this is why i said i'd never be friends with me

Hamilton As Things My Girlfriend Has Said
  • Alexander : "You know, come to think of it, coffee is the most pleasurable thing."
  • *I give her an odd look*
  • "Well I love you but coffee helps me stay up till horrible hours to finish my work."
  • --
  • John : "You look hot today. No homo." *Finger guns*
  • "Babe we're dating."
  • --
  • Hercules : "See all my clothes are 100% made by me and my hands. I poured my blood sweat and tears into this - "
  • "It says made in China."
  • "Maybe I made it in China?!"
  • --
  • Lafayette : "Some days when I'm mad at you I want to only speak in another language bug the problem is I only know English and not even very well."
  • --
  • Aaron : "Normally I'm a calm individual but see, Abigail makes me want to drop kick her into a well filled with sharks."
  • " she not your best friend?"
  • "She is."
  • --
  • Angelica : "See whenever people doubt me I laugh because I'm better than every person in the world and they're just jealous of my feminism strength."
  • --
  • Eliza : "Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you cheated on me."
  • "Well I never would."
  • "No I know. But if you did I'd probably burn everything you love and go Carrie Underwood on you."
  • --
  • Peggy : "How is it my mom forgot to invite me to my own birthday party?!"
  • --
  • Thomas : "See macaroni and cheese is a gift from God. Like he loves it too. Cause who wouldn't?"
  • "Aren't you an atheist?"
  • --
  • James : "I swear I've been sick my whole life. Death is trying so hard to get me but they will fail! *coughs for a good five minutes* Fuck off death..."
  • --
  • George : "Why do I have to adopt all the worst fuckers?"
  • "You don't have to - "
  • "No I love them and they are my fucker children."
  • --
  • Maria : "I'm a sexy son a bitch who needs to learn how to make better life choices..."
Reasons why I love Francis Abernathy
  • “ ‘Cubitum eamus?’ ‘What?’ 'Nothing.’ He transferred the cigarette to his left hand and offered the right one to me. It was bony and soft-skinned as a teenage girl’s.”
  • “Boo,’ he said. We both jumped back. Francis smiled thinly, light glinting off his fraudulent pince-nez. Cigarette smoke curled from his nostrils.”
  • drives an old convertible Mustang very very carefully
  • “Good girl,’ said Francis, winding the bandages around the arch of her foot. Like most hypochondriacs, he had an oddly soothing bedside manner. 'Look at you. You didn’t even cry.’ 'It didn’t hurt that much.’ 'The hell it didn’t,’ Francis said. 'You were really brave.”
  • “Francis, barefoot and still in his bathrobe, stepped precariously over rocks and branches, balancing his glass of ginger ale. Once we got to the lake he waded in, up to his knees, and beckoned dramatically like Saint John the Baptist”
  • such a drama queen
  • “Francis sent me a six-page letter about how bored he felt, and how sick he was, and virtually everything he’d had to eat since I’d seen him last.”
  • he cooks fancy elaborate meals for his friends
  • “this man was not Voltaire we killed. But still. It’s a shame. I feel bad about it.”
  • very good kisser even if NO ONE APPRECIATES IT
  • tastes like tea and cigarettes
  • dresses like a victorian age fashion icon
  • that scene where he sits on a windowsill and drunkenly eats maraschino cherries at 6 am
  • “Somebody – one of those damned toddlers, I guess – got my favorite scarf off the bed and wrapped up part of a chicken leg in it. That nice silk one with the pattern of clocks on it. It’s just ruined.”
  • has a bad habit of burning furniture with his forgotten cigarettes
  • signed his suicide letter with “Cheerily, Francis”
  • he is absolutely covered in freckles
  • “asparagus is in season”
Aubrey tells Beca about Chloe's toner:
  • [BECA is walking out of an elevator and makes her way down the hallway. Her phone begins ringing and she frowns at the caller I.D. before answering]
  • BECA: Aubrey?
  • AUBREY: Hi Beca. How's L.A.?
  • BECA: Um yeah...good...thanks...?
  • *pause*
  • BECA: So...this is a surprise. I mean, you don't often call me. In fact, you've NEVER called me. Ever. And it's, what *pulls phone from ear to quickly check the time*...3am where you are? Is everything ok?
  • AUBREY: *sighs* No, not really. I called about Chloe.
  • [BECA gets to her hotel room and stops, unlocking the door]
  • BECA: Why, has something happened to her? Is she okay?
  • [BECA steps into her hotel room, closing the door behind her]
  • AUBREY: No, Beca, she's not.
  • [BECA freezes]
  • BECA: Oh my god. What happened?!
  • AUBREY: You did.
  • BECA: What?
  • AUBREY: You happened. Chloe was perfectly fine until you happened.
  • [BECA swallows loudly as she walks over to her hotel bed and sits on the end of it heavily]
  • AUBREY: I've known Chloe for ten years. I'd never seen her look at anyone else the way she looked at you. The way she STILL looks at you.
  • BECA: I don't-
  • AUBREY: *sighs* -Beca, I know you and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye. But there IS one thing that's important to both of us and that's Chloe's happiness, right?
  • BECA: Um...yeah.
  • AUBREY: So why is it since you left I've been having to take care of a mopey Chloe?
  • BECA: Um...
  • AUBREY: She barely eats, barely talks, NEVER laughs...
  • BECA: Aubrey, I-
  • AUBREY:'s been three days and you've barely texted her!
  • BECA: Woah Aubrey, I asked her if she was alright with me going and she said yes!
  • AUBREY: Oh WAKE UP Beca!! She never wanted you to leave but she told you you should because she wanted to support you!
  • *pause as AUBREY catches her breath*
  • AUBREY: *sighs* Beca, I promised Chloe I wouldn't tell you this but I can't bear to see her unhappy anymore so...
  • *BECA strains her ears, desperate to know what AUBREY will say*
  • AUBREY: ...Chloe broke up with Chicago before you left.
  • BECA: What? Why didn't she say anything?!
  • AUBREY: Because she believed that this LA thing was your big break. She didn't want to risk telling you and for you to decide not to go and miss out on your dream.
  • BECA: Oh...
  • AUBREY: I just thought you should know because *sighs* Beca I'm not an idiot. I've seen the way you've looked at her during this tour. When she's been with Chicago? That's not the look you give your friend when you dislike the guy she's seeing. BELIEVE me I know, I never liked Chicago either. But not because I was jealous of him.
  • [BECA brings a hand to her face and pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she tries to process what has just been said]
  • AUBREY: Beca this is your life. I'm not going to tell you what to do or how to live it. Just...remember what's important okay?
  • [AUBREY hangs up and BECA places her phone on the bed, looking down at her feet.]
  • ---------------
  • [14 hours later. AUBREY is in her hotel room gathering final strands of her hair to place in an already established 'up-do'. There is a rumble of thunder and heavy rain sounding from outside the window. AUBREY hears a fast knock on the door. She opens the door to see BECA stood on the other side, soaked from the rain, clearly cold, gasping to catch her breath.]
  • AUBREY: Beca wha-
  • BECA: -Where's Chloe?
  • AUBREY: She's gone down to the dressing rooms alrea- hey, wait!
  • [BECA has already begun running off and AUBREY watches as BECA dashes down the hall and through a door that leads to the stairwell.]
  • ---------------
  • [CHLOE stands in front of a long mirror in the dressing room that is situated at the side of the stage where they will be performing their final show of the tour, smoothing down the front of her black dress with her left hand, then glances at her phone in her right. She sighs as she sees she has no message from BECA.
  • FAT AMY clears her throat beside her and CHLOE furrows her brow, looking to her right at FAT AMY and CYNTHIA-ROSE. She sees them nod to the mirror, their eyebrows raised expectantly, presumably to make her look in it's reflection.
  • CHLOE looks back at the mirror and sees in it's reflection BECA stood in the doorway, soaked and breathless. CHLOE turns on the spot and is clearly speechless.]
  • CYNTHIA-ROSE: and Fat Amy have somewhere we need to be.
  • FAT AMY: We do?
  • [FAT AMY sees CYNTHIA-ROSE's facial expression and clocks on]
  • FAT AMY: Oh RIGHT. Yeah. Let's...go to that place...that we have to go to.
  • [FAT AMY and CYNTHIA-ROSE make their way out of the dressing room, grinning at BECA who gives them both an awkward polite smile before they close the door behind them.
  • BECA begins to slowly walk towards CHLOE who is clearly nervous and surprised.]
  • BECA: broke up with Chicago?
  • CHLOE: Uh...yeah...who-?
  • BECA: Aubrey called me.
  • CHLOE: I told her not to say anythi-
  • BECA: I know. But I'm pleased that she did.
  • [BECA pauses a couple of yards from CHLOE, not bothered that she is still soaked from head to toe.]
  • CHLOE: Your job-?
  • BECA: -Doesn't matter. None of it matters. LA. My dream. None of it. Not really.
  • [BECA slowly takes a few steps forward so she is now mere inches from CHLOE]
  • BECA: But you...
  • [BECA and CHLOE hold eye contact, but it isn't weird. They have looked at each other this intensely before. In that shower cubical at Barden six years ago when they sang 'Titanium' together.]
  • BECA: ...Chloe you matter. You REALLY matter to me.
  • [Tears appear in CHLOE's eyes]
  • BECA: On the flight over here I realised I could live my life just fine without ever becoming a Music Producer. But my life wouldn't be worth living if I didn't have you in it. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner-
  • [BECA's sentence is interrupted as CHLOE brings her hands to BECA's face and pulls her into a deep kiss. BECA immediately wraps her arms around CHLOE's waist pulling her tighter to her. Their faces rock gently from side to side as they intensify the kiss, inhaling deeply. Before long CHLOE opens her mouth wider, inviting BECA's tongue into her mouth which takes CHLOE by surprise and elicits a small squeak from the redhead when BECA begins rolling her tongue with hers. They mutually, reluctantly, break the kiss, grinning. CHLOE bites her bottom lip. BECA keeps her hands in CHLOE's hips.]
  • CHLOE: I...don't know what to say.
  • BECA: Have I mastered the impossible and made the great Chloe Beale speechless?
  • [CHLOE lets out a small giggle then her face turns serious as her blue eyes inspect BECA's face nervously.]
  • CHLOE: I don't want to say how I'm feeling in case I freak you out.
  • BECA: Chloe...?
  • [BECA smiles softly, leans her face closer to CHLOE's face, and keeps CHLOE's eye contact with her own eyes.]
  • BECA: *whispers* I love you.
  • [A smile spreads on CHLOE's face as she takes a deep breath]
  • CHLOE: *whispers* I love you too.
  • [BECA and CHLOE kiss again, this time gently.]
  • FAT AMY: *outside the closed door* Can we come in yet?
  • [BECA and CHLOE part their lips, holding each other's hands as they lean their foreheads against each other. BECA closes her eyes clearly frustrated with FAT AMY's timing.]
  • FAT AMY: *outside the closed door* It's just...Aubrey's out here and really wants us to finish getting ready - OW!!
  • [BECA and CHLOE pull their faces apart. CHLOE giggles quietly as BECA rolls her eyes at FAT AMY getting into trouble with AUBREY.]
  • FAT AMY: Okay FINE, Aubrey says take as long as you need - OW!!
  • *pause*
  • FAT AMY: Look, can we just come in before I get battered again? - OW!! Aubrey what now?!
  • [BECA looks to CHLOE apologetically and CHLOE gives her a wink with a sweet smile. BECA quickly leans back to CHLOE and places a brief kiss on her lips before turning her head to the door of the dressing room.]
  • BECA: Alright Amy, you can come in.
  • [The door of the dressing room swings open and FAT AMY, AUBREY, and CYNTHIA-ROSE stand in the doorway with expectant looks on their faces, the rest of THE BELLA's stood behind them with similar expressions. They all squeal in excitement at the sight of BECA and CHLOE grinning whilst holding hands and everyone outside the door tumble into the dressing room to congratulate BECA and CHLOE.]
Why Tony Stark deserves better
  • When he realised his equipment was causing so much damage, he chose to change direction, even when everyone was telling him he was “crazy” from the kidnapping, but apparently he’s “selfish”
  • He said that he “shouldn’t be alive” and that’s why he wanted to change and do something different with his life
  • He had nightmares after NY (where Steve told him it was a one-way trip and he nearly died), suffered from PTSD, but of course no one cares about these minor details, and JARVIS died as well, but again, who cares?? It’s not like they knew how important Jarvis was
  • Steve actually stood there, saying “you’re keeping secrets from me, I can’t believe this”, and then he goes onto NOT tell Tony that Bucky killed his parents, which, because he’s not thick, he knows is something Tony is extremely sensitive about, but apparently this is all in the past and we shouldn’t focus on that
  • Tony says he’ll help Steve, and then finds out about his parents, and tries to kill Bucky, but apparently he should’ve ‘controlled himself’ and ‘over-reacted’, because you know, it’s just a video showing his parents getting murdered by the person he’s standing right next to, no biggie
  • Let’s talk about shithead Clint saying you should “watch your back” with Tony because “there’s a chance he’ll break it”, where he’s referring to Rhodey. Really? And Natasha’s whole double-agent thing. So Tony was the one being being too violent? Tell me more.
  • And it’s sad that Peter was sent home, because when Tony recruited him, he was probably like “oh we’ll just try and stop them with a friendly fight” but nah, because TeamCap doesn’t care and Steve wants to crush Peter with a truck, and paralyse Rhodey in the process
  • Because Steve, who awoke after 70 years, thinks he knows everything and knows that those 117 countries are the ones that are wrong, and this gives him the right to do whatever he wants, with no regards to any consequences, because apparently he can never be wrong
  • Because Steve, the righteous person he is, had the decency to send Tony a letter saying “I’m sorry, but not really because everyone likes ME now, so call us if you need us, I guess I’ll drop by, because see? I’m a giving person.”
  • Even that line - “I don’t want you roaming around by yourself” like Steve, kindly gtfo, you missed the “because I decided to breakup the Avengers because I’m better than everyone else and I know what’s best for everyone even though 117 countries may disagree”.
  • Steve didn’t deserve the shield. The “Howard made it for Steve, not Tony” excuse is bs, because YES, I’m sure if Howard was there and knew Steve’s friend was gonna murder him and nearly kill his son he’d say “well, I guess I made it for you, so sure, take it.” Uh huh. UH HUHHH
  • Tony was dropping Peter off, joking around with him, making video vlogs, because he didn’t want to tell him that his best friend nearly killed him - and he tried his best to keep him out of trouble, prepare him for anything (+ the training wheels protocol thing), even if it meant taking the suit, because he said that “if you die, it’s on me” but nah, he’s a bad role model and only cares about himself.
  • Aaand lastly, did Tony not try, and try, and try, to find a middle ground? He was there telling Steve to sign or do something, but nah, that thickhead was like “soz can’t do it, don’t even wanna consider it”, but sure, it was Tony who betrayed everyone, because he didn’t warn them about what would happen if they…you know…broke the damn law

I could go on, but you get the point. 

dazzlingtiredeyes  asked:

I'm not saying that I'd give you my first born in exchange for a continuation to the Lance revealing his feelings for Keith under the effect of weird space plants... But I'd totally give you my first born, a new Mac and the blood of a virgin.

