Denise a couple desks down had warned Boomer not to bring too many personal effects to the office; chances were he wasn’t going to last long. Boomer had smiled thinly and thanked Denise for her advice, and brought the picture of his brothers in the next morning because he had his pride and Brick told him it was healthy to indulge that once in a while. Brick would certainly know.

So here he was, uncertain. Anxiety over having to sit here for another two hours finishing work and having tepid Doordash delivered pulled him toward the elevator and escape, while that annoying, rare pride demanded he check on his boss and make sure she knew he was here to support her, lest she get the idea that he needed to be fired.

The longer he stood there, indecisive, the greater his curiosity grew. What was she doing in there? It was quiet, even when he strained his Super hearing. He could hear Dean Matheson pouring whiskey a few offices down (that guy had a drinking problem and everyone knew they only kept him around because he had the Unicorn, Inc. account), Adebayo Hansou on a conference call with Dubai that was escalating to profanity, Shelly Kim with her head down and typing away at an Excel spreadsheet like a pro. Their assistants were long gone for the night, but here was Boomer, loitering and indecisive and what is she doing in there not yelling at me when she definitely knows I’m here?

He couldn’t take it anymore. He knocked on the closed door—rap, rap, rap—and called out softly, “Berserk?”

A beat, then: “Come in.”

Finding his boss in upward facing dog while still in her pencil skirt was not a sight Boomer was prepared for. Berserk had her eyes closed as she stretched at a near ninety degree angle and listened to music on her Airpods. Boomer had never seen her with her heels off and her mane of red hair thrown together in a messy bun; it was so casual that it was almost obscene.

“You’re staring.”

Fuck, he was staring and now she was looking right at him down her nose, even though she was the one on the floor. He stood up straighter, unable to help himself when she took that tone that reminded him so much of Brick’s when he was about to criticize, but he didn’t avert his gaze. “Sorry.”

She breathed in deeply through her nose and hoisted herself up into downward dog position. “Why are you here?”

Forgot my keys seemed like a really lame excuse that she’d probably laugh at him for, but he also was not in the habit of making shit up on the spot if he hoped to make people believe him. “I forgot my keys.” He took them from his pocket to show her, as if she might not know what keys are, as a concept.

“Smart locks.” Berserk exhaled and slowly walked her hands back on the yoga mat until she reached her feet and began to swing slowly left and right.

Huh? he almost said like an idiot, until he caught himself. “Don’t think my landlord would approve of me installing that.” Also, those things were like $200 a pop, which was not worth the occasional inconvenience and shame of forgetting his keys and then catching his boss doing yoga in her office after hours.

Berserk made some noncommittal sound like whatever, peasant and slowly uncurled upward one vertebra at a time. Boomer realized he was back to staring again, literally lingering in her door watching her and trying to equate this subdued, casual version of Berserk with the terse, no-nonsense businesswoman he was used to dealing with on a daily basis.

When she finally achieved her full height, she popped her neck. The hair that was too short for her bun fell in around her narrow face in a stylish, athleisure sort of way. The top buttons on her blouse were undone. She wore a small, golden necklace he’d never noticed before because he wasn’t in the habit of checking out his boss. “I thought you left.”

The accusatory nature of her words were totally at odds with her flat tone, only the barest hint of curiosity dangling there at the end, like she expected him to respond.

Oh, she expected him to respond.

Boomer took another step into her office because he was full of poor judgment today. “I forgot my keys.”

At which point he showed her his keys again and also had a mild stroke, because what the fuck are you doing, mate?

Berserk smiled. “Yeah, I got that part.”

Was she laughing at him? He had never heard her laugh before, unless it was at Dean Matheson, that comb-over in denial who, in addition to being a high functioning alcoholic, also had a reputation for throwing associates under the bus when a client wasn’t happy.

Boomer smiled back, because that was what he did when people smiled at him, and ‘people’ now included Berserk, apparently.

“Well, since you’re here,” she said as she padded around to her desk.

Crap, there was the work he was afraid of soliciting from her by remaining in the building. He debated an excuse to give her: picking up dry cleaning? Plausible, but transparent. Meeting up with his brothers? No, she’d probably make him stay all night for the chance to ruin Brick’s plans.

“Thai or Mexican?”

Boomer stared dumbly. He was becoming quite good at that (10,000 hours and you can become an expert at anything, they say). “Huh?”

The yoga must have put Berserk in an exceedingly gracious mood, because she actually repeated her question without getting that look on her face like she was picturing him getting trampled by stampeding monsters. “Thai or Mexican? I don’t have a preference.”

Oh.

Boomer’s stomach picked that time to snarl at him—8 p.m. and still no dinner, the fiend.

Berserk snorted in laughter and fanned herself with her phone. “Jesus. Mexican it is.”

Which was how Boomer found himself on the small sofa tucked in the corner of Berserk’s office, shoes off and belt loosened, with enough tacos, tamales, and rice and beans to feed a small family. He even had a beer from the mini fridge Berserk kept under her desk.

She hadn’t stayed late to work. Well, she had, but only because she didn’t have a reason to go home.

“I just hate getting home to a dark apartment sometimes,” she said in between bites of food. She had her legs tucked up under her on the sofa close enough to brush Boomer’s thigh if he reached to grab the salsa.

“I thought you lived with your sister?”

“Brute got her own place a few months ago. The arrangement was only temporary while she was in between jobs.”

It was weird knowing so little about a person whose whole family had been in Boomer’s inner orbit since childhood. As far as he knew, Berserk wasn’t close to any of her cousins, not even Blossom. Boomer himself had never been more eager to leave a room than when Brat walked into it. Only Butch, Brute, and Buttercup had ever found common ground among each other once the sworn rivalries and blood feuds of their youth gave way to teenage rebellion against their respective overlord fathers and then the slog of adulthood that was inescapable even for a bunch of Supers flying high on Chemical X.

The fact that Boomer had gotten this job surprised him more than anyone. After drifting from restaurant jobs to office temp placements over the last six years, he’d never thought he would dust off his economics degree and land a temp-to-permanent position that seemed way above his qualifications. And he never thought it would be working for a woman he’d most definitely electrocuted in battle at least a dozen times before puberty.

“What?”

Boomer blinked. He’d been staring again, Jesus Christ. “Sorry, I was just thinking… I didn't know that. I’ve been working here for five months and I don’t actually know much about you at all.”

“Hm.”

Her magenta eyes were wine-dark against the murky sky beyond the window forty stories up. Boomer did avert his gaze this time to reach for the salsa, but he didn’t use it.

“I don’t even know why you invited me to stay for dinner in the office if we’re not going to do any work.”

“Why did you stay?”

“For the free food.”

Berserk grinned—the third time she had smiled at him tonight (or ever). He needed to stop counting; he’d be disappointed when it stopped happening tomorrow.

“Don’t get used to it. Much as I appreciate the company now and again, there’s no need for both of us to be stuck here while Matheson’s breathing down the associates’ necks. Can’t have him poaching you out from under me.”

“Well, I don’t work for him; I work for you.”

“It’s sweet how you don’t understand office politics.” She ate a lone slice of avocado with a fork. “He landed Unicorn back when they were early stage, and back when he was still putting in the work to earn his reputation. But since they IPO’d three years ago and make up twenty percent of our revenue now, he’s just another big name coasting by on associate work. You know he regularly schedules client calls and just doesn’t bother to show up? He forgets half the time, and the other half he’s busy playing golf or buying a yacht or whatever the fuck rich, white Boomers do.”

“Well, as a Boomer myself, I can say I’ve spent exactly zero hours buying yachts.”

She chuckled. Fourth time. “Oh, really.”

“Never even thought of yachts. As far as I’m concerned, they’re not even real.”

“Thanks for your expert opinion.”

“Any time.” Boomer turned his body to face her and draped his arm over the back of the sofa. With only the soft light from the floor lamp in the corner, he imagined himself adrift in the darkness, the sky scraper lights nearby stars. It was a lonely thought, one made romantic in the knowledge that she was here too, and he wasn’t actually alone.

“Matheson almost did poach you, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Boomer couldn’t recall exchanging more than a few words with the man.

“When we were filling support positions. Someone recognized you from the news a few years back, when the Cyclops Monster attacked the marina district and you and your brothers took it out. Matheson got it in his head that you’d be able to work at Super speed and help lower his billables.”

“Wow. Maybe you should’ve let him. What do you think the net savings would be in yacht units of measurement?”

Berserk rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. “I claimed you before he could get the paperwork in.”

Boomer hyper-focused on that word: claimed. He also pointedly ignored it entirely, much in the same way he ignored the new count of five smiles tonight. “Showed him your bending powers, did you?”

Berserk’s Corona bottle turned frosty under her hand in a totally unnecessary, big dick energy display of said powers, and she took another sip. “No. Sharon from HR likes me. And I promised her I wouldn’t fire you after three months like your predecessors.”

Flattered was not how Boomer would describe the feeling of being claimed by Berserk and eluding Matheson’s vampiric clutches. But he was a bit tickled all the same. This was the woman Butch had once described as essentially Brick, if he were constipated all the time.

And then he realized what she was doing. “Hey, you’re sharing things about yourself.”

She clinked her bottle to his, and Boomer shivered at the frosty chill she transferred on contact. “Aw, you figured it out all by yourself.”

“Ha ha.”

She didn’t quite smile, but she did look kind of serene then, content even, as she lay back against the arm of the sofa and yawned. Her gold necklace—just a simple disk with an engraving Boomer could not make out—reflected the lamp light when she moved. It rested just beneath her collarbone, which had suddenly become the single-most interesting part of Berserk, and oh no, was he interested—

“You’re staring again.”

Son of a bitch.

“Sorry,” he said automatically. “I didn’t mean to.”

Hard no. He was not allowed to be any percent attracted to Berserk. First, she was his boss, and there was a cliché here that, while subverted on the gender role spectrum, was still very risky for both of them. Second, she was Berserk, a fellow Super, cousin to his best friend Bubbles and a shrewd, stiletto bitch in Brick’s estimation, which sounded bad. Not that she was bad, or even evil, unless you counted helping rich corporations accurately report their taxes while taking advantage of the many egregious loopholes in the Internal Revenue Code. Which, okay, point taken, but he also worked here and anyway, people should not be deemed good or evil so much as their choices ought to be—

“Are you thinking about fucking me?”

You shrewd, stiletto bitch!

She was smiling again, and Boomer pathetically logged that as the sixth time, although he wasn’t sure he should count it given the overt malice behind it.

Unfortunately, Boomer was, as had been previously established, very bad at making shit up on the fly. So he miserably said, “Yeah.”

“Hm.”

She sipped her beer slowly, and of course he watched. If it was out in the open, as fleeting a bout of insanity as it may have been, at least he could wallow in it without worrying about appearances.

It was the yoga. That fucking upward facing dog, Jesus Christ.

It was more than that too. Over the last few months, he had worked closely with her, watched her navigate the cutthroat halls full of piranhas like Matheson and other account managers, getting herself work on the best clients while managing her juniors with efficiency and professionalism. She was excellent and sharp, and she demanded excellency and sharpness in kind. After years of going it alone or temping for bosses who didn’t care enough even to learn his name, much less provide him with guidance and mentorship, it was an unspeakable relief to work under someone who knew how to rally the troops. Someone who knew how to lead, how to motivate, and how to reward loyalty with loyalty in return. It didn’t hurt that she looked amazing in her daily stilettos, either.

Unfortunately, she impressed him.

“I have some work to get done tonight.” Berserk stood up and smoothed her skirt.

Boomer scrambled to his feet. “Of course! Um.” He began closing food containers and repackaging them in the bags they’d come in, because he was panicking. “I’ll get rid of the trash. Do you want the leftovers in the fridge?”

“You take them. Otherwise my office will smell like a burrito for a week.”

“Okay.” Numbly, Boomer finished packing everything up, while Berserk made her way back to her desk and logged into her computer to check her emails.

Boomer lingered at the door. “I’ll have the prospectus back to you later tonight.”

“Thanks.”

Wow, way to go, stud.

He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.

“Boomer?”

“Yeah?”

“Friday is good.”

He stared back at her in expert mode. “Huh?”

Berserk poked her head around the side of her large, external monitor. She was smiling again. Lucky number seven. “For fucking.”

“Okay,” Boomer said.

Okay?!

She pulled back behind her monitor. “I was going to get a cat, but you’ll do much better.”

Because she didn’t like going home to a dark, empty apartment alone. With no one to fuck.

“That was a joke.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he croaked.

Friday is for fucking, he thought, which was delightful alliteration and also completely insane and one hundred percent something he was getting more on board with by the nanosecond.

“See you tomorrow,” she said.

Boomer clutched the leftover Mexican food in his fist. “Okay. Goodnight.”

It took him the time to fly home and put the food away in his small fridge to realize that he had a sort-of date with Berserk lined up for two days from now.

He Y-posed at the window and whooped, “Hell yes!!”

Loud pounding in the floor followed by old Mrs. Cruikshank’s muffled Keep it down! couldn’t bring down his mood.

Boomer leaped onto his threadbare, living room sofa with his work laptop and took to the prospectus with alacrity. He’d send over superior work product and make Berserk’s job just that much easier tomorrow morning.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House (which has a lot more Berserk and Boomer content, btw!) and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #bersoomer #ppg berserk #ppg boomer #september fic prompts #so this turned into a 3k one shot because i love these characters and i couldn't help myself #tfw considering a part 2

30 notes · View notes

spaceorphan18 · 3 years

Text

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #51

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

A/N: Those of you who know me, know that I love superheroes - so, I couldn't help myself but let this one be so delightfully arch. Thank you for letting me indulge. And thank you for reading! <3

***

Hunter Clarington (Dynamic Duets)

“You may enter.”

Hunter Clarington’s dominating voice rings in the empty chamber. He’s sitting, alone, behind a large, sturdy and polished wooden desk. His chair is of the finest leather - one that he brought himself from Colorado Springs. The shades are all drawn - the sunlight hurts his steely green eyes. Mr. Puss is curled up on his lap. Hunter slowly runs his fingers through Mr. Puss’s fur as Sebastian Smythe makes his way across the room.

Sebastian slides the manila envelope across the desk.

“What is it?” Hunter asks.

“Confirmation.” A smirk climbs on Sebastian’s face.

Hunter arches an eyebrow. “How did you get it?”

“Facebook isn’t that hard to hack,” Sebastian says. “I just had to entice a lonely, young IT student with some of my, let’s say, talented charm, and he got in without a problem.”

“Always good with your mouth, aren’t you Sebastian?” Hunter refrains from scoffing. He prefers the allure to money over sexual pleasure in order to get things done - but if Sebastian’s methods work, he’s not one to interfere. It’s all in the name of the master plan. “What does it say?”

“He hooked up with another guy,” Sebastian says, an air of impressedness in his voice. “And ruined his relationship with his boyfriend in the process.”

“Interesting…” Hunter leans back in thought. “Very interesting - so not quite the perfect prince I’ve been led to believe he is.”

“Never thought they guy had it in him, to be honest,” Sebastian says. “I guess Kurt Hummel isn’t as special as he thinks he is after all.”

“I’m not one for personal grudges, Sebastian,” Hunter warns as he pushes away from the desk. “This is about business - not revenge. However, I think this might work to our advantage. How much damage has been done? How vulnerable do you think he is?”

“Very, sir. His emotions have always been his weak spot.”

