#if u have ideas for this trope feel free to drop them i might write more

[fuctacles]

Eddie, begrudgingly: Dustin's older brother is kinda fine :/

I had a craving for best friend's older brother AU so I wrote some but it's not my forte I'm out of ideas so that might be it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Edit: jokes on me I guess

[Part II] [Part III]

Eddie was about to knock on his freshman friend’s door when there was a loud commotion on the other side and the door opened by itself. A guy, probably around his age, nearly ran into him in his haste to leave the house. He startled, taking Eddie in. And then taking a double take, the way Eddie was used to people doing at the sight of him.

“Who are you?” the guy asked, scrunching his nose and not meeting Eddie’s eyes.

He felt his hackles rise, venom building in his throat and ready to spit. He wasn’t expecting this on a Saturday on his friend’s doorstep, but he guessed this was the kind of town where you just couldn’t wear your battle vest in peace anywhere. His upper lip twitched ready to form a snarl, when suddenly the guy's features softened, a spark of recognition lighting up his eyes.

“Wait. Let me guess. Eddie?”

Eddie faltered, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. He frowned.

“Yeah?”

The guy's face warmed up with a smile, and Eddie was not ready for that kind of emotional rollercoaster this early in the morning.

“Dustin’s stories do not do you justice,” he says for some reason, eyeing him again. Eddie wants to shrivel up and hide. What the fuck was happening. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen,” he said, stepping to the side to invite him in. “I have to go to work, so you two be good, okay?” he says before waving a cheery goodbye and closing the door, disappearing just as abruptly as he showed up in front of Eddie. The inside of the house suddenly seemed dull.

Another ray of sunshine peeked from the kitchen, toothy grin and hazelnut curls.

“So you’ve met Steve!” Dustin grinned in place of a greeting.

Eddie gawked at him.

“That,” he pointed at the closed door. The sound of a car leaving the curb tickled his ears. “Was Steve?!”

“The adopted brother Steve? The Star Wars fan Steve? The badass older brother Steve?”

“Yes, all that,” Dustin nodded enthusiastically.

“I thought he was, like, 16!” Eddie flailed and it sounded like a petulant whine even to his ears. He winced.

Dustin frowned at him like he was being stupid. Eddie didn’t like that gaze, but unfortunately at this point, he was getting used to it. His younger friend leaned on the kitchen door frame watching Eddie toe off his shoes.

“He’s 19. What gave you that impression?”

Eddie frowned at his scuffed Reeboks. He nudged them with his toe to line up, looking for an answer.

“The adopted part, I think? He’s almost an adult, who adopts that old?”

He knew he had said the wrong thing as soon as he said it. He looked up at Dustin, whose face twisted uncomfortably.

“Shit, sorry man. I didn’t mean-”

Dusting clicked his tongue impatiently, interrupting him.

“It’s fine. This is an unconventional arrangement,” he said in that way when you heard something repeatedly. “I can tell you more, but after we make that character sheet, okay?”

Eddie nodded, eager to abandon his social faux pas. The Henderson’s were an unconventional unit, and that’s what he loved about them, at least from the stories Dustin shared. The guy was a little freak, just like Eddie, so it checked out his family was just as unconventional. So was Eddie’s after all.

The parallels made him warm up inside, the familiar need to protect his younger friends flaring up.

“Deal,” he nodded, following his friend inside the kitchen, where notebooks and DnD manuals already littered the table.

A couple of hours, two coffees and an unsolved argument about the intricacies of multiclassing later, they decided to take a break and Eddie could finally feast his eyes on the family photos on display. He stood in front of the newest one standing front and centre on the mantle. Steve was smiling shyly to the camera while Claudia Henderson had her arms around his shoulders and Dustin was grinning wide from his other side, hair ruffled by the older boy's hand.

“How long he has been living here?”

Dustin’s head popped out of the kitchen where he was rummaging for snacks.

“About a year. Remember the Starcourt fire?”

“Yeah?” Eddie frowned, taken aback by the seemingly unrelated question.

“Well, he’s been there and-” the boy frowned, fully stepping into the living room and crossing his arms. “Shit, Mom says I shouldn’t be babbling it around. That it’s Steve's story to tell.”

Eddie hummed, cocking his head.

“Your mom is very smart.”

Dustin unwrapped his arms, clenching his hands together.

“I guess I could tell you I mean who are you gonna tell? You just-”

Eddie raised both his hands, stopping him.

“Dude, he interrupted with all the disapproval his drug dealing nonconformist self could muster. “She’s right and that would be breaking your brother’s trust.”

“Uh. Yeah,” Dustin gulped, looking adequately ashamed at proposing the idea. “You’re right., he nodded.

This lasted about half a second because nobody could stop Henderson from being an egocentric know-it-all and since he was wrong he was now going to overcompensate for it. Of that, Eddie could be sure.

“We can go to his workplace and you could ask him!”

Eddie raised his hands again.

“Hold your horses Henderson, we’re not harassing your brother at work.” The boy was actually pouting, the little shit. “I am not that determined to hear it. I’ll just catch him another time I visit.”

That was the wrong thing to say because he wasn’t planning on being a recurring guest initially. Or maybe it was the right thing to say since Dustin positively beamed at the implication.

Maybe it was because the kid’s presence has been a good influence on him as well.

Also, while the story of Steve’s adoption didn’t seem that interesting before, the idea of a mall fire being somehow involved raised questions that were now itching the back of Eddie’s tongue. He had to ask them at some point.

*

“There’s this guy,” Eddie starts one day during lunch break. 

“Oh-ho,” Gareth murmurs with disdain, the crumbs from his sandwich falling from his lips.

“Not like that,” Eddie glowered at him, slapping against his arm. Even though it was kinda like that. “He’s picking up Henderson after Hellfire today and if we run into him, I want you guys to be civil.”

“We’re always civil,” Jeff frowns at Eddie’s backhanded accusations.

“Yeah, especially when you guys are mooning after Mrs. Wheeler.”

The comment raised a wave of loud protests from his friends.

“I am just saying-”

“You’re just saying that guy is hot and we shouldn’t ogle him?” Gareth, the worst friend he has, raised his eyebrow.

“No, I’m just-”

“You calling dibs, Munson?” John the Traitor, the Backstabber, joined in. Johned in, if you will.

‘No!” Eddie protested, maybe a little too loud. A couple of heads turned but when they saw the ruckus was coming from the freaks table, they quickly lost interest. “He’s the worst. A hunk of jock with stupid hair but!” He rose a finger. “He’s Henderson’s family. And what do we do with family members in Hellfire?”

“Lure in.”

“Lull into a fake sense of security.”

“Cast charm person.”

“Exactly,” he smirked, pointing his finger at each of them in approval. “This case is no different.”

“It feels different,” Gareth murmured under his breath, earning himself another smack on the shoulder.

*

Eddie wrapped up the session and was giving out experience points to his players when a soft knock interrupted his counting. He frowned at the door.

“Speak ‘friend’ and enter!” he hollered to his sheep’s utter glee. He grinned at them.

Dead silence was all the response he got, so he assumed whatever normie was bugging them got discouraged. But then, Henderson was turning around in his seat, yelling at the door.

“It’s from Lord of the Rings! You know this one!”

There was a shuffle on the other side where apparently, Steve came already to pick up his brother.

“Oh! Um… Melon? Was that it?”

“You may enter!” Eddie commanded with a grin straining at his cheeks. Dustin was doing a good job educating his jock brother, apparently. 

The guy pushed the door open, taking in the table full of teenagers. He waved hesitantly.

“You guys finishing up?”

“I’m handing out points, we need just a few minutes,” Eddie waved his hand. “And it’s Mellon.”

Steve frowned.

“That’s what I said.”

“Sure you did,” Eddie cocked his head condescendingly, ignoring the eyes of Corroded Coffin members staring at him. “Now sit and wait,” he gratuitously offered, snapping his fingers and pointing at a nearby bench, like Henderson’s older brother was some kind of dog.

To his surprise, he nodded shortly and obeyed, sitting down and watching him expectantly. Eddie took it as his cue to proceed. He coughed to gather his sheep's attention and went back to his meticulous calculations.

*

“That didn’t look like Charm Person to me,” Gareth hissed as soon as the younger members of Hellfire had left.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Eddie scrunched his eyebrows, throwing him a look while he stuffed his campaign notes into his bag.

“You told us to be nice, but you ordered him around like he was one of the kids,” Jeff pointed out, arms crossing.

“I did not”

“You totally did.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he straightened up.

“What is this? Mutiny? Among my own kin? Ungrateful little herd I had nurtured on my own breast-”

He was interrupted by a cacophony of grossed out noises.

“Spare us the imagery, please.”

Eddie huffed indignantly, closing his bag.

“Then quit yapping. It was a singular lapse of judgement on my part,” he said with finality, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Without looking back, he walked off, hand raised in a goodbye, “Toodles, bitches.”

And he was gone.

Gareth sighed.

“Man, I love Eddie, but sometimes…” John cut himself off, shaking his head. 

“Yeah.”

*

Eddie’s been on the fence about it for some time now. But the time was ticking and he did say more than once that ‘86 was gonna be his year, so maybe it was time to pocket his ego and make some calls.

Some very, very humiliating calls.

Sighing deeply he imagined himself going to the woods and digging up a deep hole. There he imaginary buried his pride, made a fancy map to find it later, hopefully in time for his graduation, and finally dragged himself back home and in front of his phone. Next to it, he tacked on a list of numbers of all his newest sheepies in case of emergencies. Like Hellfire scheduling.

He sighed once more, slumping dramatically before dialling the first of the numbers. As he listened to the dial tone, he squared his shoulders, decided a more confident pose was in order. He was now a man of action, taking his fate in his own hands. His pride was buried deeply in the darkest corners of the forest and only a courageous-

“Har- Henderson residence, this is Steve speaking.”

Eddie’s mind went blank, completely thrown off. Who was he calling again? What for?

“Hello?”

“Is this how you pick up the phone? Did I get the wrong house? Is this the British Queen?”

“... Eddie? Is that you?”

Busted.

“What gave me away?”

“Ah, only the dramatic nonsensical ramblings.” Steve answered, amusement in his voice. 

“Thank you, I pride myself in those.” No pride! Pride is buried deep in the putrid soil of a forgotten battlefield! “But I’m here for the superior Henderson, please and thank you.” Ah yes, the Charm Person again. Somebody could think Eddie buried his Charisma along with the pride.

“Sorry, Claudia is at work right now.”

Eddie scrunched his nose, confused, the gleeful tilt to the voice in his ear irking him. Then he remembered the mom. A staple in most households.

“Har, har, Steven. The smart one.”

“Please never call him that to his face,” the man said with a resigned sigh.

“There wouldn’t be enough space in the room for both our egos if I did.”

Steve laughed then, softly and genuinely, before calling out for his younger brother.

After a loud rattle, Dustin’s lispy voice finally reached Eddie’s trailer.

“What's up?”  

The man braced himself for what he was about to request.

“I need your help with an assignment.”

*

The door opened before he could even knock. Again.

“I thought I told you not to inflate his ego.”

“No, you told me not to call him smart. It is merely a by-product of my desperate attempts at graduating,” Eddie shrugged matter-of-factly. “Besides, I don’t respond to the likes of you.” He punctuated his words by seizing the guy up before brushing past him inside the Henderson’s house.

“The likes of- Excuse me?!”

Eddie was skipping towards Dustin’s room.

“Hey big guy I’m here for my tutoring!” he announced himself, standing in the open door to his friend’s room, who quickly beckons him inside. Steve’s heavy steps follow and soon he’s the one standing in the door frame, arms crossed, while Eddie bounces on Dustin’s bed.

“What do you mean the likes of me?” he asks, almost pouting. 

“Mainstream,” offered Dustin, shuffling through stuff on his desk.

“Jocks,” added Eddie, still bouncing with glee, hair following up and down.

“Normies.”

“Pop listeners.”

“Mom friends.”

“Conformists.”

“Okay, I get it!” Steve threw his hands in the air, stopping the list that probably wouldn’t come to an end otherwise. “You’re the cool guys, have fun having your cool stuff,” he huffed angrily, grabbing the doorknob. Before he closed the door he threw one seething glance at Dustin. “Do not. Ask me for snacks,” he hissed before slamming the door shut.

Eddie flipped back on the bed, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Man, your brother is so easy to rile up,” he chuckled gleefully.

“Right?! He’s so bitchy,” Dusting turned around towards him, signature smile in place. Eddie hollered.

“He is!”

Alas, a slap of palms interrupted his delightful trashing around.

“I believe we have some physics to cover?”

Eddie groaned. Right. He didn’t come here to bother the older Henderson. Booo.

[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

#steddie #pre steddie i guess #steve is a henderson #older brother steve #i like the simping for older brother idea but im running dry #if u have ideas for this trope feel free to drop them i might write more #the general idea is eddie finds steve attractive but is lowkey mean and teasing to him because he cant control his jockphobia #also uses it as a defense mechanism against rejection #steve in this is okay with his bisexuality #he thinks theres something there while eddie is in denial #adoption background: authorities got involved after they couldnt get a hold of harringtons after starcourt fire #with murrays help they lost custody and claudia swooped in #i know hes old but its more about legal stuff like changing his name and his parents losing any power over him #ao3 is down so heres a treat #ff #mine #st #steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #the hendersons

[g1rld1ary]

omg hiiiiii! just saw your requests opened, so excited! i was hoping you could write something for lockwood with the enemies to lovers trope. anything you feel like with that is awesome! and ofc if you don’t want to feel free to not write it 🩷🩷

-mel

what once was ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ synopsis: you and lockwood hated each other, you had since you were just starting out as agents. when your team is made to work with his on a big case, deeper feelings might just get revealed

➻ word count: 10K (exactly, what are the chances?)

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of kissing, angst maybe?, injuries

➻ thank u so much for this request lovely!!!! i am SO sorry this took almost a month, but it's the longest fic I've ever posted here so hopefully that makes up for it a little?? if this isn't what u had in mind pls let me know and I'd be happy to write something different! ik it might not be exactly enemies to lovers but I hateee when the dynamic has no respect or reason to be lovers. anyway thank u for the request lolol!!!! xxxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You thought you were a good person. You dedicated your life to fighting ghosts, you helped old ladies cross the street, you recycled when you could. That was enough to be considered a good person, right? You were almost totally convinced, except for the all the vile things you had to say about Anthony Lockwood.

He was, with no exaggeration, the bane of your existence. You had known him all your life, but hadn’t been friends with him since you were both twelve, just beginner agents. And yet, despite all of this hatred burning up within you, it seemed like the universe wouldn’t give you a moment of peace.

You understood running into his company every once in a while — agency events, maybe the occasional case, but lately it seemed like it was every week you had to face Lockwood’s nauseating grin and infuriating attempts at being charming. Whether it was your respective teams being sent on overlapping missions, picking up more supplies or just trying to pick up a coffee after a draining night, you had started to see Lockwood everywhere.

When you saw him again whilst you were picking up some doughnuts for your team you couldn’t help yourself snapping at him.

“God, are you obsessed with me or something, Anthony?” You barely spared him a glance as you finished the transaction with the cashier, quietly thanking him as you left. Lockwood did the same, practically throwing down his cash to catch up to you.

“You wish I was obsessed with you! I am just as unhappy as you are, trust me.”