Ayyyyyyy six months late (sorry, I know, I’m terrible) but trade out the human child for a puppy and you’ve got yourself a deal

Here’s the first part of this fic

And here’s the continuation, to heal the angst:

Keith had been weird ever since Wivicor.

Of course, Lance reflected, Keith was always a little weird, so it was all relative, but he’d changed in ways that Lance couldn’t account for. He wouldn’t make eye contact with Lance anymore, would barely talk to him. When Lance tossed an insult his way, instead of responding in kind, Keith went silent. If he ever found himself alone with Lance, he left the room as quickly as possible. Training sessions between the two of them eventually devolved into ominous quiet as Lance gave up trying to get Keith to talk to him. He would have worried Keith was ill, if he didn’t continue to interact with the rest of the team as normal. He’d laugh with Hunk at dinner, or peer over Pidge’s shoulder as she hacked into Galra systems, or talk long and quietly with Shiro. He even seemed to have a better relationship with Allura than with Lance.

Lance didn’t want to admit how much it stung. He nursed his wounds in private, trying to convince himself he was seeing something that wasn’t there. He knew Keith didn’t like him, sometimes was even afraid he flat-out hated him, but he’d thought they were getting better. Whatever dream that had been, Keith seemed determined to crush it. There was a hint of bitterness in his mouth whenever they formed Voltron now, a thread of something unpleasant that seemed to run between the two of them.

It was a small thing that broke his resolve. Unable to sleep, he stepped out into the hallway, thinking of getting a midnight snack or possibly just stretching his legs. Keith’s door started to slide open, he caught a glimpse of Keith’s startled eye, and then it slammed shut again. Something crumbled in his chest, but there was a tiny flame of fury there too. He stewed for a moment, considering his options, before he steeled himself, walked over, and banged on the door.

“Keith!” he shouted. “Open up!” The door stayed close. “Open your goddamn door, Keith!” He hit it so hard his knuckles stung. “Open up or I wake up the entire castle and we have this discussion in front of everyone.” The door slid open a single grudging inch, revealing Keith’s purple eye.

“Go to bed, Lance,” he said. Lance stuck his fingers in the door, hoping Keith was not actually mean enough to slam it on them.

“Not a chance, Kogane,” he said. “We need to talk.”

“No. We don’t.”

“Let me in,” he growled.


“We need to talk and you know it. Unless you want Shiro to start chewing us out for being irresponsible Paladins and letting our personal problems get in the way of forming Voltron.” There was a moment of silence, and then the door slowly slid open the rest of the way. Keith was barefoot, in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants, arms crossed over his chest. His bedsheets were rumpled and the room was dark, but his eyes were bright and alert, undulled by sleep.

“What.” Lance shut the door behind him, flicking the light on. Keith squinted in the brightness.

“You know what,” he said.

“Humor me,” Keith said flatly.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since we got stranded on Wivicor. I thought we were getting better, Keith, I thought we might be becoming friends. Now you won’t even look me in the eye.”

“I’m looking at you right now.”

“Yeah, for the first time in weeks.” Lance crossed his own arms, matching Keith glare for glare. “That night in the cave. You were supposed to wake me up for guard duty, but you never did, and you lied about why. Then you barely talked to me the next day, and ever since then you’ve been weird. What the hell happened?” Keith’s eyes narrowed.

“Nothing,” he said. “I told you, I couldn’t wake you up.” Lance shook his head.

“Bullshit. You’re an awful liar.” They glared at each other for a long moment, before Lance gave in to the crumbling in his chest. He dropped his arms to his sides and sighed. “Please, Keith, just… tell me. I don’t get what I did wrong.”

Something cracked in Keith’s expression, and he sat down heavy on the bed, his head hanging low. His bangs dropped over his eyes as he shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lance,” he said. “Please don’t think that.”

“Well what the hell else am I supposed to think?” he asked.

“It was that stupid fucking flower.” Lance blinked.

“The what?”

“You sniffed a flower on Wivicor and got all this pollen in your face. Do you remember?” Lance shrugged.

“Sure, a little, I guess. What does that have to do with anything?” Keith sighed.

“The pollen from the flower. It gave you some kind of alien infection. Later that night, when we got to the cave, you started… talking, but your voice was all flat and monotone, and you weren’t thinking about what you were saying. It wasn’t you, not really. And then you didn’t remember it the next morning.” Lance blinked.

“Well what the hell did I say?” he asked.

“Stuff I had no right to hear. Please, Lance, I’m trying to just forget it, you would never say those things really, not to me. I shouldn’t have heard a word of it.” Dawning horror constricted Lance’s chest.

“Keith,” he said, the word tight around the lump in his throat. “Whatever I said… I’m sorry, I wouldn’t ever say anything to hurt you, you have to know, I… I know we throw insults back and forth, but I don’t mean them, I mean, I’m not trying to actually upset you, I—” Keith’s head shot up, his eyes wide and wild.

“No!” he shouted, and Lance jumped. “I… I mean, no, that’s not… That’s not the kind of thing you were saying.”

“What, then?” Lance frowned.

“It was…” Keith took an stuttering breath. “You were speaking without a filter, basically, telling truths. Or I assume they were truths. You… talked about your family some, but… Mostly it was about me, and you and me, and how you…” Keith trailed off, met Lance’s eyes, swallowed, and finished the sentence. “How you feel about me.”

Lance had the odd sensation that gravity was shifting, changing. He was going to fall through the floor, and at the same time he was coming unmoored, floating out into space without a tether to pull him back to safety. His chest crumbled like ash. Keith continued, unstoppably, mercilessly, plowing through his words.

“You said you know – you think you know – that I hate you, but that you think that you might love me. You said you’d cried because you think I don’t… I couldn’t ever…” Keith looked down again, squeezing his hands into fists. “I should never have heard any of it. I should have blocked my ears the minute I realized something was wrong.”

“So now you know,” Lance said. The words didn’t seem to come from him. He couldn’t remember deciding to say them, they just slipped out, unbidden, from a voice very far away from him. “Now you know and you really do hate me.” Keith shot up so fast off the bed that Lance stumbled backwards and almost fell.

“That isn’t what I said at all,” he said fiercely. “But you deserved to tell me when or if you wanted to. Not like that. Never like that.” Lance backed up until he was pressed against the cool metal of the door, palms flat. He looked down at Keith, in his tattered grey sweats, mussed black hair falling over violet eyes burning with a fury Lance didn’t understand.

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispered. “I’ll just go. I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

“Stop apologizing!” Keith shouted, and Lance flinched. The fury in his eyes calmed slightly. “Stop, please, because you’ve got entirely the wrong idea about all of this.” Lance frowned, biting his lip.

“What does that mean?” Keith’s hands chopped uncertainly at the air around him, trying to aid his explanation but seeming just as lost and unsure as his words.

“It means… God, Lance, I’m no good at talking about this. I’m mad because this spoiled something… I thought we were finally getting better, finally getting to be friends.”

“So did I,” Lance said, so quietly he wasn’t sure Keith heard. “Or hoped, anyway.”

“And I don’t know what I felt or would have started to feel but it’s not like I’m blind, right? I always knew you were pretty, anyway.” Lance blinked, feeling something in the conversation derail, something step out of line and jam up his thoughts, freezing his brain in place.

“You knew I was what?” Keith, however, didn’t answer, plowing through his words with a kind of desperation.

“It wasn’t like I had a crush, that’s too generous, but I think I knew, subconsciously, somewhere, that there was… there was potential, I guess? Well, I mean, I thought you were straight, too, which didn’t help. I really don’t know where my head was.” He glared at Lance. “But then you had to go and pour out this confession under the influence of some kind of alien drug, and you don’t even remember doing it. And that accelerated things in my head, got me to notice some things about myself, but now that I’ve heard you talking I can’t do anything about what I’m noticing because that’s unfair to you. And I didn’t want to hurt you by telling you what I heard. So I’m stuck. I just tried to avoid you instead, but obviously that was never going to work.”

“Keith,” Lance said slowly. His fingers curled against his palms, tapping uncertainly. “What are you talking about?”

“You, you idiot,” he replied. “You and how goddamn complicated you are.” Lance shook his head.

“I don’t understand.” Keith sighed.

“Oh, to hell with it all. I was never any good at words.” He closed the distance between them. Lance yelped, trying to scramble away, but there was nowhere to go. Keith caught his hands, reached up, and very gently placed a hand against Lance’s cheek. Lance froze. “May I?” he asked. Not daring to guess what Keith wanted to do, Lance nodded numbly. Keith leaned up and pressed his lips lightly against Lance’s.

The kiss was over almost as soon as it began, and Keith stepped back, holding up a hand. “Don’t say anything,” he said. “Not yet. Go to bed. Think about it. Think about how you feel, and whether you’re ready for me to know how you feel. Then come back and tell me, if and when and how you want to. Okay?” Lance still couldn’t breathe, but his chest wasn’t crumbling anymore. Something warm sat there instead, tethering him to safety. He smiled gently.

“Okay, Keith,” he said.

[Please do not send me prompts at the moment, I am working through old ones]

The Cuddlist (2/3)

ProfessionalCuddling!AU. Maybe going to a professional snuggler was the craziest idea Emma ever had, but it certainly wasn’t her worst. In fact, weekly cuddling with Killian Jones could’ve been the best decision she ever made.

Inspiration for this fic finally struck (after over nine months) and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to surprise @swanandapirate, who has been studying her butt off. This fic is for her, my sweet love! I hope you all enjoy it just as much. Special thanks to @phiralovesloki who gave me feedback of immeasurable worth. This fic would have suffered without it.♥

Note: This chapter contains very brief and non-descriptive mentions of a client crossing personal boundaries toward the beginning. 

(Rated T)    (6k words)   (ao3)   (chapter one)

Session Six

Emma Swan was Killian’s favorite appointment. His magnetic refrigerator calendar - a sailing themed one - had all his clients and the times they would arrive printed in his flourished cursive with black ink. Swan’s name had been written in a light blue color slightly larger than the rest of the things he’d written on his schedule.

It was the one thing he looked forward to. Emma Swan. Every Wednesday. Noon to one in the afternoon. His midweek break.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved every - well, most - of his clients, and he loved his job even more. He’d seen so much change in so many people, it was hard to not become addicted to the warm feeling he got from giving therapy.

It was just that Killian wished he liked all his clients as much as he liked spending time with Emma, but not of all of them could be as great as her. She didn’t know, but in the time he had met her six weeks ago, he had turned several people down for a second or third appointment. It was one of the few downsides to his job. Some people wanted more than a friendly presence.

And he had decided years ago, without question and without much thought, he was not going to be a male escort, contrary to what some people expected from him.

Take for example the woman in his arms, who was one such person. Cora Mills. One of his older clients, Killian knew that she had acquired quite the sum of money from a strange marriage to a younger CEO. It was the only time someone had abused his confidentiality policy to allow for their cheating habits. Because sure, the touches were platonic on his end, but the way she tried to feel all over him made him squirm.

Especially the way her hand was trailing up his thigh. Killian felt a wave of nausea flood over him. He caught her hand before it could travel too far up, and clutched it into his chest.

“Boundaries, love,” he reminded in his most professional cuddlist voice.

“To have fun, one must push boundaries, darling,” she replied, sickly sweet in his ear. She tore her hand from his grasp and moved to continue her search along his thigh, but Killian jolted back.

“Cora, I’ve asked you more than once,” he said sharply. He spun away, standing up and putting distance between them. “And I shouldn’t have to. I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”

“I paid for an hour.”  Killian glanced at the clock, relaxing just an ounce to see it was 11:59am.

“And an hour you got, ma’am.”

Just as Cora opened her mouth to argue, at which point Killian planned to call the police, a steady knock resounded throughout the room from the front door. He could have cried in relief. Emma Swan truly was a savior.

“It’s open!” Killian called, before Cora could intervene.

Emma came tumbling into the room, as radiant as the sun peering behind the fall leaves. She wore a white turtleneck sweater tucked into a burgundy skirt, the personification of autumn spirit. She smiled as soon as she saw him, leaving a warm feeling in his chest, but paused as she caught sight of Cora.

“Did I interrupt?” she asked, glancing down at her watch. Killian shook his head, trying to show just how thankful he was in his heavy stare. Her smile twitched, a minute sign that told Killian she caught how perturbed he was.

“Not at all, love,” he answered. “Miss Mills and I were just finishing up.” Both women in the room could tell his tone meant finishing up for good.

Like a tempered child pouting, Cora slipped her shiny black heels on, grabbed her wool jacket, then clacked across the room toward the door.

“If he refused me, don’t expect him to keep you for very long,” he heard the woman murmur to Emma, but the door had slammed behind her before Killian could voice just how very wrong she was. He planned on keeping Emma around for quite some time if he could, thank you very much.

But just having the woman gone was enough to make Killian’s pulse slow down and his hands stop trembling. Emma was by his side at a second, a comforting hand on his arm. He closed his eyes and focused on steadying his breathing. A hand come up to cover Emma’s on his arm, offering a gentle squeeze.

“Are you okay now?” she asked.

“Aye, love. You have immaculate timing,” he replied, voice hitching on the tightness winding in his throat.  Emma dropped her hand to give him some space, but the loss of contact made Killian’s nerves thrill under his skin.

“Though perhaps we should reschedule. I’m afraid I’m in no condition to give you what you paid for.”

It was unclear just what she was thinking as she held him in a scrutinized gaze. He felt frozen to the floor, knowing that if she showed even the slightest sign of disappointment, he would take it all back within an instant.  

There was no disappointment in her eyes. There was only something akin to understanding, and a fiery bite of rage that she seemed to have held back by a single thread.

“Give me your phone,” she demanded gently. Killian’s hand immediately reached toward his back pocket, but then he hesitated.


“Just hand it over, Jones. Weren’t you the one who taught me about this whole trust thing?” It was enough for him to comply, and within moments, she was pattering away at the screen with furrowed eyebrows.

“You said her name was Mills?” she continued, fingers scrolling up through a list. “Cora Mills, there she is. And…number blocked. She won’t be able to call you again.”

Emma paused, waiting for him to respond. As Killian took back his phone, his mouth was locked in a gape, searching for some way to answer. All words had escaped him. There was nothing but this woman before him, so stable and sure.

“I was going to-” he finally tried to defend.

“No, you probably would’ve thought about blocking her number and then let her call you back, only to forgive her and rinse and repeat whatever happened in here today. She’s not worth the anxiety, Killian.”

His pointer finger found the spot behind his ear that prickled when he was nervous. Of course Emma would understand. Other people in the past had criticized him whenever something like this had happened, subtly claiming that it was his fault for putting himself in such an intimate profession. He was wise enough to know that it was never his fault, but it never made it less horrible when it did happen.

When he looked up from the floor, Emma was lounging across his couch with a massive chinese menu in one hand with the other dialing a number.

“What are you doing?” Killian asked. “And where did you get that?”

“Ordering lunch.  I never leave the house without a take-out menu,” she replied, as if it were obvious. Killian sauntered over to her, pulling her phone and menu from her hands just as she finished dialing the number.

“Darling, I told you. I can’t today.” Killian began to fold the expansive menu, but Emma plucked it back just as quickly.

“Look, I’m ordering you lunch, sticking around to make sure you let me pay for it, and then I’ll be out of your hair,” she explained casually. His incredulous stare prompted her to add one last clarification. “You spend every day pampering people, but you never have time to let anyone pamper you. I’m not here as a client, I’m here as a friend.”