“Malleable. Hmm.” Hunter let’s Mr. Puss leaps out of his arms and into the chair as he faces the roaring fire behind him. This is good. This is very good. His eyes grow wide with delight, sparkling in the dancing firelight. “Love, I believe, is for the weak. If I was able to live without my heart, I would have had it removed a long time ago. Power, fame, notoriety, money… all of it much more valuable. But love... emotion… can be easily manipulated. And we just have to exploit that.”

Sebastian lets out a hardy laugh as he comes up to the fire beside him. “That shouldn’t be too hard. The only reason he left here in the first place was to be with Kurt.”

“Then all we need is the power of suggestion,” Hunter grins wildly. “You know, when I was brought here to Dalton, I was tasked with the mission to bring prestige and glory to this academy. How has a school, with such class, such dutifully tradition never been graced with the highest honors it could achieve? And when I started interrogating the members of the Warblers, the one thing that continued to come up is the Legend of Blaine Anderson. And how, despite never making it past Regionals, the glory days of the Warblers were when Blaine Anderson was a part of the group.”

Sebastian winces.

“Oh, don’t take it personally, Sebastian,” Hunter says. He gives Sebastian a dark and devilish stare. “You are truly a great number two. However your promiscuity gets in the way of greater ambition. Blaine, however, is the perfect front man. On the outside he exudes charisma and talent. On the inside he is a mushy mess of a man - one who can be easily manipulated, like a puppet on strings. Don’t get me wrong, Sebastian - we get Blaine back, he’ll be the face of the Warblers, but I will remain their leader supreme. Now - who is the closest to Blaine?”

“They all still adore him,” Sebastian says, as if it’s painful to say that. “However, I think Trent has the most connection.”

Hunter lets out a pleased laugh. “Of course he is. Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to get me Trent. I’ll plant the idea in Trent that perhaps, in this trying time, it would be good for Blaine to return back to a place that’s familiar - back to a place that welcomes him with open arms, and does not judge him. Back to his real home. Trent, of course, will spread the idea like a wildfire -- and if Blaine is as legendary as the rest of you claim he is, the Warblers’ want will help us pursue our goal. However, this will not be enough. We’ll have to lure him here.”

“An invite?”

“No, something much better,” Hunter says, a wild grin on his lips. “We’ll take their National’s Trophy. Not only to use it as bait, but to mock the New Directions as we take a gem they might not even know they have.”

“Do you really think this will work?” Sebastian asks - there’s a slight challenge in his voice that Hunter wishes to eviscerate. No one doubts Hunter Clarington.

“Of course,” Hunter says, with authority. Sebastian moves to leave, but Hunter throws up a hand, staying him. “One more thing - I need a blazer, size - I’m guessing, extra small.”

Sebastian tilts his head. “Why?”

“Because,” Hunter licks his lips. “Blaine Anderson can’t return to who he really is, and accept his own destiny, unless he’s offered his true costume. A subtle reminder, and a true push, over to our side.”

“Genius,” Sebastian mutters.

His plan is flawless. The trap will be laid. And the unsuspecting hero, who fell victim to his own imperfections, and vulnerable to manipulation, will be theirs to do with what they wish. Hunter is giddy at the thought, and throws his head back in genuine, terrifying laughter.

#99 perspectives #s.o. writes things

24 notes · View notes

slipping-through-my-fingertips · 3 years

Text

august

Summary: August slips away and their summer fling is going to have to end.

Notes: it’s my birthday!! To celebrate here is the august story of my folklore series

AO3

For most people, all roads lead to Rome but for one Kurt Hummel, all roads lead to the mall.

First stop: coffee.

Once Kurt had secured his iced mocha, he began his window shopping. It was just so nice to walk around the air-conditioned mall.

There were plenty of middle and high schoolers wandering around with their friends. Enjoying the freedom of summertime. Kurt was pretty happy to be able to spend his summer days at the mall; almost like a relaxing vacation if it weren’t for the fear of running into old bullies and homophobes.

His dad just wanted Kurt to work a few days a week at the garage when the staff was short but with Finn there full-time, Kurt was barely needed. So, he spent his days off running errands and wandering around the Lima Mall.

There was no way for him to get lost at the mall. One, he had become very familiar with the mall having spent many weekends with his girls from glee club here. And two, it wasn’t a very large place.

Eventually, Kurt decided to splurge by getting a cinnamon pretzel and found a bench to rest. It wasn’t long until a curly-haired boy took a seat at the other end.

Kurt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say hello or not. They were likely the same age. Close in age and cute. While he was debating whether or not to engage with this boy, he made the first move.

“I’m Blaine.”

He’s now facing Kurt.

“Kurt.”

They smile at each other. Kurt can feel his face getting warm.

“You here alone?” Blaine asks.

“Yeah, you?”

Blaine nods. “Wanna walk together?”

Kurt holds up his half-eaten pretzel.

“Oh,” Blaine says, “that’s okay. I can just…”

Blaine moves to stand up and leave.

“No!”

It comes out louder than intended but it stops Blaine.

“I can walk and eat.”

****

They took road trips together and talked about everything except school. It was so refreshing to have something in common with another human besides McKinley High.

Blaine never said he was from Lima; Kurt suspected he wasn’t since he hadn’t seen him at school. Though, it was possible Blaine went to some private school outside of Lima. At one point, Kurt thought he might have to transfer if the bullying got too intense.

Honestly, it was just nice to have someone who understood him like Blaine did. They had so much in common from singing and acting to taste in Broadway musicals to the same favorite hate-watching shows. The only thing they seemed to disagree on was coffee.

Blaine had a strong opinion about drinking black drip coffee with a dash of cinnamon. Whereas, Kurt always got a nonfat mocha. However, they did agree hot chocolate was the superior wintertime drink to eggnog.

Blaine was willing to compromise in ways Rachel Berry never would.

So, it was no surprise to Kurt when he realized his feelings for Blaine.

Once again, Kurt Hummel was falling for a boy who wouldn’t like him back. This time it would hurt more because Blaine could like him, since he was also gay, but didn’t. Because who could love a boy like Kurt.

****

One day they were sharing a pretzel in Blaine’s car parked behind the mall as they typically did.

“Here,” he says, handing over the last piece.

Mid-chew, Blaine almost caused Kurt to choke.

“Can I kiss you?”

Kurt swallowed.

He must’ve been blushing because his face felt hot. Blaine clearly read the look on Kurt’s face as his answer and leaned forward over the center console.

The first thing Kurt noticed was that Blaine’s lips were dusted with cinnamon sugar. He swept his tongue over Blaine’s bottom lip gathering the flakes before painting Blaine’s tongue with cinnamon.

It was an intense first kiss to say the least. Kurt had always pictured a short peck as his very first but this was better. This kiss was just a few steps away from making out.

As the weeks of summer trickled by, Blaine and Kurt spent their days texting and meeting up to make out behind the mall. They’d climb into the backseat of one of their cars and for the next hour touch any skin available. If summer was good for one thing it was exposed skin.

Blaine often wore tank tops so Kurt became very familiar with the muscle tone of his arms.

Oftentimes, Blaine was the one reaching out first. Kurt found himself waiting by the phone for a text; careful to not have permanent plans in case Blaine called. He’d canceled anything to spend time with Blaine. As far as Kurt knew they only had this summer and now it was August. How many more days would he get with Blaine?

****

One late night in August, they went stargazing. Blaine had spread blankets and pillows on the hillside and managed to secure a cheap bottle of wine courtesy of his older brother. As it turns out, Blaine didn’t know much about constellations; luckily, Kurt did.

He spent loads of nights with his mom in the backyard. She told him so many myths of the sky.

Kurt shared some with Blaine, who had interlaced their fingers. Eventually their bodies were fully pressed together. Blaine was hovering over Kurt, placing kisses along his neck.

Kurt bent his head back to give Blaine more room to cover with his lips.

Then, shirts were riding up and removed. Blaine was playing with Kurt’s zipper.

“Can I?” He asked.

Kurt nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“I’ve never done this before,” Blaine whispers.

“Me neither.”

For two boys who have never had sex and weren’t necessarily prepared to that night, it was always going to be a little sloppy. Misplaced hands, teeth clinking against each other, and nervously checking if something was okay.

When it was over, Kurt pulled a blanket to cover them. Blaine was resting his head in between Kurt’s head and shoulder breathing him in.

“I could fall asleep so easily,” Blaine tells him.

Kurt agreed with him but he was seriously contemplating a different kind of falling.

****

Summer had to come to an end. Before Kurt realized it, he was laying out an outfit for the first day of school. He and Blaine never did have a conversation about what was going to happen to them after summer vacation. In fact, Kurt hadn’t heard from Blaine in a few days.

He texted but went to bed without a reply.

Meanwhile, Blaine was wide awake in his own bed. He stared at the unopened text from Kurt on his phone. He could text back but he didn’t know what to say.

Sorry, I’m moving schools tomorrow.

Sorry, I lied to you all summer.

Sorry, I’m not the person you think I am.

Every single message his brain could conjure up began with an apology.

In the end, Blaine ran out of time to text him back. From a restless sleep to breakfast to rushing to get to his new school on time, he was almost able to believe Kurt hadn’t texted him at all.

As Blaine introduced himself for the first time, his eyes caught sight of people passing the door; stranglers being tardy to their first class of the day. Every person in his peripheral vision made his insides jump. They all looked like Kurt.

Except, Kurt wasn’t here. Kurt could never be here. Whatever he and Blaine had over the summer was just that—a summer thing

Blaine never thought of himself as the type for flings but Kurt was different. He’d take any time he could have with him. If three months was all he had then that was okay. He knew this last summer would stick with him for a long time.

When he closed his eyes, he was staring at Kurt’s blue ones. He could feel Kurt’s fingers dancing along his naked back with the stars watching them.

Luckily, the classes seemed to be taking it easy on the students. Going over the class schedules, future projects, and what percentage of their grade was exams and quizzes. Of course, Blaine played plenty of those ice breakers and get-to-know-you exercises.

He loved those.

By the time lunch rolled around, Blaine even had someone to sit with in the cafeteria. A nice girl named Tina sat near him in history and offered him a spot at her normal table. Blaine had mentioned wanting to join the glee club and she bounced up to him after class.

“New Directions always needs members. Sit with us at lunch and we can give you pointers for your audition.”

He met Mike, Tina’s boyfriend, Quinn, head cheerleader, and Mercedes, second lead female soloist of glee. Rachel Berry soon joined the table and sized Blaine up. She had lots of questions about his range, experience, and if he was a spy. Her boyfriend, Finn, seemed suspicious of Blaine as well. Blaine was familiar with Finn’s concerns.

The pointed glares and scowl were markers of a jealous boyfriend. Finn wasn’t worried about Blaine becoming first male lead, he didn’t want Blaine to pursue a relationship with Rachel.

This was not the first time Blaine was being mistaken for your token straight guy.

The table just kept growing. People pushing tables together and pulling empty seats. A Mohawk boy called Puck was asking Blaine about sports he liked (mainly college football) when two more cheerleaders joined them.

Brittany, the blonde, was intrigued by a new student. She had some record to keep up and asked if he wanted to sneak off somewhere to help her with it. He declined. The other, Santana, was too busy waving to someone in the distance to really notice Blaine at all.

“Porcelain, finally,” Santana says, patting the seat beside her. “Meet New Kid.”

“It’s Blaine actually,” Rachel corrected.

The boy, Porcelain, sat down and looked over at Blaine. Their eyes met and instantly widened.

“I’m Kurt,” he says.

“Hi, Kurt.” Blaine watched the boy of his dreams swallow hard. “Blaine, it’s nice to meet you.”

Lunch continued and no one seemed the wiser. Why would the New Directions assume the New Kid in town had already met their beloved Kurt Hummel? No one's first instinct would be that these two boys shyly watching each other would be “they spent the summer hooking up behind the mall.” Well, technically making out at the mall and hooking up in the park, just that one night.

Blaine tried to participate in conversation so as to not raise suspicion that he was staring at Kurt’s lips, which he was completely guilty of.

Once the glee kids started talking about a disaster of a party Rachel once threw, Blaine is able to tune them out in favor of his summer memories.

Sitting in the dark movie theater and bumping hands with Kurt as they reached for popcorn at the same time. Reaching over, buttered fingers and all, to grab for Kurt’s hand. Being able to catch a glimpse of Kurt’s smile as the movie flashed in front of them.

Lost in his daydream, Blaine didn’t hear the bell ring until Kurt tapped his hand, which was stretched out almost in the middle of the table.

“Hey, time to get to class,” Kurt tells him, “walk with me?”

“Okay.” Blaine gathered his books and trash.

“Where to?” Kurt asks.

“Crafts actually.”

“Oh, that’s just down the hall here.” Kurt guides them through the crowds. “Thanks for not spilling everything to them today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our summer together.” Kurt’s blushing. “It was special.”

“To me too,” Blaine assures. “I wouldn’t have said anything to them. I don’t really know those guys yet. I’m new remember?”

Kurt nods. “Not new to me though.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Blaine chuckles.

They reach Blaine’s art classroom.

“I’ll see you in glee club,” Kurt says.

“Okay.”

Blaine only lets Kurt take a few steps before he’s touching his hand. “Wait.”

Kurt is staring at their joined hands and examining the hallway before meeting Blaine’s eyes. No one else is paying them any attention.

There are so many words Blaine wants to say to Kurt.

Be with me. Please. Be mine.

Don’t leave. Don’t slip away.

Stay, stay, stay.

Instead, he steps closer to Kurt and cups his face with his other hand. Kurt leans into the touch. Blaine gives the hallway one last look but it’s almost empty. The late bell will ring soon so he can’t waste any more time.

Blaine leans forward and pecks Kurt.

“Please,” he murmurs, against his lips.

Not even sure what he’s asking Kurt for exactly. Kurt seems to know what he means without needing more information or clearer words than a simple ‘please.’

Kurt drops Blaine’s hand and pulls their bodies close together and opens Blaine’s mouth with his tongue.

There’s a bell ringing, which Blaine thinks must be his own form of fireworks.

“If you two are quite done, there’s a class happening,” Blaine’s crafts teacher tells them.

They pull apart instantly, red in the face from being scolded, Kurt hurries off to his own class. Blaine does another round of introductions and can’t remember anyone’s name but Kurt Hummel.

#klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #klaine #my fics #folklore seires

20 notes · View notes

staycult · 4 years

Text

highschool!minho as your boyfriend

pairing — fem!reader x minho

genre — fluffish angst-ish ? bullet scenario but mostly not, enemies to lovers

word count — 2k

happy birthday to our precious cat boy! 🐈

happy birthday lino!

you’re one of the best dancers in your school

competitions arent complete without you

i guess the popularity with dancing got over your head a little bit

to you, you were just proud

but others took it the wrong way, as per usual

“alright we’re going to have a new member in our crew, please give him a warm welcome!” your dance instructor clapped

you wiped off your sweat and sat down on the floor to listen further

“come in, lino!” she urged

the young man came in wearing gray sweats and a plain black shirt with a poker face on

you didnt really care nor felt a bond forming between you two

“hi, lee minho, nice to meet you” he smiled half heartedly

you heard the other girls in the room swoon at the sight of him

you were about to nudge your friend who was obviously squealing when the instructor interrupted

“[y/n]! stand over here, please” she pointed beside minho

so you complied

his scent was manly with a hint of softness

he was taller than you and had a lean body structure

your instructor was eyeing the both of you from head to toe and proceeded to call over another instructor

“see, they would be perfect for it!” she whisper shouted at her fellow instructor, still eyeing the both of us

“i do agree with you but dont you think minho is still new? he just came in” the other replied

“minho if you don’t mind? can i show him your audition video?” she asked

minho gave her a nod while he looked around the place with his arms crossed, while you looked like an idiot just standing there like 🧍🏻‍♀️

“wow! his body is flexible, you made the right choice with these two" the male instructor commended

“right?"