“So what, you chased after me just say something we both already knew? Or do you have something you’d like to say, an apology perhaps?” You chanced a look in his eyes. Hurt flashed through them, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He cried, almost dropping his own box of pastries when he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You didn’t try to hide the rolling of your eyes.

“Whatever,” You huffed, before being struck with an idea. “By the way, did you hear that I’m now a team leader? That makes me the youngest in at least ten years — maybe ever. Pretty good for someone not fit to be an agent, don’t you think?” You feigned an interest in his opinion. His face dropped for a moment, then contorted to become almost polite.

“That was never—” You interrupted him with another sigh.

“Anthony, I really don’t care to listen to you discredit my achievements anymore.” You left him on the side of the street, marching back to your dorm at Fittes. You didn’t need to hear him tear you down and ruin your self-confidence more than he already had — not that you would ever tell him that. Lockwood was similarly disgruntled. Every interaction between you two turned into a fight regardless of what he said; he just couldn’t win.

You had a week of blissful distance from Lockwood and Co before you ran into them, quite unfortunately. You and your team had been assigned to an apartment that allegedly housed a few Type Ones, nothing serious but the residents had complained of hearing noises at odd hours. You held a bit of doubt — living in the dorms had forced you to become accustomed to the most bizarre noises at night, and those were most definitely not ghosts. Plus, adults tended to be paranoid; the noise could be anything from rodents to their little children being awake in the early hours of the morning.

Still, you had a job to complete, so you trudged your small team up to the apartment in question, ready for a quick job and to be cozy in bed before midnight. When Lockwood and Co were standing outside the apartment next to your appointed one, your face dropped into a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, talking directly to Lockwood. He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, brilliant smile shining.

“Lovely to see you again too, sweetheart, we’re actually here on a job? Nice of you to come as our clean-up crew, but that really won’t be necessary. Run along now.” You had to hand it to him, Lockwood had perfected his condescending tone. You were going to respond when the girl behind him began to talk.

“Hey, I recognise you! You’re—” Lockwood cut her off quickly.

“Alright, Luce, I think it’s time we go inside, don’t you?” He was shepherding the girl through the apartment door before you could process what was happening. George, to his credit, looked highly amused at the whole thing. You always liked George, even when he was at Fittes, and seeing him was usually the only upside to your interactions with Lockwood and Co.

“Who’s the girl?” You asked, nodding your head to where she and Lockwood had disappeared to.

“Lucy Carlyle,” He answered, “She’s a Listener — still learning the ropes.”

“And she knows me how?” George just smiled, and you could tell he was keeping secrets.

“I’m sure you’ll find out one day.” He began to follow the rest of his coworkers and you pouted.

“I hate when you side with him!” You called after him, before composing yourself and directing your own team to start the night. They just went along with it, used to your behaviour, and set up your equipment for the mission.

It was not going well. You could all feel a supernatural presence, but no ghosts and no signs of what you’d thought might’ve been the source. Plus, all you could hear was the apartment next door — their stompy footsteps, their laughter over the tea you knew they always had, and one of them wouldn’t stop knocking on the fucking wall.

It was supremely childish, and you would put all of your bets on it being Lockwood trying to throw you off your game. Unfortunately, it was working. And your bad mood was spreading to your teammates. The mission was certainly not going well, all four of you picking fights and throwing digs at each other as you searched uselessly for what could possible be the source, all with no confirmed supernatural presence.

Just as you were about to say something really cruel to your favourite member of your team, the words died in your throat. The temperature rose a few degrees, and you could practically see all your negative thoughts floating away. By the looks of it, your teammates all felt it too. When the freezing shock of the change wore off, you all resigned to embarrassment, realising exactly what had just happened.

This was only furthered when Lockwood waltzed into the apartment, cocky grin practically blinding you.

“Guess that another successful mission for Lockwood and Co now includes saving the careers of egotistical Fittes agents too now,” He crowed, and you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might disconnect from your face.

“Clearly,” You tried to keep your tone level, “The source wasn’t in this apartment, so we couldn’t have found it regardless of if you were here.”

“Plus they were just Type Ones. You didn’t save any lives, Lockwood,” Your best friend, Sarah, piped up and you smirked.

“Maybe not in the physical sense,” He conceded, “But I definitely saved the career of the ‘youngest ever team leader’ — don’t think you would’ve kept the position for very long if you couldn’t fight a simple Type One.” You turned red in humiliation. How dare Lockwood act so high and mighty, like you owed him the career you fought so hard for? You wanted to express all the seething fury that burned your tongue, but the only thing that came out was a vicious declaration.

“I hate you, Anthony Lockwood.” Lockwood at least had the decency to look somewhat hurt. Although you’d been arguing for years with the insults only getting meaner as you both grew up and developed more precise vocabularies, neither of you had ever vocalised any hatred before. It cut deeper than Lockwood thought it would. You didn’t wait to observe the intricacies of his reaction, storming out of the apartment, making sure your kit bag hit him heavily as you passed.

“Well,” Lockwood broke the awkward silence that fell over the apartment, “I think we’re all done for the night. Let’s go.” Lockwood and Co began packing up their kit bags and gear, Lucy sweeping some leftover magnesium dust under an armchair. Lockwood paused in the doorway, looking back to Sarah with a curious softness.

“Make sure she’s alright, yeah?” Sarah nodded, swallowing a curious look. With a final nod he was gone, leaving the rest of your team to wonder what had just happened to shift the dynamic.

Back in your dorm at Fittes, you were still fired up. Pissed off by Lockwood’s ego, his audacity, you had practically already paced a hole in the floor upon your short return from dinner. All of these years and he still didn’t believe you were a capable agent, let alone team leader! You may not have really hated him; it was hard to truly hate someone who you shared so much history with, but you were glad you said it. Glad you hurt him, even a little. Maybe then he’d know how you felt.

He had — probably unwittingly — saved you arse though. It was one of your very first missions and unfortunately Lockwood was right; a team leader who couldn’t defeat a simple Type One, or realise that their case was a goose chase in the wrong apartment, wouldn’t last. So although he was the one who had told you you couldn’t be an agent in the first place, you probably owed your current position to him, which only mad you more mad. It was an endless cycle of being angry at Anthony Lockwood.

When Sarah came in to sit on your bed, you still weren’t done, taking the opportunity to verbalise your stream of thought.

“He is simply the worst person in the whole world and has no respect for me! I mean, he wouldn’t have helped at all if it didn’t serve his own inflated ego ,” You said, throwing your hands in the air in anguish. Sarah simply watched, barely concealing her amusement.

“Ok, but have you considered maybe he just argues back because you hate him? I mean, where did it start?” You huffed, vaulting yourself back onto your mattress.

“When we were twelve years old, he told me I couldn’t be an agent. I said ‘fuck you’ and have worked my bloody arse off to be one despite it, and to become the youngest team leader at Fittes, and yet every time I see him he still tries to sabotage my career or make me look stupid! God, he drives me up the wall!”

“So you’ve said all these horrid things because he didn’t believe in you?” She laughed a little, eliciting a deep frown from you.

“You don’t get it,” You said, tone solemn, “He was my best friend. He was supposed to believe in me even when everyone else said it was dumb.” The dampened mood brought a premature end to your conversation, Sarah leaving you to your thoughts and feelings as you dwelled on the past in a way you would usually forbid yourself from.

You pulled a framed photo out from behind your stack of books on the shelf. You and Lockwood as children, smiling brightly on a day at the beach, a spade in your hand and a bucket in his, your free ones intertwined as kids often do. You didn’t know why you’d kept it after all these years, looking at any photo of Lockwood typically made you mad, but you felt a bit guilty discarding the keepsake, especially the handmade frame his parents had given you one birthday before they passed. Plus, the memory untouched was one of your favourites — one of the last of your carefree days in childhood when you and Lockwood were best friends and both your families were whole. You held it softly for a moment, indulging yourself in being swept away by memories before deciding enough was enough and returning to the present, distracting yourself with a novel you’d picked up.

You were given a few weeks to cool down, blissfully free from any trace of Lockwood. You thought he must’ve been aware of the heightened tension between you recently, since you’d seen Lucy shopping around Arif’s and ran into George whilst getting your usual Friday night takeaway.

Hearing your name being called from around the corner of an aisle you turned quickly, reflexes on edge. Seeing it was just the redhead you relaxed, making yourself smile.

“Oh, hi, Lucy. How are you?” You made polite conversation, continuing on with your shopping. She replied cordially, a vague awkward air between you that you were both trying your best to overcome.

“We’re all really sorry about the case the other day, by the way. We didn’t mean to take it over or jeopardise your job or anything.”

“It’s nothing,” You assured, “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me, every agent knows that.”

“Yeah, but if Lockwood hadn’t—”

“Lucy,” You interrupted, “You don’t need to condemn Lockwood, or defend him. We both know where we stand with each other and that’s ok. I hope that doesn’t stop us from being friends either; you’re sweet.” Lucy managed a smile, revealing a pretty sparkle in her eye.

“I’d like to be friends too. Maybe we just won’t tell him,” She giggled, and you nodded gravely.

“Sounds like a plan.” You left Arif’s with a bag full of groceries and plan for coffee sometime.

George was less forgiving than Lucy. As you bickered over who got the last can of Coke in the restaurant’s little fridge, he imparted some of his very much unwanted advice.

“You should apologise. I think you crossed a line,” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“He questioned my right to even be where I am — I think I have the right to be pissed at him.”

“He didn’t mean it,” George said quickly. Almost too quickly.

“How would you know?” You narrowed your eyes. George recoiled — he’d been caught.

“You know,” He trailed off, “Lockwood’s not like that. You should know that better than anyone.” You huffed again, fed up.

“I knew,” You corrected, “He’s shown me exactly how he feels about me now. And I am absolutely fine with that. I’m taking the Coke.” You ended the conversation abruptly, snatching the can out of George’s grip.

“But Lockwood doesn’t like any of the other flavours!” He called after you. You exaggerated a laugh, not looking back as you opened the restaurant door quickly.

“I know!” You yelled over your shoulder. George watched you leave, calculating look in his eyes. You said you hated Lockwood, he didn’t doubt you believed it, too. But he knew that most people didn’t remember which fizzy drinks their enemies liked.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Thankfully, you got just the distraction you needed. Your team had been given one of the most exciting cases on the Fittes roster. One of those old boutique hotels with funnily named rooms and a long, terrible history that had you buried in fascinating research. You couldn’t believe your team had been given the assignment, it was a sign that you were really beginning to be respected as a team leader in the agency. So, you couldn’t screw it up.

You and your team had been practically camped out in the Fittes archives, researching as much as you possibly could about the old hotel. There were a smattering of unfortunate deaths across the years — some darker than others, but you were confident it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The owners hadn’t specified exactly what supernatural experiences they had seen around the hotel, just that it was clear there were several presences around and they wanted them all gone to reopen the hotel as soon as possible. This did admittedly make you a little apprehensive — you didn’t actually have a solid idea of how many ghosts you’d be dealing with, and it was anyone’s guess how many of them would be Type Twos.

Finally, you were confident you and your team had done as much research as you could, and you were prepared for anything. And so you packed your kit bags, took the train ride and rocked up to the hotel mid afternoon, confidence overflowing. By nightfall you’d been on a tour of the grounds, set up your base and had started brewing some tea to get you all in the zone. You took a glance out the front window, seeing movement in one of the windows of the house next door. It was owned by the people who ran the hotel and they intended to open it as a second venue, but delegated the job to some smaller agency since the stakes for it weren’t as high.

It was all going well for a while. You had a plan to go room by room, making each ghost free before finishing in the majorly haunted kitchen. You were inclined to believe there’d be a cluster of Type Twos there since it was set alight years ago, and the accident had been swept under the rug in favour of saving the business.

The entryway was easy; a few Type Ones that practically led you their sources, clearly just wanting to finally be laid to rest. There was one nasty Limbless that gave you all a fright, but your researcher, Ben, was always miles ahead of the rest of you and knew exactly who the ghost was and therefore how to put him to rest. You told him you owed him a beer later and moved on, crossing a single room off the floor plan and shifting into the library, which was not so easy.

You started to think things were not as great as you originally anticipated when you turned to face the mass of Type Ones. Not the end of the world, a little bloody annoying though. Sarah seemed to agree, kicking the leg of a couch in frustration. The four of you figured your way out of it, though significantly depleted of supplies.

You returned to your home base to recoup, physically and mentally battered.

“What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, chugging down mouthfuls from her water bottle. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought hard, tapping your fingers insistently on the old wooden table.

“Alright, I think we’ve got enough for one more safely. Kyan, you go outside and get the rest of our equipment whilst we hit the second bedroom.”

“If we’re right then there should only be the one ghost there, right? The strangled woman?” You nodded in response to Ben, mentally drawing your plan.

“And if you’re wrong?” Kyan asked.

“We won’t be,” You affirmed, tapping twice on the table to get you all moving.

Kyan left the building to go fetch the spare supplies and the remaining three of you ventured into the second bedroom. Everything was as it should be; lower temperature, creeping feelings of unease and miasma. You’d put together your chain circle and were feeling good about the Type Two woman you were facing, well, as good as you could in those circumstances.

That was, until it wasn’t just one Type Two. Despite the research and preparation you’d undertaken, there was definitely more than one Type Two enraged by your presence in the room at that moment. There was the woman, an angry apparition of some sort — you didn’t have the time to exactly figure out which subtype she fell into when a man also appeared. Shit. He wasted no time showing you he was aggressive too, and your heart sunk into your toes.

Doing some quick mental calculations, you announced the new plan — to get out. As team leader, you refused to be responsible for an injury or something worse because you wouldn’t back down when you knew you didn’t have enough defences left.

“Soon as it’s safe, get the fuck out of here,” You said, feeling to make sure they were still both in the circle with you as you stood with backs inward. “Use your defences as liberally as you feel you need to — we’re all getting out of here tonight.”

“What about the sources?” Sarah asked nervously, “We’ve only got one or two so far.”

“Who cares? Most agencies get one or two a mission and we’re in a giant bloody hotel. We’ve got more nights to get this done. We can’t get it done if you lot go off and die, can we?” Ben shrugged.

“S’pose not. Let’s go.” With that the three of you made a run for it, bolting out the bedroom door and into the corridor.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled, dodging out the way of another phantom headed your way. Evidently your previous endeavours had attracted the attention of some of the other ghosts inhabiting the hotel, none looking all that happy.

Your swear words didn’t falter as you continued the escape, ducking and jumping and making an utter fool of yourself to ensure you all made it out alive. You’d been covered by Sarah a few minutes ago with one of her magnesium flares, and so returned the favour without hesitation, only faltering slightly when you realised it was your last. You tried not to worry about it too much, you were nearing the laundry where there was a back door you could get to.

The closer you got to your escape the fewer visible apparitions there were. That was a good thing, your chances of ghost touch reducing greatly. However, that didn’t mean you weren’t still being hunted. A poltergeist had found you somewhere along the way, and the stream of things being thrown at you hadn’t ended yet. You’d vaguely felt something heavy hitting the back of your head and shoulders, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins was withholding the pain for the moment.

You’d crossed the threshold into the laundry, the back door within your sights. Maybe you got complacent, believing the end was nearer than you thought. Maybe it was just awful timing. However, as your feet hit the tiles of the room, you were being swept off your feet by the washing machine sliding into you, crushing you between it and the wall. You cried out unintentionally, feeling a sickening crack inside your chest. Your teammates turned back, door wide open and safety in sight.

