you know sometimes when something quite amuses you but you don't really know why

xanyxhi  asked:

You know, I've had this in my mind for a while. But, at some point (i forget when) you said something along the lines of villian!izuku sneaking into the class 1A to terrorize the students. And the first thing that popped in my mind afterwards was "... how did he even get into UA in the first place? how did he bypass security?", and now, with the recent post, the question came back in the "mouse man didn't stop me" part, and I can't help but wonder if he let izuku because of reasons...

how did izuku bypass security, indeed. i’m pretty sure izuku could break in, he just might not be able to do that undetected. that’s not his concern, though, he mostly just wants to raise hell for the hell of it. the first time izuku breaks in, he calls the principal as he does so ( “hey, this is [izuku’s villain name here] but you can call me deku!! just to let you know, i’m breaking into yuuei right now to visit bakacchan, but i’ll be out of your hair in a jiff.” ) and gets chased off the premises by aizawa. 

every time he breaks in, he calls the principal, actually. he doesn’t really have to – the security system would detect him and notify nedzu anyways – but it doesn’t take long for nedzu to realize that it’s a gesture of good will. an “i mean no harm” message, if you will. in fact, izuku is quite nice about the whole thing – he never tries to hack the system, and he (usually) stays in sight (when not setting up some kind of trap). nedzu wouldn’t call deku “not a threat,” but perhaps he can say he “has no ill will to the students.” he’s curious, and he does some digging. 

“ah, [izuku’s villain name here]? he’s…something,” says tsukauchi. “he stole my coffee machine the last time he was here, but he replaced it with a small cabinet of alcohol with the instructions for a molotov cocktail taped to it. i don’t know.” 

“he’s been showing up at yuuei quite a lot recently,” nedzu says. “is it worth the time to try and stop him?” 

“no,” says tsukauchi immediately. then, “it’s easier to let him do what he wants. i have been trying to arrest him for years and it never works. he seems to have taken a shine to your school; he won’t do it any permanent harm.” 

“he is a villain,” nedzu reminds tsukauchi. 

tsukauchi sighs. “i know. but he…how do i say this? he’s compassionate, and he cares. i think he might have been a hero if he wasn’t raised a villain, but… well. the first time i met him, he reverse pickpocketed me and gave me ten dollars he just stole from the bank. what’s the point of stealing from the bank if you only take ten dollars? i don’t know. he’s weird, but he doesn’t do irreparable damage. he even helps sometimes.” 

“helps?” nedzu queries. 

“this is off the record,” says tsukauchi, “but [izuku’s villain name] saved some of our deep cover agents, once. he…well, it certainly isn’t legal. but he’s intervened where neither heroes nor police can, before. and i can’t tell you how many times i’ve been investigating a case and some important information mysteriously gets stuck to the bottom of my desk with gum.” 

that seems to be the general consensus from the heroes: deku is a chaotic, destructive villain, but no one has ever been permanently injured or killed by his attacks. “and even his attacks seem more like highly elaborate pranks,” midnight tells nedzu. “he attacked gang orca’s office after it suffered a large-scale villain attack, once, but it was mostly just confetti and a very sparkly game of dodge. then he gave gang orca an amateur attempt at a wedding cake. the office chased him off, but they seemed happier afterwards.” 

nedzu thinks about it, and he watches deku as he tricks yuuei students into fighting smarter and harder. interesting indeed. 

the next time deku calls to tell nedzu he’s breaking in, nedzu says, “why not stop at my office for a talk, first?” 

there is a pause. 

“do you have tea?” deku asks. 

“quite an excellent selection,” nedzu says, and laughs. 

“i’ll be right there,” deku says cheerily, and hangs up. 

the discussion is enlightening. deku never manages to sit still for more than a minute before his attention starts wandering, consumes three cups of tea, and pulls out something that looks a bit like a gutted clock’s innards to fiddle with during their talk. (he also starts to take apart nedzu’s clock before nedzu stops him, at which point he puts the thing away.) nedzu gets the impression that deku is trying to behave, which is really quite entertaining. 

“you may visit yuuei,” nedzu says, “but i have some conditions.” 

“sure,” says deku. “it’s your turf, right? that’s fine.” 

nedzu smiles. “excellent,” he says. well, he was expecting more resistance than that. deku really is strange. “first – no harming the students, physically or psychologically.” 

deku has climbed onto nedzu’s desk and sat himself there in the time it took to say that. “are you sure? is that like, a rule rule? is no fighting allowed?” he looks disappointed. so very disappointed, and he has a truly splendid pair of puppy-dog eyes. 

“no permanent harm,” nedzu clarifies, and is amused by the way deku lights back up. 

“okay, can do!” deku chirps. “what else?” 

they hammer out some ground rules. no excessive property damage; no interrupting a lesson more than twice a week, and not for the same teacher in the same class. things like that. overall, a very productive session. nedzu offers izuku a yuuei ID before he goes, but izuku pulls a face and waves him off, citing the fact that he hates paperwork. the ID isn’t even paperwork – it’s a card – but izuku is not dissuaded. 

probably for the best, nedzu thinks, amused. he peels the tracker disguised as a sticker off the ID. no sense in wasting resources. 

he’ll keep an eye on things, but as long as yuuei students remain unharmed, he’ll do nothing else. 


or, the one where izuku respects nedzu for reasons unknown, and nedzu is amused and takes advantage of this, and nedzu also sits back and enjoys the show.

d for "daniel" (daniel seavey)

Warnings: Nuh-uh.

A/N: this is super long! but i hope its worth the read:) it took me forever to write!! thanks to @seaveyslut for helping me again!

You roll your eyes after your best friend, Christina, asks you to go to her boyfriend’s concert with her. You’re sitting on the couch of your one bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, arguing with her for the past 20 minutes. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N! It’ll be fun!” She nags pleadingly for the billionth time. 

You look up at Christina, pausing Teen Wolf and giving her a glance of clear annoyance, “Fine, I’ll go with you. Just shut up about it, please.” 

Christina chuckles, “Yes, yes! Thank you. I love you. You won’t regret coming. The boys are so great!” She reaches over and gives you a bone-crushing hug. 

Boys? You had thought that the show was only Corbyn performing. You get up from the couch and head over to your kitchen. “What do you mean ‘boys’?” you say with furrowed brows, twisting open a bottle of water. 

“The boys. Why Don’t We?” She declares, expecting you to know whatever the hell she was talking about. 