"alright, you two would be assigned to create a new choreography for the up coming dance competition. it should be hip hop styled, music of choice is yours." she instructed

your fellow dancers already went home since it was getting late, so you did too after the discussion

you didnt really talk to minho

you felt like you didnt need to, yet

unless it was about the dance

practices were always held after classes. you and the crew decided to brainstorm possible songs that you guys could dance to. all of the songs they were suggesting was boring and at this point you were frustrated and threw a fit. "god, think!" you sighed at your fellow dancers as you ruffled your hair in anger. "do you have any better ideas?" minho asked, nonchalant. "i evaluate whether or not the songs can be used. do you have any ideas?" you rolled your eyes, copying his tone.

he shook head and let out a light smirk, a rather amused one. he suggested songs and remixes that were actually good, but you can never say that. for the first time, someone actually had the courage to speak back to you during your angry state. it did hurt your ego a bit.

"no, i dont want that, it's ear-bleeding" you lied, just for the sake of your reputation in front of your fellow members. "im not asking for your permission, im showing this to noona," he said getting up from the floor with the computer and walked out to find our older instructor.

whispers and held back laughter was heard in the room while their eyes are focused to either you, or minho's back who just disappeared

being a little brat, you stomped over to minho ( who you found in the hallway, just outside your instructor's office ) "you!" you stormed over until youre close enough. without looking, he let out a sigh, "what?"

"what the hell was that about!" you half-shouted, eyebrows furrowed. "what? did i hurt your ego?" he raised an eyebrow, giving you a smirk. you were taken aback by his choice of words. no body has ever came this close to you. all he did was say the truth, because he really did hurt your ego. you hate being told what to do and you hate getting embarrassed in front of people.

your face turned red, "you know what? fuck you" you turned around and left. leaving him with this annoying smug look on his pretty face.

it became a routine

to argue with him during practice

you guys were partners in the said dance

being close with his body gives you the chance to take revenge

by making yourself heavy every time he has to carry you

but you learned that he's not the one to hold back

by letting go of you, causing you to fall off ass first

after a month straight of practice, it went like that

safe to say you hated each other's guts

he hated your bratty and egotistic attitude, and you hated him for pointing it out in front of every one

there's 3 more days until the performance

and somehow, nervousness was getting ahead of you.

"one last practice for today! let me see what you guys got." your instructor said as you guys were positioning yourselves in place. during the dance, you knew you made so many mistakes but you were still hoping it would go unnoticed. making the ending pose, every one clapped as well as the instructor.

"over all, it's a winning dance for me!" every one cheered for the mentor's compliment while you were feeling unsteady. "[y/n], work on the dance a little more okay? you seem a bit on edge" she gave you a small smile. embarrassment was written all over your face. improve? me? christ! it's much worse when minho, who is right beside you, heard that.

the instructor left and every one proceeded to pack their things. as you were about to close yours, "work on the dance a little more okay?" little shit minho repeated your instructors words, with a smug look on his face that you badly want to wipe off with a punch

"okay" you replied dryly, not wanting to engage with crap because of your rising nervousness. "looks like im about to take your place, brat" he added. you knew he was just messing around since both of you had been fighting like this almost every day. you gave him a nod because you just wanted to escape at this point. you placed your bag over your shoulder and opened the door, "don't you think maybe it's because you're not that good-"

"can we not do this right now? alright? i get it. if you really are so fucking great, congrats! now leave me alone." you spat, walking past him and left the studio. the sun was setting when you got out and it was a rather chill weather. it was fine, we're in the middle of october any way.

you sighed as you hugged yourself for comfort due to the strong wind. walking home, you decided to stop by a vending machine.

great! your money just had to be stuck in the vent. just when you thought your day could get worse, this happens. you placed your head on the glass of the machine in front of you while mindlessly playing with the buttons.

you regret losing your cool in front of minho like that, because you know he was just messing around. at some point during practice, you were slowly learning that being a brat is horrible and not everything will go my way.

you noticed that you were starting to change too.

you let out another sigh and kicked a foreign rock to express your frustration. you eyes went back to the stuck money and tried to get it out again. a random finger from behind pressed a red button on top of the machine, which immediately retrieved your money.

you turned back around to thank the person, "thank you-" your smile faded when you realized who it was. he had a small cat eye smile on, "hi" he said in a low tone, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"hi" you said rather awkwardly. "what drink do you want?" he said as he brought out his wallet, positioning himself in front of the machine. "no you don't have to" you protested. "please, let me do this, it's the least i can do for pissing you off"

"banana milk, and im sorry too" you replied, playing with your fingers. he gave you this 'why are you saying sorry' look. "im sorry for all the mean stuff i said back there, i dont know what has gotten into me, im just so nervous about the performance"

he nodded, implying that he's listening while typing and inserting the money on the machine. "im just sorry for being a brat in general," you smiled apologetically as you accepted the banana milk from him. both of you sat down beside the vending machine.

"you dont have to apologize you know? im the one who took it too far" he said, guilt plastered all over his face. "it's fine, i deserve it. besides if it wasnt for you, i wouldnt have notice how much of a bitch i am." you admitted with a light chuckle.

"i didnt mean what i said earlier by the way," he spoke, finishing up his own banana milk. "which one?" you asked. "when i said you were not that good, i didnt mean it. in fact, youre one of the best." he admitted, placing his empty banana milk beside him.

"you think so?" you asked with a smile. "i know so" he smiled back, removing his hairband and placing it back again. "maybe that's why im falling for you." he mumbled.

competition day came

you were feeling energetic today

bratiness level lowered down by 70%

the performance went really great

every one at your school was rooting for your team

which made you even more giddy

"and the grand champion for this year is..."

you heard your school's name and immediately hugged minho unintentionally out of joy

your legs were wrapped up in his waist and he was swinging you around, happy to win as well.

he let go of you gently, trying not to make things awkward

youve already touched his body due to the dance steps but it felt awkward after he confessed

after the celebration, your crew was in the back stage, preparing for the surprise

today is october 25, meaning it's his special day

you got out the cake you personally baked for him and motioned everyone to gather around before minho comes in

"surprise!" every one cheered and threw random pieces of paper towards him when he came in the back stage

"happy birthday to you! happy birthday to you! happy birthday dear minho, happy birthday to you" you sang along with the crew and faced him his cake

"make a wish, lino" you said as you waited for him to blow.

"i wish to be with you" he said out loud, not even minding the people around us and blew the candle out. a lot of ooos and cheers were heard, making you blush. you gathered frosting all over your finger and proceeded to wipe it on his face

he let out a fake shocked face as he did the same to you. by now, every one around you has frosting in your faces. musting up all the courage left in you. you made your way to minho once more and placed a frosting on his lips. he smirked at your sudden action as he lifted you up.

you pressed your lips against his, licking the frosting clean off of him. he gladly accepted the kiss, ignoring everyone around the both of you. pulling away, "maybe i am falling for you too, lino" you confessed. making him kiss you once more.

bf minho is very tsundere

as usual, dance practices together

vending machine dates after practice

lots and lots of i love yous while dancing

SLOW DANCING IN YOUR ROOM!!!!!!

would let you meet his cats bcs "you are now worthy"

helping each other out with missed assignments

your best friend

kisses are wild but soft

dance covers together

will literally break the vending machine to give you your banana milk

would buy you breakfast

holds your hand during break

cuddling with his cats!!!!!!

forehead kisses with reassurance

people dont get your inside jokes

a tease !!!!!

"baby, there is no one else like you"

author's note —

i tried to make this gender neutral but i dont know much about mxm dancing together! sorry about that, i tried to lessen the female details though.

im open for constructive criticism! i made this a birthday special for our lee know <3

182 notes · View notes

scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

Text

Mister April

A/N I had an angst-ridden update to the Metric Universe all queued up, and then I thought, nah. The sun is shining, people are getting vaccinated. Angst can wait. So this little ficlet fits into the Metric Universe after The Second First Christmas, but before Calculation Theme.

The entire Metric Universe, now chronologically ordered, can be found here.

March 16, 2019, Spittalfields, London, England

“Wait. You mean you’re actually Mister April?!” Several bottles into the six-pack of Tennant’s lager that he had brought home after work, Claire’s exclamation was too incredulous for Jamie’s liking.

“Aye. Every year since I signed on, save one. At first t’was flattering, but now, weel...” He peeled the label from the bottle held between his knees, cursing the trajectory of their late night conversation. The idea had been to take advantage of the fact they were both off tomorrow to spend some time with his girlfriend, listen to a little music, get a bit sloshed, then hopefully fall into bed together.

“Can I see?” Claire interrupted his momentary sulk. “I mean, I’ve been dating a veritable calendar boy for almost two years, and I’m only just now figuring it out. Seems a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

“Seems to me ye’ve seen me wearing far less, Sassenach. But fine, look yer fill.”

Grabbing his laptop, Jamie entered his name and London Fire Brigade Charity Calendar into a search engine. A stream of results filled the screen. Claire’s eyes goggled and she grabbed the computer, opening the first image. A much younger Jamie appeared, rugby shorts hanging from the graceful arcs of his hipbones. He reminded her of a Thoroughbred race horse, not an ounce of flesh to spare, kinetic energy in masculine form. She checked the date: 2012, before they had ever met.

Further clicks brought her to subsequent years. Each showed a beautiful man in the prime of youth, fit, cocky, a devil-may-care gleam in his cornflower eyes. She knew it was her Jamie, but she barely recognized him.

He was missing from the 2015 calendar. Claire did the math and realized that he would have been in the hospital when that year’s pictures were taken. Instead of primping and smoldering for the camera, he had lain in an ICU bed for weeks, before undergoing painful rehabilitation and numerous skin grafts. The brash young man of the earlier images had disappeared, erased by an industrial explosion in an instant. In his place, the Jamie she knew had emerged. More cautious. More prone to sadness, but with a limitless capacity to spread joy. Would she had fallen for him, had they met before his transformation? She honestly couldn’t say.

By 2016, the pictures had changed. Jamie posed in a shirt, sometimes unbuttoned to the waist, but always with his shoulders covered. The gleam in his eyes had dimmed, and instead of an infectious grin, his smile was forced. She was certain no-one buying the calendar would notice. He was still a beautiful man, with his burnished curls and Nordic bone structure. But she could see what those photos cost him. She knew.

“Dougal wanted me tae show my scars. Figured t’would be good publicity, I reckon. Heroic firefighter burnt like a human candle comes back tae fight fire ano’er day. I told him I wasna some charity case he could trot out when it suited him.”

She fetched his hand from his lap, giving it an understanding squeeze. Jamie had once confessed that he felt comfortable bearing his scars to her alone because she had already seen him at his worst, and that left no room for pity. He was a proud, stubborn fool, and she loved him.

“You know what this means, don’t you? There’s only one way to make this right.”

Not waiting for his response, she rose, sought her balance for a moment, and went to grab her phone. Connecting it to their TV audio, she scrolled her music library, looking for a suitable choice.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, pressing play. A synthetic tambourine and clap bass filled the room. He recognized the opening lines of OutKast’s Way You Move.

“What are ye on about, Sassenach?”

“You’ve been sharing your glorious body with the Greater London area and god know who else on the Internet for years, Jamie. As a philanthropist, I applaud you, but as your girlfriend, I’m a tad perturbed. I am hereby re-asserting my rights to exclusive content. Now stop lollygagging and get your fine ass off the couch.”

“Sassenach...” he laughed, starting to grab hold of her meaning and feeling a shot of adrenaline course through his veins. Even before his accident, he had never...

“Don’t make me put it on repeat, Fraser. Oh, look, here comes the chorus!”

Claire sat back on the sofa, her legs tidily crossed on their coffee table. The room was dark, except for the undying city lights outside. No-one was there to see except the one person he trusted to look without staring, to laugh without mocking, to understand without judging. He’d never known Claire to ask for something she didn’t truly want, and he wanted to give her everything she desired. Even if it came at the expense of his dignity.

“Ye ken I canna dance fer shite, right?” he said as he stood, taking an extra long pull on his lager. He was going to need all the liquid courage it could offer.

“I’m well aware. But as the woman who shares your bed, I can testify that there’s nothing the matter with your sense of rhythm. If it helps, don’t think of it as dancing. Think of it as upright simulated sex.”

His face was already hot from the alcohol and embarrassment, but with Claire’s words he felt the heat spread downwards across his chest and towards his groin. Almost without willing it, his hips began to twitch in time to the beat.

“Now we’re talking!” Claire exclaimed with a grin, leaning back like the only patron at a very private strip club.

He was still dressed for work. The navy shirt he wore beneath his jacket had no buttons, so he began by easing it from under his belt, baring his navel briefly before sliding it back down. Claire sulked dramatically, making him laugh.

With the song’s next horn flourish, he reached behind his neck and lifted the shirt clean off in a single tug, shaking out his hair afterwards. When he next glanced at the couch, his girlfriend’s smug smile was gone, replaced by a blatant leer that sent shivers down his spine. She wasn’t even pretending to look at his face anymore, spending her time somewhere between his shoulders and his waist. He wasn’t really sweating, but he made a point of wiping his pecs before letting the shirt fall to the ground.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, already a tad breathless.

“Immensely. Don’t stop now.”

Fortunately, his boots and socks had already been removed, so with the next verse he made a show of unbuttoning and unzipping his blue trousers. Claire’s eyes followed the movement of his fingers like she was memorizing them for the exam. He could feel his cock grow heavy.

With a shake of his ass for good measure, the pants hit the floor. Only a tight pair of boxer-briefs stood in the way of utter nudity. They were doing a poor job hiding his belated enthusiasm for Claire’s request. The fact that her eyes were now glued to the bulge of his erection only encouraged his excitement.

As the repeated chorus faded away, he carefully slipped the waistband over his now-rigid cock. The material slid down his legs and he stepped free. If someone had mentioned his scars in that instant, he would have no idea what they were talking about.

In the ensuing quiet, Claire sat up and very deliberately began to disrobe. Once naked, she came at him like a heat-seeking missile, one hand reaching around his back to pull him tight and the other dragging him into a kiss. They collapsed to the floor, rolling around on the area rug in a fight for dominance. He let her win, because feeling her rise and fall over his length like a cresting wave was the best runner-up prize he could imagine.

The sex was torrid, and frantic, and not at all polite. The kind that left bruises and invoked daydreams for days. Afterwards, they lay in a sweaty heap, trying to catch their breath.

“See? I knew you had it in you,” Claire muttered into his clavicle. “A bit more practice and you’ll be as good as the pros.”

“I didna realize I was auditioning fer a second job.” He brushed Claire’s curls away from where they were tickling his nose.

“Oh, I have no intention of sharing your talents, lad. Never fear. But I wouldn’t object to a repeat performance. Besides, I was so distracted by the show, I completely forgot to film you!”

Jamie groaned, pulling her tighter against him as sleep called him away to dreams.