“Don’t you dare come back for me,” You croaked, the wind pushed out of you. “Or I swear to God I’ll come and haunt you.” Ben took the threat and ran, ducking out the door into the fresh air of the night. Sarah hesitated, turning back to lock eyes with you, regret painted across her features. With a final threat she left too, leaving you to try and push the machine away from you in order to make your own escape. However, in an unfortunate series of events, the adrenaline started to wear off after your chase and you felt the sharp pain running along your skull, a thick drop of blood making its way down from a strand of hair into your left eye. Plus, you were pretty sure the machine had broken one of your wrists as any pressure you put onto it trying to move the machine set your nerves on fire, leaving you just your legs to try and make an escape. Turns out it’s harder than it looks to push a stupidly heavy washing machine away from you with your legs when you’re incapacitated on the floor.

Seeing your best friend the strangled woman approaching you sighed, trying to resign yourself to your fate. There was no way you were making it out without a miracle, and you were never the lucky kind. As she spotted you, you sealed your eyes tightly closed, unwilling to watch your own demise. It never came. When you chanced one eye open all you saw was sparks, the unmistakeable smell of a magnesium flare filling the room. You didn’t know what to feel. Relieved, of course, pissed off that your team had disrespected your wishes and endangered themselves, faint from the adrenaline and blood loss. Mostly faint, you decided, as you lay your head back against the tile, a sleep sounding like the nicest thing in the world suddenly.

You must have passed out for a minute or two as when you opened your eyes again you were in the air, distant voices yelling over the explosions and lights, but you felt a million miles away. You cuddled yourself into the body of whoever was carrying you — they were warm and your body felt ice cold. Everywhere you looked appeared blurry (and slightly pink, presumably from the blood in your eye), so you granted yourself some mercy and simply closed them. You thought you heard a mumbled “Hold on for me,” But you couldn’t be sure, everything was ringing in your head and the weight of staying awake was heavy on your foggy brain.

The next time you woke up was about half an hour later, or so you guessed. The sky was fractionally lighter than you remembered seeing, inching towards dawn, and you were laid down on dewey wet grass. The cool of it was nice on your skin, though you knew it would do major damage to your hair. Not that that was your greatest concern at the moment. You pushed yourself up on your elbows slowly, looking around at the scene that was coming into focus. Your team were on one side of you, looking exhausted but mostly physically fine. Straight ahead of you was Barnes, not looking as disappointed as you thought he would after a failed case. To your left was Lockwood and Co. Why were Lockwood and Co here? Why was Lockwood looking at you so intently, and why did he look like he was worried about you?

Only the first of your questions was answered. Evidently Lockwood and Co were the ‘small agency’ the hotel owners had given a chance for the smaller house on the edge of the property. They heard the commotion your team had made and Sarah’s screaming outside the kitchen door and came to save the day — of course. You were about to put up the protest that you didn’t need saving but it died in your throat when you saw the serious looks of everyone around you. Clearly this wasn’t the time for any of your bullshit.

“Clearly this case is bigger than your team can achieve,” Barnes said, and the fire was reignited within you. He must have been able to see what you were going to say and cut you off, “But I’m not taking you off the case.”

“Thank you,” You said quickly, tension in your shoulders releasing slightly.

“Lockwood and Co will work with you until the hotel is ghost free.”

“What?” You and Lockwood cried in unison, and you felt his eyes fall back on you. You refused to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—” You started, being cut off by Lockwood.

“We don’t work well together—”

“I happen to know you both need this case, or do you not care about the future of your jobs?” Barnes raised an eyebrow in the intimidating way only he could pull off. He had you there. Failing in a case, especially one that resulted in a near death experience would certainly jeopardise your trajectory at Fittes, and, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood and Co were pretty desperate for some good representation, unable to receive the praise deserved from the Combe Carey Hall case. You looked at Lockwood to find him already searching your face. After a moment of silent arguing between the two of you, you turned back to face Barnes, exaggerated smiles on both your faces.

“We’ll do it.” You smiled sweetly. A few more formalities sent Barnes and the other DEPRAC officer off, and only the two teams were left standing around, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of all the kit bags.

“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked, a thought very similar to the ones bouncing around your head at the moment.

“Breakfast?” George suggested, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen your team agree to something so enthusiastically. The group of you all headed back to the train station, but Lockwood didn’t let you continue in the line to get your ticket. Instead he pulled you away from the crowd, seeming to have already told Lucy what was happening, judging from her cheerful wave goodbye.

You glared at him, yanking your arm away then groaning at the pain.

“What are we doing, Lockwood?” You asked with an exaggerated huff.

“We’re going to the hospital,” He said, unbothered by your protests. “And don’t say you’re fine because it’s clear you’re injured. I’d say a broken wrist, concussion and maybe a cracked rib, but we can let the doctors tell us I’m wrong, I’d be happy for them to tell you otherwise.” That shut you up, not least because you knew he was probably right. You’d been given a shot of adrenaline and a few painkillers by the DEPRAC officer who accompanied Barnes over, but you probably did need actual medical attention.

It was a very awkward cab ride to the local hospital. You and Lockwood were so used to arguing by now that silence felt like the only other viable option. You couldn’t make small talk, what would you even talk about? The only thing you knew about his life was his childhood, and you sure as hell weren’t gonna talk about that. The tension was palpable in the backseat, and when the cab driver wished you good luck for the hospital visit, you figured he didn’t just mean because of your injuries. You did force yourself to thank Lockwood when he paid for the ride though, even if it was just for the sake of the day moving on faster.

At least the waiting room created its own noise; beeping and chattering and footsteps filling the silence between you two. You struggled with the form in front of you, inconveniently having your dominant hand be out of working order. You painfully etched out your information over an embarrassing amount of time before Lockwood huffed loudly and snatched the clipboard from your lap.

“Fuck’s sake,” He muttered, pulling his own pen from his suit pocket, beginning to scribble down the answers for you. You just relaxed, your tired, drug-addled brain being allowed to rest for a moment. It wasn’t until he asked about your health insurance that you fully realised he was answering the questions by memory and forced your eyes to focus on the paper. Sure enough he’d gotten it all right, birthday and middle name included. You glanced up at him curiously, but it seemed like this was the moment he refused to make eye contact. You only had to inform him of things that had changed since you’d fallen out, neither of you verbalising that fact.

Things didn’t change when you were called into the doctor’s office either. The mix of pain, medicine and sleep deprivation led you to embrace the exam table and bordered on falling asleep as Lockwood talked for you. He’d gotten the rundown of the actual events from Sarah and his brief moments when he saved you, and explained the night as you got an x-ray for your hand. Plus, as you were waiting for the cast (it was, in fact, broken), he explained your previous medical history — the knee you dislocated when you were nine and the broken pinky finger from the year after. You only had to participate to explain the injuries you’d acquired during your career as an agent; the ones from after you and Lockwood stopped being friends.

The whole trip was extremely bizarre and slightly unnerving, and you were glad to get on the train on the way back.

“You were wrong about one thing,” You said, pulling out your walkman from your kit bag.

“And what’s that?” Lockwood asked, and you got the impression he was bracing to be yelled at again — you felt almost bad.

“No cracked rib for me.” You grinned, beginning to laugh uncharacteristically. You didn’t know why, it really wasn’t that funny, but Lockwood followed suit soon after. The two of you laughed borderline hysterically, much too energetic for that hour of the morning when everyone else was still heading to work. It only tapered off when your poor ribs couldn’t take it anymore (not broken but aggressively bruised), and the two of you fell back into silence. You had your music and Lockwood had a magazine you suspected he’d stolen from the A+E waiting room.

The only other time you spoke during the trip was when you summoned the courage to utter a somewhat genuine “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thanks. For not letting me die. And stuff.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” Lockwood shot you a smile, the glowing kind you rarely got to see anymore.

As you got back to London and closer to Portland Row where your team was waiting, the air seemed to get thicker between the two of you once again. Maybe it was the proximity to the things that had torn you apart or the sense that you had predefined roles to play, but the carefree air between you had dissipated, leaving only the familiar tension that had been building over the last four years.

You followed Lockwood inside, trying to hide the out of body experience you were having returning to his family home after so many years. It had changed a little, of course, but still felt overwhelmingly the same, which both scared and comforted you. All the freaky foreign ghost hunting objects still littered the shelves, and you took the liberty of admiring them once again, remembering the stories Lockwood’s parents would tell about them and the adventures they’d had when collecting them. In your periphery you saw Lockwood hurriedly grab something off the wall by the stairs, shoving it in a drawer, but you really had no interest, choosing instead to reacquaint yourself with the house. The glimpse you got up the stairs showed a myriad of framed pictures of Lockwood and you scoffed — of course his ego would be on full display within his own home.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

It was surprisingly easy to get into the groove of working with Lockwood and Co. Obviously you already liked George and Lucy, but your team seemed to work unexpectedly well with theirs. You and Lockwood stayed out of each other’s ways, the few times you were left to work together resulting in another stupid argument. The first time when you thought he was calling you dumb, the second over something minuscule; who’d let the tea brew too long so it tasted shit. And then who had to subsequently get up and make the next pot. Despite both of you honestly trying to be professional and get on with the job, it was agreed by everyone that it was simply easiest to keep the two of you apart as much as possible.

However, when the hotel owners wanted the leaders of both teams to meet up for updates on the case, you couldn’t get out of it. The day wasn’t looking good. You’d shown up to Portland Row so you could get a cab together — the meeting being dinner in central London, and had already argued with him over his choice of socks. In your defence, the powder blue socks matching your dress did make it look like you were a high school couple trying to match at a formal! However, George had rolled his eyes and pushed the two of you back out and towards the waiting cab, effectively ending that argument. You’d also teased Lockwood for bringing his rapier to a business dinner, but that was neither here nor there.

You’d held it together for most of the dinner, both of you putting on your best fronts and using your most formal tones to convince the elder couple that you were confident about the case. You found yourself kicking his shins to stop Lockwood from making promises you couldn’t keep regarding the case, and he got you back with condescending remarks, correcting you when he disagreed with how you presented the case. Altogether though you thought you were pretty subtle, and the two of you were presenting a model image of your respective companies.

However, when you shot Lockwood one of your saccharine smiles under the pretence of friendliness — he’d just undermined your authority again and stolen the best piece of dessert that you were going for, as if he didn’t torture you enough — you were shocked to hear the woman across from you laugh.

“It’s so wonderful to see you two bicker like an old married couple,” She giggled, and both you and Lockwood’s jaws dropped. “I mean, it just seems so dismal to be dating in these times, but you two give me hope that the future generations will still be able find love despite the Problem.”

“And clearly you’re both sensible kids, which is very important for a lasting relationship. Working for two different agencies would surely diffuse tensions around all those dangerous missions and such you agents partake in — except for this one, of course,” Her husband chimed in, jolly glint in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, but it’s important to remember to be kids as much as you can. But you two playing footsies all night has proved that you’ve got that covered too. Silliness is just as crucial as being sensible, it’s how a marriage stays fun. We would know, we’ve had fifty odd years of it!”

You didn’t know how to react, and by the looks of it, Lockwood didn’t know either with his signature smile frozen on his face. First of all, you were not playing footsies with Anthony Lockwood — the bruise forming under his trouser leg was testament to that. Second of all, you had no idea how the woman could get your dynamic so incredibly wrong. Aside from all of Lockwood’s double edged comments and cocky corrections of basically anything you said, the two of you had hardly addressed each other directly all night, you might as well have been strangers!

The dinner wrapped up very soon after. The couple had taken a liking to you both and so trusted your teams to handle the case as you saw fit, only making you promise to take a romantic weekend getaway (or honeymoon! As the woman had remarked optimistically) to the hotel once it was completely ghost-free and renovated. For once you were glad that Lockwood was unable to ever shut up as he took the lead, seeming to believe that corroborating their assumption was the best choice in your situation. You weren’t sure you were entirely comfortable with lying to this sweet old couple, but you couldn’t deny that Lockwood was a better talker than you, and would probably handle the situation with more delicacy.

That was how you ended up being led out of the restaurant with Lockwood’s hand on the small of your back. You wondered if he’d ever done this before, and you didn’t know if you meant for a real or pretend relationship. You both said your goodbyes to the couple, flattered by the abundance of compliments they paid you — both personally and professionally, assuring you they were overjoyed to have your teams work the case. Just before they stepped into the cab the woman took you aside.

“Hold onto a boy who looks at you like that,” She said, “You might fight, but when he’s this in awe of you, you’ll find a way to make it work.” You didn’t know how to respond to that and so simply nodded, offering a weak smile as she slid into the back seat of the taxi.

That left you and Lockwood alone. You just looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“Do you mind if we walk home? I really fancy some air right now.” Lockwood easily agreed, looking rather flustered himself, and off the two of you went into the night.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but you could tell he wanted to. Lockwood always chewed his lip when he was holding something back, he had since he was a child. You sighed and asked him, knowing it was the only way to make the habit go away.

“Nothing,” He said, “Just weird. Don’t you think?”

“Nah,” You lied, “Old people just say things like that all the time. They don’t care to know the full picture.”

“Which is?”

“We hate each other.” Hurt flashed through his eyes, but it didn’t make you feel as good as it did the first time you’d said it.

“I don’t hate you,” He said quietly, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t hate you. We don’t get along anymore, but I don’t hate you. I hope you know that.” You faltered for a second. Had his use of ‘anymore’ been intentional to create a stabbing feeling in your gut?

“Oh. I guess I don’t really hate you either, if we’re getting sappy about it.” You tried to diffuse the tension growing between you, not wanting it to evolve into a discussion about what estranged you in the first place. Lockwood refused to apologise and you refused to forget, resulting in the bitter stalemate you’d been locked in for the past few years.

Your distraction came with a glance over Lockwood’s shoulder, and the wisp of a phantom coming into view. Lockwood was trying to continue the conversation about your developing relationship, but stopped when he noticed you frozen beside him. Turning slowly he swore when he saw the ghost, going straight for his rapier.

“Put your hand into my coat pocket,” He said, effectively drawing you from your freeze.

“Excuse me?” You whisper-yelled, not in the mood for him to try and lighten the mood with whatever dumb joke he was trying to make.

“Just trust me, I have flares in the inside pocket, just reach in and grab them to defend yourself whilst I keep an eye on them.” Them? You wondered until you looked around, seeing other ghosts start to emerge from the shadows, attracted by the scene you were obviously creating. You wasted no more time, ignoring the intimacy of reaching into Lockwood’s jacket, grabbing yourself a flare for each hand. With you accounted for, Lockwood told you the plan, he’d fight a path back to Portland Row and you’d cover the both of you with the flares, since you weren’t good for very much else with a broken wrist and no rapier.

It was hardly the most intense situation you or Lockwood had been in, but as the primary fighter in the situation, Lockwood was still putting up a good show of skill. Despite yourself you were entranced, admiring the graceful way he moved with the rapier, so in tune with it you’d think it was connected to his arm. As much as you hated Lockwood — well, you’d just established you didn’t actually hate him. As much as you thought he was egotistical and irritating, you had to admit that you really admired him as an agent. Lockwood was undeniably talented with a rapier — it was the fencing competition that got him started in this business in the first place — but to watch him in action was really something special. If you didn’t know better you’d think it was easy for him, he fought with the same ease and elegance he might drink a cup of tea.