A warm rush spread through Killian. Her presence seemed to brighten the room in a way that was almost therapeutic. He considered all his clients his friends to eliminate the awkwardness of holding a complete stranger, but it wasn’t often the other person reciprocated.  

He suddenly became aware of something: there was nothing he liked more than being Emma Swan’s genuine, bona fide friend.  

Within the hour, they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, white cartons in hand and stomachs filled with delicious food. Killian could sense Emma’s relaxation radiating off of her, coming off in gentle exhales.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Killian admitted. His eyes stayed glued on his fork searching around for tiny pieces of chicken lingering at the bottom of his take-out box.  

“Me too.” Emma set her empty container on the table in front of them. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“A woman violated our client-therapist agreement which resulted in her permanent removal from my services. What else is there to talk about?”

“And you’re okay?” Emma placed a comforting hand on his knee, a touch that seemed to pull the answer right from his lips.

“Yeah,” he said on a breathy exhale. “I think I’m okay.”

Any sourness left over from the incident earlier was erased away minute by minute as Emma put his favorite indie movie on the TV. As gentle acoustic music played behind the opening of the film, Killian leaned his head into her lap, cheek nuzzling up with the soft fabric of her long skirt.

And maybe Killian’s heart raced as Emma threaded her fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp. Maybe her touch was just what he needed to send away everything nasty he’d been carrying, leaving room for her comforting presence in his heart. He nearly suggested that she become a cuddle therapist herself, but the very thought of her hands on someone else sent a recoiling scowl down his face.  

If Killian Jones was developing a crush on Emma Swan, then no one needed to know. It would probably go away before anything could become of it.

* * *

Except that it didn’t. If anything, Killian’s growing infatuation was only getting in the way of his work. He’d have a lonely widower in his arms, but find himself aching for her touch. His routine of massages was muddled with the thought of her creamy skin and lovely smile.

It didn’t help that Emma started scheduling appointments for twice a week, rather than their usual single consultation. She even had a habit of popping over when she knew he wasn’t busy and visiting as a friend, rather than a client.

Eventually, their dynamic shifted without any spark or prompting. It was organic, their relationship growing in a way that friendships do when the people and the conditions are right. It started as timid text messages - Would you care to come over for pizza tonight? I rented Back to the Future. - and shifted into Emma’s sporadic visits after his business hours. She did occasionally schedule an appointment with Killian the Professional rather than just popping over to see Killian the Friend, especially when she had some extra money saved and work was wearing her down.

It was good. It worked.

Killian blamed habit of routine for the way they always ended up tangled together in each other’s arms.

* * *

“How many sessions does this make?” Emma murmured into Killian’s chest one day. They’d been laying like this on his couch for an hour, legs a tangled mess. There were few places she liked being more, held by her best friend while his fingers rubbed along her scalp.

“This isn’t even a real session,” he answers, his breath whisking through loose strands of her hair.  

There were certainly benefits to your best friend being a professional cuddler, Emma decided. For one, he was naturally affectionate. Gentle touches and warm hugs came easy to Killian, a talent Emma had always been glad she didn’t have. It was different now that she’d felt the comfort of his embrace, so she thought she’d make an exception. And boy, was she glad she did. From that day on, Emma spent the end of her stressful days in the company of a friend who genuinely cared about her, made her laugh until her stomach was in knots, and gave a damn good foot massage.  

Of course, there were also disadvantages.

Like the intrusive thoughts that Emma certainly did not ask for,  the ones that insisted that she was nothing special to Killian Jones and that he was only being nice to her to earn money off of her. Or worse, that he was just like every other guy she’d been with who always seemed to take advantage of her.  

The one thought that really kept her up at night, the one that she was most ashamed of, was the small tiny voice in her head that admitted that she was falling for him. Getting feelings for Killian was absolutely, under no circumstances, allowed. She’d signed the agreement and everything.

“Swan, if you think any louder the neighbors are going to start complaining.”  

Emma jolted a little in his arms, like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Shaking her head, she leaned up to burrow her face into the side of his neck and muttered an unconvincing, “I’m fine.”

The hand weaving through her hair moved down her back, his fingers gliding over her skin. He was waiting for her to say it, because they both knew that something was wrong. There wasn’t any point in trying to hide it from him.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked in a low voice.

“Of course.” Killian held her in place as he shifted against the couch so that they could face each other. It was a tight fight on the small cushions, and Emma could smell the spearmint on his breath. It was his eyes that coaxed the question out of her, the way they didn’t judge or hold suspicion.  

“How many people do you do this with?”

Killian gaped at her. Smooth, Emma she sneered at herself. Real smooth. He was careful to keep his expression fixed, though she swore she saw the slightest hint of offense dampening the light in his eyes.

“Do what, exactly?”  

“Spend time outside of consultations.”  

Killian sat up, taking Emma with him that she had nowhere else to look but at him. His brows furrowed, gaze intense. Running his hands down her arms, he locked their fingers and squeezed.

“I love each of my clients, and I like to think that I’m not just their therapist, but also their friend.” Emma opened her mouth to interrupt, take back the question, change the subject, forget that she even mentioned it , but he stopped her. “The people that visit me all have their own lives, their own friends, their own families. Many of them are embarrassed to admit they see a professional cuddler, so they leave me separate from their real lives.”

“Does that bother you?” she asked.

“No. People don’t keep in contact with their chiropractors or dentists, I don’t expect them to treat me differently.”

“But I’m different?”

A smile broke on his lips. “Very.”

Emma could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks as he grinned at her. All her life she’d been ordinary Emma. Nothing special to her foster parents. Nothing special to her teachers. Nothing special in general. But to be different to Killian Jones felt good.

“So, when people ask me what my best friend does for a living…”  

Just when Emma thought that his smile couldn’t get wider, he proved her wrong with a grin that sent butterflies to her stomach.

“You tell them he’s a professional cuddler. Trust me, the reactions are priceless.”

* * *

Life with Emma Swan was great.  

It was what they both needed: something reliable, something familiar and routine. They spent their time together at his apartment because Killian, I’m poor and my apartment is the size of a walk-in closet. And when he wasn’t convinced - Fine, it’s because you have that fantastic bean bag that I would give my left kidney for.  

She always brought food, whether a full meal from that surprisingly good chinese place down a few blocks, or just a few brown bags of groceries. Somehow they always ended up tangled up together, watching YouTube videos or one of those Netflix series which can’t actually be that good, and turns out an all-time favorite.  

Sometimes he played guitar while she chopped vegetables in the kitchen. And other times she added songs to their joint Spotify playlist (appropriately named “untitled” because Emma wouldn’t allow any of the other ridiculous names he’d suggested) that she just knew he’d be playing on repeat for the next week.

And when he was having a really shitty day, she brought Captain Morgan. That was how he knew she was his best friend. He didn’t even have to say anything, the bottle would already be in his hands.

It had been eight months since their unlikely friendship began. Had it not been for his constant stream of clients - who valued their privacy - in and out of the apartment, he’d have already asked her to move in. Once Killian’s last appointment ended for the day, she was there and really only ever went home to sleep.

“Just because you live somewhere doesn’t make it home, Killian. My apartment is like living in a graveyard. There’s no life. At least your apartment has ferns.”

“Aye, love, well I’m glad my ferns keep you coming every day.” His chest tightened as he wondered where exactly she considered home to be. If he had any other job, he could just allow her permanently into his life, whatever that meant. Instead, Emma would continue to pay her rent and sleep in her own bed, but eat her meals at his table.  

“Can I schedule another appointment?” she asked through a mouthful of fried rice, chopsticks digging around the white take out carton hidden shrimp. Killian blinked a few times.

“Did something happen at work?” Emma shrugged, not in the mood to elaborate. Lately, it wasn’t often that she kept things to herself. He was glad to help her, though, even if it was as a professional before it was as a friend. Finally he said, “Yes, I have openings, but I’m not going to ask you to pay me. That’d be ridiculous.”  

“Why? If you were an artist, and I wanted you to paint something for me, you’d still ask for a commission. You’re a businessman who has to work for a living.”

“Oh, now you’re making me sound like a white-collar.” He paused for a second. “You’re adamant about this?” If she wanted to hire him once more, then who was he to deny her?

“Alright, love. How’s Wednesday at noon?”  

* * *

It began like it always did, Emma standing in front of his apartment dressed in comfortable clothes. Her fingers tapped mindlessly against her hip while she fought the urge to check her watch for the fourth time.  

It felt almost the same way it did that first appointment when she didn’t know who he was or what to expect. But this was Killian, her best friend of all people! He was the most predictable thing in her life, the one who never expected more than she could give, the one who always could read her as easily as one of the books on his shelf. When she was wrapped in his arms, there was no place in the world that was safer.  

That was all she’d ever wanted since she was a little girl, and she had long since given up hope that she would ever find it. But it had happened, after almost twenty-eight years it had finally happened.

She couldn’t even thoroughly enjoy it because she was falling in love with him. Emma scoffed. Who was she kidding? The falling had already happened. The falling had sent her plummeting toward over a cliff where she crash landed, head way over her heels.

Emma couldn’t help it, she glanced down at her watch and saw that he was thirteen minutes past noon. She frowned. Killian always had his clients in and out very promptly, and she was positive he was supposed to have someone in there with him. Tugging at the bottom of her sweater, Emma decided to wait for a few more minutes.

Five minutes passed and no one exited the apartment. Killian hadn’t even gone out to check to see if she was there, so she knocked lightly. The next moments were agonizing, the anticipation of seeing him making it difficult to breathe. But he never came. She checked to make sure she had the right apartment - of course she did, she practically lived here- and that she had no messages on her phone. Trying the handle, Emma discovered the apartment was open. First she peeked in to see if Killian had just lost track of time with a client on the beanbag, but the apartment was empty.

“Killian?” she called out. Entering the apartment, she dropped her purse and keys on the counter. “Killian, are you home?”  

No response. Okay, that was different. Killian was always home to be available for potential walk-ins. Emma padded through the apartment, noticing the minute differences in its condition. There were dishes in the sink, a half full mug of cold coffee beside the stove, and a dirty plate sitting on the end table beside the couch. Killian was never the type not to not pick up after himself.

She searched the apartment for signs of him, but he wasn’t in his bathroom or in his bedroom. Just as she pulled out her phone to call him, she heard a cough from outside the window.  

What was he doing on the fire escape?

Emma peered out of the open window and found him sitting on one of the metal stairs, a flask at his lips.  

“I’ve never known to you do drink,” she called out.

Killian’s head snapped down at her and for a second his eyes looked right through her, dazed and confused. Reality dawned on him as the fog in his gaze cleared. With a quick glance at his watch, he groaned.  

“Gods, Swan, I totally forgot. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” It wasn’t just an apology, Emma noticed. It had an unsettling amount of self-loathing and grief. Emma leaned over the windowsill, letting the cool fall breeze cut through her hair. “Just maybe not today.”

“Are you alright?” she asked. His response was an ashamed look at his flask. “Mind if I come up, then?”

Killian shook his head.

Emma settled herself just below him, sitting parallel to the stair with her knees to her chest. Killian mirrored the way she sat so that he could look at her.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” she asked. His fingers fidgeted around the curve of the flask.

“I saw something earlier that reminded me of my brother,” he stated simply, if not a bit sad. Emma blinked, attempting to keep hide her surprise.

“I didn’t know you have a brother.”

Now that she thought about it, Emma knew next to nothing about his family. She’d never asked before to avoid answering any questions about her own family, but it was different now. She was ready to open up if he was.

“His name was Liam,” Killian finally admitted quietly. “He was the man who raised me, the one who fed me and sent me to school each day. But he was my role model too. Everything I learned about being an honorable man, he taught me.”

“What happened?” Emma asked. The muscles in his jaw clenched, the tension making his hand clench around the flask. When his sea blue eyes began to glisten, she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have asked at all.

“He passed away,” he stated simply. “A boat accident five years ago. He was supposed to be repairing it, but there was a gas leak. The engine sparked and well…Anyways, there was an incident down at the harbor last night and when I saw it on the news, I guess I realized I wasn’t entirely done grieving.”

Emma waited as he took a swig of the rum and let the alcohol ease the ache of remembering. She didn’t know what to say. Her own experience with tragedy made her sure that he didn’t want any pity, but she didn’t want to discount the strength it took to talk about it.

“You’re an amazing man, Killian Jones,” she finally said. The warmth in her eyes matched her sweet tone, and Emma hoped it told him just how proud she was of him. “This world is a brighter place with you in it.”

Then she leaned her head on his knee, stroking his hand with a soft touch. Killian remained silent, letting the atmosphere between them whisper all the things he couldn’t say to her. The shaky squeeze of his hand said thank you, the tiny smile on his lips hummed I’m a better man when I’m with you, and his tender gaze spoke the message that he hoped she couldn’t hear. I’m falling in love with you.

Emma didn’t stay for her appointment. Instead, she turned on his favorite music, warmed up some leftover mac and cheese, and let him spend the rest of the night with himself. He was thankful. Any other time he would’ve wanted her to stay, but this last ounce of healing was something he needed to do alone.

Besides, if he needed her, she’d only be a phone call away.

* * *

Two days went by before Emma heard from him again. She had just woken up, her hair still a mess atop her head and a steaming coffee in hand, when her phone buzzed.

Killian [8:47am] - My apartment, 5pm, come hungry.

Killian [8:47am] - This is a real appointment, but don’t even think about paying. I owe you one.

Emma [8:49am] - Sounds like I’m seeing my best friend AND a professional cuddlist tonight. I’ll be there.

She was three minutes late to knocking on the door. From the hallway she could smell the aroma of something sweet in the oven, traces of cinnamon and apple reaching her senses. When the door swung open, she was greeted by a Killian Jones who looked like his few days alone had done him some good. There was a new life in his eyes, an excitement to go through with whatever he had planned for her.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said casually when he was frozen in the doorframe with a grin.

“Nonsense, we’ve all evening. Come on in.”  

“How would you like to start, Master Cuddler?” Emma asked, starting to feel her nerves prickle in anticipation as he rushed into action.

“You can start by getting comfortable. Is a massage okay with you?” he asked, his voice taking the warm tonality of his professional self. When she nodded, he laid some soft towels across the couch. “I don’t really have a massage table, but I hear the couch works just as well.”

Standing across from him not knowing quite what to do, Emma crossed her arms in front of her and watched as he pulled a basket of candles from the cupboard. She’d never gotten a massage from him before, only at fancy spa getaways (which were also gifts from her mother). Unlike the other places she’d been, she didn’t plan on stripping out of all of her clothes. Instead, she pulled off her sweater, leaving her in her leggings and cami.

“I need to go grab a few things, but you can lay down on your stomach and get cozy.”  

Emma did as she was told, feeling her body relax into the soft cushions of his couch. Her mind, on the other hand, raced at a million miles a minute. Had she known he planned for a massage, she definitely wouldn’t have agreed to coming tonight. How could she ask him to touch her in a borderline intimate way when she was developing feelings for him? Before now, she’d been good about hiding her romantic affections, especially from herself.

Folding her arms under her chin, Emma frowned. This was a doomed situation if she ever heard of one. She should probably just run while she has the chance.