After taking a long sip of water, you shake your head, confused, “Well? Finish your sentence. Why don’t we what?” 

“No, Y/N, that’s the name of their group. I thought I told you about this before?”

Having a little bit of an “aha” moment, you recall the time Christina was rambling on about Corbyn’s boy band. “I may not have been listening fully.” She looks at you with disbelief. “You were talking to me while I was binge watching Supernatural. I can’t believe you expect me to listen to what you’re saying when I’m watching one of the greatest shows that ever aired television.” 

“Oh my god, whatever. Change into something cute. Let’s go.” Christina demands as she crosses her arms over her chest. 

Being the girlfriend of one of the band members definitely had its perks. Christina was able to get the two of you into the venue an hour early to look around and find a spot. 

After wandering around the empty venue, you and Christina sit down on a couple of stools near the stage.

You both are on your phone, waiting for who knows what. It gets really quiet a few moments later, and you hear singing voices that are soothing, angelic even. The voices seem to be harmonizing perfectly.

“Christina.” You nudge your distracted best friend, “Christina!” 

Turning towards at you, she questions, “What? I’m listening!” 

“Do you hear that?” You look up to the ceiling, amazed. “Oh my god, I think God is calling out to me with his choir of angels.”

She begins laughing hysterically. She catches her breath and says, “Those aren’t angels, honey. They’re the boys rehearsing for the show.”

“You didn’t tell me that they were that good. Jeez, they sound like Justin Bieber and Shawn Mendes’s love children.” You announce in shock. 

Her mouth curved into a smile, “Please never call them that again!” She laughs at your poor choice of words. “Oh and Corbyn texted me a while ago. He said we can go backstage. They’re just hanging out there, so let’s go?”

“Okay, but I really have to pee; I’ve been holding it forever.” You glance up from your phone. Christina points to where the bathroom is, and you shuffle in that direction. 

After doing your business, you wash and dry your hands. Immediately after stepping out of the restroom, you slam headlong into an unlucky passerby. It had felt like you ran straight into a brick wall. You and the unfamiliar person both end up on the floor groaning.

Raising your hand to the point of contact on your head, you look up at the stranger, “Oh god. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking.” 

The slender boy in front of you stands up and offers you his hand. You grasp it as he helps you up. Noticing something, you take in his looks, noticing his bright blue eyes and his little tooth gap, a cute gap actually. It seems as if you’ve seen him somewhere, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. 

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “No, it’s fine. I was the one running at full speed towards the bathroom…” The boy glances at you with pleading eyes. “Are you okay?”

You let out a light chuckle, “I’m good honestly. Just a little lightheaded, but it’s nothing I won’t get over. Don’t worry.”

“My name’s Daniel.” His lips tug into a charming smile as he puts out his hand.

Shaking it, you tell him, “I’m Y/N.”

“So, uh, do you like Why Don’t We? I heard that they’re pretty great, like ‘the best boy band out there’ great,” Daniel chats.

Unsure of what to tell him, you confess, “Well, my best friend forced me to come today. I don’t think I’d know much about them if she didn’t make me go with her.”

“They’re gonna be so dope. Just wait. You’ll love them,” he says with a smug grin.

“Will I? I really hope you’re right. Wouldn’t want to waste a perfectly good night on a band I might not like.” You let out with a shrug.

Weirdly, Daniel looks a little hurt, “If you don’t like them, let me make it up to you. Give me your phone number.” He reaches out, and you pull your phone from your pocket. “I’m putting in my number. Call me after the show if you were disappointed. I’ll make it up to you with a fun night with D.”

You stare at him in amusement, “Oh my god. I don’t know if I want a ‘fun night with D.’ Sounds a little kinky if you ask me.”

“Oh! I- I meant a fun night with me, ‘D’ as in Daniel. I swear it sounded better in my head. I’m so sorry,” he turns as red as a tomato from embarrassment.

“No, it’s okay. I will definitely give you a call if I find that this band isn’t the ‘greatest out there.’” You chortle at him, entertained by his slight awkwardness.

Daniel smiles at you. As if he suddenly remembers something important, he lets in a small gasp, “Oh, shoot. I’ve got to go my friends are probably waiting for me. It was really nice meeting you. Hopefully next time we see each other we both don’t end up on the floor.”

“Yeah.” You grin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Hopefully.”

He begins walking away, and you head into the direction you came from, towards Christina.

“Y/N, where the hell have you been?” She looks at you, worried and a bit angry. “Did you fall in the toilet or something?”

You wave her off as an attempt to calm her down, “I just had a little trouble at the bathroom.”

“Ew. Nevermind that. Let’s go!” Christina grabs onto your hand and pulls you toward the stage.

The both of you head over to what seems to be the band’s dressing room.

Christina gently knocks on the door as she pushes it open, “Hey, guys!”

“Christina!” Corbyn, Christina’s boyfriend, yells from the other side of the room. He quickly gets up and rushes over to her to give her a hug.

After their hug breaks, Corbyn looks over at you, “Oh hey, Y/N. Christina told me that she was trying to convince you to come. I can’t believe you actually went through with it. I’m glad.” His lips tug into a smile. “I wanna introduce you to the boys.”

Corbyn walks over to a couch with two boys occupying it. He points to one with curly, kind of noodle-like hair and another with rosy cheeks who looks a little too young to be touring the country, and says, “This is Jack and Zach. Jack, Zach, this is Y/N. She’s Christina’s best friend.”

Jack looks up from his phone and greets you, “Hey, Y/N. Nice to meet you. I’m the cool one of the band.” He smirks at you somewhat flirtatiously and winks.

“I’m Zach, and feel free to ignore him. Sometimes he pretends to speak French, when he only actually knows one sentence.” Zach gives Jack a joking side eye.

Laughing at their playfulness, you acknowledge multiple bags in the room filled with snacks: Gushers, Nutter Butters, dry roasted peanuts, Oreos, and even a few watermelons. “Okay, what the hell?” You stare at the boys in complete shock.

Simultaneously, the three of them say, “Our fans are great.”

Corbyn then starts walking over to the corner of the room where a tall, brown eyed boy stands. The boy informs you, “Hey. My name’s Jonah.” He gently wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in for a hug.

You give him a small smile, “Y/N.”

Suddenly, a voice from what seems to be the bathroom speaks up, “You guys? There’s no more toilet paper. Can someone get me some?”