You were so caught up in watching him that you hardly noticed when you arrived in front of 35 Portland Row, both luckily un-ghost touched. You were also alerted to the proximity you’d found yourself in. You’d stayed close obviously, not wanting to be left to the ghosts, but when Lockwood had turned to make sure you were still with him safely inside the iron fence, you found yourself only inches apart.

At this distance you were alerted to just how much he’d changed since you were kids. He was taller, obviously, your chin tilted up to make eye contact. He’d lost the baby fat that used to fill out his cheeks, leaving his face defined and bordering on gaunt — you figured he wasn’t taking very good care of himself, judging on the dark circles that seemed by now permanent. Plus something had changed in his eyes. He didn’t look carefree anymore, something dark and tortured lay behind the charming smiles. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was, and you figured you probably had something identical. However, the small scar on his jawline from when you accidentally flung a plastic toy into his face was still there which drew a small smile from you. Something within you urged to run your finger along it, and you felt your fingers twitch before you realised how inappropriate it was. That instinct didn’t feel so bad though when you caught Lockwood’s gaze shift down to your lips. Only momentarily, but you saw it. And worse? The fact that you didn’t mind. After all of these years and the fighting and terrible words shared, here you were maybe about to kiss Anthony Lockwood. You would be disgusted with yourself if you didn’t have so many other feelings fighting their way to the top.

The front door opening was enough to make you both jump apart, you rushing towards it to get as far from Lockwood as possible.

“Hey Lucy!” You called, practically floating up the front steps you were going so fast.

“Uh, hey, guys. We thought we heard you outside so I got sent to check. Had to make sure you weren’t secretly making out or something,” She joked and you forced out a laugh, far too loud to be real.

“As if! Come on, I’m dying for some tea.” You slid past her, rushing straight to the kitchen for a minute to think.

Lucy watched you go suspiciously, before turning to Lockwood.

“What did you do?” She interrogated, all her scary Lucy-ness coming out.

“I don’t know,” Lockwood replied earnestly, still somewhat dazed himself. Lucy gave him one last look up and down before returning inside, leaving Lockwood to fix his smile on before rejoining the two teams.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

The week leading up to your team’s next attempt at the hotel was extremely weird. You and Lockwood hadn’t spoken about what had happened (or almost happened) out in the front garden, but you had had a long talk about your behaviour lately. Over a few cups of tea in the kitchen whilst the rest of your teams were working down in the basement, you managed to both admit you were being dickheads. There was no mention of the underlying factors of your resentment, but you both agreed for the sake of your jobs you would try and be friends, or at least civil. No more bickering, no more picking apart small comments, no more rolling eyes.

It worked for a bit, which was really complicating your emotions. On the one hand, Lockwood was lovely, like he’d always been, and it was kind of nice to be able to talk and joke with him again after so many years, although you both carefully avoided the topic of your personal lives. On the other hand, it made you sad to pretend that everything was fine when you knew what you did. He didn’t think you could be an agent; Lockwood didn’t think you were good enough. And you could both pretend all you liked to be friends, but as long as that was what he thought about you it could never be real. So, while you’d both stopped your rivalry on the surface and gotten on with the case, there was a tension bubbling behind your smiles that both of you could see whenever you locked eyes.

It all came to a head when you started discussing your action plan for the hotel. All seven of you were standing in the basement of Portland Row, staring at a blown up floor plan of the place, little figurines representing each of you. It didn’t take you long to realise that you weren’t being represented.

“Where am I?” You asked, an uneasy silence falling over the room.

“You’re not coming.” Lockwood took the fall, even though it had been a unanimous decision whilst you were on an Arif’s run one afternoon.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the biting tone in your words, fury you’d worked hard to conceal bubbling back up to the surface.

“Your wrist—” Sarah tried to reason, but something in you had unlocked and you were not backing down this time.

“You and I know full well if this was a Fittes case I would still be out in the field, broken wrist be damned,” You spat, and you could practically see the gears turning in Lockwood and Lucy’s heads.

“They make you go into the field injured?” Lucy asked, but you weren’t focused on answering her — George nodded for you.

“So who’s barred me from being in the field, on what I might remind you, was my case first.” There were a few moments of silence where no one wanted to be the subject of your anger, but with a resigned sigh, Lockwood accepted the blame.

“It was my idea.” You couldn’t help the frustrated groan that came out of your mouth.

“God, this is so typical! You’ve never thought I was good enough, and now what? Sabotaging my cases? My career? Because you don’t believe in me,” Your voice broke on the last sentence, and you could feel the tears heavy behind your eyes, threatening to fall. You spat a final “Fuck you,” before running up the basement stairs, up to where you knew the bathroom would be for some privacy.

You realised when you were at the top of the stairs that in your time working with Lockwood and Co you hadn’t actually used their bathroom, and didn’t remember which of the closed doors it was. Choosing one blindly you shut yourself inside, finally letting the tears that blurred your vision roll down your cheeks.

You sobbed heavily, indulging all the terrible feelings you’d been concealing for far too long. When the tears weren’t so frequent the setting around you came back into focus, and you noticed with a start you definitely weren’t in the bathroom. The view from the window told you it was Lockwood’s late parent’s bedroom, but the used furniture and messy bed said someone was still living there. Your stomach dropped as you stood, wiping the tears from your eyes. Looking around you were sure this was Lockwood’s room, the suit jacket on the desk chair a dead giveaway. However, a picture frame on his nightstand attracted your attention the most. It was the same one you had in your dorm at Fittes, the one gifted to you by Lockwood’s parents for your birthday. Both of you grinning widely and carelessly joyful. It had been so long since you’d felt like that, even longer since you’d felt it around Lockwood. The thought made your heart ache a bit. His parents would be so disappointed in the two of you. That made you start crying a little again, picking up the photo to examine it closer.

“It’s been there since you left,” A voice from behind you said. “I couldn’t bring myself to put it away.” You hadn’t noticed Lockwood come in and you didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. You put the photo down with a start, turning away to wipe your face dry again.

“Go away, Lockwood. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back downstairs. I overreacted but I need to get over it, okay?” You snapped, praying your face wasn’t still red and splotchy (it was).

“No,” He said, and you turned to face him curiously. “Look, this has gone on long enough and we need to fix things.” You crossed your arms petulantly, a silent challenge for him to fix the damage you believed to be all his. “You said downstairs that I thought you couldn’t be an agent. Why?”

“Don’t you remember when I told you I wanted to be an agent like you?” You scoffed, “You all but laughed in my face! You said I couldn’t do it, that I’d be injured or killed and I couldn’t handle it. I’ve thought about that every case since, you killed my self esteem for years. I thought that if no one else, my best friend should have believed in me. But here I am, youngest team leader at Fittes with the highest successful case rate for my division. All in spite of you.” Lockwood stared at you, and you could practically see his neurons firing and making connections at a million miles an hour.

“That’s not what I said.” You could barely contain your bitter laugh.

“Does it matter? You didn’t believe in me, that’s what’s important.”

“No,” He said, “Because that’s not what I meant at all. I did believe in you — I do. I always have.” You scoffed again as he stumbled over his words. A little grovelling now couldn’t make up for all the years of anxiety and insecurity he’d caused.

“I mean it! If I didn’t believe in you, then what’s all this?” He led you to one of his dresser drawers. Opening it there were a stack of papers and you picked a few of them up, flipping through them. Every single one was about you. Photos from your childhood together, newspaper clippings of your successes throughout the years, the magazine article you interviewed for talking about women in power in the ghost hunting field. Lockwood had saved every piece of media about you, the ragged edges showing he’d ripped them out just to keep them. You remained silent, astonished by this new revelation. You looked up at him, and Lockwood could have cried at the look in your eyes.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be an agent,” He explained, “Or that’s not what I meant. I meant that you shouldn’t, or more clearly, I was saying don’t. Asking. Don’t you remember? My parents were dead, my sister had just died. You were all I had left, and I didn’t want you to jump head first into the most dangerous job in the world. I wanted to protect you.” It was Lockwood’s turn for his voice to break and tears to arise, and you suddenly felt supremely stupid.

“Oh,” Was all you could say. After all of these years; the insults thrown and dirty looks exchanged, all your anger came from a misunderstanding? Not only that, a misunderstanding that twisted such an earnest declaration of care into something so awful.

“But you did it, and you weren’t just any agent,” He laughed slightly despite his emotions, “You were the best bloody agent Fittes has ever seen and all I could do was watch from the shadows and be proud of you silently. Why do you think Lucy knew who you were already? There were pictures of you all over the house before I made them take them all down when I knew we were working together. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“But all the arguing…” You trailed off, still unable to completely process this information.

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean you don’t drive me up the wall, especially when you were being — or I believed you were — deliberately obtuse to my efforts to explain myself. But now I see we were just on totally different wavelengths.” You were really struggling, there was a lot of new information being revealed at such a rapid pace that was completely changing your perspective on your whole adolescence.

“You love me?” Lockwood did laugh this time, loudly and with the same charm he usually had.

“Yes, you idiot. I have since we were kids.”

Oh. Oh. You suddenly felt like an idiot. All of this time you thought that Lockwood believed you were weak, not good enough, not worthy of your successes, when in fact it was the complete opposite. And then you thought about how you felt about Lockwood. How his believed lack of faith in you affected you so much because you cared so deeply about what he thought of you. How you could never bring yourself to look away when he was fighting because he was so completely in his element. How nice it had been to be able to joke around with him during your research. Oh God. You thought you simply respected him and his skills as an agent, but evidently the truth had been just out of reach your whole life.

“Anthony?” He was already looking at you, eyes searching deep into your soul. “I think I might love you too.” Neither of you could help the kiddish smiles making their way on your faces, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly before you knew what was happening. It felt nice to be held by him again, the last time would have been after his sister died. These were much better circumstances.

When you both came down the stairs later, no one mentioned your intertwined hands. You all had a lovely dinner at Portland Row, warmth and laughter filling the space and making you feel at home like you used to when you were a kid.

It wasn’t until you were on your way back to the Fittes dorms that Sarah leaned over to you, mischievous grin on her face.

“Tell me you were making out up there, please,” She giggled, and you shoved her away lightheartedly.

“Shut up,” You laughed, “Besides, it wasn’t making out.”

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ #love #fluff #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood x reader #george karim #lockwood & co #lockwood #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood fluff #anthony lockwood imagine #renew lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co fanfiction #netflix #save lockwood and co #locknation #lockwood and co netflix #cameron chapman #george cubbins #johnathan stroud #lucy carlyle #lockwood x reader #enemies to lovers #fake dating #anthony lockwood x you #angst

[wulvert]

SQUINTS AT MY DRAFTS SWEATING AFTER READING UR PARAGRAPH AND REALISES IVE MADE SCARLET WORSE its fine though she can be extra deranged as a treat. she deserves it. also the "wants to leave town" part makes me feel so validated in one of my song choices in the paperteeth playlist. (this one if anyones curious https://youtu.be/MPwzFs1BiSw)

I DID GET THE "PAPERTEETH CAST ARE ALL FRIENDS HEHE" PART DOWN THOUGH!! i write them like.

[KELLY TAKING A PHOTO OF HIM AND THE ENSEMBLE] "SELFIE WITH THE BESTIES!!" [SCARLET, AVERY, AND TRISHA'S EYES ALL GLOWING LA CREATURA LIKE HOW CATS EYES DO WITH FLASH ON (example below) WHILE KELLY IS CASUALLY JUST PEACE SIGNING IN THE MIDDLE SMILING]

i love trisha nd kelly nd avery nd scarlet so much. im so weak for the "found family"(?) trope where everyones messed up in their own ways but they have each other in the end. im also very interested in what trisha and kelly are like (their flavor of. trauma?) but that. maybe might be TOO spoilery for u to answer,,,

SCARLET CAN HAVE AN UNDERCUT IF I BELIEVE HARD ENOUGH!! tht reminds me. how does scarlet dye her hair so fast,,,i came up with the goofy headcanon all the dye she uses is like. that temporary party hair dye nd she just drenches her hair in water and its all Gone in Seconds. nd then repeat waskwkdwkdakd

miscellaneous questions!!

-did scarlet/avery/trisha/kelly all go to college at some point? not the. same one obviously. vampire hunting doesnt seem like something u need a degree for but i have a silly headcanon explanation in my head 4 my fanfiction for how kelly knows avery thats just. "avery and kelly were randomly assigned roommates in college and avery could NOT get rid of him"

-do scarlet/avery have prior relationship experience or r they both just two absolutely clueless disasters trying their best

-whatre everyones family's like!! we know a little about avery's entire family being like. #KILLVAMPIRESFOREVER #ONTHATGRIND🔥 but im curious about more like. in depth i guess?? was averys family. Good? ive been writing her like they. weren't but then i realized i actually have no idea how her family treated her. sory this turned into avery its still a general all-character question!! i m just. very normal about her. this question could be very spoilery so pls feel free 2 avoid answering!!!

NOOO its fine she can be worse! i think her avery tolerance qualifies her 4 it. reading back my paragraph i dont think i quite got across how like... abnormal she is

YEAH so trishas trauma flavour is she cannot feel emotions strongly without turning into a giant murderous wolf- kelly hes chillin. hes achieved his goals. happy little guy. insults slide off of him, he has a positive mental attitude.

oh man dw scarlet actuslly wears wigs, she styles them herself its vry impressive 2 avery who cuts her own hair and has never had it turn out even. i dont think even scarlet could cut and dye her hair that fast even with all her free time to practice- & her hair wouldve been fried by now even with the carefullest bleach sesh.

Trisha graduated highschool- kelly & scarlet went to uni (seperately) and avery dropped out of highschool as soon as she turned 16, 2 become a vampire hunter- you only need a license to do it as a hobby but u can also be employed as one which avery scarlet kelly are, trisha is unemployed. avery joined the lumber co at the same time kelly did- avery has to kind of make sure. he doesnt die. he did stick to her but avery eventually did start 2 appreciate his friendship. avery, despite everything is like insanely good at killing vampires, kelly joined on a whim and sucks. scarlet joined bc it pays pretty well, but she was pretty averagely skilled at it.

do avery/scarlet have previous relationship experience is a good question i absolutely cannot decide at all- i rly go back and forth on how pathetic either of them were before becoming vampires. sometimes i think scarlets probs had a few relationships b4, and for avery its like. shes shy. she would only date someone if they confessed first. and so would scarlet. which is an issue. either way for scarlet she hasnt been in a relationship for years and avery is avery.

no for sure averys family sucks, she has 11 brothers, shes the youngest child, they were all raised to be vampire hunters, the only one who didnt turn out to be one is estranged. they would absolutely kill her if they found out and would fight abt who gets to be the one to do it. avery is actually pretty close with the estranged brother though. they do get together at like, christmas but outside of that they dont rly talk much as a family

Scarlets family is nice i made a post abt them before, she knows they would still love her despite the vampire thing but shes too embarassed and scared 2 tell them, so shes distanced herself from them as well, they worry a lot.

kelly im ngl he just spawned into existence. i imagine his family r like clones of him

trishas family is a whole thing, her dad is avscrletkellys boss so theres that

did i miss anything? i usually wait to answer things ik r gonna be long on a computer but im on my phone and i wanted to talk abt my creatures right now

also this made me realise averys been a vampire hunter for 10 years which like obvs 16-26 is 10 but i cant do maths.( shes been 1 for the longest out of the three)

#asks

[willowbird]

Hey! For the au + trope + prompt thing, could you do 1 for au, 9 for trope and 27 for prompt with pynch?