#my writing #outlander

40 notes · View notes

1dfangirls35 · 3 years

Text

The Language of Your Soul

An enemies to lovers Ballet AU in 5 Acts

Masterlist

Act I

A/N:

First of all, thank you so much to @booksncoffee for the absolutely gorgeous banner!

I am so excited to share this story with you all! Inspired in part by a night rewatching Center Stage on Netflix and from years of ballet classes, I hope this AU brings a new twist on Harry fics (and maybe even helps you gain a new appreciation for the world of ballet). Please note, while I have used my own 10+ years of classical ballet training in addition to research on this topic to hopefully make this as realistic as possible, this is still a work of fiction- and some details may have been changed to better fit the constraints of the story. The companies mentioned in this fic are real, however this story and its characters are entirely works of fiction. On a more personal note, while I have chosen to publish this story now and believe I will be able to maintain weekly updates to its entirety, I am preparing to take my boards in less than four weeks. Should I not update as scheduled- please be patient and know that an update is only a few weeks away! :) Thank you so much for reading!

Warnings: This story will contain language, mentions of emotional abuse from a parent and eating disorders. Please read at your own discretion.

Ten Weeks to Opening Night

Albert Einstein once said, "dancers are the athletes of God." Giselle Mason certainly doesn't feel like pne of God's athletes at the moment. Not with the way her muscles are screaming with every movement that she makes as she stretches before class, not with the way her right hip cracks as she lifts her leg onto the bar, and certainly not with the way her feet sting as she tapes up yet another blister on her toe before shoving her foot into her pointe shoes for another day full of torture.

Giselle stands, sticking one last bobby pin into the bun of her nearly ebony hair and finding her spot at the front of the barre in the center of the studio. She grasps the wooden cylinder with her left hand before releasing her body in a forward bend, taking a deep breath in and then a deep breath out. There is a familiar ache in her hamstrings as she begins to stretch, which loosens ever so slightly with every breath.

And so begins her daily morning routine in the studio. Fifteen minutes of stretching before company class begins. Relaxing each hamstring, hip flexor and spinal muscle until a sense of calm washes over her body. Letting her mind drift into a thoughtless focus, preparing itself for the waves of choreography that would be coming in minutes. Typically, this time is quiet; the only melody present the rhythmic breathing of company members preparing for class. But today, the studio seems to be filled with an underlying buzz. And Giselle doesn't have the slightest idea why.

"I heard he slept with the artistic director's wife, so they kicked him out of the Royal," she hears one of the new corps de ballet members murmur.

"I mean have you seen him, I don't blame her for getting her hands on a piece of him," another girl giggles.

"Did you hear, G?" Caleb, Giselle's friend, whispers as he slides into a spot on the barre behind her, adjusting the black bandana keeping his signature black curls in place across his forehead.

"Hear what?" Giselle asks, removing her leg from the bar before reaching down to adjust the black leg warmer that had fallen down her calf.

"They've hired Harry Styles- you know from the Royal," Caleb adds as if Giselle hasn't heard of Harry Styles. Everyone who was anyone in the ballet world had heard of Harry Styles. A good chunk of the non-ballet world might even be able to point him out as that 'sexy male ballet dancer' from the Sports Illustrated nude edition.

Harry Styles was a rare kind of natural talent. The type of person that was put on this earth to dance ballet. His talent had landed him the honor of being the youngest person to be named a principal in the history of the Royal Ballet. And if the rumors were true, that talent had also landed him the reputation of one of the ballet world's most arrogant. Giselle had heard several stories about how the male dancer had been a terror to work with- demanding, rude, uncooperative. Giselle didn't doubt it- people of that skill and fame rarely developed without some sense of entitlement.

"Why would we hire Harry Styles, we've already got Viktor?" Giselle questions. This isn't the first time a rumor has circulated through the American Ballet Theatre company, and it certainly won't be the last time.

"Rumor is they want Viktor to retire," Caleb shrugged before stepping back to his place behind Giselle as Mistress Ivanova claps to gain the class's attention.

Giselle couldn't believe the rumors. Viktor Dmitri retiring from ABT? He was practically the face of the company. The man had been dancing for the American Ballet Theatre for over a decade. He'd been the principal ever since Giselle had joined the company as a corps de ballet member five years ago.

Giselle knew that retirement came early for a ballet dancer. Her own mother, the famous Natalia Korsakova, had retired at the age of 33 after a knee injury. Viktor had just turned 35, but he'd shown no signs of slowing down. She refused to believe that he was calling it quits. Or to believe that the board would be stupid enough to bring in someone with Harry Styles's toxic reputation into the company.

She shoves the thought aside. Viktor is in his usual place at the back of the studio and Harry Styles is nowhere to be seen. This was simply another piece of gossip threatening to distract everyone from the Swan Lake auditions tomorrow afternoon, and Giselle won't lose her focus. The auditions are too important.

Giselle Mason has dreamed of playing the role of Odette/Odile ever since she first watched her mother on stage at the age of four. It was one of her earliest memories of the theater- her mother twirling about in a bright white tutu that at that time Giselle could only dream of wearing. In fact, Giselle wasn't sure there had ever been a moment where her dream hadn't been to be a principal dancer at ABT, like her mother. She'd been in ballet shoes from the second she could walk, wore a leotard and tights more often than she'd worn pajamas, and didn't recognize herself in the mirror if her hair wasn't pulled back into a bun. She'd ate, slept and breathed the art form. But she supposed that all came with having a prima ballerina as a mother.

Natalia Korsakova was a ballet sensation. "One of the greatest to have ever danced," according to the New York Times at the time of her retirement. The world had come to watch her dance and she'd traveled it performing: Russia, Australia, London, Paris. You name the location and Natalia Korsakova had danced there.

When Giselle was growing up, she was constantly told how lucky she was to have Natalia as a mother. To have seen the shows she's seen, to have met ballet royalty, to have traveled the world. But Giselle never felt lucky. Not when she was the accident that put her mother's career on hold for almost a year. Not when her mother was gone for months at a time performing, missing recitals, parent days and school concerts. And certainly not when an injury forced her mother into retirement, shifting her focus from her own artistic talents to turning her daughter into her next protegee.

Much to her mother's dismay, Giselle was not the younger version of her mother. She was good, great even, but she was no sensation. Giselle made soloist in her fourth year at ABT, which was a feat all on its own, unless you compared it to her mother's two. Giselle lacked the raw, natural talent that her mother possessed. Instead of her mother's high arches, she had her father's averagely flat feet. Instead of her mother's uncanny ability to match the music, Giselle had spent hours counting eights in her head to get down a rhythm. Instead of looking effortless the first time she ran through a routine, Giselle spent hours in the studio after rehearsal, running through the choreography until it wasn't possible for her to get it wrong. Giselle had gotten to where she was because of her hard work, not her natural talent- something her mother would never let her forget. To Natalia Korsakova, Giselle would never measure up.

The Swan Lake auditions are Giselle's first real shot at landing a lead, especially with principal dancer Anna Elliot out with a back injury for the foreseeable future. Giselle wants this role more than anything. To prove to herself that she is capable of following in her mother's footsteps. And to prove to her mother that she is just as capable a dancer as she. For once in her life, she wants to hear her mother say not that she'd lost her spot or forgot to point her toes, but that she was proud of Giselle. Four words- that's all Giselle really wants.

"And will start first position, demi, demi, grand, demi and port de bra. Repeat in 2nd, 4th and 5th and then balance in fifth position arms in fifth," Mistress Ivanova barks, before gesturing to the pianist to begin.

Giselle focuses on her movements as the music begins. She tightens her core, elongates her neck and reaches her fingertips to the edges of her silhouette. Her legs quiver slightly as she bends her knees into the first grand plié, her mind focusing on maintaining her turnout.

"Relax that face Giselle," Mistress Ivanova corrects, as she makes her way around the room. "I don't want to see that this is work."

Giselle takes another deep breath, this time releasing her lips from their concentrated place and focusing on her breath. She lets the downtown Manhattan studio disappear from the background. Gone is the distant honking of impatient taxi drivers maneuvering their way through the New York City traffic. Gone is the light shining in from the full-length windows looking out at the city skyline- well what you could see of the skyline behind the crumbly brick building neighboring the school. There was nothing but the dancer, the barre and the music flowing gently through her veins.

"Beautiful lines Teagan, thank you," Giselle hears Mistress Ivanova say from across the room and she fights the urge to roll her eyes. Giselle has known Teagan Davidson since she was fourteen years old, when Teagan had moved from California to New York to join the ABT school. Over the course of a decade of competing for roles, partners and teacher's praises, the two had developed quite a rivalry. To Giselle, there was almost no better feeling than snagging a role that she knew Teagan also had her eyes on.

Giselle uses Teagan's praise as motivation to work harder, feeling the burn in her inner thighs as she pushes further into her grand plié in second. The role of Odette/Odile was hers, Teagan would have to settle for understudy.

The class is in the middle of their balance, Giselle's focus locked in on a spot just at the edge of the window at the rear of the studio when a loud bang reverberates through the room. Dancers drop their balance and turn their heads, looking to see who has caused such a commotion with their entrance.

"Mr. Styles, you're late," Mistress Ivanova snaps.

He is taller than Giselle imagined, and even from this distance she can see the definition in his arms through the black tank top that clings to his body. His hair is slightly disheveled, curling at the top. His face plastered into some cheeky grin, dimples present on both cheeks, like he knows exactly what he's doing, interrupting class like this. Almost like he's enjoying the attention. He throws his black messenger bag to the side before grabbing his ballet shoes and scurrying over to an open spot at the barre near the front of the studio.

"My apologies," he replies in a thick British accent. His tone sounds anything but apologetic.

"Damn, he's even better-looking in person than he is in magazines," Caleb mutters under his breath, eliciting an eye roll from Giselle.

"Well, I suppose after that entrance," Mistress Ivanova sighs, stepping to the front of the class. "Now is as good of time as any to announce that Mr. Styles will be joining our company as a principal dancer."

Gasps fill the room, and Giselle turns her head to look at Viktor, whose face is stoic after Harry's entrance. A low chatter fills the studio, everyone trying to figure out exactly what is going on. Would he get the lead in Swan Lake? Would he be understudying Viktor?

"Silence!" Mistress Ivanova shouts. "This chatter can wait until after class is over!" She turns to face Harry, her lips turned into a stern frown. "If you'll find a place at the barre Mr. Styles, we will continue our class."

Giselle watches as he slides into a spot at the front of the room, shooting a grin at the young company member behind him. Giselle rolls her eyes, returning her focus to the mirror in front of her. Two minutes with the company and she was sure Harry Styles was exactly who she thought he would be.

Giselle tries to forget Harry Styles is in class with them. Instead she focuses on her breathing, her turnout, the rhythm that comes from the pianist in the corner of the room. She watches the early morning New York City sunrise reflect off of the mirrors, leaving little spots of sunlight over the gray Marley floor. Everyone else in the company could focus on Harry Styles all they want, but she is only focusing on one thing- and that is landing the role of her dreams tomorrow.

But Harry Styles wasn't the type of person whose presence could be forgotten so easily.

********

Harry Styles isn't scared of a little attention. In fact, he typically thrives on it. That's why he is a performer after all. To Harry, there is no better feeling than knowing all eyes are upon you, that you are the center of attention, the focus of the room. Maybe that is a prideful and egotistical thing to say, but it is true. Everyone wants to feel important, valued, admired- and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

But the attention Harry has been getting since he walked into the American Ballet Theatre studio a little over twelve hours ago has not been the type of attention he necessarily sought out. He knew there would be rumors, leaving the only company he had ever been a part of during his dance career was sure to draw up the best of them, but something about this felt different. It was the whispers. The stares. The way some members of the room were staring at Harry as if he was a god and a few wouldn't dare look in his direction.

Harry doesn't know what's come over him- this wavering self-confidence. Maybe it's this new place. This new country. Or maybe it's the fact that in the words of his agent, if he "doesn't get his act together" he will never dance at this level again. And if he's not dancing on the world's biggest stages, well, Harry might as well not be dancing at all.

Harry grabs his phone from the side pocket of his black messenger bag, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker he found in the corner of the studio and presses play on his hip hop playlist. He needs something to drown out his thoughts, and classical music just doesn't cut it. As the beat begins to fill the studio, Harry lets the music take over his body and begins to dance.

Giselle tries to focus on her music, but there's the noise of a pounding bass in the background interfering with concentration. She's always the only one at the studio this late at night- that's why she comes- to be alone and without distractions.

She tries to ignore it, focusing on the one and two of the music as she fouettés. One and two, three and four, five and... a boom from somewhere in the building breaks her concentration and she falls out of her turn, letting out a groan. This could not be happening to her the night before auditions, and if she found out that Teagan was here trying to interfere with her practice...

Giselle makes her way down the hall, guided by the incessant bass that sounds like it belongs in the backseat of a teenager's car and not one of the most prestigious ballet studios in the world. When she turns the corner to enter the studio, it's not Teagan she sees but Harry Styles.

But he's not dancing. He's laying on the floor, wearing nothing but a pair of black athletic shorts that show off the god-like definition of his thighs. His signature butterfly tattoo stands out on the middle of his chest, beads of sweat dripping towards the center of his stomach, the bass vibrating the mirrors around him. He doesn't notice her at first. How could he with the music so loud?

"Excuse me," Giselle says loudly in an effort to get his attention. His body doesn't even flinch.

"Excuse me!" she yells this time.

Harry looks up. In the corner of the studio, towards the door stands a girl. Her almost black hair is pulled tightly back into a bun. Her thin arms are crossed like she's about to lecture him, and her lips are held in a tight line that looks anything but happy. The corners of Harry's mouth curve upwards in a grin, entertained by the fury that was seeming to come from her tiny body.

She taps her foot impatiently, like she's waiting for something. Harry realizes that she is- she's waiting for him to turn off his music.

He sighs, reaching over to his phone beside him and sliding one sweaty finger across the screen to bring the rhythm to a halt.

"Yes?" he asks expectantly, not bothering to move his body from his reclining position.

"Other people in this studio are trying to practice, you know. It's kinda hard to do that with this," she gestures into the air, as if trying to find an appropriate adjective to describe the torture that had been gracing her ears over the past half hour.

"Not a fan of my music?" Harry smirked.

"I'm not a fan of someone disrupting my rehearsal." Giselle spit back.

"Rehearsal? It's bloody 11pm."

"I know what time it is, and like I said, your music is interfering with my ability to practice." Giselle stares Harry right in the eyes. He doesn't intimidate her, and she's not going to back down until he agrees to turn down his music.

"Wasn't aware you were the owner of this studio," Harry taunts.

"I could say the same about you." Giselle moves her hands to her hips. Just agree to turn off the damn music, she thinks to herself, even though she knows at this point, it's not worth the time it will take to warm back up to continue practicing.

Harry sits up, grabbing a blue towel from inside his bag and wiping the sweat that remains off his forehead. "Fine, music's off. Continue your rehearsal. I'm too jet lagged for this shit," he stands, wrapping the towel around his neck.

"Thanks," Giselle says under her breath, before making her way back to her studio, where she knew she would be gathering her own belongings.

Harry groans, grabbing his bag from the floor and sliding it over his shoulder. You could travel halfway across the world and still run into the same entitled ballet brats who thought they ran the place. It's those type of people, company members and otherwise, that were precisely the reason he had left the Royal. Well, not that he had necessarily had a say in that scenario, but they had been the cause of all of his problems.