Jack groans in frustration, while Zach puts his head in his hands, embarrassed. Jonah walks over to the bathroom door, knocking on it. As the door slightly opens with a creak, a hand pops out, and Jonah gives the roll of toilet paper to the person behind the door.

After a little while, the restroom door opens once again, but instead of a hand, out comes a tall bo- 

 Oh my god. You laugh to yourself, cheeks turning red. Daniel! The boy that almost gave me a concussion. 

With your mouth hanging open, you realize that he’s the fifth member of Why Don’t We, and earlier he was definitely giving his band a little shoutout.

Yours and Daniel’s eyes lock, and Daniel suddenly looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Daniel, bro, you okay?” Corbyn puts his hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

As if he snaps out of a trance, Daniel shakes his head, turning his head to Corbyn, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good, man, because there’s someone I want to introduce you to.” Corbyn gestures to you, “This is Y/N. She and Christina have been best friends for the longest time.”

You chuckle a little since both you and Daniel know that the two of you no longer need introductions. “We’ve actually met. Earlier we both ran into each other… quite literally.”

Daniel hangs his head low from embarrassment, and Christina speaks up from the other side of the room, “Oh! So that’s why you took so long at the bathroom!” She laughs hard after coming to that realization.

 To your surprise, the Why Don’t We show was actually really great. The boys have such an amazing stage presence, and they’re such angels to their fans. You definitely had to hand it to Daniel. If they weren’t the greatest band out there, the boys were certainly getting there.

Christina took you back to your apartment right after the show to avoid all the commotion with what she and the boys called “the afterparty” and “limelights.”

After getting settled in with Netflix and some popcorn, your phone begins to ring. You walk over to the counter to where you set it down last, and the screen reads, “Incoming Call from ‘Daniel (the boy that ran into you like a bull im sorry).’”

You laugh to yourself at the long name he decided to put as his contact, answering it, “I’m really digging the contact name. It’s a little lengthy for me, but it’ll have to do.” You smile.

“I’m glad you like it.” From the other end, Daniel lets out an exhausted sigh, “Judging by the fact that you didn’t call me to tell me that you had a terrible time and you want a refund, I’m assuming that you liked the show?”

“Oh, yeah. I liked it for sure. You guys are great. And why didn’t you just tell me that you were apart of the band instead of shamelessly self-promoting it?”

“Umm… Always plug?” He says.

You giggle at his response, “And about that ‘fun night with D,’ although I may have liked the show, I might like a day with you a lot better.”

As if you can see him smile through the phone, he beams, “I would love that. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 1pm?”

anonymous asked:

Oh my gosh, the newest ddadds post! Identity porn at it's finest! But, ouch, that could be really messy if they don't figure it out fast enough. Or funny, depending on how the react. Amanda and Lucien should find it hilarious, either way, if I'm reading the characters right.

Original Post

XDD Yeah, in case anyone hasn’t figured it out yet, I’m always a slut for identity porn :P

Anyways yeah, given the two of them had dated for quite a while (3-4 years at least) when they were in college, I don’t think it would take them too long to figure it out.

It starts off slow, with small things that are easy to overlook. 

When Damien falls into step so easily with the shorter MC, adjusting his pace without even having to think about it. 

When MC knows exactly how close Damien is to losing his temper from the tilt of his lips and the harshness of his hand gestures.

When they share subtle little inside jokes without even thinking about it, and the moment is over so fast and they’re moving onto other topics before either of them has enough time to realize that the other shouldn’t have understood what the joke was.

They can anticipate each other’s thoughts and gestures so easily- 

(”We were meant for each other!” Damien gushes to Mary one day. “It feels like I’ve known him for years and years!”)

-but it’s still just different enough that it neither of them get suspicious at first. Because people change so much in ten years, even when the most important parts stay the same.

MC ends up being the first one to figure it out.

It starts off innocuous enough.

MC is staring at Damien one day, marveling at how handsome he is. He absently reaches out to brush back a lock of Damien’s long, silky hair, and is amused to see a beauty mark dead center of his earlobe.

‘It’s like an earring,’ he thinks with amusement, only to stop short at how jarringly familiar that thought is.

Before he can remember what exactly is familiar about it, Damien lets out a confused little squeak, and MC turns to see the most endearingly befuddled expression on his face, his cheeks as red as cherries.

MC immediately forgets the strange thought as he leans in close and kisses Damien for the ‘first’ time.

The two start dating after that, and they’re perfectly happy for that first week.

Mary babysits Amanda and Lucien for them sometimes so they can go on dates.

MC tells Damien about his late husband, Alex, who had passed away two years prior.

And Damien tells MC about his first girlfriend - the sweetest girl he’d ever met, with eyes like forgetmenots and hair like a blazing fire; with arms as warm as a mother’s embrace and laughter like the most beautiful song. He tells MC how he’d thought he would marry her one day. Until he’d found out she’d been cheating on him for months.

MC stops short, because there’s something so painfully familiar about that story. Maybe something that had happened to a friend of his? But the ending doesn’t quite seem to fit right with the image he has in his head.

He tries so hard to remember why it’s so important, but he draws a blank.

In the end, he’s distracted by wandering fingers along his ribs, and breathless laughter as he tries to escape from the tickling.

And finally, the last piece falls into place the day he and Damien are watching a movie together in a dark living room, long after the kids have fallen to sleep.

MC notices that Damien just can’t seem to get comfortable, and when he asks wrong, Damien thinks for a long, long moment, as if he were deliberating a very important topic.

Finally, he explains in a quiet voice, “My binder is just bothering me a bit.”

It takes a moment for MC to process what he had said, and when he does, the reality of the situation finally sets in, and he sees the whole picture for the first time with a startling clarity.

He jumps back off the sofa as if he’d been stung, and falls to the floor with an ungraceful thump.

Damien, completely misunderstanding the reaction, looks like he’s about to cry.

Because he just knew this was coming. He just knew that sweet, beautiful, loving MC would leave him eventually, just like all the others had. It’s why he’d kept it a secret all this time.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I know I should have told you sooner, but-”

“You knew?” asks MC, completely misunderstanding the situation. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

And is slightly confused, because obviously he knew he was trans. What kind of question is that?

He starts crying harder. “I’m sorry!” he sobs. “I was going to tell you! It’s just, so many of the men I’ve dated in the past have reacted badly when they found out I was trans and I was scared that-”

“What?” asks MC, confused. “I’m not upset about you being trans! So am I. What I-”

But Damien cuts him off, the tears immediately stopping.