(P.S: I just remembered you have already done one with pynch, so you can do this one with another ship of your choosing if this one feels repetitive!)

Roommates AU, strangers to lovers, “that was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.” ~ for pynch!

I am more than happy to write 10,000 roommate aus for these idiots <3

---

It all started with an only mildly suspicious ad on craigslist:

Roommate needed $275/mo - utilities included must be ok with corvids good w/cars a plus - rent discount if u can prove it

Adam wasn't an idiot. He knew something that was too good to be true when he saw it. He also knew that answering a craigslist ad for a roommate was a good way to get stabbed, robbed, and God only knew what else.

And yet...

Sometimes, when your options were limited it really was better to take every possible avenue to get away from the devil you know - even if that means sharing a small apartment with the devil you don't.

Well, the devil and his pet raven. And really, Chainsaw was by far the more agreeable of the two.

That being said, it wasn't like Ronan was awful. He was an asshole, and he was downright grumpy bastard anytime before 11am. He listened to terrible music, if that trash could ever be considered such. Chainsaw was a sweetheart, though, always bringing Adam new shinies for his approval and sitting with him while he worked on a paper or research or any number of other assignments for his degree.

(Taking the risk that he had by jumping at that craigslist ad meant that he was able to cut back on his hours a little bit at work, go to school full time, and start amassing a savings account.)

And, okay, Ronan probably had some merits too. He could cook, for one thing. Not to say that Adam couldn't cook. He could - he just didn't like to. If it were up to him, he'd probably subsist on saltines and hard-boiled eggs. In fact, he had done exactly that for the first two weeks living with Ronan until the other man had dropped a full plate of breakfast in front of him, stole his crackers, and pointed at him. "Eat like a fucking grown-up," he'd said -and... well, that was that. Sure, Adam had tried to protest, but Ronan had just... started making food for the both of them and maybe if it was shitty food or even mediocre in quality Adam would have been able to ignore it - but it killed something inside Adam to waste food. Especially good food. And Ronan's food was fucking amazing.

So, there was that.

He also wasn't an absolute terror to be around. Having a conversation with Ronan Lynch was a choose-your-own-adventure novel written by very high geniuses. You really never knew what you were going to get and each alternate path was bound to be either completely bat-shit crazy or a humbling level of profound. Not only that, but Ronan didn't pull that alpha-male bullshit so many other men did where they refused to admit they didn't know something. No, when Adam proved that he knew what he was talking about when it came to cars, Ronan just said "teach me?" with such open intensity that Adam couldn't really tell him 'no', alright?

And then there were days like today, where Adam got home from an early shift at the garage to find Ronan sitting halfway out of their third-floor apartment, securing a thick rope to a hook above the window that definitely hadn't been there when Adam left that morning.

"Are you about to do something stupid again?" Adam called up to him as he got out of his car. Upon hearing his voice, Chainsaw (who had been circling anxiously above) crowed out a warbled imitation of speech that sounded a lot like 'Atom' and coasted down to him.

"Me? Stupid? Nah, this is gonna be fucking amazing," Ronan called back without looking away from his work.

Chainsaw landed on Adam's shoulder and clapped her beak affectionately near his ear. Adam dutifully lifted a hand to stroke at the soft feathers of her neck. If he also whispered 'hello beautiful girl, is your papa making trouble for you again?' it was between him and the bird and Ronan would never need to know.

Chainsaw crooned a tense 'kreh!' that Adam took as an affirmative.

"What exactly are you doing, Ronan Lynch?" Adam called up as he took another look at the setup, walking closer to the building. The rope that Ronan had just finished tying to the hook was already secured to a tree on the edge of the parking lot, the one that stood awkwardly out from the rest of the tree line. Their apartment complex was situated right on the edge of a forest preserve. A lot of Ronan's hair-brained ideas usually came back to the forest in one way or another.

"This is just a test run. If I can get it to work right, I'm going to set a line straight into the forest."

"Mm, yes, because... leaving civilization through a door is beneath you?"

Ronan paused, then grinned down at him, the expression somehow both boyish and savage in a way that always made Adam's heart jump for some reason. "Actually, yeah. Literally."

Adam rolled his eyes but didn't bother to fight the smile. "Punk."

"I resent that. I reject all labels, Parrish - you know that."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Well if you-- Ronan what are you doing?"

Ronan had produced what looked like a fucking tie (was that the one Ronan's brother Declan had been wearing when he came by for dinner a couple weeks back?) and had wrapped one end around his hand. As Adam watched, he flicked the loose end of the tie over the taut rope and then wrapped it around his other hand.

"Told you it was a test run, Parrish. That mean's I've actually got to test it."

"Ronan I don't think--"

But it was too late. Ronan had already jumped out of the fucking third-floor window like he was expecting to fly. For a second or two, he sort of did. The rope bowed but supported him and the smooth tie provided little friction as Ronan began to zoom down at a steep angle. Then the rope shuddered and went completely slack, the hook having torn free from the side of the building where it clearly had not been properly anchored. Ronan plummeted like a stone in a still pond.

"Ronan!" Adam did not make the active decision to move, but he was suddenly sprinting to where the jumbled heap of Ronan Lynch had landed on the rough pavement. Chainsaw had already launched ahead and was hopping around near Ronan's head, squawking out anxious reprimands of 'Kerah! Kerah!'

Adam skidded to his knees beside Ronan just as the other man was shakily trying to sit up. "What the FUCK Ronan Lynch!? What were you thinking!? You can't just jump out of a God-forsaken third-floor window like that. Do you want to be killed?" Adam didn't even care that the rural-Virginian flavor of his youth had coated his words in a thick batter, he was so mad.

Ronan blinked at him and there was a strange mix of confusion and pain and... something else on his face. "Scared, Parrish?" The words did not come out as teasing as they normally would.

"Scared? Scared? Of course I was scared. You... you fucking idiot!" Adam had to give himself a moment. He raked his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, then another. He closed his eyes and tried to center himself. Fear and anger would get him nowhere, even if the fear had already set its nasty little hooks into each and every one of his nerve endings and the anger felt like the only way to burn them away.

A hand touched his shoulder, then his cheek. Adam opened his eyes and Ronan was wearing another indecipherable expression, his dark eyes hooded, his mouth pursed.

"Come on," Adam said as he leaned back so he could stand up. "Can you stand?" Chainsaw continued to hop around, but she'd stopped her distressed shouting, perhaps sensing that Adam was taking control and feeling more comfortable knowing that he would set things to rights, whatever that might mean.

Ronan was quiet for a moment, then seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts before giving a derisive snort. "It was just a little fall, Parrish, I'm --fuck!" Ronan had just tried to stand up, but his knee buckled out from under him as soon as he put his weight on it. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, alright. Alright. Shit. Fuck. That was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend."

"The standing or the stupid fucking stunt you pulled jumping out of a goddamn window?" Adam asked. He attempted to make it as dry as possible, trying to get them back to some kind of equilibrium, but his heart was still racing a bit too fast and he could hear the angry bite in his own words.

Still didn't stop him from instantly stepping forward and catching Ronan, though. He wound an arm around Ronan's waist, guiding Ronan's arm over his shoulders so he could support him.

"The standing, of course. Shit! Ah... fuck. My idea for the apartment-forest zipline is fucking genius thank you."

Adam helped Ronan hobble forward, taking them back toward his car instead of the building. "Yeah. Right. Whatever you say, Lynch."

"Where are we going?"

"To the hospital, dumbass," Adam said with a roll of his eyes, all but shoving Ronan into the passenger seat. He held the door open for Chainsaw to be able to swoop in and land on the idiot's lap. The least Ronan could do was soothe her for the drive.

"You don't have--"

Adam cut him off with a glare. "We. Are. Going. To. The. Hospital. Am I being perfectly clear?"

"...yes." Ronan glared back, but then sank down in his seat, expression mulish.

Adam fixed him with a hard stare that lasted another few heartbeats, then gave a nod and snapped the door shut.

So yes, Ronan Lynch wasn't all that bad. Sometimes the devil you don't really is the better choice. Because sometimes that devil has a cute bird and makes good food and has great conversation. If he also scares the shit out of you on the regular and makes your heart race inexplicably, well, that's not so bad a deal. Right?

#asks #ficlet prompts #fanfic #pynch #trc #roommates au #adam parrish #ronan lynch #chainsaw #adam parrish x ronan lynch #pynch fanfic #trc fanfic

[nomazee]

Slow

ushijima wakatoshi x reader

word count: 3400+

content: soulmate au (matching soulmarks), developing relationship, mild angst, ushijima is just Very Clueless sometimes, weird pacing (i can never get the pacing of my writing right :/ )

(hi hi hi!! here’s the ushijima oneshot i mentioned a few days ago. this was something i started working on a while ago but dropped it momentarily to focus on some other stuff. i ended up rewriting it completely and renewing the concept a bit.

this is sort of a different writing style? but that’s mainly because i wanted to adjust the way i wrote to the way the reader’s thoughts came through. i hope that makes sense? and i hope this is still readable!!

i really hope you guys like this one. while soulmate aus aren’t my most favorite trope, i definitely like the way you can twist it to fit your story and make up new concepts branching from the main idea of soulmates.

i think this is the longest work i’ve made?? i’m definitely pretty proud of it!! i hope my hard work paid off and you all enjoy it :)

ALSO: a very quick note. i use the word “furoshiki” a few times in one part of the story to refer to the cloth that people use to wrap bento boxes. if i misused that term please let me know!! i looked it up to make sure i was using the right word but there’s definitely still a chance that i could be wrong. feel free to correct me on that!!

by the way: i’m posting this from my phone right now so the formatting might not all be there. i’m very sorry about that!! once i get the chance to go back on my laptop i’ll make sure to fix everything :)

happy reading !!)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

It was common knowledge among those in the Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club that their captain, Ushijima Wakatoshi, prioritized volleyball over nearly everything else.

Even relationships. Even soulmates.

His friend Tendou had laughed mirthlessly when Ushijima first met you, his soulmate. He was there to witness the whole thing, your eyes flitting between the ace’s soulmark trailed beautifully against his wrist and the same mark mirrored on your forearm. You looked enthused to meet him--not overly, hopping-off-the-walls ecstatic, but certainly hopeful enough to elicit a wide smile from you.

“I’m [Last] [First],” you introduced yourself politely, with light hesitance and an extended hand.

Ushijima blinked, looked down at your hand (soft, a red and scabbed cut on your first knuckle, a birthmark on the bony part of your wrist) and then back up at your eyes. He returned the gesture, shaking your hand, giving a polite bow--

--and walking right away.

You blinked in shock. Tendou’s mouth parted in disbelief. His head swung back and he called after Ushijima to no avail. Turning back to you, he gave a short apology and ran after his friend to scold (and tease) him.

Your mind went a bit hazy and in a natural defense mechanism, you tried to convince yourself that you were just dreaming.

You went home. Fell into your bed. Realized you were not dreaming. Cried into your pillow and fell asleep, begrudgingly waking up the next morning and getting ready for school.

---

During lunch, you stayed in your classroom to eat lunch alone when someone at the door told you a boy was looking for you. (You felt a bit pathetic for hoping that it was your soulmate and being disappointed when you realized it was not him.)

You recognized the boy as the redhead that accompanied your soulmate yesterday. Flinching at the memory, you asked him why he was here.

“I just wanted to say sorry, for the way my friend acted yesterday.” His expression was lighthearted and playful, if anything, but you recognized the sincerity of his words. “He tends to be a little… aloof, sometimes. But I promise you it’s not that he hates you or anything, just isn’t used to this. But he’s willing to talk to you again.”

You tried not to get your hopes up too much, and instead look at the reasonable outcomes of this whole soulmate thing. It’s not like you were really expecting love at first sight--lots of soulmates didn’t end up in a romantic relationship. Hell, your parents weren’t even soulmates but they were still very in love with each other. But at the very least, you thought your soulmate wouldn’t just walk away after meeting you.

You took the redhead’s offer, packed up your half-eaten bento, and followed him to his own classroom a few doors down.

Your soulmate was there--you still didn’t know his name--and his head perked up at the sound of the sliding door opening. His expression was stagnant, which dampered your spirits the slightest bit and made you consider spinning on your heel and locking yourself in the bathroom for the rest of the school day.

You sat with the two of them, knees clenched together and gaze focused solely on the bento box resting on your lap. None of you spoke. Tendou’s eyes flitted between the both of you in expectance.

“So,” he spoke up, thankfully breaking the bout of stifling silence. “[Name], you wanna tell us a little about yourself? We don't really know much about you outside of… the very little we learned yesterday, so…?”

Your mouth gaped and closed rapidly, trying to find a good way to describe yourself without either seeming like an interviewee or a self-absorbed rando.

“I’m… [Name]. I’m seventeen… in class one. I’m in the photography club.” There wasn’t much else to say, you thought. You were a very normal person. Maybe too normal to really be worthy of having a close bond with your soulmate, but a small part of you still sort of hoped.

“Wakatoshi, your turn.”

The taller boy blinked into his bento (hayashi rice, you noted. Something you were able to cook, if you tried hard enough) before speaking. His voice was deep and embarrassingly, you flushed at the way it rumbled within his throat.

“I’m the captain of the volleyball team.”

Okay. So. No age. No name (except for ‘Wakatoshi,’ which you only pulled from what Tendou said). Just his club.

With a lump in your throat and a prickly feeling behind your eyes, you excused yourself politely, bowing, and clutching tightly to your star-wrapped bento before leaving the classroom.

You went home. Punched your pillow before realizing you were definitely not one for using aggression as a coping mechanism and instead crying while making a cup of tea. Went to bed and woke up the next morning trying to forget all of the events of the past two days.

---

A week passed. Somewhere within that time, Tendou had exchanged numbers with you as a polite formality, a deeper meaning ingrained in his offer (one that you read as, “hey, I know it must be really disappointing to realize that your soulmate has absolutely no clue what romance is and no ambition for anything but hitting a volleyball, but if you ever wanna talk about it then hit me up!” You couldn’t deny that you still appreciated it).

You took the week to avoid interacting with Wa-ka-to-shi, never texting Tendou and asking to eat lunch with them or even showing up at his practice like some of their fans did (you were a bit surprised to learn that the volleyball team had fans). But you had a breaking point, as you often did whenever it came to your faux-shunning.

You texted Tendou, hoping that you weren’t that unlucky that he was still at volleyball practice and had his phone out for the captain to view.

does he like hayashi rice?

“Read” appeared under your text. You waited for the three dots to appear, which took an unnervingly long time to happen.

yup! how’d u know??

he was eating it when i had lunch with you guys.

ur observant!!

i guess. do you guys have morning practice tomorrow?

yup! starts at 7. fourth gym :) see you there!!

You paused. Tendou was nice. Also very observant. Scarily observant, enough to catch onto what you were trying to do. It made you a bit wary, but to be fair, you weren’t really being discreet in the first place.

Your mother asked you multiple times why you were cooking beef stew at nine PM, far past dinnertime. You were scared to admit that it was for a soulmate, so you instead settled for “friend” and she (very suspiciously) let you be in the kitchen.

You packed the food into four bento boxes. One for your mom, your dad, Wa-ka-to-shi, and you. (You couldn’t help the annunciation of each syllable of his name. It was just so fun to say, so fun to click against the back of your tongue repeatedly. You blamed the affinity for his name on your soulmate bond.)