You just have to dance, Harry, he tries to tell himself. But Harry knows that as much as he tries, there's a lot more too it than that.

**********

“Gi!" Caleb exclaims, bounding down the hallway towards her without concern for anyone in his way. "Cast list is up."

Giselle gulps. She isn't sure that she is ready for this. The look of disappointment on her mother's face if she doesn't land the part. The list of corrections that her mother has come up with from watching Giselle's audition. "Now you see there, you've lost your center. You're never going to make that triple if you don't hold your center Giselle." The reminder that "you only have so many opportunities to prove your worth, before they move onto the younger, better version of you." It didn't matter to her mother if Giselle was the youngest soloist at ABT by five years. It didn't matter if nearly every other soloist had previously understudied for the role. Everything but a lead was a disappointment to Natalia Korsakova.

"C'mon," Caleb exclaims, and before Giselle has a moment to collect herself she's being pulled down the hallway by her arm.

And there it is. The thin, white piece of paper that holds the fate of her next ten weeks in its hands. When she looks at it at first, she thinks she must be dreaming. Because her name has never been on that spot on the list before. Not since she officially joined the company five years ago.

Odette/Odile- Giselle Mason

Sigfried - Harry Styles

She feels frozen. Like she's in a dream and she's paralyzed. It's what she's always wanted-this role and yet, suddenly it feels like a whole lot of pressure.

"You did it Gi," Caleb exclaims, lifting her up and spinning her around before Giselle even has a moment to look any further down the list. Giselle laughs, giddy with excitement. "New York will have never seen a more beautiful Odette."

Giselle rolls her eyes at his comment. Caleb, her friend since joining the American Ballet School at the age of six and partner for many years had always been her biggest cheerleader. In a way, he made up for what she didn't have in her mother.

"And you Caleb?" Giselle asks, realizing in her excitement that she had forgotten that her best friend also had a role in the this ballet.

"You're looking at the newest Benno," Caleb says with a grin. Giselle often wondered what it would be like to be like Caleb. To be happy with any role. To not care about his place in the company. To simply want to dance. Caleb had always been like that- relaxed, calm- the antithesis to Giselle who was always high strung and anxious. Perhaps that's why they'd always been such good friends, because they balanced each other perfectly. Giselle pushed Caleb when he needed some extra motivation and Caleb- albeit not always successful- tried his best to keep Giselle out of her own head.

Giselle watches as Teagan makes her way over to the board, her long black hair swinging from the ponytail at the crown of her head. She grins in slight satisfaction as she sees Teagan's face turn into a frown. Giselle turns and gives Caleb her best, "what did she get?" eyes. He exaggeratedly mouths, "UNDERSTUDY".

As if sensing that she is the topic of conversation, Teagan looks over at the two. "Congrats Giselle," she says, her face moving in a way that makes it seem like the words taste disgusting leaving her mouth.

"You as well," Giselle responds, to which Teagan only scoffs and storms off.

"You know she's going to make your life living hell as your understudy don't you?" Caleb said with a laugh.

"Ugh, I know," Giselle groaned.

"It will be worth it though. You are going to be dancing the role you've always dreamed of." Giselle smiled. "Plus," Caleb begins, leaning down so his mouth is next to Giselle's ear. "You get to dance with the greatest male dancer of our generation. Think of all the hours you're gonna get to spend looking at that GORGEOUS body."

Giselle groans. Her perfect moment temporarily ruined by the realization that she would have to dance with Harry Styles. Sure, he may be talented, a great dancer, and likely a great partner. But his entrance yesterday and their encounter last night told her everything she needed to know about Harry Styles. And she was sure that working with him would be anything but easy.

"That GORGEOUS body," Giselle imitates Caleb with an exaggeration of the word, "Doesn't make up for the fact that the guy's an asshole."

"Okay, okay, point taken. Now can we go get some lunch?"

Giselle nods, but she already knows she's not hungry. Instead, all she can think about is how she's going to get through the next ten weeks of rehearsals with a man she already loathes.

**********

Giselle slides into the rehearsal studio with extra joy in her step later that afternoon. She's so on Cloud 9 that she doesn't even realize Harry standing at the barre doing pliés as she hums the opening notes of Swan Lake aloud.

"Sorry didn't know anyone else was in here already," she apologizes quickly, standing and stretching out her feet.

Harry looks at her, his face hard and eyes sharp. If he recognized her as the girl who interrupted his jam session last night his face didn't show it. "And who are you?" Harry asks, his voice laced with condescendence.

"Odette," Giselle smiles, the words feeling foreign leaving her mouth.

"Obviously," Harry scoffs, and Giselle feels her confidence waver. "Who are you?"

"Giselle Mason, soloist."

"Doesn't ring a bell," the corners of Harry's mouth turn up at his comment, like he gets satisfaction out of reminding others that they aren't the household name that he is.

Giselle wants to say something back. Something sharp and witty to show him that just because he was one of the greatest dancers in the world and she was still trying to make her way into the spotlight didn't mean that he could treat her like a nobody. She was going to be his partner after all- whether he liked it or not. But then Gregory Alexander, ABT's Artistic Director, enters the room, clapping his hands and tells them they are about to begin on the Act II Pas de Deux and Giselle doesn't have a chance to say otherwise.

"As new partners you will need to put in the time to understand each other. Build trust. Anticipate the other's movement. Portray to the audience that you are a swan and a prince in love." Gregory moves his arms in the air theatrically, as if he isn't wearing a designer suit.

"Now I understand that the ten weeks we have to prepare before our season debut isn't an ideal amount of time to form a relationship with a new partner. But in this case, it simply must do." Gregory's face turned serious, the wrinkles on his forehead more defined as he furrows his eyebrows. "I expect that the two of you will put in the time outside of your scheduled rehearsals to work on this chemistry. Anna and Viktor will also be assisting with rehearsals and my hope is that they will also be able to assist the two of you with this transition."

"Gregory," Harry interrupts, then as if realizing he'd made a mistake, he corrects himself. "Sir."

Gregory nods.

"I'm not sure what the concern is. I've danced with hundreds of partners in my career, I'm not sure how the other principal's would have much more experience than me?" Giselle thinks Harry is meaning this as a question but it comes out more like a statement.

Giselle watches as Gregory's eyes narrow again. He looked irritated, and why wouldn't he be? Harry had been here all but forty-eight hours and was already questioning the artistic director's decisions.

"That may be the case, Mr. Styles," Gregory paused. "But when the two of you step onto Metropolitan Opera House stage in ten weeks, I expect the audience to believe that you two have been dancing together for years. Have I made myself clear?"

Harry nods, this time remaining quiet.

"Now then, I'd like us to start with the Act II Pas de Deux. The very beginning- with your entrance Harry."

It's an hour into rehearsals when Giselle hears the echo of heels clicking down the wooden hallways. She doesn't even have to look up when the steps stop as they reach the studio floor. She could recognize that walk anywhere.

"Aahh, Natalia!" Gregory exclaims. "So glad you could stop by," Gregory reaches over to embrace Giselle's mother, his grey hair brushing the sides of her face as he kisses each cheek.

"Mr. Styles, I'd like to introduce you to Natalia Korsakova, former ABT principal and member of our board."

Natalia Korsakova looks as put together as always. Her dark brown hair pulled tightly into a neat French twist. Her tight black dress and coordinating pumps show off every bit of the dancer's body that she still maintained. Giselle watches as her mother's mouth curves to form a polite smile.

"A ballet legend. It's an honor to meet you Madame," Harry says offering his hand.

"The pleasure is all mine. I'm so glad you are joining us here at ABT. And what a joy it will be to watch you next to my daughter," Natalia gestures towards Giselle, with a polite smile plastered on her face that was generally reserved for generous donors and patrons of the ballet. It is all a show. That's all Giselle's mother ever did was put on a production. She was a performer after all, how could anyone expect her life to be anything but a crowd-pleasing performance?

"Your daughter?" Harry turns to look at Giselle, raising an eyebrow. His eyes narrow, as if he's caught Giselle in a lie. As if she'd snuck her way into this position and was just hoping that someone wouldn't notice she wasn't the real deal. "Why that makes this even more special."

Giselle fights every urge to roll her eyes from across the room. It is clear that Harry Styles is every bit as much of a performer as her mother. Just minutes before he was looking at her as if he had been paired with an amateur and suddenly working with her is 'something special'?

"I'm going to watch rehearsal for a bit," Natalia announces, making her way over to a stool next to the pianist. "Carry on." The pit in the bottom of Giselle's stomach grows as her mother takes a seat next to Gregory in front of the mirror.

"Odette makes sense to me now," Harry whispers into Giselle's ear, as he slides behind her to resume practice. It takes everything in her to keep her face stoic as Harry's hands settle once again on her waist.

Rehearsal goes badly. Giselle can't seem to get her leg into the attitude position that Gregory wants, she losing her balance on her penchés, and Harry almost drops her on several promenades. Giselle says almost, because someone as experienced as Harry Styles would never let his partner hit the ground, but she should have, because she surely wasn't holding her weight quite right. And then there's the fact that Gregory pronounced that Giselle "looks at Harry as if he is the villain of the story instead of the prince she's fallen in love with".

Giselle wants to say that's because he is the villain. The villain of her story anyways, the person that is somehow going to turn her dream role into somewhat of a nightmare. Why couldn't she be dancing with Viktor? He was so patient and kind and he would never look at his partner as if she deserved to be in the audience instead of on stage with him.

After yet another failed run through of the first half of the pas de deux, Gregory announces that they are done for the day, but that he expects to see them in the studio bright and early tomorrow morning to work on their timing. Giselle's never been so thankful for a rehearsal to be over, and as she sits down to remove her pointe shoes, running her hands over her swollen feet, she watches Harry leave the studio without saying a word.

"I hope you realize how big of an opportunity this is Giselle. It's not one you should take lightly," her mother's voice startles her, as Giselle had almost forgotten she was there. Almost.

Natalia stands above Giselle, one hand on her hips and the other on her forehead, as if watching today's rehearsal had been exhausting for her. It probably was exhausting for her, keeping tally of all the things that Giselle had done wrong for the past two hours. Natalia's voice is shrill as she speaks again. "There are thousands of ballerinas around the world that could only dream of getting to dance with Harry Styles. And here you are dancing with him in his first show with ABT. That's an enormous responsibility, darling. This performance with him will set the stage for his entire career with our company. One that the board is hoping will last until his retirement."

Giselle nods. That's all she can do when her mother begins one of her lectures- nod. She thought maybe this would be the time that her mother told her congratulations. The time that her mother did what she'd watched countless other mother's do during her time as a dancer, wrap their arms around their daughter and express their pride to them. But instead, today is like any other day, and even with a lead role in an ABT production, Giselle still hasn't done enough to make her mother proud.

Giselle shoves her shoes into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she stands.

"And Giselle?" her mother adds, as she makes her way towards the door.

"Yes mom?"

"Might want to hit a few more cardio classes this week too, my dear. Got to make sure you are going to be an easy dancer to partner with."

And with that comment Natalia Korsakova clicks away, leaving Giselle standing in the middle of studio wondering if her biggest dream has suddenly become her biggest nightmare.

#it's here!#let me know your thoughts #writingby1dfangirls35 #harry styles #hs #harry au #ballet harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #1dff #one direction fanfiction #harry fanfiction #enemies to lovers

122 notes · View notes

cyberfairyblog · 3 years

Text

Why Jillian Sucks

Hi, welcome to Odyssey Mystery Hour! I'm your host @gritsandbrits and today I'll be talking about a hot topic in the AIO fandom! Wanna know the tea? Keep on reading!

In the weeks I started getting back into the radio series, the newer episodes have started to irk me, mostly because of one of the more annoying additions: Jillian. Marshall. 😬😬😬

Even though I ship Jason with my self insert OC this not going to be about her. There's a lot of reasons why I do NOT like the idea of Jillian x Jason becoming a canon thing on the show. I hope to describe these feelings as best I can.

Who is Jillian you might ask?

Well to put it simply, Jillian is what happens when a Soccer Mom and a TikTok boyfriend mate and spawn an unholy baby and name them Rachel Berry. Out of the aspects of Nu!Odyssey I dislike, Jillian is the one thing I truly despise. Thankfully I've met fans who share the exact sentiment! 😁😒

Double-N Annoying, Double-O Nincompoop

Making her debut in 2018, Jillian is described as lively and upbeat, if a little high strung and immature; the perfect recipe for Kid Appeal! Before she moved to Odyssey she lived in different cities and worked nineteen jobs before becoming roommates with Connie and her sister Jules.

Now this is actually a fairly interesting set up: a new character struggling to find purpose only to discover it in a quaint small town. But as it turns out her going through that many jobs seems to be more than just struggling to find purpose.

When I first saw her design my thought immediately went to the smarmy classmates I went to school with.

We're introduced with this iconic line: "Hi!! I'm Jillian Marshall, double-L Jillian, double-L Marshall! It's so nice to meet you!"

With that one sentence I knew I was about to die.

The following episode has Jillian bumbling through every job interview much to Connie's duress after which she conveniently ending up working at Triple J Antiques...the same place Jason works!

A little backstory on Jason: he is the adult son of John Whittaker, one of the show's main character, and a bit of an Ensemble Darkhorse. He was introduced as a secret agent meant to bring action and intrigue into the show. He was set up as a charismatic and reckless sort of guy clashing with the calmer Jack Allen. After the Green Ring Conspiracy Saga, Jason officially retired from James Bonding and settled down to work at the Allen's antique shop.

Given his immense popularity there's understandable concern for how he is written and who he gets paired up with. So what does that have to do with Jillian.

Well, the idea of Jillian working at the same exact place as Odyssey's resident bachelor and calling him cute raises a few eyebrows.

"B-but Grits all she did was call him cute! You're reaching too far into this!"

Am I? Look I know this wouldn't be much of a big deal too but that is a subtle tactic the writers threw in to get the cogs turning for Jillison. Jason is clearly uninterested and even implied to dislike her. Jillian bemoans this but Connie reassures her that that's not the case. But hey at least she called him cute so OF COURSE she's going to end up being his love interest!

To me removing a character's core trait to justify a romance means you do NOT know how to actually write a compelling romance. It's trite, it's forced and painful to listen to.

It's also obvious she's a replacement for Bernard, given they have similar personalities and her brief stint on TV (which she also failed at lol). But whereas Bernard was actually endearing, Jillian seems more of a cliche womanchild with zero self awareness and tact. No actual depth, just a personality that is incredibly dumbed down and even insulting. Seriously they made her the dumb blond stereotype in an era where we should've moved on from that! 🤦

Did I mention she goes to church?

Yep she's gonna be one of those Christians.

Literally Loveless, Literally!

Oddly enough the narrative frames this as a rivals to lovers thing, where Jason is both the charismatic friendly guy and the super uninterested Straight Man. The constant twisting the turning makes him go OOC. See we know he's fit better as the former because that goes in line with his canon personality. But when they make him the latter he just comes off as unnecessarily mean. This is turns frames Jillian as someone we should pity: "Oh the attractive male doesn't like me because I went into his office without permission!!"

Wouldn't it make more sense for Jillian to be the one uninterested in a romance since her focus in to find a job/better purpose and romance might distract her? That would make a fun subplot...IF SHE WASN'T OBNOXIOUS!