Killian came back before  the instinct to flee could grow too strong. There was a bounce in his step, like he was excited to do this with her for real. At the very least, the melancholy from earlier seemed to have faded. She watched as he lit candles, plugged in the space heater, and pressed play on his stereo.

“Are you alright, love?”

Emma bit the inside of her cheek. Was she that transparent?  

“Yeah, why?” Killian didn’t answer. He simply knelt in front of her and brushed some hair out of her face.

“Just checking,” he said gingerly. “As always, stop me if you get uncomfortable. It’s just a basic massage, though. No funny business.”

Emma would’ve chuckled, but as he settled into position, the only thing her brain could process was his comforting smile. Killian instructed to relax her arms so that they settled at her sides. With one last confirmation of her consent, he began his work.

The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the hum of ambient electronic instrumental music. She could tell Killian was in full concentration mode as he worked, rubbing his hands together so that the friction would warm them up.

Killian started with her feet. He’d given her foot massages before, but not quite like this. His hands pressed into the soles of her feet slowly, urging the tension to release and relax the muscles. The nerves all over her body vibrated even though his focus was latched onto rubbing her feet. Chills erupted up her leg when his hands moved to knead her calves, each slow pull of his hands completely unwinding her.

As his hands worked into her leg muscles and nerves, Emma felt the passage of time slow to a halt. It was the first time in years she’d felt so at peace, so safe and well-taken care of. When he was sure all the tension in her legs was gone, he trailed his palms up to her spine where he massaged her unhurried and tender. Smooth palms over her back alternated with his fingernails as he scratched in gentle circles.  

Emma bit her lip to keep from vocalizing how marvelous she felt. But it wasn’t just the massage itself. He caressed her with such reverence, as if she were precious treasure in his hands. All she wanted was for this to continue forever, to always be free to feel his worshipping hands on her skin, to hear his breath in her ear. She wanted it indefinitely.  

And that scared the hell out of her.  

There were many things she expected to feel during this, but fear wasn’t one of them. Shouldn’t she have felt glad that he cared for her, respected her? After all, he was the only person she’d met in a long time who wanted to do something like this for her.  

“Are you alright?” he asked, noticing how she seemed to have tensed up. She hummed in response, unable to lie to him. But he knew her well, and he removed his hands, and instructed her kindly to “Sit up, love.”

She complied, hands folding nervously in her lap.

“Can I keep going?” he asked.

“Of course! But only if you want to.” He frowned, and she was quick to explain herself. “I wasn’t sure if I did something wrong or-”

“No! Never. I was wondering, myself, if I had done something to make you uncomfortable.” He was so good to her, always paying such detailed attention to her reactions.  

“Killian, I’m fine. This has probably shaved ten years of stress off of me.”

He began again, this time closer. With her sitting up, he had better access to her shoulders. Warm puffs of his breath ghosted her neck as he dug his fingers into her shoulder blades. His touch emitted even more veneration than before, as if his concentration was well honed to perform his best work.

When his fingers reached her hair, she leaned back into his touch. The man was too talented for his own good, fingernails scratching along her scalp bringing sensations that distracted her from her fears. She could feel his chest pressed against her back, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed calming her down.

His touch began to slow, becoming fainter as he brought the massage to a close. Emma sat frozen, unsure if he was really finished, because his hands still rested on her shoulder.  

The next events passed like a hazy vision, her mind blurry with fogginess, but nerves aware of every touch.  

There was silence, and then his lips pressed against her shoulder. Emma turned rigid the same second he did, both of them stunned into stillness. Killian immediately pulled his hands off of her, swallowing as he skirted a few inches away from her. Emma turned and sucked in a breath of air. He was closer than she thought, far enough away to give her space to breathe, close enough that he was within reaching distance.  

The spot on her shoulder he had kissed still burned sweet, and she craved more. This was new territory, ground they hadn’t traveled yet. He was just Killian now, the professional cuddler dissolving as desire filled his eyes. Just as she was about to reach for him , he leaned forward and took her cheek in one of his palms.

Killian opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. They hung in the intensity of his eyes, their meaning just out of reach. Maybe she didn’t know about him, but Emma knew what she wanted. She tilted forward just a fraction, the movement so slight she doubted he noticed it.

Something in his gaze sparked, and that was it.

Before she could register the decision on his face, he was kissing her. Emma’s mind numbed of all sense and awareness, overwhelmed by the soft way his lips were pressed to hers. He tasted sweet, like refuge and acceptance. Her hands grasped at his shirt, seeking an anchor.

When she lifted her arms around his neck, the kiss dissolved into a search for the other’s touch, needing to soothe the ache to bring the other closer.

And just when she was starting to think that she could do this forever - kiss him, hold him - a voice spoke to her loud enough that she could hear it over the roaring in her ears. He’s using you. Emma kissed Killian harder, as if the intensity would hinder her walls from rising. Just wait. He’s not going to want you after this.

Right on cue, Killian tore away.  

He looked as stunned as she felt, chest heaving, cheeks flushed.

“That was a mistake,” he murmured, shooting to his feet and clenching his fists. “A really bad mistake. I shouldn’t have even considered-”  

Emma stared at him, utterly horrified. Was it that bad? Was it so appalling to even consider wanting her?

“I’ve gone three years without the thought even crossing my mind, much less acted on it,” he rambled, pacing across the floor. “But this….you…”  

The man was unraveling and she was the cause. Maybe that was what she wanted, but not like this.

Suddenly, Killian’s pacing halted. He took a fortifying breath before turning to look at her with a composure that meant that the professional was back, masking what he was really feeling.

“That was completely, utterly inappropriate and I am so sorry.”

“No, I’m the one that’s sorry. I put you in this weird position by scheduling an appointment and then I gave into the moment.” Killian shook his head, like the fact that she was feeling guilty was something he wanted to extinguish. “I just really, really don’t want this to ruin your career.”  

He heard the silent or our friendship.

And out of all the things he could’ve said, she wasn’t surprised when he murmured in a quiet voice, “I hope you’ll understand when I tell you that I can’t accept you as one of my clients anymore.”  

Emma expected as much, but it still ached to her core to hear the words spoken aloud. He wanted nothing to do with her, and she was senseless and shortsighted to think that anything would change.  

But she wasn’t going to let him see her cry, so she rose to her feet, grabbed her shirt, and headed toward the door.  

“Where are you going?” he called out, voice rough.

“You’re absolutely right, Killian. About all of it,” she said weakly. “I should probably just go.”

Killian’s blood ran cold as he got the slightest feeling that when she vanished out of his front door, she was leaving for good.

* * *

Meanwhile, Molly

(Or: More Things That People Think Make Sherlock Canonically Straight But They Really Really Don’t)

Allow me to address one more incredibly beautiful part of Sherlock (and then I’ll stop overusing the word “beautiful”, sorry, I just loved series four): Let’s talk about what is the point of Molly Hooper.

I’ve always sympathised with Molly, but I admit that from a literary point of view, I didn’t quite get her. If she was a love interest for Sherlock, why would the story not revolve more around her? But if she wasn’t a love interest, where was her character going? Why was she there in the first place? It didn’t feel Moffat-y sound. (And yes, I just made that expression up.) 

But looking back on all four series, the intention of Molly’s character actually becomes pretty clear. In a nutshell: At any given moment of the show, Molly is an indicator of John Watson’s feelings towards Sherlock. (No really, let me show you.) 

Originally posted by acrossthestarx

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#1: Painting

The first time Enjolras meets Grantaire, he’s painting.

It hadn’t been a planned meeting either- Enjolras was simply at the art block to bring Combeferre his forgotten coffee and possibly discuss a new idea for their blog. He hadn’t meant to run into a scruffy haired, stubble-faced cynic.

Enjolras pushes open the door to the studio marked ‘G’ as per the instructions on Combeferre’s text. Enjolras doesn’t venture into the art block very often- which would come as a surprise to approximately no-one- but even he finds it’s naming system easy enough to follow.

“Combeferre, I brought your coffee, you left it-“ Enjolras freezes mid-sentence as he walks into the room. There is a person standing in front of an easel. This person is not Combeferre.

“You’re not Combeferre.” Enjolras says.

The Stranger turns away from the easel. “No, I’m not Combeferre.”

“Why aren’t you Combeferre?”

“Did you seriously just ask me why I’m not Combeferre? I mean, for real, Combeferre should be asking himself why he isn’t me.”

Enjolras blinks. The Stranger sighs. “Look, whoever you are, I don’t know where Combeferre is and I don’t know why you’d think that you’d find him here. I’m like 90% sure he studies philosophy. No, wait, actually, I’m 100% sure he does because that’s how I know him- we have class together.”

Enjolras has to fight the urge to snap, because he knows Combeferre- of course he does, they’ve been friends for years. Whilst Combeferre technically studies philosophy, that’s never stopped him from dabbling in everything else. He’s been known to trail all of their group of friends into lectures and seminars- Enjolras’ history professor is practically used to Combeferre’s presence by now. 

Which, really, brings Enjolras back to the reason he’s here in the first place- Combeferre is doing an art piece on moths for his latest extracurricular interest- only, Combeferre isn’t here. Instead, Enjolras is faced with… whoever he’s speaking to right now.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Enjolras asks, trying to regain his footing in this conversation.

“Grantaire.” Says Grantaire with a smile completely unfitting for the scenario.

“Enjolras.” Replies Enjolras. He would offer his hand for Grantaire to shake, but Grantaire’s hands are covered in paint and Enjolras is nursing a very hot cup of coffee between his.

Oh.” Grantaire says, eyes lighting up. “Oh- so you’re Enjolras? Combeferre speaks about you a lot. Not in a bad way, of course.” 

Enjolras doesn’t quite know how to respond. “Well, yes, I should hope not, seeing as we’re best friends. Are you sure he’s not here?” Enjolras asks desperately. He feels like he’s embarrassing himself- which is never a fun feeling- and right now he’d like to extricate himself from the situation, preferable as quickly as possible.

“Let me just check.” Says Grantaire, who places the paint brush between his teeth and then does a 360 turn around the room, using his hands as if to see into the distance. “Nope,” Grantaire says once he’s done his examination. “Not here. I could check under the desk if you want? In case he’s hiding there?”

Enjolras tries his best to keep a straight face- he knows Grantaire is mocking him, knows Grantaire is just taking the piss, but Grantaire still hasn’t stopped grinning and Enjolras finds himself hard pressed to wish the expression away.

“That’ll be fine, thanks. Any idea where he is? His text said to come to room G. Which is here.”

Grantaire frowns, although there’s still something akin to gleeful amusement in his expression. “This is room 6. Can you read, Enjolras?”

Enjolras feels his face flush. He can read, thank you very much- only… his vision isn’t the greatest when he’s not wearing his glasses. Grantaire is still expecting an answer though- and Enjolras supposes he did just barge into Grantaire’s studio space unannounced- so he clears his throat and tries to regain what modesty he can. “Ah. Sorry about this- not an intentional mistake-“


“So, I’ll just be going. Try and find Combeferre- actually find him this time.”

Grantaire nods, turning back to the easel and painting long strokes of yellow onto his canvas. “Don’t get lost again. Although I can’t imagine your presence would be unwelcome to most.”

Enjolras allows himself to smile. “I won’t get lost.” he says, nodding once to Grantaire before reaching for the door handle.

He’s halfway through when Grantaire’s voice calls back to him. “Enjolras?” Enjolras turns around. Grantaire smirks. “If you ever feel like bringing me coffee, I’m always in this room. Room six. Emphasis on the six.”

Enjolras only gives a coy smile in response. “We’ll see.” He says, letting the door swing shut behind him.

anonymous asked:

Slightly different flavor of Langst. He knows the team cares about him but for a mission, he has to break their fucking hearts and lie to them to get in good with the galra. The mission goes great and Allura (Coran? Shiro? I'd prefer not shiro but realistically I think it's unavoidable that he'd find out) inform everyone that it was a trick. But then Lance seriously doubts if they like him because he really did put on a good show and everyone is wary

OHHHHHH I really like this concept!

“Can you all shut up for 5 minuets. I’m not lying, this isn’t a prank, I never liked you guys. After learning about the galra I know that they treat people better than you all.” Lance’s voice crackled in everyone helmets. 

“Shiro I don’t know why you were chosen to be he Black paladin, you can barley keep Keith under control. You just appeared and excepted all of us to follow you blind.”  

Shiro’s eyes widened at what Lance said. “Lance where is th-” He never got to finish his question since Lance moved on to the neck person. 

“Keith, I have no idea why you are begging me to stay. You are part galra. Shouldn’t you be with your kind? You always beat me in everything, and you always make sure I’m aware of it. Sometimes I just wanna talk to you, not be compared to you.” 

Keith wanted to scream, Lance had no right to say that to him. “Lance, I’m not go-” Keith was cut off but Lance, just like Shiro. 

“Pidge I don’t even know why you care. You never even give me more than a glance most days. I’m sorry I’m not a genius, I’m sorry I’m annoying, but I’m still a teammate, family. It really fucking hurts when you treat everyone else like a brother except me.” 

Pidge nearly snapped her neck trying to get her helmet off. Her breath was ragged, she didn’t know what to think. She always included Lance. Why was he saying she didn’t? 

“Finally Hunk.” there was a slight pause, like Lance didn’t want to say what he was about to say. “Best. Friends. For. Life. My. Ass. You replaced me like everyone else. You went to Pidge over me, I get it you have more in common. But we have memories. You just caste them aside like there were garbage. That hurt man.” 

Hunk was crying, he didn’t want to hear that. He couldn’t bring himself to defend himself. 

“So now you all know why I want nothing to do with this team.” Lance cut of connection to the team before they could say anything and flew Blue into he waiting Galran Ship. 

“Paladins you must come back to the castle. We must leave.” Allura’s voice blasted over the coms. 

“But Lance!” Shiro still wanted to bring him back. 

“He made his choice, we must go.” 

Reluctantly they all flew back to the castle, leaving Lance with the Galra. 

Keith stormed to the bridge, he came face to face with Allura and Coran who didn’t seem as worried as his team was. “What the hell was that?” Keith didn’t want to scream at the princess but he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m sure Lance had his reason to do it.” Coran twirled his mustache. 

Keith stared at Coran in disbelief. “How can you say that so calm? Lance willing went to the Galra with open arms.” 

“Keith we are aware but we can’t do anything about it now. Now go clean up.” Allura was not going to deal with this. 


Lance was brought in front of Prince Lotor. 

The Prince looked at Lance for a few second. “Bring him to my chambers.” 


Lance spent the next few weeks by Prince Lotors side. Both of them figuring out ways to destroy the Galran Empire from the inside out. 

“Ah I can’t do this anymore!” Lance chucked the book he was reading across the room and dragged his fingers down his face. 

Prince Lotor glanced up from the book he was reading “Lance, your princesses orders were very clear. I believe that we are close to finishing our plan.” 

“I know! It’s just, I can’t shake the feeling that I really hurt my team. I told them things that weren’t even true, and they probably believed me.” Lance put his head in his hands.

“Lance.” When the galra received no response he sighed and walk over to the boy. He sat down next to Lance, and placed his arm around him. “I know that this is hard on you, but once the team learns what you did, they won’t be mad at you.” 

Lance started to shake and Prince Lotor pulled him closer.