You went to bed. Woke up extra early. Disregarded the concerned look your parents gave you when you left the house half an hour early with two bentos in hand.

Just as Tendou said, there was the squeaking of the volleyball team from within Gym Number Four. You hovered outside, a text sent to Tendou asking if you were allowed to come in as you awkwardly shifted the weight on your feet.

yup!! we’re taking a break right now. just come right in, i’ll be waiting for u at the door

He was waiting for you at the door, but so was Wakatoshi (you figured you should drop the somewhat-annoying pronunciation of each letter), which threw you into a stammering loop as you blinked between the both of them.

“Good morning.” Wakatoshi greeted you politely, nodding his head at you. You repeated the gesture before extending a bento box to him, with your favorite star cloth wrapping it in the neatest way you could manage.

“It’s for you. For lunch. Or dinner. Or whenever. It’s hay-- um, hayashi rice.”

Wakatoshi didn’t take it. You cringed at the lack of action and a familiar lump manifested in your throat. The stoic boy blinked down at the childish wrap and you found yourself wishing you took a solid colored furoshiki instead of this one.

In a moment of boldness, you shoved the box into his chest where he instinctively reached for it and held it.

“I hope you like it!” You said it louder than intended and flinched at the sudden gazes on you from the other members of the team further into the gym. “Have a good day.”

A polite bow, and you were on your way, cursing yourself for taking the effort to make a decent-quality meal for a soulmate, a boy who barely even glanced at you without his friend giving him the hint to do so.

During lunch, you didn’t feel hungry, and the bento sat untouched on your desk for the whole break. You ended up letting your parents have the leftovers when you got home. Your appetite was gone for the rest of the day.

(Tendou ended up bringing you back your box and cloth the next day, wordlessly apologizing for having to be the messenger of your belongings rather than the person you actually gifted it to in the first place. You took it back with a resigned sigh and a thankful smile.)

---

The morning you stopped by, Tendou rolled his eyes after your departure and he gave his friend a firm, but friendly pat on the back.

“Why are you so awkward, Wakatoshi? That’s your soulmate, you know. You could at least be a little courteous towards her?”

Said man stayed silent, still leering at the patterned furoshiki covering the lunch you made for him--specifically him; the concept sent an unfamiliar fluttering through his chest that he didn’t dare to look into.

“Why would she make this for me?”

Tendou rolled his eyes again, letting out an audible groan.

“I just explained it to you, ‘Toshi! She likes you. You’re her soulmate. You could at least tell her thank you.”

“I will, next time.”

Tendou’s eyes narrowed at that. You seemed like a spontaneous person, from the few interactions you’d had with each other. (That, and the fact that after a week of ghosting your own soulmate you suddenly decided to make an entirely specialized lunch for him.) He wanted to half-joke and say ‘I don’t really know when the next time will be, exactly,’ but figured that may lead into another Q & A With Ushijima Wakatoshi, and instead let the captain simmer in his own contemplation for now.

---

You didn’t know Semi Eita very well. He was in your class, and you chatted a fairly reasonable amount with him, even going as far as to sit and eat with him in the classroom whenever he claimed he was “too tired to deal with his friends in the cafeteria.” As much of a “friend” of his you could be considered, you didn’t know much of him past what he was on the surface.

Nevertheless, you still knew him better than your soulmate. And that petty realization may have contributed to why you accepted his offer for a cafe date.

Semi approached you during lunch one day, not embarrassed in the slightest when he asked you if you wanted to go to a new cafe with him on Friday. “It can be a date, if you want,” he’d told you, eyes flitting to the side momentarily before meeting yours again. “But it doesn't have to be. We can just hang out.”

A bit flustered, you still accepted his offer, figuring a day out wouldn’t do much harm. He smiled at your response, asking you to meet him at his gym after his volleyball practice ended.

You didn’t think much of it. He certainly didn’t pressure you into assuming it was a date, and if you didn’t like it then you could just turn him down for a second date and move on with your single life.

On Friday afternoon, at five PM like he specified over text, you walked into the doorway of the gym, hovering and watching some of the boys clean up any spare equipment left in the gym. You couldn’t spot Semi anywhere, and moved to back away from the door when a familiar voice stopped you.

“[Name].” The sound of your first name coming from the rumble of your voice unwillingly sent shivers through your spine and you chastised yourself for the reaction.

You looked at him, and there he was--sweaty, all dark-hair and olive-eyes and you hated how flustered you got.

You gave him a polite nod and forced your lips into a smile. Despite you not responding verbally, he (uncharacteristically) led the conversation.

“It’s nice to see you here.” The words felt forced, almost rehearsed on his lips, and you couldn’t help the cock of your head in curiosity at that. “The food you made me last time was very good.” A pause, and his eyes turned to the polish wood floor. “Are you here to bring another gift?”

Wakatoshi was straightforward with his question, and at the unfamiliar aloofness you found your ears turning warm and fingers grasping at each other in habit.

“No, um-- I’m actually here to see… someone.”

“...someone?”

“Yeah. Someone.” You didn’t feel like elaborating, and by some sheer luck that you mentally praised the gods for, Semi jogged to your side, changed into his school uniform and a kind smile crossing his face.

“Hey.” He greeted you, turning up to his captain in confusion before focusing on you again. “Ready to go?”

Your eyes were forced off of Wakatoshi’s, and you returned Semi’s expression with a nod. You refused to look the captain in his eyes again, and instead focused on making sure you didn’t trip on the sidewalk while walking with Semi.

---

The date-- hang out-- outing-- whatever you wanted to call it went nicely. You both had pleasant, lighthearted, not-forced conversation over very good coffee and you found it enjoyable.

By the end of the night, while Semi walked you back home, you figured you had to address what you were a bit nervous to address in the first place. After explaining your hesitancy towards calling your hang-outs “dates,” Semi ultimately brushed it off, a smile on his face as he told you he really didn’t care too much and would enjoy just being a friend to you.

You were relieved. A quiet voice deep inside your head told you to not let this poor boy get hopeful when you were still trying to settle things with (read: get over) your soulmate. Regardless of secondhand reasoning, you were thankful he was understanding and also thankful he was willing to be a friend.

---

You found yourself eating lunch with Semi a bit more often than before. It was nice to have someone else’s presence near you while you ate rather than having to sit alone and people-watch through the window of the classroom.

You were startled when Wakatoshi appeared in the doorway of your classroom while in the midst of a conversation with Semi. Noticing your mildly dumbfounded expression, Semi turned around to see where you were looking and looked confusedly at the form of his fellow teammate.

Wakatoshi nodded at him, turned to you, and gave a wave and a very, very subtle upturn of his lips. (Despite the subtlety of the gesture, you had to suppress a gasp that threatened to break past the back of your throat.)

He didn’t make a move to approach you, so you took the opportunity to walk up to him and meet him at the door, unintentionally avoiding the questions Semi shot at you in confusion.

“Hi,” you greeted stiffly. “Do you need something?”

“No. Yes.” Wakatoshi paused, collecting his thoughts. “I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with me.”

It was an unexpected offer, one you deemed uncharacteristic coming from the aloof boy. You let your mind overprocess it before cutting off your overthinking and giving him a proper response.

“I’m eating lunch with Semi today. But maybe tomorrow, if you still want to.”

A foreign look of confusion appeared on his face, his brows furrowed together and head tilting slightly to the side. “Are you dating Semi?”

Wow. Okay. Very straightforward. Very sudden. You certainly were not dating Semi, and you didn’t know how he managed to draw that conclusion after seeing you and Semi interact a total of two times in his presence.

“I’m not…? Why are you so worried about that?”

“Because we’re soulmates.”

Your stomach churned in a mix of emotions. You didn’t know how to describe your feelings--it was an ugly mesh of annoyed, angry, confused, and on-the-verge-of-tears. You found it a bit funny that only now he was acknowledging your soulmate bond. It made the prickling sensation behind your eyes only increase in intensity.

“Right. Um, you… you didn’t really do much about that before.” You tried not to call out word-for-word what he did, but figured a jab at it wouldn’t send you into guiltily reflecting on your past actions while in the shower at midnight.

He was silent, avoiding your gaze and finding interest in the cracked wood of the door. Before your subconscious forced you to apologize, you gave a polite farewell and slid the door halfway shut before returning to your seat.

Semi stared at you incredulously. “Are you…?”

“I don’t know, man.” Despite the sudden lack of appetite (yet again! You really were not good at any form of confrontation), you forced yourself to nibble on your food and pushed down the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach.

---

Wakatoshi made a point to run into at any time he saw fit, which was very often. He’d find ways to catch you in the morning and say hi, and always invited you to eat lunch with him in his classroom. Out of courtesy, you often accepted his offer, feeling a bit surprised (and wary) when Tendou didn’t appear to accompany the both of you. Those lunch periods were spent in jarring silence, Wakatoshi slowly eating his food (cutely, you noted before burning that thought into the fiery recesses of hell in your mind) and you eating yours while sweating and hoping that you didn’t look weird when you chewed.

This routine kept going on for a solid week. You didn’t know what to expect anymore. Other than the lunch invitations and morning small talk, he didn’t make any outstanding gestures towards you to try to get closer. You didn’t know if that was good or bad.

One day, during lunch when you’d hesitantly accepted yet another offer to eat with him (ignoring Semi’s teasing look when you left the classroom), he made another strange offer, diverting from the usual discussions of weather, clubs, and schoolwork.

“I have a game soon.” He started off. “I’d like you to come watch.”

You paused, staring into your rice in an empty hope that it’d give you a clue on how to respond.

“It’s on Saturday. At twelve. The gymnasium isn’t too far from here. I’d like to take you to dinner afterwards.”

Oh. Oh. That was unexpected. And you were expecting the unexpected. Then again, maybe you should’ve figured that eventually he may have made some sort of move after waiting a week with bated breath.

Your lips parted, but no noise escaped. You wanted to accept, definitely, but you also wanted to be a little aware of his intentions.

“Um…” You floundered a little bit, “I’ll see if I can make it. But… um, dinner?”

“Yes.” Though his voice was steady and deep as always, you sensed hesitance in the way his eyes shifted away from yours and into his lunch. “A date.”

It was a relief to hear him just say it rather than beating around the bush. You cleared your throat in habit and scratched the skin of your thumb.

“Oh. Okay. That would… be nice.”

He smiled. It wasn’t the occasional tilt of his lips, it was a smile. Stretched lips, crinkled eyes and all. You lost your breath at the sight and a soundless laugh escaped your lips.

“Yes. I think so too.”

It was a slow start. It would take some getting used to. But you were both willing to guide each other, slow and steady.

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfiction #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima #wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

[svtxsoju]

➼ soju + yakult | miss soju’s advice

Miss Soju is Pouring... 

for soju and yakult shots: pour equal parts soju, yakult, and sprite into a pitcher and stir well. best served cold. if you are new to drinking, this sweet concoction is definitely easier to swallow down than just straight soju. it’ll also make you feel like you’re at recess with your playground crush! (please drink responsibly)

Welcome to the first ever entry of the Dear Miss Soju advice column! Though it’s only our second week back, it seems like some students have already ventured into the wondrous (and stressful) world of college romance. I have to say my sympathies especially goes out to the freshman, who are now trying to figure out the ropes of college while dealing with their aching hearts. 

That’s why I’m here to help you take that first intimidating sip of love. Pour yourself a shot and let’s talk New Love and Confessions!

① Dear Miss Soju, 

I just started my first year at MU and she’s an exchange student from New York. We met at a party and talked for two hours about comics, aliens, anything we could think of. It was perfect. She even asked me to walk her home. When the time came for me to make a move though, I kind of dropped the ball. Since we had just met that night, I didn’t want to come off too strong. Now I really regret it - I don’t even have her phone number. I feel like such an idiot! I can’t stop thinking about her, but I don’t even know if I’ll ever talk to her again. Did I make myself seem disinterested? Will we meet again? Will she even remember me?

Sincerely,

Han Solo

Dear Han Solo,

You got some really big questions for me there! Now I could tell you that you will most definitely meet again if you really are fated to be, phone number exchanges be damned, but then I would be lying. Mansae University has a big campus and there’s really no guarantee that you’ll serendipitously meet each other again like you’re in an episode of ‘Crash Landing on You’. 

Luckily, you’ll probably have an easier time finding her knowing that she’s here on exchange. MU’s exchange program is pretty close-knit, so if you do some snooping around, I think you’d find your dream girl soon enough.You’re probably thinking ‘Miss Soju, what if she thinks I’m creepy?’ Well, it all just depends on how you go about it, Han Solo. I’m only telling you to go find her because a two hour conversation about your favorite things and a walk home seems evidence enough that you just made a small fumble that night. If, however, she tells you that you’ve been kidding yourself and that she was just being nice, then leave her the f**k alone! It’s that easy.

Honestly though, I think you’re just being really hard on yourself. I can’t promise that it will all work out between the two of you once you find her. What I can promise is that you won’t feel any better by whining on your butt about it. So go do something about it!

② Dear Miss Soju, 

Hi! I’m kind of nervous to be sending this in, but this has been driving me insane all summer, so here goes nothing. This past summer, I had broken up with my boyfriend, and because of this I was flunking all my classes. One day in the middle of the semester, we suddenly got a new TA and well, one look at him and all the solutions to my problems were all too easy, so I asked him to privately tutor me. With each session, we started to talk about non-academic topics, and I felt myself falling deeper and deeper for his contagious laugh and oh, those dreamy eyes. He is honestly such a sweetheart! I really want to be more than his friend and he’s sending signs that he wants that too. This must sound super simple and cliche to you, but I just don’t know how to move forward! Should I wait for him to say something first or should I make the first move? Please help!

Sincerely,

Blushing Crush

Dear Blushing Crush,

I’m so glad that you decided to write even though you were nervous! If I’m being honest, your situation is not an uncommon one. If you read the rest of this article, you’ll find there was one other person whose question was eerily similar to yours. But that just goes to show that having a crush is never simple and plenty of people need some gentle guidance in the right direction. Lucky for you, you can consider me your personal tutor for the subject of romance. I don’t know if I’ll measure up to Dreamy Eyes (I hope that his ~tutoring~ helped you pass that class btw), but I’ll definitely help you ace this crush! Since you claim your story is cliche, why not take the unexpected route? I mean, it’s the end of September! Both of you are stuck at neutral, waiting for the other to shift gears. If you feel he’s giving you signals, I say follow them and gun that accelerator. It might be nerve-wracking at first, but I promise you will feel so relieved that you took the initiative. 

Also, I hope this response has eased your nerves about writing to me. There is no crisis too simple or too cliche - everyone starts somewhere!

③ Dear Miss Soju,

My story is pretty simple: I like someone, but I haven’t told them yet. We met at the department welcome party last week and they sat beside me the entire time and even took some shots for me when I kept losing at the drinking games. I mean, it was basically love at first sight. They’re probably the most beautiful, kindest person I’ve ever met and I think that they deserve an amazing and memorable confession. But for the life of me, I  can’t seem to think of the perfect way to let them know that I feel this way. Do I write it in the sky? Do I name a highway after them? Please help me, this is my last resort for ideas.

Sincerely,

Jazz Hands

Dear Jazz Hands, 

Wow, one week in and you’re already ready to risk it all for this person! At the risk of sounding like a simp, I think this is one of the cutest requests I’ve gotten this week. Your life sounds like a teenage romantic comedy in real life; I’m just waiting for the part where Noah Centineo busts in to sweep you off your feet. 