A pattern I noticed and several fans pointed out: Jason's previous love interests were consistent in that they were strong minded women who challenged him in different ways. Their personalities bounced off creating a fun dynamic that was entertaining to see. Even though they didn't end up with him, you can still see and hear and feel their chemistry which is my goal for Jason x OC. Tasha doesn't make Jason OOC & they had a bittersweet arc, so their interactions were organic. Monica only made him OOC because she was a villain actively manipulating him. So again that worked in terms of story and led to Monica's redemption if my memory serves.

However, Jillian's dynamic is not that fun to listen to. You can feel her annoying Jason through the airwaves. She's strong but only in the sense of feeling something hard underneath your back laying on the bed and realizing that's just your earbud. She's vibrant yes but what else? She doesn't have any unique traits to contrast Jason, and any attempt at a contrast would mean making him act out of character. Adding her bumbling clumsiness and annoying voice, Jason would get tired of her very quickly. He's the type to go for people to have intelligent conversations with, not make him lose braincells. She could very well bring out the worse in him, it'll be an unhealthy relationship.

Here's a tidbit worth mentioning: the VA for Jillian actually auditioned with Jason's VA Townsend Coleman. Now that is big ass red flag right there! No hate towards the actress, just throwing that out there. There's also a facebook page dedicated to Jillison. Typical FB stupidity ramped up to eleven, or AIO fans who see something in Jillian; or at least THINk they see something worthwhile in her.

It doesn't help the writers keep insisting that these two go well together. The audience knows they do not work well as a pair but the narrative keeps insisting they are anyways. I recall an episode that had them pretend to be married while undercover and it was bad. Like REALLY humiliating to see Jason put in that position. He also told her to shut up much to my joy because she could NOT stop being irritating for five minutes. Alas the show still tries to justify Jillian being the Perfect Woman for Jason when she's anything but. And not even endearingly imperfect.

Follow Up

These tags I wrote on one of the AIO posts describes how I feel about Villain Marshall and the Jillison coupling as a whole. It just wouldn't work because Jason needs someone that can actually CHALLENGE him, have their own personality that can bounce off his (without being forced), and most importantly DOESN'T AGGRAVATE THE FANDOM!!

I have not met a single person anywhere that say they like Jillian. It's a different story apparently on the Club App - they like her for reasons I'm too cowardly to find out. But no, she sucks as a character. She makes a annoying friend, and is not a good addition to the show, much less a good love interest.

The only good thing she brought us are the nicknames we gave her 😌

That's all for now thank you for tuning into the Odyssey Mystery Hour. Next week I'll be talking a bit more about my OC Vanessa and her role in the world of Odyssey! Goodbye and make sure to lock your doors to prevent Jillian from coming in!!

#adventures in odyssey #jason whittaker #anti jillison #aio #rant #radio drama #adventures in odyssey radio show #jillian marshall #anti jillian marshall

28 notes · View notes

mariocki · 4 years

Text

RIP Daria Nicolodi (19.6.1950 – 26.11.2020)

"I grew up in a house that was like a library or a museum. I feel I refined Dario's taste very much. I went with him to many art exhibitions. [...] I feel I guided Dario to something outside the scope of just cinema, towards art, music, theatre, and other things."

"For me, I did not want to be a star; I just wanted to act well."

A true icon of the silver screen, and one of the most significant figures in Italian genre cinema of the 20th Century. Daria was born in Florence, in 1950, into a talented family of intellectuals and artists: her father was a lawyer, her mother an academic; her maternal grandfather was Alfredo Casella, a composer and conductor who counted Stravinsky, Mahler and Strauss among his friends.

Daria moved to Rome while still a teen, and by 1970 she was beginning to find work on stage and screen. Elio Petri was quick to spot her talent, guiding her through her first theatrical roles, and ultimately casting her as the female lead in La proprietà non è più un furto (Property Is No Longer a Theft, 1973), a highly political satire about wealth and class in modern Italy. The following year, she attended auditions for Profondo Rosso (Deep Red), where she met director Dario Argento. Until this point, she had mostly played attractive blondes and love interests; Argento could see that she was capable of more nuance, and had her cut her long hair and dye it red, adopt a more masculine style of dress, and bring her wry sense of humour to the character of Gianna. In return, Daria adopted some of the director's mannerisms and habits for her character, particularly in her physical movements and hand gestures. The two worked well together, on screen and off; they soon became romantically involved, and in 1975 Daria gave birth to a daughter, Asia Argento (her second, having previously had a child with sculptor Mario Ceroli).

Daria and Dario would remain together for the next ten years. In the process she became not only his partner, but his closest collaborator, and in many ways his muse. Before Asia was born, the two took a holiday in northern Europe, travelling around France, Germany and Switzerland. The trip reminded Daria of her grandmother - another artist, the French pianist Yvonne Müller Loeb Casella - who had a keen interest in the supernatural, and thrilled the young Nicolodi with tales of her time at an academy on the Swiss/German border, where the faculty had all practised black magic. Those stories would form the basic outline of Argento's next film, Suspiria (1977). The couple developed the idea between them, and worked together on the script, incorporating everything from fairy tales to Nicolodi's dreams. In later years, Argento would downplay the contribution made by Daria to the finished script, but her influence - and in turn, the way Suspiria would influence the entire horror genre, and develop Argento's work - is undeniable. Her fight for official recognition - and a screen credit as co-writer - left the actor exhausted.

Daria had also intended to act in the film, but was prevented by injury. She returned for Inferno (1980), the spiritual sequel to Suspiria, and once again contributed behind the cameras: the original concept was Nicolodi's, and she worked on the script with Dario. Unwilling to fight him again, her writing work went uncredited this time. With their professional relationship strained, Nicolodi would only agree to a small supporting role in Argento's next film, Tenebre (Tenebrae, 1982). However, when the American actor who had been cast as the female lead dropped out just before the start of shooting, Daria once again found herself starring in an Argento horror film. The shoot was not a happy one; as Daria bonded with her onscreen love interest, Anthony Franciosa, over a shared passion for theatre, Argento became jealous and difficult. The atmosphere on set deteriorated to such a point that, when directed to give a short, sharp scream for the final shot of the film (her final day of shooting), Daria instead unleashed a long, deafening howl of terror. What she described as her "cathartic release from the whole nightmare" would become one of the most iconic moments in the film.

By the time they were making Phenomena (Creepers, 1985), the relationship between Nicolodi and Argento was beginning to fail. They would separate that year, and although she initially did not express any interest in working for the director again, she was tempted back for Opera (1987) by an elaborate death scene. Outside of her work with Dario, Nicolodi had built up a modest but significant filmography with other big names in Italian genre cinema. For the great Mario Bava, she starred in his final film, Shock (1977); for his son, Lamberto, she took a supporting role in Le foto di Gioia (Delirium, 1987). Michele Soavi, a protégé of her former partner, cast her in La Setta (The Sect, 1991), but mainly she would concentrate on the stage from this point on, describing theatre as her first love. The tragic death of her elder daughter, Anna, in 1994, only kept her further away from the limelight. It was the burgeoning career of younger daughter Asia, both as actor and director, that would tempt her back in front of the cameras.

Although she made comparatively few films, Daria's impact on Italian horror cinema has been huge. What's most fascinating is how deeply individual and unique each of her performances were. It's tempting, in looking at her work with Dario Argento, to perhaps project a potential pattern in her different roles, that aligns with how he may have viewed their relationship. In Profondo Rosso, shot whilst they were still getting to know one another, she is self-contained, confident, attractive and capable. By Inferno, when their relationship was well established and they had a child together, her character is much more vulnerable, an innocent caught up in something terrible and in need of protection. In Tenebre, one of Argento's most accomplished films, she has her weakest part - she was unhappy with the role, which is notably underwritten compared to the characters around her, and in which her main purpose seems to be to react to the events unfolding. As their relationship faltered on the set of Phenomena, she took her ugliest role of all - a dark distortion of obsessive motherhood. Perhaps it might seem like a disservice to her, to make these comparisons, but it is also true that Daria was an incredibly obliging actor - always at pains to give her director (Argento or otherwise) exactly what she thought they needed, whether requested or not. Petri had told her she reminded him of a figure from his past, so she consciously exaggerated those mannerisms to please him; Argento originally struck her as egocentric, so she mirrored his stance and his gestures. A consummate professional, I don't think it's beyond the realm of possibilities that by Phenomena she was channeling their dysfunctional relationship and distorted self images into one of the most intense and disturbing performances of her career.

I would have first seen Daria in Profondo Rosso, more than a decade ago now. It remains one of my favourite films, and her performance in it quite simply one of my favourite performances ever given by an actor. Gianna is such a complete and unique creation, unlike not only any female character in Italian cinema at that point, but quite unlike any character in a horror film. Profondo Rosso is a giallo film, perhaps the finest giallo film - it is a bloody, terrifying slasher film in which horrific violence is visited on the undeserving. And as Gianna, Daria spends the entire film incredibly, almost deliriously happy. She grins, she poses, she spins her cigarellos between her fingers. She teases David Hemmings, pricks at his ego, challenges him to arm wrestling contests. She drives a broken down car, tricks her way into crime scenes, and takes photographs of witnesses even when strictly forbidden to. She is among the most likeable, endearing, and thoroughly real protagonists to ever appear in what is essentially a fantasy film. She is so very human that she grounds what should be a totally absurd concept, and in the process provides exactly what it is that makes that film work so well - and it did work, the film was a huge critical and commercial success, and revitalised Argento's career after an early 70s slump.

There are two cuts of Profondo Rosso, and I know there is a school of thought that the shorter, international cut (which removes much of Nicolodi's work, trimming all the more jovial and character-building scenes) is the superior one - that it makes for a sharper, more suspenseful thriller. I absolutely disagree. To cut the relationship scenes is to take out the heart and soul of the film: Hemmings is the purported lead, but his character is detached, emotionally stunted. The heart of the film is in Nicolodi - in her sharp suits and twinkling eye, in her laughter and her fear - and the only reason the suspense works at all is because the audience has a reason to care, someone to care about. Profondo Rosso was the first time I saw an Italian film not as a garish thrill, but as something much deeper, more profound. It was perhaps the first time I realised that a horror film could also be art. I fell in love with Italian cinema, with gialli, and with Daria Nicolodi.

75 notes · View notes

shhhlikeme · 4 years

Note

Hello, could I have a request? If it’s not too much of a bother, maybe about kenma having a crush on a foreigner who’s still new to speaking Japanese, so he teaches her how to speak better, gets to know her better and finds out she’s also a gamer? Sorry if it’s too specific, I love your writing!! 🥺

Thank you so much for reading my work! I adore Kenma he is everything so thank you for requesting him. I didn’t want to stop writing this! I hope you like it!

Kenma x Foreign Student Reader

——————————

You were the absolute ONLY thing that could take Kenma’s attention away from his Nintendo switch

When you trotted into class silently that day as a new student that just moved to Japan from [Your City] Kenma just scribbled in his notebook like he always does when the teacher is talking because he didn’t hear you come in

The teacher asked you to introduce yourself and you did, shyly and in less than accurate Japanese

This got catboy’s attention

When Kenma heard your angelic voice he lifted his head up from the paper for the first time that day

Baby boy is smart af. He doesn’t even need to listen in class and he gets straight A’s

His eyes widened when he saw you. You clearly weren’t from here and he didn’t know how he felt about that

He takes a mental note that you looked.....different.

Um, good different.

VERY good different. He realized, as he studied your features

Kenma thought you were beautiful and although your introduction had grammatical errors, he found your mistakes quite adorable

You sat in front and to the left of him which was ideal for Kenma because you couldn’t really see him staring

Since Kenma is a gifted student he is always abnormally bored in classes. His teachers always took away all of his electronics so he didn’t even try anymore. This current Modern Japanese class was no exception until you joined, and as the days went by he found himself not even missing his electronics for the first time in his life because he shared that class with you

He has you to look at now

You were so pretty and interesting to him.

He wished he could talk to you

Hiding behind his hair so that he wouldn’t get caught with red cheeks and all, he sighed admiringly as he watched you listen diligently to the teacher. The way you looked when you were concentrated made Kenma’s stomach hurt because you were just so cute. Watching you made him wish he had Kuroo’s confidence when it came to girls

Maybe he would ask Kuroo for advice, albeit a mortifying thought

Day after day in class Kenma watched as you read the teacher’s lips in hopes of slowing down the language in your head better. When everyone got a worksheet in class Kenma always did his work fast and just smirked to himself because you would quietly sound out everything you were reading and translate it to English.

So cute

Kenma knew his fair share of English because of his American gamer friends, so when he heard you translate a Japanese word incorrectly, which would have been detrimental for your grade on this paper, Kenma wanted so badly to jump in to help you

But he was anxious

In silent panic, he watched you whisper the wrong answers out loud because you had translated one early sentence incorrectly .

Oh no.

You were going to fail!

What would Kuroo do??? Kenma thought.

In his animated mind, he conjured up an air bubble version of Kuroo looking down at him and lecturing him, telling Kenma that: “you are like blood that should flow towards the blood that has the most attractive body covering it which is obviously a reference to the cute foreign girl you have a crush on so STOP BEING SUCH A WUSS AND HELP HER, KENMA!”

Kenma shook his head violently. The air bubble version of Kuroo disappeared.

God, even in his made up thoughts his best friend was obnoxious

Kenma’s volleyball team, Fukurõdani’s volleyball team and Hinata all knew Kenma’s true personality.

They knew that Kenma wasn’t a shy person like most people initially think when they see him alone in the corner. In fact, he wasn’t shy at all. He just didn’t like people. Learn the difference.

And when Kenma did like specific people he still wanted them to stay at an arms length

So why did he like you so much? He was convinced that he wouldn’t mind having you closer than an arms length because of how pretty you are. Kenma liked looking at aesthetically pleasing things, and in that respect you were much much better than his games or his volleyball friends.

But jumping in to save your assignment still wasn’t him. It just wasn’t Kenma. He didn’t chat to others in class and enjoy it like everyone else in this school. He liked chatting with Kuroo, Shōyō, and his gaming pals, sure. But everyone else was slightly annoying.

But not you.

He wasn’t annoyed by you despite the fact that he’s been watching your embarassing quirks for over a week now. He felt quite the opposite for you, actually...

Completely unaware of Kenma’s daily analysis of you like you always were, you smiled as you finished your work. Ready to leave, you collected your paper, preparing to hand in the open-book assignment worth 40% of your grade. But before you stood up you felt a delicate hand on your arm, halting you.

“Uhhhh.......” You look up to see the most gorgeous boy you’ve ever seen in all the countries you’ve been in. He had striking cat-like eyes that made your heart beat faster and his voice was soft and alluring.

With a serious face, he removed his hand from your arm and pointed to your sheet. In perfect English he said, “That means “theatre audition” actually. Not “movie theatre.”

You were shocked that his English sounded better than your Japanese

Kenma felt a burst of pride within because he could infer that he impressed you with his English

You blushed and quickly started erasing the subsequent answers. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much.”

You expected the gorgeous boy to walk away after that but you were even more taken back when he pulled up a chair next to you.

His sudden movement blew breeze in your direction which wafted the mango-scent of his shampoo toward you. You almost salivated. His hair was so shiny, he was so beautiful and to top it off he smelled to-die-for.

“You made minor translation errors in question 1, 4 and 5 too. Mind if I help you? My name’s Kenma.” He asked hopefully, still speaking to you in impeccable English.