About a month after Lance left the paladins were all woken up by the lions roaring.  They all rushed down to their hangers only to find the all the lions surround the Blue lion. The Blue lion was unharmed and seemed to be telling the other lions a story. 

The paladins shared a look with each other. If Blue was here, so was Lance. They all took off running to the bridge. 


“So you say that this plan is full proof?” Coran questioned as he rotated the hologram Lance had set up showing a galran ship. 

“Yes, Prince Lotor and I made sure we covered anything that could have went wrong.” Lance crossed his and stared at the two Alteans.

Princess Allura started at the map a bit longer before she smiled. “Lance you did better than expected. This plan is flawless. I’m happy that we were able to team up with Prince Lotor to create this.” 

Lance slightly smiled at her. 

“Lance are you alright? He didn’t hurt you right?” Allura took a few steps over to Lance. 

“No Prince Lotor took care of me, it’s just I hurt my team.” 

Allure and Coran shared a worry glance, they knew exactly how the team felt about Lance. Coran opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the paladins sprinting into the room. 

They all stopped to catch a quick breath. Keith noticed Lance and wasted no time punching him in the face. 

Lance fell over and held his chin, fighting back tears. 

“What the hell are you doing here? What did the Galra not care to your every need?” Keith went to go grab Lance again but was stopped by Allura. 

“Keith enough.” 

“Why, Lance hurt us, why can’t we hurt him?” Pidge glared at Lance as she spoke. 

“Pidge! I’m sure Lance can explain why he is here.” Shiro narrowed his eyes at Lance who was starting to stand up. Lance looked at his team then stared at the floor. He couldn’t do this. 

“Well if he can’t explain himself, he can just leave.” Keith shrugged Allura off. 

“That is enough!” Coran caught everyone’s attention. “Instead of jumping to conclusions, I want you all to consider why Lance did this.” Coran receive only silence form the paladins. 

“Why did he do it?” Hunk asked looking anywhere but Lance. 

“For this.” Allura gestured at the hologram. She walked over to Lance and made sure that he was okay. 

“What is it?” Shiro asked as he stared at it, trying to put the puzzle together. 

“It’s a map to take down any Galran ship. It includes exits, where information is store and weapons. Lance designed this plan along side another Galran. However he could only design this plan if he got inside a ship. The only way to do that was to not have anyone follow him when he headed towards the ship.” Coran spoke clearly making sure every paladin understood what he was saying. 

“When did you talk about this plan?” Keith asked while looking at Lance who was still staring at the ground, fist clenched. 

“The night prior to the mission Lance left, Lance mentioned that his sister was an acting teacher so he picked up a few tips from her. In my honest opinion he almost fooled me when he started talking about you guys before he left.” Allura placed a hand on Lance’s back and gave him a small smile. 

Lance didn’t even look at her. They still hate me. They hate me. I hurt them and they won’t forgive me. 

After a few minuets of silence Shiro cleared his throat “Thank you Lance, you did excellent on this mission.” 

Lance nodded as a thank you and looked up at his teammates. “I’m sorry I said all of those things to you. I just wanted this mission to go well. I hope you’re not mad.” Lance left before anyone could tell him whether or not they were mad. 

Whoa…I really like these ideas. 

Thank you for this!

I hope you like it!!

Send Me More Langst Prompts!

anonymous asked:

Hey, Sea. Would you mind if I asked to hear what you seem to take from Louis' body language/facial expressions during his "denial" of Larry for DW (S*N). I find it a bit transparent, but since you go more in depth, I'd like to know what you think about it.

I finally watched this bit of theater. So, here it goes:

1. This wasn’t the first take, I don’t think. Louis is talking fast, the words tumble out, the ideas come one after the other. It’s been scripted; that’s why it’s on video rather than live. The gestures seem rehearsed and acted. “Obviously” with the eye roll, holding up an iPhone when he says “iPhone”– who does that in real life? It’s a sit-com, “acting,” gesture… it’s what you see television actors do (even comedic movie actors don’t do this because it’s transparent and clichéd). Louis appears annoyed– not annoyed at the question, just annoyed that he has had to do this segment multiple times, maybe.

2. The lack of eye contact throughout. The way he says “people I love, such as Eleanor.” It’s weird. Isn’t she the only one who should feel disrespected, at the moment? To lump her into a group seems– very formal, very stand-off-ish. For example, if my husband said, “A birthday was given to me by people I love, my wife, for example,” when I was the only one who threw him the party? It’s just odd.

3. Why not just straightaway say, “I know people enjoy ships, but it’s not real and never has been real. I’m so sorry. We’re just good friends.”? Done. Put to rest. Instead this talk of conspiracies– which is very reminiscent of 1DHQ. And the “genuinely.” Reminds me of “some people genuinely think…” Seems like we know who wrote the script.

Anyway those are the few things I noticed. Dan is a vomit basin and smells like bad sushi.

BTS reaction: Hearing their best friend confess~
  • ~ Kim Seokjin/Jin:
  • You were almost half asleep in the morning when you kept complaining about how you'd never find anyone who liked you or that you were absolute trash.
  • Jin: You are gorgeous what's wrong with you.
  • You: You can find me in a bathroom. Either in the toilet or the trash can.
  • Jin: My god, why do you so firmly believe no one would like you? Ask someone out. You never know.
  • You: Because you're too handsome, sweet, and caring to like anyone like me. I have no chance with you that's why I don't ask.
  • Jin: So.. You like me?
  • You: Oh shit what'd I say?
  • Jin: In short: That you like me.
  • You: Well secrets out, I'm moving to Antarctica.
  • You: Why are we arguing? Just give me love already.
  • Jin: -Rolls eyes- That's what I'm trying to do, but you wanted be in Antarctica.
  • Jin: But let's go eat; My cooking so that's it's free.
  • You: I feel special.
  • Jin: You are.
  • ~ Suga/ Min Yoongi:
  • Yoongi had come over to talk about nothing. He just likes your couch to take naps but you always let him since he was your best friend and you- without being weird- liked watching his adorable face go to sleep.
  • You: I really don't know why I even like you.
  • You: But I wish I could cuddle you right now, what is this?
  • Yoongi: You could. You just needa ask.
  • You: Were you awake throughout my short shitty I love you speech??
  • Yoongi: Yeah, I don't actually fall asleep I've heard you a couple times but never wanted to believe it.
  • Yoongi: I guess now I believe it because.. You said it right in front of my face.
  • You: Give me a moment. Go back to sleep you fuckin duck.
  • Yoongi: Wow. K. I see how it is. liking you back has been canceled.
  • You: Wait no, return to the pokeball.
  • Yoongi: Now I'm a Pokemon.
  • You: You're a cute one though.
  • ~ J-Hope/Jung Hoseok:
  • You flat out told him when you had the chance which was during you guys' movie night.
  • You: Hey you.
  • Hobi: Hey you.
  • You: Hey you, I like you.
  • Hobi: I like you too.
  • You: But I mean I like you like go on dates, kiss, and call you da -cough- baby/mine.
  • Hobi:
  • You:
  • Hobi: Were you going to say daddy?
  • You: That's not important. What's important is if you like me back or not.
  • Hobi: Yes I like you back now tell me–
  • You: Gotta blast but hey a date tomorrow, here at my house? Yeah? Cool? Bye now. -Running into the door to your room-
  • You: That never happened.
  • ~ Rap Monster/Kim Namjoon:
  • You were patiently waiting for Blackpinks new music video that was coming out in three hours since you were so concentrated on the time, anything came out of your mouth.
  • Nams: BTS or Blackpink More?
  • You: both.
  • Nams: Who's your bias in BlackPink?
  • You: Lisa
  • Nams: Who is your bias in BTS?
  • You: Rap Monster.
  • Nams: Why?
  • You: Cuz I like him but he don't like me back.
  • Nams: How do you know that?
  • You: We talked about this Taehyung.
  • Nams: Not Taehyung.
  • You: -You turn to look at who you were talking to but then immediately look away with a red face-
  • You: Who's Rap Monster? Never heard of Him.
  • Nams: Ah too bad, he was thinking about asking you but now he's not too sure.
  • You: I know that guy. Tell him I'd say yes.
  • Nams: You're so cute and I don't know what to do about it. Just to take you on a date.
  • ~ Park Jimin/Chimin:
  • Jimin and you were just talking on the couch. Talking about your days, things that happened, told jokes, but you were getting tired. So now you were answering questions half asleep.
  • Jimin: Who do you like at the moment?
  • You: A guy. He's adorable, sweet, handsome and I don't know what do.
  • Jimin: I say confess.
  • You: Maybe I should but he don't like me back.
  • Jimin: What's his name?
  • You: Name starts with a J.
  • Jimin: Jungkook? or Jung Hoseok is what you mean?
  • You: You skipped the guy I like.
  • You: It's Jimin neutron.
  • Jimin: That's not me.
  • You: Yeah it is well the Jimin part is.
  • You: You like me back? Ye or yes?
  • Jimin: Not too many options. I'll pass.
  • You: I see how i-
  • Jimin: I choose both. I like you in every perspective.
  • You: You saved yourself Park Jimin.
  • ~ V/Kim Taehyung:
  • (Just dialogue)
  • You: Taehyung you can't rap.
  • Tae: I can. I know I Can.
  • You: I am the better rapper. Come at me you puppy.
  • Tae: Puppy???
  • You: I can't insult you. You're too cute to be insulted.
  • Tae: INSULT ME.
  • You: NO
  • Tae: You like me?
  • You: Do I? Did I? What'd I say?
  • Tae: That you like me.
  • You: Say it as if you were me.
  • Tae: I refuse to insult you. I LIKE YOU. emphasis on I LIKE YOU-, I can't.
  • Tae: That's what you said.
  • You:
  • Tae:
  • You: Well now you know, so.. Would you like to go on a date with me soon????
  • Tae: Aw so cute so cute. -Squishing your cheeks- of course I'll go on a date with you. I've always wanted to date someone who's an angel.
  • ~ Jeon Jungkook:
  • You were trying to find a way to confess but also embarrass him. So you bought a rose and went to where he was with all the members at the moment.
  • You: Will you, Jeon Jungkook, let me have the honor to date you. -Kneeling-
  • Members: -Snickering-
  • JK: Of all times.. -Nervously laughing and patting your head-
  • JK: Sure but just know I will get you back for this.
  • You: You can try.
  • JK: It's a war.
  • You: Hey. I'm eating you.
  • JK: What??????
  • You: -pulls out the gum called 'Extra'- very minty.
  • JK: Why did I agree to be with you??

saemi-the-dreamer  asked:

If you are stil taking request, how about a what if? -What if JD had broken down at the sight of Veronica faking her suicide and takes his gun to shoot himself instead of going to Westerburg to blow it up? Personnally, I'd like a happy ending (even if it is bittersweet) with Veronica succeding in saving him please^^



Once she had visited Martha Dunnstock in the hospital, Veronica Sawyer walked into the Sawyer residence, weighted with guilt. This was all her fault. If she hadn’t given into the Heathers’ pressure and popularity, Martha would probably be all healed and happy and watching rented videos on the couch.

Why did I let this happen? Veronica thought as she opened the door to her house, head hanging down sadly. If I had just said no and let the Heathers torment people themselves. Martha wouldn’t have tried to commit suicide, Heather Chandler might be alive, and so would Kurt and Ram. Maybe JD wouldn’t be so psychotic. This is all my fault. I should be the one on that hospital bed, unconscious and dying. I should be the one in Hell coughing up drain cleaner. I should be the one shot to death with bullets. I should be dead. I should be–

“Where have you been?”

Veronica’s head shot up as her mom ran over and pulled her into an embrace. “We’ve been worried sick,” she said to her, cupping her face. “Your friend JD stopped by. He told us everything.”

Veronica’s stomach tied up in knots at the mention of JD. And the word “friend”, as well. The Sawyers were clueless of what happened. “… Everything?” she croaked out.

“Your depression,” her dad responded. “Your thoughts of suicide.”

Her mom thrust a copy of Moby Dick at her. “He even showed us your copy of Moby Dick.”

Veronica flipped through the pages. A lot of the most depressing parts were highlighted and scribbled with depressing words. In her own handwriting.

The Heather Chandler who was to haunt Veronica for the rest of her life suddenly appeared behind her, peering at the book from Veronica’s shoulder. “He’s got your handwriting down cold,” Heather announced, as if it weren’t obvious already.

Veronica’s mom put her hand on the book. “Please, honey. Talk to us,” she begged. Her brown eyes were filled with concern.

Veronica just turned away from her parents. “You’d never understand,” she said coldly.

“Try me!” Veronica’s mom retorted. She grabbed Veronica’s arm as a nurturing gesture. Veronica wriggled out of her mother’s touch. “I’ve experienced everything you’re going through right now. I know it all seems impossibly dramatic.”

As Veronica kept skimming through the book, Kurt, Ram, and Heather appeared behind her mother. “Guess who’s right down the block?” they asked eerily.

Veronica’s mom kept talking, but Veronica’s heart beat fast as she realized that JD was heading over. Now. She sensed someone trying to climb the outside stairs to her bedroom window.

Guess who’s climbing the stairs?” Kurt, Ram, and Heather chorused.

“… I promise, they’re not,” Mrs. Sawyer continued.

Guess who’s picking your lock?

“You don’t know what my world looks like,” Veronica growled before turning away and running up to her bedroom as fast as she could.

As she tried to find a way to escape or hide from JD, she paced around her room, looking for a place to hide herself in.

You’re crazy,” Kurt, Ram, and Heather jeered. “Are you high on shrooms? Do you actually think you can hide from him? There’s no doubt that you’re done for.

Veronica started looking for something to keep JD from coming through the window. No use. There was nothing in her room.

“Notify next of kin, Veronica. No use trying to keep him out!

Suddenly, Veronica heard her bedroom window click.

Too late! He got in.

Veronica scrambled to her closet, locking the door shut.

“Knock knock!” JD sang creepily as he stepped inside Veronica’s bedroom with his gun in his hand. “Sorry to come in through the window. Dreadful etiquette, I know.” But he didn’t sound sorry at all. He closed the bedroom window shut.

“Get out of my house,” Veronica ordered shakily through the closet door.

JD chuckled. “Hiding in the closet? Come on,” he begged, “open the door!”

“No,” Veronica responded. Her voice sounded less shaky and more calm, but she was still scared. “I’ll scream. My parents will call the police.”

JD took no notice of her threat. “All is forgiven, baby! Come on, get dressed! You’re my date to the pep rally tonight!”

“What? Why?” Veronica asked, confused. Didn’t JD hate her? Wasn’t he coming up here to kill her?

“Well, our classmates thought they were signing a petition,” JD answered proudly. He took out a piece of paper with various signatures written on it. “But you gotta come out here and see what they really signed!”

It didn’t take a genius to know that whatever they signed, it just contributed to JD’s proud sociopath personality.

“You know, you should be dead for chucking me out like trash,” JD started to say, attempting to get Veronica out. “But I had a better idea. What if high school went away instead?”

As he continued to beg for her forgiveness and explained his plan to plant a bomb inside Westerburg High and make it look like a mass suicide, Veronica looked around her cramped closet for something to drive JD away. She came across a long bedsheet. Perfect.

“We were meant to be one, Veronica!” JD continued. “I can’t do this alone! Come on out, and let’s finish what we begun!”