“Wait, you’re trans too??” he asks.

And now they’re both confused as all hell.

Then, MC gasps.

“Holy shit, you don’t know…” he says.

Damien slowly shakes his head, wondering what it is he doesn’t know.

MC gets up and approaches him slowly, as if he’s a small, frightened animal.

He takes Damien’s hand gently in one of his own.

“You’re my Dahlia, aren’t you?” he asks.

And suddenly, Damien stops breathing as all the details fall into place, and he recognizes the man sitting in front of him.

It takes them several long hours to get things sorted after that.

They talk long into the night, about what had happened between them all those years ago. And by the time the sun has risen, they’ve laid all the bad blood to rest, and their relationship has come out the other side stronger than it ever was before.

They tell the story of their reunion to all their friends after that - it becomes one of those funny little anecdotes that everyone begs to hear at family gatherings and backyard barbecues, and they all laugh over the absurdity of it.

And despite how horribly confusing and messy it had been for the two of them, Damien and MC are always so grateful that they’d been lucky enough to get the opportunity to fall in love with each other all over again, and to sort out the horrible misunderstanding that had torn them apart in the first place.

anonymous asked:

7, 22 and/or 45! Whichever you feel like :P

combo platter! this also spiraled way out of control

7. fake relationship & 22. two miserable people meeting at a wedding

[read on ao3] [should also establish this is comics!chuck, not tv!chuck]





The hitching goes off without a hitch.

As in, an adorable toddler rumbles down the walkway as the ringbearer and everyone coos, vows are shared, tears shed, people clap, and Betty is in the back, chugging champagne.

Which is probably not so all well and good, considering this is just the practice round.

It’s not so bad, really, Betty thinks, as she watches the new bride and groom gently sway across the dance floor. Considers that maybe she’s being dramatic.

After all, she’s happy for Nancy, her best work friend. She looks beautiful tonight, she’s been beaming all day, and Betty knows that her own anxiety around weddings is not fair to project around onto others.

And while she doesn’t know much about Nancy’s choice of husband, save for the fact that Chuck has done a couple of children’s books for the publisher for which they both work, their relationship certainly seems solid and cute, and Betty once again thinks that, alright, maybe she is being too dramatic.

But then she watches Chuck and Nancy share a kiss so tender and beautiful it feels wrong to have seen, and she curses. Apparently out loud, because a moment later, from a dry voice across the table comes, “You’d publish your mother with that mouth?”

She lowers her glass from her lips and glances over at the guy a few seats over. It’s just them at the table now, everyone else having gotten up to mingle, dance, or let themselves eat cake.

That is, just her and someone with dark hair, a downturned mouth that thus holds a frown with ease, and an angled face. Even in formal wear, something about him vaguely, dimly screams I was once a disaffected youth.

Keep reading

Luring Duck [16+]

Originally posted by misbefive

Featuring: Ugly Duck

Genre: Fluffish/Suggestive (idontevenknow)

Word Count: 1,079

Synopsis: Confronting Ugly Duck on why he’s so reluctant being around you and a little something extra (;

A/N: I have no idea where this is going(have mercy, go easy on me)… but for those of you who were waiting on this here it is and I’m so sorry for the long wait. 

You were starting to get frustrated, what was wrong with him? Did he seriously not notice the advances you were making towards him? Never once has a guy resist your charms as Jukyung had. Normally with your flirtatious personality you’d have him asking for your number or date long ago. Whenever you tried having an actual conversation with him, he’d cut you off short and give you simple answers. It was as if he dreaded being in the same room as you. You tried to befriend him multiple times in different occasions with no avail.  In all honesty you were out to be more than just friends.

You didn’t understand, why he had this attitude around you; usually he’s really friendly with everyone, and he’s always joking around and making everyone laugh.  He had this air of confidence about him, that you couldn’t help but to admire; along with his talent. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why he treated you differently, maybe you had done something that offended him? The real question is how? How could you even have a chance to piss him off, when he’s constantly avoiding you like the plague. It’s not like he even gave you the time or chance to.

The longest exchange you two had lately was just greeting each other, before he found an excuse to go talk to someone else.

Maybe he just hadn’t warmed up to you, after all you were the last member to join the label but you couldn’t help  to feel as if he was ostracizing you from the group. You were set on changing that one way or another, and now seemed to be the best chance. You spotted Jukyung down the hall of the venue all alone and you weren’t you going to let him run away from you this time.

Keep reading

I never write fanfic and I ship Swan Queen hardcore. But I was looking at this rather lovely gifset and reading this post about the Swan Queen/Swanfire/Rumbelle BroTP and somehow I wrote an angst/fluff post Season 5a Swan Fire Queen fic. It’s not very smutty because I don’t do terribly well with willies.

No, I can’t explain it either, but here’s the fic nobody wanted for the threesome no one really ships:

Almost Instinct

She doesn’t know how this happened. She isn’t even sure what this is. But Emma is curled at her left side, head tucked into the crook of Regina’s neck and hand cupped beneath her breast. And Neal has his nose pressed against her right hip, his legs sprawled and his arm flung over them both. He snuffles in his sleep, because even after all these months he’s still like a barely house-trained stray dog. Their son lies peaceful in another room and what was broken isn’t mended, it can never be mended, but it’s still somehow whole.

Did it begin when Neal staggered up the front steps of 108 Mifflin Street, half-dead and inexplicably covered in dust and peacock feathers? No, it was before that. Maybe it was when Emma came to her door. The darkness had been banished from inside the woman who had once been a savior, but it lingered in her eyes, her slouch, the angry twist of her mouth.

She didn’t look at Regina as she said, ‘How do you live with it? The things you did were so much worse than me. You killed hundreds of people. I don’t know. Thousands? How the hell do you live with yourself? But then I guess you don’t have any choice.’

‘There’s always a choice, Emma.’ Regina smiled grimly at the flash of recognition at her words. ‘I don’t have to live.’

‘No, I didn’t… I didn’t mean…’ For the first time Emma looked her in the eye, with shame and a little defiance.

‘I could kill myself,’ Regina continued relentlessly. ‘When I think about it all, when I really remember… I deserve to die for what I did. I think everyone can agree on that. But if I die, then what? Nothing is made better. So I tell myself that the perpetrator of those atrocities was her, the Evil Queen, and I’m… someone else. I’m her heir – I inherited her powers and her debts and it’s my job to use one to pay back the other.’