That being said, a week is a pretty short time leading up to a confession. Let it be known that rom-coms still have their fair share of cringe-worthy angst leading up to the climax, and your story has barely even begun. It sounds like you barely know them, which is probably why you’re having such a hard time planning out your confession. There is definitely no shame in skipping the rom-com tropes and simply getting to know your beloved a little more, while building your relationship with them. In real life, it takes a little more time to build all that juicy tension that ends in an explosive kiss in the rain (and maybe a lil something more after if you’re into that). 

HOWEVER, if you insist on confessing as soon as possible, I think a simple “I like you’ would suffice. Maybe even get them a rose from the flower shop near campus. Both of you sound like some of the sweetest people at Mansae U, so I think your crush will appreciate the sentiment no matter how extravagant your confession is! 

Really though, you should probably just talk to them more.

④ Dear Miss Soju,

First, let me say I am so excited about this column! I am somewhat inexperienced, so I’m usually embarrassed to ask my friends for help since they’re all so much more outgoing than me. I’m glad to have a place where I can freely ask my noob questions without getting weird stares. I’ve always been somewhat shyer, but this summer, I met a guy that made me want to get out of my comfort zone. It might sound cliche, but he was the perfect man! Funny, kind-hearted, and the deepest, dreamiest eyes. I’ve never met anyone like him. We slowly talked more and more, and now I think I’m ready for the next level. It’s a really foreign feeling to me; sometimes it makes me so giddy and other times I’m scared out of my wits. Any tips on how I can overcome my fears and let him know I like him? 

Sincerely,

Clueless Flush

Dear Clueless Flush,

Thank you so much for your support! I’m so glad that you found me, because this column was definitely created with situations like yours in mind, and now I get to write to you. Believe it or not, I was also shy and inexperienced once. In my mind, romance was scary and unpredictable, but now? Not so much! It took me a little while to study and gather all my notes, but now romance is as easy to read as the pages of a textbook. I’ll be real with you though, I’m very impressed that this one man has made you level up from shy noob to prepared confessor. I’d say most people tend to wait around for something to happen (which is usually what leaves them disappointed). I really respect you for taking the initiative even when you’re scared - that’s true courage right there. From what I know, the easiest way to overcome those fears is to not overcome them at all. There’s no use trying to convince yourself that you’re not scared, because when the time comes, you’ll still feel nervous anyway. Next time you’re with him, just let the conversation flow naturally. Try not to think too much about confessing. If you get that giddy feeling, if you feel like you’ll burst if you don’t let him know how you feel, that’s when you just let it happen. Then voila, you’ve confessed to your crush and you’ve snagged the perfect man. I wish you the best of luck! Please feel free to write again if you have any questions once you two are together!

#seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen college au #seventeen fanfic #vernon scenarios #vernon chwe scenarios #hansol vernon chwe #vernon chwe #seungkwan scenarios #boo seungkwan #dear miss soju #miss.soju #theater.kid #chweing.gum

[seolcs]

           °✧｡× :  (   moon  gayoung  +  cis  female  +  she  /  her  )   ───   welcome  to  roselake  village  ,  SEOLA  LIM  !   oh  ,  well  ,  i  suppose  you’ve  been  here  for  ALL  YOUR  LIFE  ,   so  perhaps  you  already  know  your  way  around  the  town  .   well  ,   you  are  the  TWENTY  THREE  year  old  LIBRARIAN  ,  though  ,  right  ?  the  harvest  sprites  told  me  about  you  !  they  said  you  DO  believe  in  the  harvest  goddess  .  oh  ,  my  .  well  ,  that  explains  why  they  also  said  you’re  quite  BEWITCHING  and  SEDULOUS  ,  but  can  also  be  a  bit  ENIGMATIC  and  MERCURIAL  .  either  way  ,  you  should  be  a  wonderful  addition  to  our  island  !  i  guess  i’ll  leave  you  to  it  now  ,  but  if  i  need  you  ,  i  suppose  i’ll  just  look  for  you  at  THE  MAGIC  SHOP ,  yeah  ?  we  hope  you  love  it  here  as  much  as  we  do  !  oh  ,  and  remember  not  to  go  into  the  tulsy  woods  !  the  distorted  hum  of  opera  music  just  out  of  reach  ,  dirt  caked  underneath  fingernails  ,  eyes  that  know  more  than  lips  tell  !  ✧ 

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     QUICK  STATS  !

full  name  :  seola  lim  .

nickname(s)  :  lala  (  yea  like  the  teletubby ...  it  was  a  childhood  nickname  </3  )

zodiac  :  pisces  sun  ,  virgo  moon  (  click   !  )

sexuality  :  bisexual  . 

occupation  :  librarian  &  witch  .

birthplace  :  roselake  village  ,  maine  .

current residence  :  roselake  village  ,  maine  . 

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     BACKSTORY  !  (  tw  :   vague  mentions  of  an  accident   )

she’s  a  fraternal  twin  <3  if  u  read  julie’s  intro  u  know  ,  but  seola  and  sora  are  the  daughters  of  roselake’s  mayor  !   she  was  born  a  whole  ten  minutes  after  her  sister  so  she  takes  pride  in  not  being  the  hag  ...  sora  is  so  brave  for  her  sacrifice  

so  their  dad  is  the  mayor  !  he’s  been  roselake’s  mayor  for  a  while  now  ,  keeps  getting  reelected  bc  why  fix  something  that  seems  to  be  working  right  ..  aha  more  about  that  later  ...  &  their  mom  is  a  witch  !  only  on  the  down  low  though  ,  she’s  not  open  about  practicing  magic  &  is  much  better  known  for  and  adored  for  her  philanthropy  around  roselake  !  both  sora  and  seola  have  the  ability  to  use  magic  ,  but  while  the  gift  seemed  to  come  naturally  to  sora  ,  seola  high  key  struggled  with  it  /:

their  mom  was  a  very  patient  teacher  but  that  didn’t  stop  seola  from  feeling  inferior  to  both  her  sister  as  well  as  her  powers  in  general  .  she  very  much  felt  like  a  big  flop  ,  and  as  a  kid  &  preteen  she  struggled  a  lot  with  jealousy  and  frustration  and  just  feeling  second  best  in  a  sense  ?  basically  she  really  felt  like  she  was  letting  everyone  down  when  in  reality  the  only  person  who  was  putting  pressure  on  her  was  herself 

in  good  old  2010  ...  13  year  old  seola  &  sora  snuck  into  tulsy  woods  (  even  though  their  dad  always  said  never  to  go  in  there  )  to  play  around  with  their  magic  ,  got  into  an  argument  ,  and  that’s  when  seola  accidentally  ended  up  hurting  sora  really  really  badly  ): 

after  the  accident  seola  wanted  to  give  up  magic  forever  ,  but  her  mom  convinced  her  that  the  best  way  for  her  to  get  over  her  fear  of  ever  hurting  someone  again  was  to  practice  .  so  while  sora  got  closer  to  their  father  ,  who  had  covered  up  the  accident  in  the  woods  and  used  it  to  spread  his  own  agenda  ,  seola  got  much  closer  with  their  mom  

determined  to  get  better  at  controlling  her  abilities  and  also  super  terrified  that  she’d  hurt  someone  like  she’d  hurt  her  sister  if  she  didn’t  ,  seola  practiced  and  practiced  ...  then  she  practiced  some  more  .  while  most  people  her  age  were  going  through  high  school  focused  on  going  to  college  afterwards  ,  seola  was  counting  down  the  days  til  she’d  be  free  to  do  nothing  but  learn  as  much  as  she  could  about  being  a  witch  

it  was  around  this  time  she  also  started  to  get  ...  suspicious  about  her  dad  and  his  intentions  .  she  was  grateful  that  he  didn’t  tell  the  truth  about  the  accident  ,  scared  ppl  would  have  viewed  her  as  a  monster  if  they  knew  what  really  happened  ,  but  the  way  her  dad  was  acting  about  tulsy  woods  was  super  suspicious  especially  with  everything  happening  with  the  harvest  goddess  and  the  sprites .  basically  ...  seola  suspects  he  might  have  something  to  do  with  whatever’s  going  on  in  the  woods  ... 👁️👁️

after  high  school  seola  stayed  in  roselake  !  she  didn’t  go  to  college  like  sora  ,  much  to  her  dad’s  dismay  ,  but  she  did  take  some  online  classes  here  &  there  (  mysticism  and  rituals  ,  alchemy  ,  some  history  ones  ,  as  well  as  a  medieval  monsters  literature  class  ...  just  for  fun  <3  )  she  also  snagged  a  job  at  subtext  as  a librarian  ,  mainly  for  that  sneaky  access  to  all  the secret garden  books  

initially  she’d  just  been  curious  about  her  own  magic  ,  since  she  knows  it  doesn’t  come  from  the  harvest  goddess  like  a  sprite’s  magic  does ,  but  with  everything  going  on  she’s  extended  her  research   to  include  both  the  goddess  &  the  sprites  to  see  if  maybe  she  can  understand  whatever  her  dad  is  trying  to  do  in  roselake  

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     PERSONALITY  +  TIDBITS  !

not  2  be  cliche  but  she  really  is  a  mysterious  girl  SJDBWJBDJW  since  she’s  haunted  by  the  idea  that  she’s  essentially  always  on  the  brink  of  losing  control  and  hurting  someone  again  like  she  did  with  her  sister  ,  she’s  got  a  very  elusive  personality  .  she  tries  her  best  not  to  get  too  close  with  anyone  ,  but  unfortunately  for  her  it’s  the  kind  of  cool  and  detached  air  about  her  that  usually  makes  people  curious  to  know  her  ,  especially  since  her  twin  sister  is  so  seemingly  open  &  very  focused  on  her  reputation  in  roselake  .  seola’s  always  tells  herself  stuff  like  oh  to  be  a  fly  on  the  wall  ...  😔  but  the  reality  is  she  doesn’t  want  to  be  invisible  to  people  at  all  ,  she’s  just  traumatized  from  the  accident  in  tulsy  woods  /: 

so  you  have  her  enigmatic  persona ... versus  her  deep  desire  to  be  understood  and  loved  despite  whatever  dangerous  and  uninhibited  thing  she’s  convinced  lurks  around  inside  her .  yeah  ...  she’s  not  so  good  at  following  her  own  don’t  get  too  close  with  people  rule  SJDBWJDJW  most  of  the  time  what  ends  up  happening  is  her  pushing  those  who  are  already  close  away  ,  only  to  reach  for  them  again  later  ,  only  to push  them  away  ...  you  get  it  .  it’s  easy  to  write  her  off  as  a  moody  rich  girl  if  you’re  not  in  her  circle  ,  but  it’s  deeper  than  that 

she’s  got  a  bad  habit  of  fixating  on  things  and  then  letting  them  consume  her  .  sometimes  it  works  to  her  benefit  ,  like  focusing  so  hard  on  practicing  her  magic  and  finally  becoming  good  at  it .  most  of  the  time  ,  though  ,  her  curiosity  morphs  into  obsession  ,  and  it’s  very  easy  for  her  to  get  overwhelmed  and  feel  lost 

she  has  a  big  old  soft  spot  for  creepy  or  spooky  things  and  people  ,  100%  believing  that  more  often  than  not  the  stuff  we’re  afraid  of  is  stuff  we  just  don’t  understand  .  sometimes  ,  though  ,  her  attraction  to  the  “  dark  ”  is  a  manifestation  of  her  own  internalized  belief  that  there’s  something  wrong with  her  &  that  she’s just  as  capable  of  bad  as  she  is  good  ... cannot  believe  freud  just  possessed  my  body  like  that  😳 

if  she  was  an  animal  she’d  for  sure  be  a  cat  JSBDJWBDJW  comes  &  goes  as  she  pleases  ...  affectionate  &  warm  on  her  own  terms  ...  sometimes  she  brings  people  weird  gifts  that  are  only  really  gifts  in  her  eyes  ...  yea  <3  

high  key  has  a  huge  guilt  complex  bc  of  that  juicy  unresolved  childhood trauma  !  that  and  the  fact  that  she’s  pretty  sure  her  family  is responsible  for  hurting  so  many  other’s  in  roselake  ...  it’s  a  lot  .  so  even  though  she’s  not  as  warm  and  friendly  as  sora  is  ,  she’s  just  as  kind  ...  maybe even  too  kind  sometimes  ,  she  just  feels  like  she  has  a  lot  to  prove  &  make  up  for  yk  

voted  most  likely  to  dump  you  &  say  it’s  not  you  ,  it’s  me  ):  

big  fan  of  creating  ambiance  she’s  all about  turning  of  the  big  lights  and  turning  on  a  lamp  ... maybe  lighting  some  candles  if  she’s  feeling  crazy  idk ... 

if  you  don’t  know  she’s  a  witch  you  probably  think  seola’s  about  to  drop  the  hottest  skincare  line  of  2020  because  she  do  be  collecting  those  herbs  and  oils 

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     WANTED  CONNECTIONS  !  (  all  open  to  all  genders  )

BEST FRIENDS  :  technically  sora  is  always  gonna  be  her  number  one  best  friend  🥺  but  i  would  really  love  for  seola  to  have  at  least  one  person  who  really  truly  knows  her  ,  someone  she’d  drop  anything  for  to  help  them  if  they  needed  &  vice  versa  !   

CHILDHOOD /  FAMILY FRIENDS : open  to  muses  that  grew  up  in  roselake  !  maybe  their  parents  are  friends  ,  or  maybe  they  were  just  neighbors  or  in  the  same  classes  in  elementary  school  .  i  have  ...  lots  of  ideas  for  this  trope  hehe  <3  give  me  someone  who  seola  pushed  off  the  swings  when  they  were  tiny  and  now  they’re  still  sworn  enemies  to  this  day  ...  childhood  friends  that  stayed  close  ,  but  after  the  accident  in  tulsy  woods  seola  distanced  herself ,  someone  who  was  technically  her  first  love  who  she  probably  had  a   little  wedding  ceremony  with  when  they  were  like  five  with  candy  rings  ,  childhood  friends  that  grew  apart  and  now  it’s  sad  and  awkward  ,  childhood  friends  that  stayed  close  and  have  embarrassing  stories  to  tell  about  each  other  ...  i’ll  stop  here  JSDBJWD    

CONFIDANTS  :  the  one  person  seola  keeps  finding  herself  talking   to  about  the  things  she  usually  keeps  inside  &  they  do  the  same  with  her  .  i  think  it’d  be  funny  if  both  of  them  find  it  weird  to  do  things  like  go  out  to  lunch  or  shop  together  because  that’s  not  what  they’re  used  to 

SUBTEXT  :  people  who  know  her  from  the  library  !  maybe  your  muse  spends  a  lot  of  time  there  so  they  recognize  seola  (  or  maybe  they  even  go  just  to  see  her  )  ,  maybe  your  muse  needed  help  finding  something  once  and  seola  helped  them  out  &  now  they’re  kinda  pals  ,  or  maybe  your  muse  is  someone  seola’s  requited  to  help  her  out  with  her  own  research  with  the  secret  garden  books    

FRIENDS  THAT  DATED  :  maybe  things  just  ended  amiably  between  them  ,  or  maybe  it’s  like  an  “  everyone  told  us  we  should  date  so  we  tried  it  and  boy  was  that  the  weirdest  thing  we  ever  did  ”  situation  .  either  way  the  outcome  is  they’e  still  friends  <3

CAHOOTS :  what  is  this  you  might  ask  ?  someone  seola  can  be  in  cahoots  with  .  she  has  a  possibly  dangerous  idea  that  no  one  else  is  likely  to  say  yes  to  ?  she  goes  to  your  muse  .  your  muse  has  an  idea  no  one  in  their  right  mind  would  say  yes  to  ?  they  go  to  seola  .  these  two  are  in  cahoots  !  