No answer.

“VERONICA!” he yelled. He lowered his voice to a frighteningly calmer tone. “Open the door, please. Open the door.”

No response.

“Veronica!” he said again, still calm. “Can we stop fighting? Please?”

Still nothing.

He sighed. “Look, I know you’re scared. I’ve been there. But I can set you free!”

Nothing. JD was starting to get impatient. And impatient plus JD equaled one thing.


“Veronica!” he shouted. His tranquility was starting to break. “Don’t make me come in there!” he threatened.


“I’m gonna count to three!” he warned. “One.”




“FUCK IT!” he screamed as he kicked down the door, only to see Veronica hanging from her impromptu bedroom noose.

JD suddenly fell to his knees, stunned and heartbroken. The only girl he had ever loved was hanging dead right in front of him, all because of him. “Oh… God… no…” he whispered. A single tear rolled down his cheek. “Veronica… Please don’t leave me alone… you were all I can trust…”

Suddenly, his motivation to get rid of all his classmates was gone. He was doing this all so he and Veronica could be together, and now the only place they could be together was…


“I’m so sorry, Veronica,” he sobbed as he brought himself up. “I wanted to do this for you. I’m so sorry.” He put the gun to his head and put his thumb on the trigger. “This was all for you, but if this is what you wanted…”

Out of nowhere, Veronica screamed, “NO!”

She untangled herself from her noose, ran over to JD and smacked the gun out of his hand. “No, no, please don’t,” she begged softly, taking his wrists. “I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to stop.”

“Veronica…” JD wriggled his wrists out of Veronica’s grasp to cup her face with his hand. “I’m sorry, this was all for you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pulled her into a hug and whispered apologies into her neck. Veronica felt his tears against her skin.

“Please, just stop killing people…” she begged quietly. “Please. For me.”

JD nodded, pulling back from Veronica. He kissed her forehead. “For you. Just for you.”

He held her close. “I worship you…” he muttered. “I’ll do anything for you. If you want me to stop murdering people, I will. I promise.”

With that, Veronica pulled away from him and kissed him softly, still crying. “Let’s just be seventeen, okay?” she asked against his lips.

JD nodded in agreement, this time, meaning it.

Veronica smiled, sniffling and wiping JD’s tears away from his cheeks. “Now, let’s just ditch the pep rally and go bowling. What do you say?”

JD laughed softly. “I think that’s a good idea. Can we stop by 7-Eleven first?”

“Well…” Veronica pretended to think about it. “Will you finally buy me a Big Gulp?”

JD groaned. “You’re defeating the purpose of 7-Eleven,” he teased playfully. But then he smirked. “Fine.”

Then he took her hand and they walked out of the house.

And in the words of Heather Chandler: “And they lived happily ever after.”

motherofmajesticflapflaps  asked:

Okay stupid question: why do you ship Andras and Lucien? Was there subtext that I, the English major who loves queer theory missed in ACOTR? I mean I'd love to read more fics and your headcanons of this!

omg someone is asking about Landras I’m DELIGHTED. Okay so like when I say I ship it (and I do, dear god I do) it’s…Like I don’t think it’s going to be canon/was ever canon/was ever really hinted at being canon in any way. I just…Enjoy the idea of it? And it adds another layer of angst to ACOTAR and a bit of extra depth to Lucien’s character and his early interactions with Feyre if you read it that way? So I choose to. 

That being said like…I didn’t pull it entirely from nowhere there are lines in ACOTAR that send the wheels a-turning. Which I will now take the time to point out. (Like I said I don’t consider any of this subtext or hinting or foreshadowing or evidence. I’m just like…okay but if you slap a landras lens over this it’s so much more fun to read so this is less…canon interpretation and more…okay but if you look at it like this it’s much more fun) 

“Is Andras dead, then?” (Lucien has….a habit of using snark to cover up his feelings) 

A nod from my captor—savior, whatever he was. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“How?” the stranger demanded, his knuckles white as he gripped his muscled arms.

“An ash arrow,” said the other. His red-haired companion hissed. “The Treaty’s summons led me to the mortal. I gave her safe haven.”
“A girl—a mortal girl actually killed Andras.” Not a question so much as a venom-coated string of words.


“You’re joking,” he said quietly. “That scrawny thing brought down Andras with a single ash arrow?”


“Did you enjoy killing my friend, human?” the red-haired one said. “Did you hesitate, or was the hatred in your heart riding you too hard to consider sparing him? It must have been so satisfying for a small mortal thing like you to take him down.”


She brought Andras down? We never should have sent him out there—none of them should have been out there. It was a fool’s mission.” His growl was more bitter than threatening. (Lucien feels guilty for sending Andras across the wall….which gets approximately 1000000x angstier if you consider them having been in a secret ‘in denial about feelings’ relationship beforehand)


I’m sure her life will be a fine replacement for Andras’s—maybe she can even train with the others on the border.”

A snarl of irritation resonated through the air.


“Please let me go. There must be—must be some other loophole out of the Treaty’s rules—some other way to atone.”

“Atone?” Lucien said. “Have you even apologized yet?”

Apparently, all attempts to flatter me were dead and gone. So I looked Lucien right in his remaining russet eye and said, “I’m sorry.”

Lucien leaned back in his chair. “How did you kill him? Was it a bloody fight, or just cold-blooded murder?”

My spine stiffened. “I shot him with an ash arrow. And then anordinary arrow through the eye. He didn’t put up a fight. After the first shot, he just stared at me.”

“Yet you killed him anyway—though he made no move to attack you. And then you skinned him,” Lucien hissed. ( :( ) 


Lucien clicked his tongue. “I’m Tamlin’s emissary for formal uses, but this was Andras’s shift. So someone needed to fill in. It’s an honor to do it.” (he is literally doing his old rounds and calling it an honour I??) 

I swallowed hard. Andras had a place here, and friends here—he hadn’t been just some nameless, faceless faerie. No doubt he was more missed than I was. “I’m … sorry,” I said—and meant it. “I didn’t know what—what he meant to you all.”

Lucien shrugged. (Lucien shrugging is like…Lucien speak for ‘I’m deeply hurt but have no idea how to properly verbalise my emotions so I’m just going to brush them off instead’ see also: the whipping) 


“No, no. Andras was High Fae, too. Tam can shift us into other shapes if need be. He saves it for his sentries only, though. When Andras went across the wall, Tam changed him into a wolf so he wouldn’t be spotted as a faerie. Though his size was probably indication enough.”

A shudder went down my spine, violent enough that I didn’t acknowledge the red-hot glare Lucien lobbed my way.


Over the next three days, I found myself joining Lucien on Andras’s old patrol while Tamlin hunted the grounds for the Bogge, unseen by us. Despite being an occasional bastard, Lucien didn’t seem to mind my company, and he did most of the talking, which was fine; it left me to brood over the consequences of firing a single arrow. (aaaand he keeps doing Andras’s patrol. It’s fine. I’m fine.) 


The wolf—Andras had just … stared at me before I killed him. Let me kill him. (Not exactly Landras related but let’s just TAKE A MOMENT TO THINK ABOUT MY BRAVE WOLF BOY OKAY? And also Andras doing this so Lucien could be safe :) that’s fun too :) ) 

 Literally none of this really implies anything more than a deep friendship between Lucien and Andras (which…makes me feel things in itself because fuck me Lucien needed someone on his side at the Spring Court, someone who might actually care about him) But it’s fun to imagine there was more between them. (And by ‘fun’ I mean deeply and utterly agonising, my soul is in pieces, please join me in the pit of despair. There’s plenty of room. 

And if you want more headcanons that are purely headcanons and nothing to do with the text…let me know I have plenty. 

illneverrecover  asked:

Hello! I love your writing and would love to request a little ficlet/scenario from you, if possible! I'd love to see your take on the RFA & Saeran drunk dialing MC and saying "I love you" for the first time? (or vice versa, MC calling them and saying it). <3

This one was very fun to write. Had I not gotten sick I would have been much quicker and the quality would be better, but I hope you enjoy it as it is nevertheless :3

In which drama never happened and MC had months to get to know everyone going after anyone in particular…until now…



He’d been jogging around the part, enjoying the cold air of the night cooling his heating body. It was quiet, empty and peaceful, nothing but the music from his headphones to be heard. Zen had been completely engrossed in the song, quietly humming along when suddenly in broke off. For a moment he wondered whether it was his headphones, when suddenly the music was replaced by his ringtone. A call then, but not just any. You were calling. He fished out his phone from his jogging pants and instantly accepted the call. “Hey, gorgeous, what’s up”, he asked, a little out of breath as he was still running. “Zen. Zenny. ZenZen. Zennyboy. Prince Charming. The fairest of them all”, came your reply, words slurred into the phone. He couldn’t help but laugh, cheerful and breathy. “Are you drunk, by any chance”, he asked. “I don’t get drunk! I get awesome.”

Zen laughed again, utterly amused at your state. You were so obviously drunk and yet denying. It was kind of adorable and yet worrisome at the same time. Hadn’t you said that you didn’t drink, let alone get drunk like that? Was everything alright? “MC, is everything alright?” There were undefinable sounds coming from your end of the line when suddenly you spoke again: “I’m peachy!” You did sound peachy, but Zen couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something you weren’t telling him. “What are you doing right now, gorgeous? Nothing dangerous, right”, he asked, slowing down a little so he could make out exactly what was going on. You just chuckled. “Nothing dangerous, I promise. Just lying in bed, thinking about you.” The rustling of sheets…so that is what he’d heard just now. Zen smirked. “My Lady, that is quite the naughty thing to say to a man. I told you we’re all beasts and one could misunderstand your words.” 

“And what if I meant them?” Zen tripped and stumbled, barely able to keep himself on his feet. He froze for a moment, taken aback by your words. Did you mean it? No, that couldn’t be. You’d never made such advances before and he’d been mercilessly flirting with you since the day you joined RFA. Maybe it was just your drunk mind pulling a prank on the two of you. He was ripped from his thoughts by a loud sigh from you. “I knew I shouldn’t have called. Saying I love you over the phone is really not romantic, right? Silly me”, you said, chuckling sweetly like it was nothing while Zen was bordering on having a heart attack. “MC I - “, he spoke quietly, ready to return the sentiment when suddenly you cut him off. “Oh shit, bladder is acting up. I gotta take a whiz. Bye bye”, you sing-songed, blew a kiss at the phone and ended the call as abruptly as you’d started it.

Zen stood there for a good minute, fingers still pressing against the earplug like he was trying to hear you better when you’d hung up a long while ago. His heart was beating so rapidly in his chest Zen feared he might faint from it. He walked to the nearest bench, slumped down onto the cold wood and buried his heated face in his hands. You’d just told him you loved him in the most unromantic way possible. You were drunk, you did it over call and you didn’t even let him reply because you had to pee. None of it was in any way sweet or nice like he’d always imagined it so why…why on earth did he feel like the air had just been sucked out of his lungs, stomach filled with those little, fluttering butterflies he hadn’t felt in years?!


His phone went off in the middle of a round of LOLOL. At first he considered not picking up. The fight was at its peak and if he let down his guild members now they wouldn’t forgive him for ages and he might have to make it up to them by giving away some of his rare items. It’d happened before and Yoosung was still salty about it. However, as he glanced as his phone to see who was calling – to determine just how important the call was – he caught a glimpse of your name. Without a second thought he reached for his phone to pick up. In the chat you’d mentioned that you were going to a friends Bachelorette party and while Yoosung didn’t know much about what went on during those parties, he knew that alcohol was generally involved. A quick glance at the time told him it was already pretty late and Yoosung got worried that something had possible happened to you.

When he picked up he was greeted by loud music in the background, shrill laughter and you desperately trying to shush everyone while suppressing your own chuckle. “Oh shit, he picked up. Shut up everyone”, he heard you hiss, quiet as if you were covering your phone to muffle the sound. He frowned for a moment but then your voice was back and this time obviously directed at him. “H-Hi, cutey-pie”, you spoke, voice slurred and followed by laughter form not just you, but all the women with you. “How you doin'”, she asked, for some reason earning even louder laughter from her friends. “I’m fine, just playing some LOLOL, but how are you? Is everything alright?” There was some muffled talk in the background with you trying to shush your friends once more before you yet again returned to the phone to talk.

“So my friends and I were playing truth or dare, you see, and I picked dare”, you spoke, obviously drunk. So much so that sometimes you needed multiple attempts to say a word. Yoosung was having a hard time following, especially as he was trying to game at the same time. The phone was tugged between his shoulder and ear to keep his hands free. It was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t just hang up on you. “Okay, sounds like fun. As long as you’re alright, I’m glad”, he said. “No, no, no, wait”, you said quickly. “Don’t hang up yet. I still have to tell you something important.” There was loud snickering in the background and Yoosung was getting the feeling that he was being pranked. Usually Seven’s calls started much the same and it always ended poorly for him somehow. “Listen, if this is some sort of -”

“I love you, Yoosung.” You broke into a fit of chuckles while Yoosung could practically feel his brain breaking apart at the same time. “The girls had me – hey, no, give me back my phone. Don’t be like that”, he heard you say, your voice getting quieter and quieter with every word you said. Instead the music and laughing were getting louder. “Goodbye, cutey-pie”, the all screamed into the phone, laughing manically before the connection was cut and Yoosung was left completely speechless, without the chance to so much process what you’d just said, let alone reply. His eyes were trained on the screen of his computer, watching his guild being slaughtered as his character stood motionless in the middle of the battlefield. All of them were cursing Yoosung and he knew he’d have a lot of making up to do, but he just couldn’t care. Not when the one girl he’d been secretly crushing on for months had just admitted to loving him. And the idiot he was he hadn’t immediately said it back!


You’d been very quiet in the chat for a while and Jaehee became increasingly worried about your well-being. Whenever she asked you, you either avoided the question or gave her some half-hearted answer about some minor thing that was bugging you. She knew better though, knew that there was something much, much bigger that was making you feel so down. The worst part about it was though, that she had no idea what the possible reason might be. Everything seemed perfectly fine. Everyone in the RFA loved you, the cafe was doing great, you hadn’t fought and if anything the two of you living together made the situation much more relaxed and fun. You shared the rent and the chores, reducing the stress levels in both of your lives a lot. Jaehee didn’t know what to do anymore. Usually she was all for respecting peoples privacy, but she was legitimately worried for you.

After yet another failed attempted of asking you Jaehee turned to the RFA members. In the chat she told them about the situation and everyone agreed that you had been acting rather strange. However, when she asked for a reason no one seemed to know what was going on either and she left the chat not the smarter. That was until about two hours later she got a call from Zen. Apparently he’d been worried too but as opposite to Jaehee, you’d actually opened up to him. Apparently you’d just broken up with your boyfriend of multiple years and despite the whole thing not having been a messy break-up it still hurt to let go of something like that. Jaehee thanked Zen for sharing that with her – as she felt glad to finally know what was up – but didn’t in any way prolong the conversation, instead ending it rather soon, surprising both Zen and herself at the same time.

Jaehee didn’t fully understand her behaviour either. Usually she would have rejoiced at a call from Zen, done anything to make it last longer. This time, however, she felt somewhat bitter and disappointed instead of cheerful like the usually would. Upon thinking about it Jaehee realized it was because of you. She was hurt because you’d chosen to tell something as important and monumental to Zen instead of her. She thought she was your best friend and yet you went to Zen first. What had she done wrong? Were you mad at her? Did you possibly have feelings for Zen and wanted to let him know you were on the market?! For some reason that one hurt her the most. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint why, but it did. That day she didn’t join any chats either.