‘And does it help?’ Emma whispered. ‘Do you really believe you’re two different people?’

But that wasn’t a question that had just one answer, and so she invited Emma in. Then she invited Emma for dinner, and when she thought about Emma going home to that gloomy house, bought by the person she wanted not to be, Regina invited her to stay.

They shared a space and their meals and few words, but somehow found a precarious equilibrium. It seemed to Regina that Emma was like a spinning coin: on edge, still upright, but heading for a fall. Henry had fallen too, out of hero worship with the mother he’d once idolised and into a sullen, wounded and untrusting distance. He shied away from Emma’s touch and Emma flinched from Regina’s when she tried to offer comfort.

It made her long for Hook, of all people. It made her wish he’d survived to offer Emma those smiling banalities she’d once seemed to find comforting. Regina had always considered him obnoxious and his obsessive love too much, but for the love-starved Emma it had perhaps been just enough. Regina wished his death weren’t another weight bowing down Emma’s permanently hunched shoulders.

It made Regina miss Robin too: his dependable solidity and calm decency. But he was with Marion now, not as dead as Zelena had claimed, and she was far more worthy of him. Besides, Regina had no time for anything but Emma and the pain inside her, eating her up from the inside.

And then one Wednesday in the middle of April Neal was on her doorstep – and when Emma saw him, she let out an awful, rasping sob and fled.

Regina ran a bath for him and watched with complicated tangle of emotions as Henry hugged him and cried as raggedly as his other mother. It was jealousy she felt, yes, but also such joy for her boy that he could have this joy. The good emotions Henry coaxed from her had always been stronger than the bad. It was what had saved her. She still hoped it might save Emma.

Gold had told Neal most of what he’s missed while he’s been… wherever he’s been. Another realm? The Greek Underworld? It wasn’t clear. Regina told him the rest, and he hunched his shoulders and scratched the back of his neck when she explained what Emma had been through – what she was still going through. The rasp of nails in his hair was too loud in a house that had been too quiet for too long.

‘Um,’ he said. 'That sounds really bad?’

Another genius to add to her collection, Regina thought, and thought it again when Emma finally came home and she’d no sooner walked through the door than Neal turned her back round with an arm around her shoulders and marched her to the nearest bar. They returned at some ungodly hour of the morning, both staggering drunk.

'Of all the irresponsible…’ Regina said to Baelfire, but he was already half asleep and she let him weave across the floor to the sofa and collapse across it.

Emma she supported up to her room. Regina eased the jacket from her shoulders, but her fingers hesitated at the hem of her tank top, until Emma raised her arms like a sleepy child and Regina sighed and pulled it off her. She looked away as she unclasped Emma’s bra then snapped open the fastening of her jeans. Emma’s legs were unshaven where they’d once been smooth and there was a stale smell to her skin. It filled Regina with an inexplicable tenderness.

In the morning, she arched an eyebrow at Neal’s groaning, bleary-eyed misery and carried the full breakfast tray past him and up the stairs to Emma’s room. Emma was awake already and she smiled when she saw the food, though her eyes were black-shadowed.

'You’re both idiots,’ Regina said.

Emma was already eating, yellow yolk coating her lips. 'I know.’ The bacon slice she’d folded in two and stuffed straight in muffling her words.

'You need to wash,’ Regina told her.

She didn’t expect Emma to listen, but soon she heard the gushing of the guest shower. She leaned against the bathroom’s closed door, the heat and the moistness of steam seeping through the hinge, and felt a constriction in her chest that might have been hope.

She was still there when Emma emerged, hair wet and lank around a face that had the ruddy glow of health for the first time in weeks. Regina knew that it was only the heat of the shower, and yet. Their eyes met and something else clenched inside her when Emma smiled tremulously.

It was love, she realised with horror. How long had it been there, hiding in plain sight? Since before Emma became the Dark One, certainly. Now she knew its shape she could find it in her memories even of that terrible year in the Enchanted Forest, when she’d missed Henry so desperately. Her love for him and her love for Emma were all knotted together, hopelessly inseparable.

Henry didn’t go to school that day. All four of them watched the Indiana Jones movies together, not talking much, only eating popcorn and the vegetables dipped in hummus that Regina insisted they all have. Henry’s eyes darted between them and he moved often, taking it in turns to snuggle into each of their sides.

Regina wasn’t sure why she let Neal stay. He was a terrible influence on both Emma and Henry. Junk food she most certainly didn’t buy started to appear in her kitchen cupboards and Henry used language she’d never taught him. She would have given everyone involved a stern talking-to, but Henry’s smile was finally boyish again – just like his father’s – and she so crossed her arms and said nothing.

She put up with the practical jokes that were neither funny nor practical. The shampoo they’d swapped with rotten eggs stank so badly that she had to use the guest bath for three days, but she did it without much complaint. The designer clothes they replaced with cheap knock-offs didn’t look very much alike. Emma hid her grin beneath her hand when she saw Regina wearing them anyway, and she pretended not to notice.

But Regina drew the line at crashing her car – the car Neal shouldn’t have been driving anyway, though who could blame him for preferring it to Emma’s yellow disaster? That little faux pas got him banished from the house for three days. If she’d caught Henry and Emma sneaking him food from the leftovers in the kitchen, she would have stopped them, but she never could seem to catch them in the act.

When the bell rang, she thought it would be Neal. She’d decided he’d been punished long enough. But it was Gold.

‘Come to plead his case for him?’ she asked, an amused twist to her lips that wasn’t entirely feigned.

But this man wasn’t the same one who’d occupied so large and destructive a role in her life. He shook his head, looking away. She found his meekness almost offensive. How could she push, when there was nothing to push back against?

‘I wanted to thank you,’ he said, ‘for taking him in. He could have stayed with us, but he wanted to be there for Emma and I… I know he needed me to let him go.’

‘Emma’s glad to have him around,’ she admitted grudgingly.

He nodded, looking down again. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For Emma?’

‘For a lot of things. For leading you down the wrong path.’

Her eyes flooded with sudden and shaming tears and she turned her back on him. ‘It was my choice to walk it.’


‘I’m sorry too – for Belle.’

He laughed, not his old manic cackle or his dry half-cough, but a genuine sound of amusement. ‘Oh, she forgave you long ago, did my Belle. She’s good at forgiveness – just like Bae. Sometimes he seems more like her son than mine.’