You introduced yourself too while blushing some more and of course you accepted his help

Throughout the rest of class, Kenma, talkative as ever—asked you a bunch of questions in order to get to know you. You shared with him that your parents were divorced and that you decided to move from [Your City] where you lived all your life with your mom to move in with your dad in Japan for high school and University because you loved/missed him. You told him that your dad spoke Japanese to you as a baby but you lost a lot of it living so far away and having no one to practice with.

Kenma became more and more intrigued by you. He could listen to you talk all day which would probably give his best friend a heart attack since Kuroo was put on a strict talking time limit that kicked in after 3 hours.

The more the cat boy learned about you the more he wanted to learn. Especially when you mentioned that your favourite hobby included gaming.

Kenma, being fairly asexual but attracted to you, was unfamiliar with the way the concept of you gaming turned him alllll the way on.

He imagined you beside him during his gaming weekends wearing a baggy t-shirt & just your underwear underneath like he wears.

Damn

He flushed

Let’s just say Kenma had trouble shifting inconspicuously under the desk to adjust his tightened pants when he thought about you gaming.

He mentally prepared to get himself off on the thought as soon as he got home tonight

Yep. You officially had him wrapped around your finger, and you didn’t even know it.

You had no idea that that conversation would go on forever

You had no idea that Kenma had always denied tutoring others when the Modern Japanese teacher asked, and that is why the teacher gladly allowed you two to work together

You had no idea that the rest of the class was ASTONISHED by the quiet and stunning setter of Nekoma (who does everything in his power to not be approachable and avoid social situations) going out of his way to keep a conversation going with another student

You had no idea that all the Kenma admirers were soooooo jealous of you right now

You had no idea that Kenma would glare back at the girls who glared at you and try his best to become your friend in the coming weeks

You had no idea that you both would enjoy every moment of your close friendship. A bit too much

You had no idea that, weeks later, Kuroo would force Kenma into confessing to you, even if it was over your favourite game as avatars... and you would cry tears of joy

You had no idea that you would lose your voice cheering for your boyfriend at Nationals........twice.

You had no idea that upon graduation you two would adopt an adorable kitty and name her -cinema-

You had no idea that years later, Kenma would become the husband of your dreams and that shortly thereafter you would give birth to the most beautiful cat-eyed baby girl that was a splitting image of her stunning bearded father

Just imagine daddy Kenma all grown up with a beard omg

No.... as you sat there in class trying to repeat after him the Japanese sentence on the worksheet, you absolutely had no idea

But

When Kenma asked for your number at the bell and you blushed beautifully again, he felt butterflies in his stomach by the sight, and that’s when

He did have an idea that all of that would happen.

Because love-struck Kenma wouldn’t accept anything less.

#haikyuu!!#haikyu requests #haikyuu boys #haikyu #daily haiku #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma kozume #catboy #nekoma #karasuno #haikyuu suggestions #kenma fluff #kenma sfw

276 notes · View notes

dakotafoster · 4 years

Note

Werewolf Bakugou x reader!! I’d like it if there was a lot of his wolf form!! Maybe the reader is a mage as well!! Perhaps there’s a war happening and they got separated in the midst of battle and one gets slightly injured. I know you said no gore. Sorry this is so all over the place!!

Thank you for requesting! This is my first request on this blog and I tried my best with this one-shot to meet it to your expectations so I hope you like it ♡ I went for a sort of forbidden fantasy love narrative if that’s alright.

ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ

ραιяιиg : werewolf! katsuki bakugou x fem! mage! reader

ɢɛռʀɛ : fluff, a tiny bit of angst

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs : none

աօʀɖ ƈօʊռȶ : 4.2k

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 : Amidst a raging war between your fellow sorcerers and the Werewolves, you find yourself unexpectedly in love with their Alpha.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

It was an absolute nightmare. It was not how you wanted to use the gifts you had been given, you didn’t want this. Your refused to use your grandmothers teaching of spells and magic for carnage and murder, you wanted to help and save, to nurture those who could not help themselves. You had been sent to fight a pointless war, driven by null excuses. Dragged and thrown into confrontation by your father and mother, who seemed to care little or not at all about your say in the matter. Everyone in your village, every sorcerer and mage believed that such beasts shouldn’t exist, that lycanthropy was nothing more than a demon’s stunt to lure you to Hell, going so far as to say their leader or Alpha was their term, was the embodiment of Lucifer himself.

You on the other hand, you thought that they were a misunderstood species. You wished to simply understand them, to perceive their culture and recognize them for who they truly are. Not based on some silly rumor to terrify children into being proper. You abandoned your family and left to start a life of your own, where you had the privilege to make your own choices. Though, nothing went according to plan. Third night of being in complete solitude, with nothing but the faint pale light of a full moon to keep you company, you had found yourself surrounded by beasts of the night. Ghouls and vampires alike, all frothing at the mouth like rabid animals.

You were sure you had met your maker, when out of the same obscurity appeared a small pack of wolves. Leaping from the wilderness both beautiful and utterly massive. Your saviors had either chased or mauled your captors, only when they turned to you snarling and barking you began to realize your relief was short-lived. At the head of the band, an enormous golden wolf with pearly grand canines and vibrant scarlet eyes. You couldn’t help but stare in awe at how bulky he was compared to the other wolves surrounding him, and how gorgeous he looked under the silver moon. His frame hunched as he gradually made his way toward you, lips pulled back with a thunderous snarl.

“W-Wait! Please!”

Your voice was hoarse with dehydration, your body shivered from the bitting cold and eyes swollen with how many tears you had shed throughout the whole night. You didn’t want to die like this, you refused to give up, even if you were far to frail to fight back. Your prayers must’ve been answered because before the blonde creature could pounce, a second voice boomed from afar.

“Bakugou wait.”

A crimson brute stepped around the blonde and stood in front of your trembling form. His audits pulled back in a pleading manner. Bakugou—was his name— was far from pleased.

“Move aside now Kirishima. Do not make me ask again. She’s a fucking wizard, she has to die.”

“Bakugou look at her, she’s dying. There’s no way she could cast a simple spell without killing herself. Spare her and let us help her.”

Bakugou sneered at his right hand man. Deep down he knew he had a valid reason, and when he peeked around his friends shoulder. You looked horrible, your clothes barely clinging to your rather boney frame, and you appeared to be severely malnourished. He couldn’t help but feel small pang of remorse just with a short glance.

“Please Bakugou, She needs help. Don’t be the monster they say you are. Prove them wrong.”

His scowl worsened, enraged by the Beta’s comment and his pack mates hostile and dissatisfied with the cardinal male. He jumped the at the male, puffing out his chest in a dominating manner and gave him a throaty growl. “You think I give a shit? Let them think what they want of me. Merciful or not, I’m doing it to protect you and the damn pack. My answer is final. No.” With a final snap of his jaws at Kirishima he turned his back on him, a deafening bark commanding the additional wolves to follow.

“No! I beg of you don’t leave! P-please..!”

The Alpha froze. Audits no longer dragged behind him in irritation but now rather set vertically upon his heavy cranium, clearly interested at the sound of your abused voice.

“I-I’ll help your pack. I can use my magic for harvest, livestock. I-I can heal your comrades! I’ll do anything! Just please... Don’t l-leave me to rot away here...” The other wolves became suddenly interested at your proposal, giving each other quick glimpses in question to whether or not you were trust worthy. Even so it was eerily silent with nothing but the weak chirps of crickets filling the void. For a moment everything seemed to freeze before Bakugou promptly padded toward your paltry physique, large paws mere centimeters from you when you felt his hot exhale on your cheeks. You gazed up at him locking into those bloody visionaries, pupils nothing but thin slits.

“Mark my words sorcerer. Attempt anything to harm me or my pack, and I’ll leave you to vampires to properly feast on. Do I make myself clear?” The emphasis he used on each word sent chills down your arms leaving you covered in goosebumps. You hastily nodded, receiving nothing but a firm grunt. Bakugou swiveled around once more and turned his attention to Kirishima, getting uncomfortably adjacent with his companion and repeating the same actions he had done with you.

“And you will be held accountable.”

Without so much as a second glance he sauntered away, his intimidating aura and the other wolves following along behind him. Kirishima assisted you as you climbed onto his woolly back and silently rested while you both made your way to what seemed to be a lions den. The clan was hostile and cruel towards you, you were certain that Bakugou would throw you to them like a damn bone once he was through with you.

You would have laughed if fate told you he would mark you as his mate and lover just weeks later.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Bakugou!”

You and Katsuki both bolted from slumber at the frantic yelp coming from outside the cozy teepee, small flickers of the flame lanterns shone through. You looked over at Bakugou who was adorned with nothing but coal cotton trousers, and you in a simple nightgown. He caught your gaze with tired yet alarmed optics, molding his large calloused palm into your slim silky hand tenderly. Giving your fingers a gentle squeeze he swiftly removed the fur blankets from his body and made his way to the the broad curtain and heaved it open. Revealing a bruised and evidently exhausted Kirishima, you and Katsuki gazed wide eyed at the male. It only took you a second to quickly scamper to your lovers side. Katsuki grabbed a hold of the red-head’s arm, who you now had the privilege to call a dear friend. “Kirishima? What the hell happened to you?”

“Bakugou... It’s the sorcerer’s village. They’ve come. Oh god Bakugou... They have killed so many of our own.”Kirishima wailed, heaving feeling as though his lungs would collapse any second. Your heart seemed to be running a marathon in your chest, terrified for what was to come between your former folk, your former family. Katsuki growled lowly, pivoting on his heel aggressively and stomping his way to seize his fiery red cloak. You sweat dropped with every action he took, you felt like bauling your eyes out when you came to the awareness of what Katsuki was going to do. He was making his past you before you roughly grasping his wrist.

“What are you doing?”

What a stupid question. You knew better than to be so simpleminded. You knew exactly what he was planning, but you wouldn’t let yourself believe it for even a second. The look he gave you said it all, it let you know that you were at the point where you could lose him. He was at his wits end with this war, and he was going to put an end to it once and for all. Even if it meant laying down his own life. You sobbed, squeezing his wrist impossibly tighter, praying that if you did he wouldn’t be able to leave, to leave you behind. Katsuki released a shaky sigh, he let himself incline down to your level and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. It was short, but by the way his eyes were clenched shut you could see he was resisting the urge to ravish himself in your beauty. He exhaled through his nose, nostrils flared when he turned away from you, lips tight lipped as he began to regain composure. He refused to meet your scrutiny, afraid that if he examine your beauty for a second longer he would have second thoughts.

“I love you (y/n). Please forgive me.”

“...What?”

He untangled his wrist from your sweaty palms, his once raging stare occupied with nothing but heartache and heavy sorrow. That all disappeared when he met Kirishima’s optics with a scowl and a stern nod. You trembled when you watched Katsuki clap his grip onto Kirishima’s shoulders, the former stumbling slightly at the impact.

“Take her as far away from here as you can, and if I don’t come back... You take care of my girl you hear me?” His profound voice trembled, and as soon he received a nod of affirmation from his friend he turned his back on him and you. Without so much as a sparing glance, and your heart dropped 50 feet below you.

“No! Katsuki no!”

You whimpered. You instantly made a run for your lover but before you get too far Kirishima grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled to back whilst you writhed in his arms, howling and sobbing after Katsuki.

“No! No! Let me go Kirishima! Let me go! Katsuki come back! KATSUKI! ”

Tears flowed your face without remorse, your throat ached as you screamed at the figure that disappeared into the trees, the silver beam of moonlight that broke through the tree line outlined powerful structure splendidly. Kirishima whimpered beside you, struggling to persevere in keeping you back as you howled and weeped after his friend. You eventually fell limp in his grasp, too weak to resist him any longer and only containing the energy to wail in agony. Kirishima’s knees wobbled, stifling his own cries he struggled to keep you upright and move. He failed. Falling to his knees all he could do now was mourn with you and whisper his apologies.

“Come.... We must leave before they get any closer.” Kirishima whispered after a few prolonged moments, his voice nasally and gruff. He carefully rose from his knees—which still trembled terribly— and grasped your elbows to assist you as well, but he froze when he saw he look on your face. An expression of renewed vigor and determination.

“(y/n)? What are yo—“

It was a plain graze to his bicep, but it was enough to send a sudden pulse through his body and his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he fell limp. A simple sleeping spell you had learned at a young age, yet it’s effects last only 10 minutes before he would awaken.

“I’m sorry Kirishima. I refuse to run from this.” You scanned his unconscious form a moment, and made a mad dash into the trees in the direction you last saw Katsuki. The bare soles of your feet ached, sprinting over twigs and sharp rocks. You would only falter when you got deep enough into the forest in which you began to hear the howls and hollers of both man and wolf, occasional screams and yelps as well. You kept running until you found yourself in a large clearing at the mountain side, and just a couple meters ahead you could make out the shapes of some senior mages you knew and wolves who seemed to be outnumbering their foes quite drastically, but were at a disadvantage in terms of power.

Cautiously, you made your way around the commotion and squatting behind the thickets. you had been an apprentice under your grandmother to become a storm mage like her, but even if you knew some fairly powerful spells it wasn’t going to be enough to take on a handful of far more experienced sorcerers. Adrenaline flowing through your system, pounding about in your chest and head as you struggled to come up with a plan of action. Your legs throbbed but you couldn’t remain hidden forever, peered over the small sprigs and leaves to search for a specific golden canine.

It was moments before you finally spotted him, farther into the clearing he was evading the attacks of a elder mage. Large orbs of energy being thrown at the Alpha male proved futile when he practically sidestepped each one, and the sorcerer was growing quite frustrated and desperate. Katsuki was too occupied with the man in front of him he failed to noticed another approach him from behind, bright amber flames flickering across his palm and a devilish grin across his lips as he got increasingly closer to the Alpha. In a split-second you took one great leap from out of the vegetation and sprinted in his route, the adrenaline surges through your body so fast you could feel bile rise to your throat and the sailva thicken on your tongue. But not for a second did you hesistate, as you got closer you flexed your fingers, feeling a piercing heat spread from your fingertips to your forearms. Once you had gotten close enough you pounced and tackled the fire mage to the ground.

You both fumbled, twisting your body so you straddled the man and before he could counter you gripped his head between your hands and let an intense wave of electricity through your palms. The male in return shrieked, falling comatose in your grasp in mere seconds. You unfurled your fingers from his cranium, taking quick huffs and slowly standing to your feet. You gawked down at the mage, your muscles slightly sore and weak from the exertion.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

A booming growl broke your trance, pivoting on your heels to look at the wolf who marched toward you furiously, the elder sorcerer lay mutilated behind him. “You shouldn’t be here! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” He snarled breathily, you appeared so frail in comparison to him, he towered over you even in his wolf form though he hunched over slightly to meet your (e/c) visionaries. You met his own crimson ones, completely livid. “You’re a fool if you really thought I’d let you turn your back on me like that. You’re a complete asshole!”

You pushed a finger to his woolly chest, your movements frantic as you hollered. Katsuki could only stand there dumbfounded, startled by your unexpected outburst. However he just wasn’t capable of resisting a smirk as you kept up your rambling about how selfish and moronic the ruffian was.

“Are you even listening to a single thing I’m saying Katsuki?” You finally ask and in response he unleashed a deep chuckle “Not a single word princess.” You growled and promptly pinched his blonde audit roughly which left Katsuki to jerk away from your grip with a small yelp. “What the fuck, you shitty woman?! The hell was the for? You know how much that shit hurts!”