She didn’t feel like talking to anyone until she saw your name flash on the screen of her phone and just couldn’t hold back. With a sigh she picked up, ready to hear what you had to say. “Heeeeey Jaeheeeee”, you called into the phone and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that you were intoxicated. Which in itself was quite strange, as you usually never drank, let alone to excess. “MC, Zen told me about your break-up. I am sorry you’re so hurt by it.” What followed was a bitter laugh on your part and a snort like it was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard. “I’m not hurt by it. I was the one who broke up”, you laughed. Now that part had Jaehee rather confused. “But then…why haven’t you been in the chat and why are you drunk”, she asked you. “Because I’m in love with you.” Such a simple reply and yet it shook Jaehee to the core. Especially when she realized that…she felt the same? She hadn’t been jealous of you talking to Zen, she’d been jealous of him talking to you. “Oh…I think we should talk about this when you’re sober. I would like to say it back with you remembering it.”


Jumin had told everyone that he was on an overseas trip, so they should refrain from calling him. So when his phone went off, in the middle of a very important meeting at that, he was admittedly rather irritated. At first he didn’t even consider picking up. Jumin didn’t even look at his buzzing phone. If this deal didn’t go through he would be in big trouble with his father, as he’d been very adamant about what an important client that was. Funnily enough it was actually the client that looked at Jumin’s screen and smiled at him, telling him to pick up. He’d seen your name and figured you were Jumin’s girlfriend. While his assumption was wrong, he was right in thinking that Jumin would care for your call. Somehow, over the course of the last couple of months, Jumin had completely fallen under your spell. He’d never dared to voice as much, always remaining at a comfortable and polite distance, but whenever you reached out to him he found himself compelled to follow your call.

When he picked up the phone, a gentle smile on his face, the first thing he heard was you singing. It was loud and off key, like you weren’t really trying. Turns out that you were just really drunk. He liked the occasional glass of liquor himself, everyone knew of his love for wine, but he was also very clear on setting certain limits. You’d just overstepped one. “MC, are you alright? Is everything okay”, he asked, frowning and trying to ignore everyone at the meeting staring at him. He could hear gasps and nervous screeching from the other end of the line, quiet cursing as you apparently turned down the music a little before finally returning to the phone where Jumin had been waiting. “H-h-how much did you h-hear”, you asked between hiccups. Your voices sounded a little off as well and not just slurred. It was almost strained and Jumin deduced that you’d been crying.

“You were singing that song we danced to at the last party”, he replied, face now somewhat pained. He was just happy you couldn’t see it. The way he knew you, you would have worried. It was a little embarrassing to show this side in front of clients, but he’d been asked to pick up the phone and he could hardly hang up on you when you were in such a state. “You… you re – hic – member”, you asked. Jumin was surprised to realize that he felt physical pain upon hearing how shy and sad you seemed to sound in that moment. What was going on? “Of course I remember. It was a lovely evening, but that doesn’t matter right now. You’ve cried, haven’t you? What happened, MC. You know you can tell me.” He’d expected a lot of things. Everything from a death in the family to you having been fired or such. Never in a million years had Jumin considered that he was the reason for your painful tears, but as it turned out, that was precisely the case.

You went on explaining how the song had come on and how you’d somehow broken down crying because of it. “I’ve been in love with you for so long now and I though…I guess I hoped that-that you felt the same, but you never made any advances and I - oh God, what am I doing? I’m so sorry, Jumin. You’re on a business trip and I’m drunk dialing you. I’m so sorry. I should go. Please forget I ever called. Bye.” You hung up so fast he hadn’t even been able to beg you not to. You were in love with him. In your most vulnerable and honest state the first thing on your mind was to call him to tell him you loved him. Had he known of your feelings you wouldn’t have been crying in the first place. Well, luckily there was more than enough time to remedy that. Jumin instantly got up, frantically gathering his things. “I am so but I will have to cut this meeting short. The woman that has bewitched my body and soul just admitted to loving me and I find myself in dire need to return the sentiment.”


In hindsight he should have seen it coming. You’d tried to talk to him many times over the course of the last couple of months, but while the moment had never been right time and you’d never actually uttered the words he should have been able to deduce them. What was his mastermind good for if he couldn’t even understand as much as the most basic human emotion? At first he’d been happy about it, as he still considered himself a dangerous person for anyone to be around, let alone someone as kindhearted, fragile and breakable like you. Then days of not really talking started to turn into weeks and Seven found himself rather lonely.

He tried to evaluate what had happened, why you’d suddenly stopped talking to him when you still seemed to be alright with talking to everyone else. Even more surprising, however, was the fact that he could not for the love of him understand why it hurt him so much. He’d perfected letting go of people over the years. His job demanded such petty relationships, as everything else was dangerous. However, he started to realize that despite his better judgement, he’d formed a deeper bond with you. One he could no longer ignore as it threatened to consume him. He missed your silly message sessions of just exchanging memes, missed the two of you teasing the rest of the RFA members together, missed your phone calls late and night talking about the silliest things. He missed you and there wasn’t a single robot he could build that would change that.

He attempted to reach out for you once, in a weak moment late at night after yet another exhausting and draining day at work. He’d called you multiple times, dying to just hear your voice for a minute. You didn’t pick up. Not only that, but you even pressed away his call. In that moment Seven realized just how much he’d apparently fucked up your relationship. The problem was though, that he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done. Surprisingly, however, he needed to know though, urgently, and so he went through all your texts and chats and calls to find the reason. Seventeen times. You’d asked him whether you could talk in private and in person seventeen times and every single one of them he’d been bury with something ‘more important’.

At that moment he couldn’t even feel hurt about you ignoring him. He brought it upon himself. Despite it hurting, Seven gave up on reaching you in that moment. He was about to make peace with the fact that you’d never talk to him again when his phone chimed with the ring tone he’d picked for you. When he picked up you sounded drunk…and frustrated? “Now listen here, smartass, because I have something to say and this time I won’t let you off the hook”, you started. Seven tried to stop you, begged you not to say the words he knew you wanted to say, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist and it was just too dangerous.

“Shut up! I’m so tired of your excuses so you’ll listen. I love you, Saeyoung. I love your shitty jokes, love your dumb mistakes and silly glasses. I love every last thing about you other than the fact that you’re trying to push me away all the time. What’s up with that? Anyway, I’ve had it. I know that you know where the apartment is so tomorrow at eight sharp you’ll come and pick me up with a bag of Honey Buddha chips as a gift, you’ll take me to the arcade, let me beat your ass in everything and kiss me goodbye at the door after setting a date for our second date. Understood?!” And really, who could say no?


The thing is, most of your communication happened over the phone. It had all started out with that one fateful text that had led you straight to the RFA. After that your life had been turned upside down and so had his. In amidst all the drama – and his fable attempts to kidnap and recruit you for Magenta – you’d somehow managed to bond. Messages exchanged here and there, but a connection had gradually been build. To the point where he’d been willing to accept your help over his own brothers for the longest of time. You’d been the phone who’d gotten him into a mental institution and for the first couple of weeks texted him very single day just to check up on him. He’d never replied and yet you’d never lost your calm or kindness. If anything you’d showered him in it even more, never giving up on him like everyone else in his life had. 

Somehow he’d fallen for you over the span of a couple of months and while he didn’t allow himself to pursue you, he eagerly waited for every message of yours. Still, Saeran didn’t reach out to you for a multitude of reasons. One of the reasons being that he didn’t feel stable enough to start the relationship with you that he wanted. Then they actually took his phone away in the clinic and despite missing your messages, Saeran didn’t stop them. He had long way to go to be the man you deserved and he would have hated it had he craved and texted you back before the due time. Luckily it was no longer an issue and when he was released a couple months later and got his phone back the first thing he did was check for messages. You’d texted him every day, without fail and Saeran eagerly read through every single one of them, smiling down at his phone as he did.

Of course he would later deny ever having done so, but he knew better. However, he hadn’t quite reached his goal yet and so once more he decided not to reach out. Not when he still had a long way to go. Another couple of months passed. Saeran had joined his twin in the agency, working as both a hacker as well as a field man depending on what they needed for the case. His doctors had deemed him mentally stable, he was earning good money on a more or less proper job and he finally felt like he was in a good place in his life. Of course his first through had been to call you, as you’d made all of it possible. The thought of being with you had kept him sane over the past couple of months. There was nothing else he desired to achieve other than having you in his life.

When you called a mere hour later it was almost spooky, even to him. It felt like you had some sort of connection and the thought alone made Saeran laugh out. Still, it seemed like a sign. Him realizing that he was stable with you calling right after had to mean that it was alright to go after you and so he picked up the phone. Admittedly he hadn’t thought that you’d be drunk out of your mind, but at least the conversation was funny that way. “MC, I think you should really consider sleeping it off”, he’d suggested after you attempting to serenade him for the third time, assuring him just how much you loved him. “Who are you? My Mommy?” For someone who’d played mother hen for him and the rest of the RFA for so long you sure sounded judgemental. Saeran couldn’t help but laugh.

“No, but I’d like to be your boyfriend”, he’d replied easily, smirking as he waited for your reaction. “Wait…what?” You’d sounded so utterly confused, it had been extremely hard not to burst out laughing. In fact, Saeran had been forced to cover his mouth, take a deep breath to calm himself. It was almost as if you hadn’t even considered the possibility he might return the feelings. “Nothing, just go to sleep goddamn it ”, he’d said attempting to sound stern and failing miserably. Lucky for him you were drunk enough that you’d not notice.“Jeez, fine. Bye mom. Love you.” He’d hummed, hung up the phone and that was that. Come morning he would definitely tease you about that conversation, but he wouldn’t be any less pleased about it. After all, he’d just officially made you his.

anonymous asked:

are you still doing kakasaku stories? if so i'd love any soulmate theme stuff!

Thank you for the prompt, nonnie!

Dreams Are Made of This

Also on ao3 and ffn

               Kakashi dreams were soft and blurred around the edges. He caught a smile once in a while and the colors pink and green, but he couldn’t tell you more than that. He had no idea who his soulmate was. Everyone dreamt about their other half, but Kakashi’s dreams still hadn’t gotten around to giving him a face. Kurenai told him it was because he hadn’t met them yet. The dreams got clearer the closer your relationship got.

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Sirius and Lily Make James Jealous :)

eh whatever

  • the group at the end of 6th year. So they are all really good friends but jily isn’t like official (yet).
  • Lily and Sirius both being in a bummed mood because their home lives are basically shit.
  • “Hey. Lils. I know what will cheer us all up.”
  • “This better be good. Spill it Black.”
  • Sirius rubbing his hands together like a greedy little child that just got an adult to say yes to buying him candy. 
  • “Okay. Okay. Okay. So, you know how Prongs is like madly in love with you and you are like totally head over heals for him?”
  • Lily blushing because she doesn’t know how obvious it is that she likes James. “I never said I liked-” 
  • “So what we do is we pretend to date right?”
  • Lily making a gagging face.
  • “And Prongs will get like super jealous and then he’ll make a move and you two will end up together. Plus we get to see James get flustered. It’s a win-win!” 
  • Sirius getting all excited and clapping his hands and jumping up and down. 
  • “I’m not so sure Sirius.” 
  • “Please, Lils. Please! I’m not asking you to fuck me to make him jealous.” he winks at Lily, “although that is always an option.”
  • Lily starting to say no but then deciding that there was no harm in playing along and that she really needed something to take her mind of petunia. Plus maybe it would get Potter’s attention. 
  • “Fine.”

  • The next morning Sirius and Lily walk into the great hall for breakfast holding hands. 
  • James seeing them and spitting is food out all over the place. (Most of it landing in Remus’s hair.)
  • Sirius pulling Lily along to the table. “Morning Prongs” 
  • Remus hiding a laugh behind the sleeve of his sweater because last time he checked, Sirius wasn’t interested in girls. So this must be some sort of prank. 
  • James staring at them throughout most of the meal because hOW THE HELL DID HIS BEST MATE DECIDE IT WAS OKAY TO STEAL HIS GIRL!
  • Sirius planting a kiss on Lily’s cheek causing her to blush a bright shade of pink. 
  • Lily deciding she better go hard or go home and turning to Sirius with doe eyes, placing her hand on his chest (as if to fend him off) and saying in a low voice, “Sirius, honey, save it for the dorm.”
  • James’s eyes almost popping out of his head.
  • Him spitting, “Pads, could I talk to you in the hall for a moment?”
  • “Sure,” winking at Lily, “I’ll be back in a moment my little… deer.”
  • James and Sirius barely making it to the hallway before James grabs Sirius by the collar and pushing him against the wall.

  • “What the hell do you think you are doing?! That’s Lily.”
  • Sirius putting his hands up, “I’m just having a little fun. And trust me, mate, she’s fun.”
  • “We agreed in first year that Lily was off limits.” James sounding that he’s either going to start crying or screaming.
  • “Look. Prongs. You want the girl? Go get the girl.”
  • “I will.” 
  • James storming back into the Great Hall and yelling in front of everyone, “Lily Evans, you deserve so much more then that dog could ever give you.” 
  • By this point in time, James has made it back to the table where Lily is sitting and he bends down, gently placing his hands on either side of her face, and crashing his lips onto hers. 
  • He can feel her smiling through the kiss but doesn’t care why because she is kissing him back. 
  • And the first years wondering what the HELL is going on.
  • Sirius sitting next to Remus while Lily and James are still eating eachothers faces. 
  • “They are pretty cute,” Remus says with a smirk.
  • Sirius leaning real close to Remus’s ear and whispering, “Not as cute as you.”


anonymous asked:

I saw that a while back you wrote about who needs therapy the most in the RFA. Going off of that, since I see this discussed a lot in the fandom, who do you think might have suffer from mental illness? Everyone struggles and is deserving of help. That's obvious and I hope people know that. I just see a lot of different opinions on the subject, and since (with the exclusion of Rika) nothing's ever confirmed in-game, I'd love to get your perspective. Your analyses are so well-done!

This request was a little difficult mainly because I really don’t want to insult anyone or say something wrong that could hurt anyones feelings or such. Therefor I want to preface this by saying that I am, by no means, a professional. I wanted to become a Psychiatrist so I did learn a couple of things on my own, but nowhere near enough to be accurate about everything. I have a couple of ideas what kind of mental illnesses the Mystic Messenger crew might have based on internet research, but as always don’t quote me on this…


Zen =  Body Dysmorphic Disorder or BDD

Honestly I don’t really think that Zen has any mental illnesses, after all you can struggle in life without it being a full blown mental illness, but if I would had to say one that he might have I’d choose BDD. Not all people suffering from BDD are those stick thin girls that see themselves as overweight when looking in the mirror. There are many nuances to every mental disorder, including BDD. Let’s have a look why I think Zen might have BDD:

✓ preoccupation with physical appearance

✓ belief that one has an abnormality or defect in appearance that makes her ugly

✓ frequently looking in the mirror

✗ avoiding mirrors altogether

✓ believing that others take special notice of ones appearance in a negative way

✗ frequent cosmetic procedures with little satisfaction

✓ excessive grooming

✓ feeling extremely self-conscious

✗ refusing to appear in pictures

✗ skin picking

✓ comparing appearance with that of others

✗ avoiding social situations

✓ camouflaging (with body position, clothing, makeup, hair, hats, etc.)