She smiled at that, blushing when he caught it – too open and fond.

‘You’ll look after him, won’t you?’ he said as he left.

She didn’t know quite what he meant – or maybe she did. It happened one day when Emma was out, back to work as the sheriff at last. She and Neal had meant to run through his own job options, but he’d looked out of the window at the clear and merry blue of the sky, and somehow she found herself lying on the grass beside him, beneath the blossom of her apple tree.

‘It’s crooked,’ he said.

‘That’s because Miss Swan cut off one of the branches.’

He laughed, the carefree and joyful sound she didn’t understand how he could still produce. 'Bet you couldn’t decide if you wanted to bone her or kill her.’

She rolled onto her elbow to glare at him and his grin just widened. 'Yeah, that’s the look.’

He leaned in – it was definitely him, but she didn’t lean back. And then his lips were on hers, and it was far softer than she would have expected, if it had been something she’d thought to expect at all.

When his tongue traced a gentle line around her lips she opened them for him. He took the invitation, but nothing more. One hand supported him and he touched just the index finger of the other to her chin. Like her, he knew what it was to be held too tightly. She realised there were many things he and she shared, different from those they each shared with Emma. Maybe she could forgive herself for liking the great oaf quite as much as she did.

When the kiss finished they both rolled onto their backs to stare up at the cloudless sky and the shadows of apple leafs across it.

'Was that about Emma?’ Regina asked.

'Why’s everything got to be about Emma?’ But then he added, 'Have you seen yourself? You’re hot. That was about you.’

It didn’t happen again, but she caught him watching her in quiet moments, and sometimes she caught herself watching him. Whatever he claimed, it had been about Emma. Or at least what she chose to do about it had everything to do with Emma. But for a while they were in a new equilibrium, far more stable than the last, and she thought that maybe they could stay that way forever. Emma smiled now. She went to work and she went drinking with Baelfire and she talked about her time as the Dark One very little.

Sometimes when she and Emma stood shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, Emma chopping vegetables with her lip caught between her teeth, wisps of her bright hair brushing Regina’s face, Regina thought they’d found their ending, as happy as it was likely to get.

But then one evening when Henry was staying with Paige and they’d been doing nothing very much – just Neal and Emma watching reruns of Cops and Regina reading – Emma caught her sharing a look with Baelfire.

‘It’s OK,’ Emma said. ‘You can tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’ Regina asked, years of practise keeping her voice calm while her heart thundered.

‘I know it’s time for me to move out. I’m still paying rent on the house. I can move back in next week – quicker if you want.’

‘Why would I want that?’ Regina asked, genuinely baffled as Neal stared gravely at them both.

Emma shrugged, an awkward gesture that always made her look like a sulky teen, ill at ease in her woman’s body. ‘This has to end, right? Might as well do it now. Rip the Band Aid off before it gets stuck and you get that stupid brown gunk all over you. I don’t want to be your brown gunk.’

Emma smiled lopsidedly, as if she was joking, and Regina’s tension melted. She knew what she had to do – what it was long past time she admitted. Emma flinched away from her as she reached out, but she didn’t let it put her off. She rested her knuckles against the curve of Emma’s cheek as she said, ‘It never has to end, you idiotic girl. Why would I want you gone when I love you an absurd amount?’

Emma’s eyes widened, her lovely long lashes framing them. Then she closed them, drawing in a sharp breath as she pressed her cheek against Regina’s hand. ‘Really?’ Her voice was very small.

‘Yes, really.’ Regina knew that Emma sensed her moving closer, the warm puff of her breath against Emma’s mouth. But Emma didn’t shy away this time, and when Regina’s lips slid against hers she sighed, half-vocalised, and then clasped her own hands desperately in Regina’s hair and held her still as they kissed and kissed and kissed.

Quite a long time later, Emma drew back with a gasp and Regina knew that she’d finally remembered Baelfire. ‘Neal…’ Emma said, and he just smiled awkwardly at her, so Regina cupped her other hand around his cheek, stubbly where Emma’s was so, so soft, and pulled him to her for a kiss.

‘Oh,’ Emma said. ‘Oh.’

They took turns kissing Emma after that, kissing her lips and neck and ears, which made her giggle and squirm away. They kissed her until she’d softened wonderfully with pleasure. Neal did most of the work getting them out of their clothes, but it was Regina who first took Emma’s breast in her mouth and it was everything she hadn’t let herself imagine.

There was little talking after that and less thought. If they’d paused to think they might have stopped and none of them wanted that. There were only noises that weren’t words and the warmth and comfort and messy enjoyment of each other.

That was the clearest beginning in a story that had many. A false start, she sometimes thought, when they argued bitterly and pressed against each other’s wounds. They survived it though, as well as Henry’s discovery of their strange entanglement, his reaction hovering undecided between horror and joy.

Maybe it would end one day – maybe it should. But as Regina held Emma against her heart and Neal against her hip, she let herself believe it wouldn’t. That this, whatever it was, would remain enough.


genre: fluff heheu but it gets a lil suggestive near the end

word count: 3K

summary: The new intern at the bakery down the street is kinda cute. Baker!Jin AU.

Originally posted by ohparkjimin

The bell tinkles when you enter the bakery, a friendly jingle in greeting to you and a good Friday morning.  On the other side of the door, a heavenly, homely smell envelopes you thickly like a warm, crisp blanket, the scent of apple pies with a sprinkle of cinnamon in the air. The aisles in the bakery display the array of sweet pastries placed neatly on the trays, some of them still rising in the oven in the kitchen behind the cashier, the first golden rays of the sleepy morning sun shining through the glass panes and onto the white walls of the French-Asian styled interior. It’s quiet here in the morning; the bakery is never really crowded nor empty, a quaint place tucked in the corner of street that will soon be bustling in a few hours.

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anonymous asked:

romione prompt: ron is nervous about leaving the aurors to start working at george's shop full time, but hemione talks him through it. thank you! :)

I know lots of people like Ron-as-a-baker headcanons so here is a little ficlet about that. I have baking on the brain thanks to GBBO… [AO3, for @hpshipweeks]

She wakes at two minutes to five to an empty bed and the smell of baking bread filling their small flat, so she shuffles into her slippers, yawning, and pads down the hallway to the kitchen. Sure enough, Ron is in there, silently kneading dough in just his pyjama bottoms. In the dim light of early dawn, she can see every muscle in his back outlined as he methodically pushes and pulls the bread. The sight fills her with longing and wonder, and she walks over, placing her hands on his shoulders and leaning her body into his. He pauses the kneading, and she feels rather than hears him let out a long breath.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks, her voice still husky from bed.