You watched in amusement at such a dominant figure pussy away from a small nip, his ear now lopsided as he hopelessly to try and remove the stinging throb. You carefully amble toward him and seize his soft cheeks into your hands. “Because Katsuki, the fact that you sincerely thought you could just leave like that.. It breaks my heart. You do not get to abandon me once everything goes to shit, you chose me as your mate. I am not going to run, not from this and certainly not from you. Argue with me all you want, be a stubborn ass. I don’t care, I’m with you through it all.” You whisper, Katsuki huffed in defeat at your declaration and decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut. Threading your digits through the wild tufts of fur. Katsuki emitted a heavy purr at the action, his eyelids fluttered close.

His lids flew back open and his nostrils flared. The faint aroma of an unreleaved individual left him stiff, on instinct he sunk his canines into your night gown and launched you to the side. In an instant, all too familiar splinters of ice striked Katsuki head on, his form colliding violently at the base of a tree. “Katsuki!” You hollered after him, appalled at the motionless bundle of blonde laying in the fields of grass. You didn’t have the time to check if he was still alive when a figure stepped from the shadows.

“Mother?” You gaped at the woman in front of you, her once calm nature gone. She glares at you like an absolute savage, her mouth agape in a silent scream and her hands covered in frost from the use of her magic. Your mind all but clear, frozen to any movement you begged to take so all you could do was speak. “Mother.” you repeated and curled your lip, never had you thought you could so much resentment toward someone who had once meant so much to you, that was until now. Her scowl intensified at this, sneering in disgust as she began to circle you.

“Your judgement has been tainted by that demon! That... Devil! You’re not my daughter. My daughter would never allow herself to manipulated by such a beast. Allow me to be so kind and put an end to your misery!”

Her palms aimed toward you, a slew of words spilled from her lips and another wave of ice raced towards you. You still couldn’t move, and even if you could the rate the icicles we’re reaching you wouldn’t be able to evade it in time. On impulse, you raised your own hands. The same heat and prickles coarsing through your veins, and with your own mumbled words an enormous discharge of lightning boomed through the ice, tearing it in half and send shards flying all around you. The bolt of lightning didn’t seem to cease in momentum, charging rapidly toward your mother. All she could do was watch as the powerful fulmination surged toward her, and with a final screech it striked devastating blow to her chest. She soared backwards, her body disappearing back into the darkness of the forest. You stood triumphant, but in a great deal of pain.

Your arms where left severely burned and a furious red, the dull pounding made your head spin. Though you ignored the aching and immediately sprinted to Katsuki’s unconscious frame, small crystals of ice clung to his fur on the side of impact. As you neared his body you just about cried when you heard the heavy breaths that left his mouth, labored and raspy but a clear indication that he was still alive. You maneuvered tourist his large cranium upon your lap and assessed the damage done to him. You reached out to caress his coated chest, around the location the ice rammed into him. Katsuki began to whimper in response and you quickly retracted your hand. You choked on your sobs as you stared at him, you were far too weak to perform any healing spells on him. Even if you tried you would kill yourself before you would even be able to mend a single bone in his body. With that the tears broke out like water from a dam, you had never felt so powerless in your life, so weak. You knew you could’ve done more to insure his saftey but you simply were not strong enough.

Loud and boisterous howls sounded off behind you almost in a cheering manner in the direction of the clearing. You smiled crookedly, turning back to the wolf in your lap you cupped his cheeks once again threaded your insensate digits gingerly through the blonde pelt. “Katsuki, wake up. They did it. We did it. Wake up so you can see! Please..” You pleaded in a whisper to the unconscious male, fruitless attempts to soothe him through his suffering. Your heart clenched painfully with every passing second “I’m sorry Katsuki.. I’m so sorry..” You sounded like a fucking child , you were crying hysterically as you continued to observe your love’s trembling and broken form.

Thunderous pounding resonated behind you, gradually getting closer and without hesitation you roared in the direction of the sound.

“Over here! Katsuki’s badly hurt!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

His voice was as inticing as ever, his hand outstretched for you to take. You gave him a gentle smile and intertwined his fingers into yours, peering back to examine the three miniature silhouettes outlined by the candlight covered in pelt and wool blankets.

“They’ll be fine, they’re heavy sleepers.”

You snorted at this, rolled your eyes dramatically as Katsuki led out out of the comfortable teepee and into the woodlands. “I wonder where that got it from.” You squeezed his palm teasingly, Katsuki grumbled lowly in reply. He escorted you through the forest, the warm milky glow of the moon lighting the way. “Where are we going?” You finally asked, huddling into his side and nuzzling your cheek into his bicep . “Weren’t you ever told that patience is a virtue? We’re almost there.” He stated with a click of his tongue, his stride never stalled for a moment as he continued to lead you through the trees.

It was minutes when he then guided you through some brambles and bushes, and the sight you had been graced with was absolutely breathtaking. There you stood on a grassy cliff side by the sea, the ocean vast and wide. The waves boldly clapped against the boulders and stones below and wafted the briny aroma to your nostrils. You could almost taste the salt on your chapped lips, though that wasn’t even the best part. The Moon was the utter show-stopper. The Moon stood enormously in the sky, hovering just over the sea and seemed like a mere arm stretch away.

“Do you like it?” Katsuki broke your attention on the scene in front of you, tenderly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his firm chest. You found yourself so entranced with the view it was getting increasingly harder to focus on anything else. “It’s incredible Katsuki… I love it.” You murmured, tracing soft lines on the arms that trapped you and relaxing in his hold. He ran the tips of his calloused fingers up and down your hips “I’m glad. It’s called a Super Moon, it only happens every couple of years, and I’ve been planning to show you this for some time.” You cackled, giving a small pinch to the mucle on his right forearm. “Wow, I’m impressed Katsuki. Who knew you could be so romantic.” You could almost feel the blood rush to his face, a crimson tint decorating his handsome face. “Tch, shut up.. It’s just my way of saying thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?” You brows furrowed in confusion, you focused your regard onto the the smooth ripples of the water. You felt Katsuki rest his chin on your dome, his pecs expanding on your shoulder blade when he sighed. “For everything. For saving me my ass, for giving me a couple of rebels for kids, and for loving me despite my reputation. You gave me something to live and strive for, so thank you.”

You grinned from ear to ear at his confession, biting your lip to suppress the intensity of your love for him. “I suppose I should be thanking you too. You gave me something to live for as well.” Katsuki gave a heavy chortle, leaning down slightly to indulge himself in your neck. His fiery breath against your artery sent tremors down your spine, nose nudging vertically up your collar.

Times changed, people along with it. His arrival in your life was unexpected and yet fulfilling to a great extent. You found each other in a place where darkness resides in, and together you and Katsuki illuminated a future you had both been blind to. You felt as though your eyes had been opened to new side of life. Surrounded in clarity, fullness and most of all, the beauty in love.

So you both stood embraced on the cliff side bathing in the pure rays of the Moon, who seemed to shine brighter than the brother Sun. Blessing the sky with her divine presence and joining the stars that freckled the black sky, the navy ocean acting as a mirror, reflecting the Moon flawlessly. She was the mother of the night sky, a goddess watching over every beating heart, because she is always there, close to our earth to keep us company while she can.

“I love you Katsuki.”

“I love you too princess.”

.•° ✿ °•.

“ тнe мoon тeacнeѕ υѕ тнaт darĸneѕѕ can’т нιde тнe вeaυтy oғ lιғe, ιғ we ĸnow нow тo reғlecт тнaт вeaυтy. “

- ᴅᴇʙᴀsɪsʜ ᴍʀɪᴅʜᴀ

╚═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╝

Tumblr really likes to test my patience (≧Д≦) I kept forgetting to save the draft and lost about 1,000 words each time, I honestly thought about deleting it out of frustration. That and I’m not really that proud with how it turned out. But here it is! Thank you for reading and requesting. You are more than welcome to leave feedback on my works. ♡

- 𝖑𝖎𝖟 ☾ ✩

𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 : (𝟔/𝟐𝟑/𝟐𝟎 - 𝟕:𝟓𝟖 𝐩.𝐦.)

#katsuki bakugou oneshot #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #boku no hero academia #katsuki x reader #werewolf katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha oneshots #mha oneshot

200 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #463

“the siren sings a lonely song of all the wants & hungers / the lust of love, a brute desire”

Describe the person that you would like to be in three years. I want my mental health to be in great condition, I really want to be in much better physical shape, ideally be living with somebody in our own place, have a job I'm happy with, have an improved social life, my own license and car... Think back to when you first met your significant other (or ex). Was your first impression of them accurate? It's funny, I honestly don't remember what my first impression of Girt was. I don't even recall our first interaction. I'm sure it was most likely that he was friendly, because he is and always has been. What is your most noticeable personality trait? Probably that I'm really, really shy. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Which of your family members do you resemble the most? I guess one of my immediate sisters? People tend to say stuff like they can definitely tell we're related. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. Who knows you better than anyone else? Hell, probably whoever reads these. When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? I guess you could call dating Girt a "new chapter." I have a much, much stronger feeling of this attempt being more successful than the last now that I've been able to change my angle on how I see him. What’s the most expensive thing your car needed to get done? I don't have my own vehicle and never have. If you had a thousand dollars to spend on a pricey brand you like but can’t really afford (until now of course), which ONE brand would you choose? *shrug* Most products of highly expensive brands I find hideous anyway. Do you still talk to any of your old teachers? Yeah. One is a close family friend and actually our landlord. Does your family still use the home phone or are you all on cell phones now? We haven't had a landline is yeeeeaaarrrrsssss. Ever go to another school’s prom? No; my boyfriend went to the same school as me. Do you ever venture into the woods? What do you normally do there? No; we live in the city now. :/ When I DID live in the woods, I absolutely loved wandering around with my camera for stuff to take pics of. Does your significant other ever make you mix CDs? None ever have but omg I wish that would be adorable. How did you dress your freshman year of high school? I was one of them emo kids. Would you ever date your best friend of the opposite sex? WELP that's what I'm doing lol. Would you say you have a high sex drive or not so much? I'd call it normal? Higher sometimes, lower other times, but not to either extreme. Come with an unpopular opinion. Silent Hill: Homecoming is a great game and while there's a lot of fan service from the movie, it belongs in the series. It's actually my second (or third)-favorite installment. Most of the SH community absolutely hate that game. What’s the worst thing a friend has either done or said to you? A lot of shit Colleen would say if we got into arguments. She'd ridicule effects of my depression, said I'd never know what it's like to pay my own bills, stuff like that. She's hateful as fuck and everything cut deep. What’s fake about you? Like extensions, fake nails, botox etc. Nothing physical. If you got the chance, would you audition for a reality show? No. Have you ever gotten into a Facebook fight? More than once. What’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever experienced irl? Hm, I'm unsure. Favorite flavor of jelly bean? Probably watermelon. Do you use Tinder? If yes, have you ever met up with someone you matched? No. You do you, but if I understand Tinder correctly, it just seems... really shallow to me. Like don't you JUST see their picture to decide if you're interested or not? It just enforces the false belief that appearance really matters in love. You just poured your heart out to your crush and all he/she does is respond “k”. What do you respond/do? Well, I don't have a crush anymore; my boyfriend and I literally exchanged "I love you"s last night. That's not a crush. But for the sake of the question, I'll imagine I was single and this happened, in which case I would be both hurt and annoyed. Like, either tell me you return the feelings or not. It's not hard. What's your favorite thing to order from McDonald’s? I usually get a quarter pounder w/ cheese or a McDouble, occasionally with a small or medium fry, depending on how hungry I am. When do you feel your sexiest? Never, hunny. What's your favorite emoji? I don't really have one? It just depends on what the situation calls for. What’s your skincare routine? I don't really have one... I just use a washcloth to clean my face. Who all out of your immediate family smokes? My dad and stepmom. Do you like incense or candles better? Incense, totally. Do you respect your parents? Yeah. What’s your bf/gf’s name? It's technically Donald Jr., but since high school, I've known him as Girt, a nickname I won't explain for his privacy. Do you wear glasses? Yeah. Do you like The Beatles? I honestly don't. Except "Hey, Jude." What was the last reason you got excited? Last night. When we were saying goodbye, I was scared to, but I told Girt I loved him, and he immediately said it back confidently. My heart did like five flips. I'm still over the moon about it. Yes, we just got back together, but we've been in each other's lives as a constant since HS, and after changing my angle of how I looked at him, it's not at all platonic anymore. Do you know anyone who drinks the pickle juice from the jar? Sara does alskdjfklwejrl;er Name something crazy that’s happened recently? Uhhhh... I dunno. My life is very uneventful to have something really "crazy" happen. Can you say for a fact that you’re happy right now? I'm happy about some things, but also nervous and self-doubtful. Have you ever zip lined? No, but they look fun. I'd just be really scared of losing my grip. If you broke your computer, would you be able to fix it on your own? Ha, no. Have you ever been on a boat and got sick? No, but the one time I was at the beach and on a boat riding to an island, I was TERRIFIED I was going to get sick because of the waves. I didn't, thankfully. Did you sleep well last night? For the most part. My new mask might just be working. Do your parents try and plan your life for you? Not at all. Do you have any pictures of you kissing someone? Yes. List two things about yourself that you find embarrassing. My weight and how dark my leg hair is. Do you like to cuddle with your pet when you are sad? Yes. Do you find piercing attractive or unattractive? h o t Do you have any secret hiding spots in your room? To put money, yes. Do you like parmesan cheese on your spaghetti? Ew, no. I don't like parmesan. Does your best girl friend have any talents that you don’t? Yeah. She can animate well, for one. And sing like a fucking champ. Do you have any video game systems in your room? Which one(s)? My Nintendo DS Lite is in here. Well, and my laptop is a gaming one. What color eyes does the last person you kissed have? ... Oh WOW I've known this man for a fuckin decade and somehow I'm not sure??? But I want to say light blue? Have you ever taken a ride in a helicopter? No. Have you ever visited hot springs? No. How slowly or quickly would you say you eat? I'm aware I eat too fast, because my mom will point it out almost without fail if we eat in sight of each other. I'm not a messy eater at all, just... fast. Chewing your food and swallowing isn't a complex task. I've made active efforts to slow down, I just haven't been able to succeed. It doesn't feel normal. That and I've come to discover that when I chew food TOO much, I don't like the mushy texture of it in my mouth. What did you do the last time you were with friends? Yesterday Girt and I planned to watch shitty Netflix anime for some laughs, but we wound up starting Attack on Titan, which I am officially pretty into. What kind of cologne/perfume do you like the opposite sex to wear? I don't care if they wear any or not, so long as they know how to clean themselves and therefore not actually smell bad. If you celebrate Christmas, do you get a real tree or an artificial tree? We always use a fake one. Is there someone who means a lot to you but they don’t know that? My sisters probably don't, really... Is money important to you? Live your whole life poor and I want to see you answer "no" to this. Have you ever watched a meteor shower? No. Do you like Slim Jims? LOOOOOOOVE them. Would you rather write a mystery or love story? Love story. Are you muscular? No. Working for it. Do you have one of those removable hand-held shower heads? Yes. Originally, this house didn't, but I hated it so much that Mom bought one. How many burners does your stove have? Four. Has your car ever been broken into? Mom's hasn't.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''blood milk and sky'' by white zombie

3 notes · View notes