✓ excessive exercise

✓ changing clothes excessively

As I said many times before, I feel like Zen’s excessive narcissism is nothing but a facade to hide that he really just hates his body and himself due to what happened in his childhood. In order to overcome one negative extreme he through himself into another extreme, self-hate to excessive self-love, even going as far as to pursue a career where everyone could and would see him. He constantly talks about his looks, is self-conscious about his albinism, constantly stares at himself in mirrors or phones, knows that people notice his albinism and fears it’s negative, constantly grooms himself, is self-conscious, has an excessive need to compare himself to others, exercises excessively and for his job he constantly has to camouflage and change clothing. Out of all the symptoms for it, Zen sure fits a lot of them.
There is even a good reason why he might have it:

?   having biological relatives with body dysmorphic disorder

✓ childhood teasing

?  physical or sexual abuse

✓ low self-esteem

✓ societal pressure or expectations of beauty

He got teased by his parents and hated by his teacher. He had low self-esteem because of it and then of course societal pressure got added to the mix later on once he became an actor. I’m not sure whether he suffered physical or sexual abuse, although I wouldn’t completely cut out the possibility, if you consider that it was hinted at that his teacher had a thing for him as well as the fact that his parents seemed like the abusive type and he was in a biker gang. I also don’t know whether his parents might have had BDD, but it is a possibility. Either way, looking at all this Zen could be suffering from BDD, although I don’t fully believe he does.

Yoosung = Addictive Personality Disorder

I already mentioned before that I think that Yoosung has quite the addictive personality and look there, the shoe kind of fits. I’m basically 99% sure that Yoosung has some kind of addictive personality disorder or something similar now let’s see why:

✓ Low self-esteem

✓ A tendency to impulsive behaviour

✗ An antisocial personality

✓ Difficulty delaying gratification

✓ A disposition toward sensation seeking

✓ Someone who values nonconformity to an extreme

✓ Someone with a weak commitment to the goals for achievement that are generally accepted by “normal” society

✓ Someone who is tolerant of deviant behaviour

✓ Someone who is socially alienated

✓ Having an increased sense of stress

Basically…almost all of the symptoms fit to some extend or the other. It is undeniable that Yoosung has low self-esteem, something that is mentioned in basically all of the routes. He is very impulsive and never thinks things through, like getting his eye almost cut out by one Saeran Choi, because he just had to safe you right then right now without planning. He barely makes any friends outside of his games and the people he already knew, namely the RFA members, when Yoosungs wants to play he needs to do it instantly without any patience to wait, he has given up on studying in order to pursue his addiction – gaming – tolerates a lot of deviant behaviour going on in the RFA, namely whatever one particular hacker is up to, and despite being a lazy fart who never cleans nor studies nor does care for himself properly he seems to be under constant stress. On top of that he is completely obsessed with the women in his life; first Rika then you. He latches on and is incapable of letting go until something new comes around that catches his attention. All of these are pretty fitting, don’t you think?

♨ Jaehee = Anxiety Disorder ♨

Just like with Zen I don’t really think that Jaehee has any disorders or illnesses in particular, just your every day stress of Korean workplaces wearing her down. However, if I had to pick one that might be fitting it would be Anxiety Disorder. To clarify, I don’t really mean the anxiety most people would picture; being afraid to speak in public etc – as we all know that Jaehee is capable of doing that – but more on the lines of being constantly stressed and on edge:

?  Irrational fears

✓ Muscle tension

?  Chronic indigestion

?  Stage fright

✓ Self-consciousness

✓ Panic, fear, and uneasiness

?  Flashbacks

✓ Perfectionism

?  Compulsive behaviors

✓ Self-doubt

✓ Problems sleeping

✓ Not being able to be still and calm

✓ Dizziness (mentioned in one of the bad endings)

The amount of question marks is precisely why I don’t really think she has it, but potentially could. A lot of those we cannot know for sure, as such things are never explicitly mentioned or even hinted in in the game, but I definitely could see being the case. I’m about 90% sure that Jaehee has compulsive behaviours as well as the kind of flashbacks connected to anxiety disorder. I also believe that while she is able to hold a meeting that speaking in front of people is something she had to force herself to learn and that Jaehee actually has stage fright. As for any physical symptoms I can’t even deduce whether she might have them or not, but as I said I could imagine it. Then again, I’m really not sure and this is all just me thinking of possibilities I don’t really think are true.

Jumin = Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder

This is something I have personal experience with, since I have OCPD. Just as a side note, OCPD is not OCD and has very little in common with what you see OCD being portrayed as in the media. Also, to make something clear, I am not giving my favourite my own disorder to feel connected to him. I feel connected to him, because I feel like he has the same disorder. Jumin is very similar to me, which is why I understand his struggles the best and connect to him. Now enough about me, let’s dig into what OCPD is and why I think Jumin has it:

Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder is characterized by a preoccupation with orderliness, perfectionism, and mental and interpersonal control, at the expense of flexibility, openness, and efficiency.

- may have such difficulty deciding which tasks take priority or what is the best way of doing some particular task that they may never get started on anything.

- prone to becoming upset or angry in situations in which they are not able to maintain control of their physical or interpersonal environment, although the anger is typically not expressed directly. On other occasions, anger may be expressed with righteous indignation over a seemingly minor matter.

-  may be especially attentive to their relative status in dominance-submission relationships and may display excessive deference to an authority they respect and excessive resistance to authority that they do not respect.

- Individuals with this disorder usually express affection in a highly controlled or stilted fashion and may be very uncomfortable in the presence of others who are emotionally expressive. Their everyday relationships have a formal and serious quality, and they may be stiff in situations in which others would smile and be happy. They carefully hold themselves back until they are sure that whatever they say will be perfect.

✓ Is preoccupied with details, rules, lists, order, organization and schedules

✓ Shows perfectionism which can interfere with task completion

✓ Is excessively devoted to work and productivity to the exclusion of leisure activities and friendships

✓ Is overconscientious, scrupulous, and inflexible about matters of morality, ethics, or values

✓ Is unable to discard worn-out or worthless objects even when they have no sentimental value

✓ Is reluctant to delegate tasks or to work with others unless they submit to exactly his or her way of doing things

✓ Adopts a miserly spending style toward both self and others; money is viewed as something to be hoarded for future catastrophes

✓ Shows significant rigidity and stubbornness

Is there really anything I need to explain about this? All of these fit Jumin like a glove tailored for him. There are really only two things that I need to clarify something on. For one we don’t know how Jumin acts about discarding things he has no logical need for, but I feel from the way he treats the pen his father gives him, that said point fits. Despite not needing a golden diamond pen and probably having a million more that work just the same he starts an entire search party to get it back, probably out of sentimental reasons but also because he can’t discard such things. As for the miserly spending style, something most people would disagree with, Jumin doesn’t waste money. He lives in luxury and he does like spending his money, but he doesn’t waste it. The things he buys or pays a lot of money for are practical for the better part; like a nutritionist and gym to keep him healthy. With the money he earns he could live a lot more extravagant than he already does, but he’s not wasteful and exactly like described values money and hoarding it. Other than that, everything else fits perfectly!

☼ Saeyoung/Seven = Major Depression ☼ 

Honestly guys, does this even need explaining? He’s flunking his depression in everyone’s faces all day, every day and yet no one seems to care. Despite the fact that he doesn’t have just ordinary depression but major depression. I’m talking hardcore bullshit here and rightly so. Let’s break this down once and for all:

✓ Fatigue or loss of energy almost every day

✓ Feelings of worthlessness or guilt almost every day

✓ Impaired concentration, indecisiveness

✓ Insomnia or hypersomnia almost every day

✓ Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in almost all activities nearly every day

✓ Restlessness or feeling slowed down

✓ Recurring thoughts of death or suicide

✓ Significant weight loss or gain

✓ Change in your appetite (not eating enough or overeating)

✓ Low self-esteem

✓ Feeling of hopeless

For a while I was torn between Saeyoung being just depressed or having manic depression aka bipolar disorder. I decided to depression, mainly because his ‘episodes’ of euphoria are mostly fake and don’t really happen in proper cycles. Then again, we only get to know them for eleven days and usually those cycles can take up to weeks when not regulated with the proper medication, so who knows. However, it’s a 100% clear that Saeyoung is majorly depressed. Other than his eccentric chatting behaviour he barely seems to have energy, even the smallest things can break his concentration, he never sleeps, other than his interest in cars he has no other interest or pleasurable activities left, Saeyoung constantly mentions how worthless he is, how guilty he feels over his brother, how hopeless he feels of getting out of where he’s got himself stuck and how he wants to die. As for the significant weight loss, he barely eats but what he eats is horrible junk. He should weight much much more than he does considering his diet, which I put into the same category as weight loss. Therefor Saeyoung shows all the symptoms of a majorly depressed person. 

☀ Saeran = Borderline Personality Disorder ☀

For a hot minute I thought about Saeran having depression as well, but I feel like his mental issues go a little deeper and more complicated than ‘just’ depression. Upon researching some of the symptoms he has compared to his twin brother I stumbled over BPD, not to be confused with bipolar disorder (happened to me ones). People with BPD usually experience symptoms like:

✓ Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment

✓A pattern of intense and unstable relationships with family, friends, and loved ones, often swinging from extreme closeness and love to extreme dislike or anger

✓ Distorted and unstable self-image or sense of self

✓ Impulsive and often dangerous behaviours

✓ Recurring suicidal behaviours or threats or self-harming behaviour

✓ Intense and highly changeable moods, with each episode lasting from a few hours to a few days

✓ Chronic feelings of emptiness

✓ Inappropriate, intense anger or problems controlling anger

✓ Having stress-related paranoid thoughts

✓ Having severe dissociative symptoms, such as feeling cut off from oneself, observing oneself from outside the body, or losing touch with reality

Much like with Saeyoung this case of mental illness needs very little explaining. The symptoms speak for themselves, as they perfectly fit to Saeran, all of them. Now some might say that he didn’t show those symptoms as a child and that is true, although I wouldn’t say that his BPD was caused only by what Rika did to him, although that surely played a big part. There are three main reasons that are considered risk factors: Genetics, Environmental and Social Factors and Brain Factors. The environmental/social factor is quite obviously what Rika did to Saeran. Most notable factors in that category are traumatic life events such as abuse (mother then Rika) and/or abandonment (his father then Saeyoung) during childhood. What Rika did to Saeran also works into the brain factors, as her torture probably caused structural and functional changes in his brain that changed his behaviour and way of thinking so drastically. As for the genetics, I actually wouldn’t be so surprised of the twins’ mother had some sort of mental disorder or even BPD that caused her to lash out on the boys like that and in Saeran’s case pass it on. It might even explain why he was sickly as a child while his brother wasn’t. Although that is purely theoretical, the rest isn’t as much. Poor baby…

📷 Jihyun/V = White Knight Syndrome 📷

Now I honestly have to say that I’m not sure whether White Knight Syndrome falls in the mental illness category or not, but it fit so perfectly to V and there was very little else I could have come up with, so I’m putting it into the list. Now what exactly is White Knight Syndrome or what are the symptoms:

✓ Fears emotional distance

✓ Is very emotionally vulnerable and sensitive

✓ Has a tendency to idealize the partner

✓ Has an extreme need to be viewed as important or unique

~  Tends to be self-critical or reactively blames, devalues, and manipulate others

In relationships:

✓ Is attracted to a needy partner or a partner with a history of trauma, loss, abuse, or addiction

✓ Fears being separated from the partner, losing the partner’s love or approval, or being abandoned by the partner

✓ Engages in controlling behaviour, often under the guise of helping

✓ Maintains or restores connection with the partner by being extremely helpful or good

✗  Responds ambivalently to the partner’s success

✓ Describes a sense of “oneness” with the partner

✓ Fails to recognize the partner’s manipulative behaviours

✓ Is seduced by the sexual or dramatic behaviour of the partner

✓ Evokes strong feelings in the partner in order to avoid his or her own emotional discomfort

✓ Maintains hope for a gratifying relationship by denying the reality of the partner’s issues

I mean…hello V? Other than the point about his response to his partner being ambivalent everything fits perfectly. That is precisely why I find it so irritating when people describe his feelings towards Rika as love. No, V did not love Rika or at least not in a healthy way. He loved her instability and he was obsessed with the idea of saving her. So much so that he was willing to manipulate, devaluate and fuck over the rest of his friends. The only reason I used ~ on that particular point is because while he is self-critical as well, he never reactively blames anyone but himself. Frankly rightly so. Anyone who thinks that V is in any way innocent is wrong. He didn’t stop Rika. Despite knowing of her plans all along he never once did anything to stop her and therefor he is almost as much at fault as Rika is. In fact my American law he would be charged with accessory to a hefty crime amongst other things earning him a couple of years in prison, just saying. I’m sure his White Knight Syndrome played into why he did what he did, but that doesn’t make him any more innocent nor excuses what torture other people were put through because he put Rika first and did nothing to stop her.

Car Park Confessions.

A/n: This is actually the first thing I wrote back in February when I decided to stop just imagining scenarios in my head and put them down on paper, and it was the first thing I wrote since school about eight years ago.

My other works; fluff or if your over 18 smut!

Proof read by way of a text-speech device.

Summary: Clichéd af but I think sometimes thats what you need! It’s a sort of au where Bucky is a celebrity for some reason, maybe a singer, or an actor like Sebastian, but it doesn’t really matter. Established friendship…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 3207

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, some angst and crying, but it’s all right in the end!


Three am. Too early and too late. The street lights burn your eyes as you lean on a traffic bollard outside the club, tuning out as your friends attempt to find a cab willing to take a trio of somewhat drunk party-goers with very little money. Cold hands to your cheeks startle you, and you find yourself staring into Wanda’s face.

“You okay?” You nod in answer, smiling softly. The chilly air is getting to you, and you stand up, wrapping your arms around yourself as you shiver. She pulls you into a hug, resting her chin on your head, and rubbing her hands up and down your back. Another set of arms encircle the two of you, warming you considerably.

“Y/N, do you mind giving me your phone?” Natasha asks you, and you pass it over without question. “Also, there’s a bench just along here and I think we could all do with a sit down, come on.”

There’s some good natured complaining about how cold the metal seat is, but once you’re sat with your legs over Wanda’s and her head on your shoulder, you’re suddenly very tired.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” you mumble at the equally exhausted pile of limbs you’re twisted up with.

“No promises.”

A car pulling up in front of your new ‘bed’ has you jolting back awake. You’re alone on the bench, your two friends currently standing beside it talking with the driver of a very nice Audi that has you frowning as you try to place it. You sit and raise a hand to your hair in an attempt to smooth it down, before repositioning your top that has ride up your body a little too much, the exhausted sound you let out attracting attention.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Natasha grins, pulling open the side door of the car idling next to you. “Time to go home Sleeping Beauty”.

Eager to get out of the cold, and hearing your bed calling, you stumble up and slip ungracefully into the passenger seat. You reach for your seat belt and click it in place before turning to the driver and freezing.

“Hello Y/N.”

“… Bucky.”

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