BAD  INFLUENCE  :  i’d  love  for  someone  who’s  trying  to  get  seola  to  dabble  into  darker  magic  /  abandon  her  quest  to  figure  out  what’s  going  on  in  the  woods  and  save  the  harvest  goddess .  she’s  pretty  hard  to  sway  if  she  thinks  she’s  doing  the  right  thing  ,  so  bonus  points  if  your  muse  is  good  at  manipulation  and  has  a  convincing  case  that’s  more  than  just  oooh  be  bad  ;)  

SPRITES  &  MAGICAL  BEINGS  :  sorry  human  muses  ...  these  are  not  for  you  </3  i  would  love  if  any  of  the  other  witches  /  wizards  helped  seola  on  her  journey  to  practice  her  magic  and  get  better  at  it  !  maybe  someone  who  knows  what  really  happened  with  sora  in  the  woods  but  still  decided  to  help  her  /  not  judge  her  ,  OR  maybe  someone  who  knows  what  she  did  and  is  now  scared  of  her  /  doesn’t  think  she  should  be  doing  magic  still  at  all  .  as  for  sprites  i  think  seola  would  be  super  curious  about  them  &  the  harvest  goddess  ,  so  maybe  some  sprites  who  are  willing  to  talk  about  their  abilities  with  her  and  their  connection  to  the  goddess with  her  &  are  maybe  even  working  with  her  to  try  and  figure  out  what’s  going  on  in  roselake  .  then  on  the  reverse  of  that  maybe  sprites  who  think  seola’s  too  nosy  for  her  own  good  ,  or  who  don’t  trust  her  because  they’re  also  starting  to  get  suspicious  about  the  mayor  ,  or  maybe  they  just  don’t  trust  any  magic  that  doesn’t  come  from  the  harvest  goddess  

MAYOR LIM  :  if  you’re  trying  to  get  to  her  father  for  whatever  reason  ,  sora’s  definitely  the  easier  ticket  in  ,  but  maybe  your  muse  is  trying  to  be  less obvious  about  it  so  they  try  through  seola  !  i  would  also  ...  really  love  someone  she  can  sneak  off  with  during  town  events  where  her  dad  is  involved  when  she’s  supposed  to  be  with  her  family  promoting  that  shiny  lim  reputation  hehe 

SISTER  SISTER  :  connections  through  sora  !  this  is  ...  always  the  best  part  of  having  a  sibling  in  the  same  rp  you  get  to  make  connections  through  them  so  give  me  all  sorts  of  stuff  it  could  be  dramatic  like  your  muse  hurt  sora  &  now  seola  hates  them  or  it  could  be  wholesome  too  !  not  2  be  cliche  but  ...  love  triangle  anyone  ...  just  kidding  ...  unless  ?  🙈  

THE  BIG  EX  :  seola’s  first  real  relationship  ,  and  first  real  heartbreak .  everyone  before  them  had  been  an  unofficial  thing  ,  but  your  muse  was  the  real  deal  .  maybe  one  or  both  of  them  ruined  it  by  being  too  scared  of  their  feelings  to  stick  around  ,  maybe  secrets  and  insecurities  got  the  best  of  them  ,  maybe  one  of  them  was  willing  to  try  but  the  other  wasn’t  .  either  way  it  ended  badly  ,  and  whether  those  feelings  are  resolved  or  not  ...  the  world  is  our  oyster  baby  !  

HOOKUPS  :  friends  with  benefits  and  it’s  not  awkward  between  them  ,  friends  with  benefits  and  it’s  super  weird  between  them  because  they  may  be  crossing  over  into  real  feeling  territory  ,  one  night  stands  /  hookups  that  were  huge  mistakes  ,  one  night  stands  or  hookups  that  were  or  are  being  kept  secret  for whatever reason  ,  someone  who  leads  seola  on  but  never  gets  serious  about  her  ,  or  someone  she  leads  on  but  she  never  gets  serious  about  because  every time  they  get  close  to  anything  real  she’s  pushing  them  away  

WILL  THEY  WON’T  THEY  :  a  friendship  that  always  teeters  on  the  line  of  something  romantic  !  maybe  they’re  both  oblivious  to  the  chemistry  /  tension  or  maybe  they’re  aware  of  it  because  they  get  jealous  when  they  hear  about  the  other  being  with  someone  else  …  maybe  they  refuse  to  do  anything  about  it  because  they  don’t  want  to  complicate  things  or  maybe  they  purposefully  cross  lines  when  they  feel  that  jealousy … could  be  more  angsty  or  it  could  be  more  wholesome  depending  on  which  way  it  goes  😈

i  wont  lie  to  u  ive  been  writing  this  all  day  ...  but  we  finally  made  it  baby  😭😭😭  im  sosososo sorry  for  the  length  &  the  wait  ...  also  i  feel  like  my  charas  always  change  a lil  once  i  actually  start  plotting  &  writing  so  sorry  again  if  u  see  me  finally  writing  as  seola  on  the  dash  and  ur  like  lit  rally  who  is  that  ... JSDBWJBDWBDJ  please come message me on discord to plot  ! @ seulgi ily ʕ´• ᴥ•̥`ʔ#8172  maybe ...  give  this  a  like  if  u  wanna  …  do  that  ?  thank  u  for  reading  all  this  ur  so  brave  for  that  stay  sexy  stan  loona x  

#╰ ♡ . 𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒚 ── ooc ! #no words ... intro full </3 #the princess diaries said a queen is never late ... i am not a queen though -__- #wisteria.intro

[monicawoe]

12, 16, 21, 25

for the fanfic end of the year asks meme (thanks @slytherkins !)

12. favorite character to write about this year: It’s a tie between Eddie Brock/Venom and Sam Winchester. Venom fics have been incredibly fun to write and I’ve really been enjoying writing more humorous fics which is something I used to struggle with. But with Supernatural in its last season I also had a serious resurgence of need to write all the Sam fics!

21. most memorable comment/review:  “M A X I M U M T O A S T BABYBOI NO.”…which totally makes sense in context. Venom had some difficulties operating the toaster.

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read: Definitely The Holy Grail Bird by @denugis  Not just because she wrote this as a gift fic to me, but because it’s easily one of my favorite fics of all times. This is such an insightful look into Sam and addresses the Winchester’s Chuck Problem so cleverly, but more than that it brought me to tears in the best kind of way, the kind of tears that happen when somebody just gets it so spot on and so beautifully that your heart leaps and aches all at the same time.  If you are a Sam Winchester fan, do yourself a favor and read this immediately if you haven’t yet, and if you’ve already read it, then go read it again

16 fic(s) you completed this year (*saving this one for last since it’s a long response!) I completed 17 fics this year, of which 16 were posted–mainly Supernatural, Venom and MCU. This was such an awesome year for collaborations, big-bangs and fic exchanges. I had the opportunity to work with some truly stellar artists who are all total sweethearts, so thanks again to @sketchydean, @sdeeys, @vebirascanvasand of course @quickreaver for bringing my fics to life so beautifully. Thanks also to everybody whose prompts I filled for various events, and big thanks to my amazing betas for saving me from my own bad writing habits

Links, fic summaries, and gorgeous art banners below the cut!

Supernatural:

Lakeside Fishing - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (Sam/Patrick(S5ep7), 4k words)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side.   After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Thirteen Taps of The Ivory Beak - Death is a transient thing. The bird knows this, because she herself is both alive and not. Her creator made her this way, not by choice but because of who he is. (a companion piece to de_nugis’ The Holy Grail Bird, 900 words)

Whosoever Holds - Just when Sam Winchester needs it most, Mjölnir returns to him. But is he really worthy? (2k, gen Sam Winchester, Steve Rogers; MCU/SPN crossover)

The Devil You Knew - Brady, not Azazel, had killed Jessica, all those years ago. And now he was sitting across from Sam, bound. Trapped. (1k; an alternate version of Sam’s confrontation with Brady in 5x20)

Wednesday - It’s Wednesday. It’s always Wednesday, he thinks, as he stands up and leaves the motel room, not sparing a glance at the other bed. (2k, Mystery Spot boyKing!Sam AU)

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford:  Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking   -  John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Venom:

Costume Party - Eddie and Venom are invited to a costume party at the museum. While there, they find a mad scientist in the dinosaur wing who is up to no good. (Symbrock, 5k words)

Reckoning Tartare with a Side of Tater Tots - Eddie Brock is writing a story about Will Graham, a man accused of horrific serial murders. But Eddie’s got a feeling Will is innocent, and somebody else is to blame. When Hannibal Lecter invites Eddie to dinner, Venom is surprised by the menu. (2k words; Venom | Hannibal crossover)

The End Times Are Here (But So Are We) - Eddie Brock crashes his motorcycle near Anathema Device’s Jasmine Cottage. She was expecting him, of course. Agnes Nutter’s prophecy had foretold his coming, just in time for the End of Days. (2k words; Venom | Good Omens crossover)

Asunder - (bigbang featuring art by @sdeeys and @vebirascanvas !) Eddie and Venom have grown accustomed to their new life together. They patrol every night, keeping San Francisco just a little safer, and keeping Venom fed. But one night, they’re captured, and separated. Eddie wakes up to find himself imprisoned in a glass cell and, for the first time in six months, completely alone.  (Symbrock, PG-13, 12k words; written for the @symbrockbigbang)

Midnight Snack - Eight hours is way too long to wait until breakfast. Venom makes snacks while Eddie is sleeping. Unfortunately the toaster gives them some issues. (3k words)

They Say It’s Your Birthday - Venom asks Dan to help throw a surprise birthday party for Eddie. (3k words | written for the chocolate box gift exchange)

Marvel/Captain America

Interstitial Light - After Thanos wiped half of life off the planet, the remaining Avengers find a way to reach out to those they lost, using a combination of Stark-Tech, magic and their own memories. Steve makes contact with Bucky, but they spent too many decades apart when Steve was on ice. But there was somebody else who knew Bucky during that time—who trained with him, who knew both the Winter Soldier and James Barnes: Natasha. | 6k, Natasha, Bucky

Stumble and Fall Into You   -   Three months ago, Steve’s world shattered. SHIELD had been infiltrated by Hydra, people he trusted turned out to be enemies, and Bucky, who he thought he’d lost in 1944, had been alive this whole time. Steve tries to get back to some kind of normalcy, but Bucky is always on his mind, and lately he’s been seeing him everywhere. | 5k, Steve/Bucky

—

The 17th fic I completed this year is my Sam Winchester Big Bang fic, which will be posting early next year. I’ve gotten paired with yet another wonderful artist (I think it’s still supposed to be a secret, but it won’t be for long) and am very excited about this collaboration too!

Might as well make this my end of year stats post as well while I’m at it.

Words so far: 247,305 as of end of November, I’ll probably come in close to 280k by end of year. About a third of these words were posted as fics, the rest were prior drafts and a handful of short stories.

Thematically this was a very cathartic and iddy year for me in fic. Venom fandom gave me the opportunity to tackle things in a totally different way which has been incredibly freeing and fun to write, and returning to Supernatural fic had me writing out ideas I’d had on the backburner for years, like with Wednesday and my aforementioned SWBB. Nearly every Sam Winchester fic I write is about autonomy (loss of or reclaiming of) in one way or another but I’d say the two iddiest ones by far from this year were His Soul to Keep and Last Drop. 

I’ve got four WIPs heading into 2020, so here’s to another year of writing!

#spn fics #venom fics #sam winchester #eddie/venom #writing meme #end of the year asks #slytherkins

[sanchoyo]

hi there!! i've talked to you a couple times but just wanted to ask if you have any tips or pointers for making a fic if it's not too much trouble! i'm writing a shigarak/reader fic and it's my first time writing a fic, and i'm just worried it won't be good or interesting or that i won't write him well :( hope you're staying well, i know working rn is so tough so i hope you're taking time for yourself ❤ and if you ever need someone to talk to i can drop you a message if that's ok!

aww hi again then! I’m so glad to hear you’re writing your first fic omg! I’m so honored you’d ask ME for tips bc uh,, I am no expert or anything. I will do my best and tell you my personal Things I Do though!! I hope some of these help you! (also thank you <333 I’ve been trying to talk to my friends/family about how tough its been so I think I’m in a good enough place rn, but you can always chat with me!! :D) 

1. If you’re worried it won’t be ‘good’ or ‘interesting’ remember those things are TOTALLY SUBJECTIVE.  When I started writing, I didn’t even plan to post it!! I started writing bc I needed something to do when I was stressed and I thought it would be fun... it was for me! You should do the same! Write about what you enjoy, scenarios you think you’d like, tropes you like, even if it’s corny (I LOVE tropes and really cheesy drama/romance!!!) if you wanna write super mundane coffee shop aus, or the most out there, wacky au..space pirates ghost hunter babysitter detective drama romcom at at once,, there’ll be an audience for it. I thought literally no one would care abt wh because it was rampant with ocs and minor charas. and then i thought the same abt cl because I’m using More ocs, extremely minor charas/movie characters. Guess What. ppl are still reading! and im still having fun! :D

I’m aware some people don’t like it, but thats with everything you do! There’ll always be people who don’t like things you do so it’s important to just make sure you like it and people who also do like what you’re doing will come and let you know naturally! I promise there’ll be other people who like it! and if you’re worried it might be something thats been done before..may I refer you to the ‘two cakes’ comic... :)

 (also if you’re posting to ao3 there’s a comment moderation option- feel free to turn it on! I have it on so anytime I’ve gotten hate comments I just delete them w/out approving or replying jksfdhask I promise there’s been a good bit of people who had Nasty Things To Say its the internet and people can be rude but the best thing is just ignoring them.) 

2. you said you might not write him well but thats also subjective? tbh everyone interprets characters differently. A lot of ppl say I write him,, very soft or cuter than in canon (which. could very much also be me writing in a Self Indulgent way, thru a softer lens bc thats how I Want To See Things hahaha)  I wish I could give tips, but..hhm just maybe read through canon and decide what parts of him you liked and note his speech patterns (those skills u might have been taught in high school lit analysis will come in handy, the perks of using them now is that you aren’t being graded. nice) also using google docs or pinterest help (I know, ppl hate on it and it does have rampant art theft but. making mood boards with quotes and aesthetics you wanna go for in a fic? VERY fun and useful) 

Good luck!!! like I said you can always hit me up if you need someone to bounce ideas off of (or if you wanna let me know when you post it!! I’d love to read it!!!) hope these helped!!! I’m sure it’ll be great <3

#i could give you more things about what I actually DO while writing and my actual Methods but i dont wanna ramble and you didnt ask abt thos #but hmu anytime! im very flattered youd ask ME of all ppl ajsdkf #sanchoyoanswersasks #i also would say if its stressing you out remember you arent obligated to write and you can take breaks wnever you need it #ignore anyone badgering you for updates #i stay on a schedule bc it stresses me out to not have one #but you dont need to! just do it wnever you feel like it #if thats best for you #everyone works differently #Anonymous