“Bit nervous,” he confesses.

“Don’t be,” she says, taking a step backwards. “You’ve done it all before, you know.” She waves her wand, and all the candles in the kitchen are suddenly alight, adding to the light from the sun’s early rays coming through their window. Down below them, the city is asleep, still, and she finds herself pitying all the people in it who will not be waking to Ron’s freshly baked bread.

“Not like this, I haven’t,” he says. He turns around, a worried frown on his face, but before she can say anything to soothe him, he smiles.


“Nice slippers,” he grins.

“Shut up,” she says, trying to supress her own smile. They’re pink and fluffy and absolutely hideous, but also the most comfortable things in the world. He bought them for her for their last anniversary—he had to honour the memory, he had said, of the first nightclothes he’d ever seen her in. She’d remembered the fluffy pink dressing gown she’d taken to Hogwarts in her first year, remembered night-time wanderings accidentally discovering three-headed dogs and just how very annoying her fellow first years could be, and had laughed and laughed.

Now, Ron dumps the dough in a tin, wipes his hands on a spare tea towel, and comes to stand with her over by the window. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he says. “I was trying to be quiet.”

Hermione shakes her head. “You didn’t,” she says. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

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26th & 28th/29th December Show Reports

Okay, I’m going to have to come clean at the start. This is another recap of two performances. One was with the full original cast (which I’ll talk less about, but I will cover the mistakes in it which were plentiful and glorious), which I will refer to as the Boxing Day show when I mention it, and the other was with James Howard as Draco and Morag Cross as McGonagall. The latter is the one for which I was sitting near the front of the stalls, and that’s the one I’ll focus on, because it was better and more interesting. 

(You’ll all be pleased to know I wrote over 2000 words less in this recap than I did my last one. It’s still almost long enough to be a dissertation though so… Sorry about that! I hope you enjoy.)

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samyazaz  asked:

Leverage OT3 - detention on a saturday afternoon AU

(Baby criminals!)

“Aren’t we supposed to write a letter to him or something about how we bond?”

Hardison isn’t sure if he should be proud about the evidence that Parker was actually kind of paying attention during Breakfast Club or if he should explain that Miss Devereaux didn’t actually assign them to do that, or Mr. Ford when he actually assigned them the detention. Eliot Spencer, though, scariest kid in school, explains before he can. “All we’ve got to do is homework.”

“Oh.” Parker taps her pencil on the desk a few times, frowning. “That’s stupid.”

“How do you not know how detention works?” Eliot looks kind of baffled. Hardison kind of likes Eliot, he never talks to Parker like he thinks she’s stupid like some of the teachers do. He’s also scary as fuck, but hey, nobody can be everything.

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anonymous asked:

sit next to each other in orchestra AU, exr

e/R | violinists au, dysfunctional flirting

“Sit up straight,” hisses Enjolras.

Grantaire’s eyebrows rise so high they disappear under his mop of hair. “Really? Are we five?”

“I don’t know how you can play like that,” mutters Enjolras. The conductor is busy doing something with the cellos that involves bow work that really should have been done when they were sectioned off but hey, that’s cellos for you. Grantaire is slouched so low in his chair that he’s basically lying down on it with his butt hanging off the seat, not that Enjolras is noticing his butt or where it is.

Grantaire somehow manages to raise his head enough to wedge his violin in between his chin and the flat of his chest. When he talks, the violin wobbles up and down. “Don’t you ever practice in bed?”

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how can a set of books do this kind of thing? (Hollstein fanfic)

“I’m enjoying myself, I will read the…” She searched for the seventh book on the almost empty box set. “…Deathly Hallows, even though you spoiled me…” Laura shot her a look. “…or that I effectively figured out everything.”

“You’re an insufferable—” Her breath hitched as Carmilla laced her fingers with hers.

“—know-it-all? Proud of it.” Carmilla said with a smug, big grin.


(Read on AO3)

Pairing: Hollstein

Word count: 4192

Warning: mentions of depression, abuse, grief, heavy feelings…angst at its finest

Summary: A very eager Laura makes Carmilla read her favorite books-all seven of them-while she studies for finals and both find an unexpected bond on the roller coaster and journey of it all. Carmilla is not so great at the feelings thing, but she finds herself doing this a lot here unexpectedly. Laura won’t kiss Carmilla until she finishes all of them, so that’s a motivator.

[A/N: It was supposed to be all fluff, and whatnot but…going through everything triggered some things and there’s angst with heavy mentions of Carmilla’s and Laura’s past. Well, fluff and angst, what a better combination?]


Laura made Carmilla read the Harry Potter series against her will. Well, not to that extreme, but close. She had read the first book before, but didn’t continue because the idea of something as ridiculous as wizards baffled her. Laura’s father got her the series in one of her care packages for college: “I know finals and overarching stress are approaching, but drifting off to the magical world could help, right?”

“It sounds more like he’s setting off the opposite kind of distraction for you here.” Carmilla chuckles as she puts her philosophy book down and sits up her bed. Laura turned her head guessing the look on Carmilla’s face…yes, eyebrow up and a smirk on her face.

“It’s sweet. Besides, they do help me relieve my stress.”

“Care to tell me how?” She saw her girlfriend’s face light up, just as it does whenever she’s about to passionately explain something.

“Well, it’s this entirely different magical universe with characters developed deeply enough to drag you around like one of their own.” Carmila tried to remember when she started reading the first book. Yes, it was an amusing, different world, but maybe she needed to see more to get invested. “Each book is a roller coaster ride. And even though I read all of them at least five times, I enjoy them just the same.” There was that glimmer in her eyes that told Carmilla these books clearly mean a lot to her. Also, the fact that she’s read them five times is another strong hint. “Was it the same for you?”

“I can’t really tell cupcake. I became uninterested by the first one.” The glimmer in Laura’s eyes instantly disappeared and was replaced with a furrowed look.

“What? You never finished th—” She cut herself, grabbed the package and threw herself next to Carmilla on her bed. “You need to read these. Starting now.” Laura’s voice was now demanding as she put the pile of books on Carmilla’s lap.

“And that’s an order?”

The vampire scoffs, only to be surprisingly met by a pair of lips against hers. Hands also frantically cupped her face and it was all too sweet and endearing to Carmilla to question it, so she went along. A hand was now grasping Laura’s hair effectively deepening the kiss and the other one, after putting the books away, dropped to her hips. Lips parted in a gasp surprisingly coming from her and Laura took the opportunity to reposition herself, fully turning to sit on the bed and pushing Carmilla down to straddle her. They were both humming as they were slowly basking in the blissful sensations.

Laura intended on stopping a few moments ago—trying to be a little considerate—but it all washed away on a haze…until one of Carmilla’s hand started to make its way down her arm. She regained control of her thoughts and slowly separated. When she opened her eyes, she was met with an uncharacteristic dumbfounded Carmilla. She was still on the daze Laura was before, which made the tiny girl let out a smirk and looked at her intently. Once Carmilla touched ground, she silently stared at her girlfriend, looking for an explanation, running ideas through her mind. Panic then flashed across her face but Laura calmed her speculations by lacing their fingers together.

Carmilla, not daring to look away, sat up to level herself. “What the frilly hell just happened?” Laura, once again, snorts at her sight. But then she moved to the edge of the bed.

“As of now, I won’t let you, or the books, be a distraction…” Her tone was playful yet challenging. And the realization came like a bucket of ice. “…at least until you read them.”

Carmilla opened her mouth trying to argue, but she was at loss for a moment. “I find this unfair and nonsensical.”

“Well, I stand by it. You need to read them.” She couldn’t quite understand why Laura was insisting so much, but even less, how she decided to agree to the challenge.

“Fine.” She was met with a broad smile and wanted to tease back. “But how, may I ask, will you keep your hands off me?” Carmilla tried to approach to Laura and put a hand on her lap, but before she even got halfway there, her girlfriend jumped up.

“I won’t talk to you. Only when you finish each book.”

“What?” The lack of response was all she needed to get what Laura meant. “Sometimes you’re insufferable, cupcake." Insufferable know-it-all, Laura thought to herself and started laughing. Carmilla frantically looked for book one of the series and started to re-read it.


"How is Voldemort a threat? The dimwit doesn’t even have a proper body?” Carmilla uttered as she closed the book. Without looking, Laura knew she was finished. 

“Dark magic, Carmilla. And it’s You-Know-Who.”

"Whatever. If he’s supposed to last six more books I better see some progress.” Laura laughed to herself and then continued on writing her lit paper.


“I’ve got two observations. Firstly, the fact that they introduce a new way of racial issues is very amusing—especially because it is detached from the human world. It’s something entirely theirs, which draws me to find out more.” Laura was taken by surprise by the sudden analysis, and turned her chair to face her girlfriend. 

“I can’t believe what’s drawing you into the story is the racial subject.”

“Oh, no. It’s not only that.” Carmilla paused. “It’s just making the fictional world I’m reading worthy of going away to. It’s different.”

“Are you just saying this because you want a kiss?”

“Is it working?” She lowered her tone seductively, hoping it would indeed work.

Laura quirked her face in frustration, but didn’t want to let the vampire win this one. “No.”

Bollocks!” Carmilla spat playfully with her best Enlgish accent. She noticed the non-convincing tone on the other end and wasn’t about to let it go just yet.

Carmilla! It really isn’t. You had a second point?” But Laura wasn’t about to let it continue.

“Right. Polyjuice potion can suck it, I shapeshift into a giant cat, who can beat that?”


This time Laura was resting on Carmilla’s lap while the vampire held the book with one hand and ran the other one through the blonde’s hair. It was a slight violation to their agreement; but it was a long day of studying and if she read another piece by Hemingway she was sure she’d burst. It was all beautifully written, really, but there was so much reading she could take. She didn’t have to say anything to Carmilla. When she saw the exhausted look on tiny girl’s face she gladly welcomed her into her arms and there they were. Laura woke up from her daze as she heard a loud thump of a closing book.

"Sirius Black is my new favorite.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Her voice was low and with a huff she sat up on the bed to face Carmilla.

“He really is misunderstood.”

“I know.” Laura was thrilled at how her girlfriend was becoming invested to the different characters and elements of the book. It was always fun to interact with first time, passionate readers of the series, but Carmilla was utterly endearing. She felt connected to her in a unique way, and she made it her mission to make sure she kept on reading if this meant having conversations like this one.

“Laura?” Carmilla’s tone turned dark all of the sudden, and Laura stiffened, taken aback by it.


“The Dementors represent depression.” It wasn’t a question, and Laura knew that, but she nodded anyway. “I—I lost hope not only once, but multiple times in my long life. It was just obscure and lonely, you know?” Her eyes were now heavy on Laura’s. She wasn’t used to it, but this was Carmilla talking—really talking—and she was happy this side of her was starting to show. “Not to be soppy or anything like that, but I want you to know that you’re a bright light amongst all that.”

Laura’s heart clenched and ached right then. Of course she knew Carmilla was dealing with demons, and shadows and surely other dark entities she doesn’t even know exist, and always will…but it has never looked so raw.

“You’re making it very hard not being able to kiss you.” She knew this moment wouldn’t last too long, or Carmilla wouldn’t let it last long, so she decided to relieve the mood with her unconscious thought on a sigh.

“Oh, you are able, sweetheart. You just don’t want to.” A playful hand ran through Laura’s cheek, and smitten look flashed on Carmilla’s eyes.

“You’re such a soppy mess.”


It was a quick motion, but Laura was sure she saw a book fly across the room from the corner of her eye and hit a wall. “You know those are mine, right?” But Carmilla ignored her. 

“A bunch of sophomoric imbeciles.”

“Who?” Ignored with a huff. “Who are you talking about?” The vampire finally caught the voice coming from the desk and answered.

“All of them. It’s infuriating how they don’t stop and think about what they do half of the time.”

“Well, I find it very human, very real, very me.”

“Exactly. Yet I find myself consumed, utterly drawn by it…” Carmilla starts to make her way to Laura. “…just like I am to you.” She places both hands on her girlfriend’s shoulders and she lets them linger for a while before speaking.

“Three books left, Carmilla.” Her face furrows in frustration and she sits on the bed to open the next book.


It’s 3am and she hasn’t been able to put down the book—she didn’t want to. Carmilla almost immediately noticed the shift in the characters’ tone. This was a darker book compared to the others. There were stupid decisions, but there was also anger, a lot of anger. One of the reasons Carmilla couldn’t put the book down was because she wanted to know if it got better. She thought it was ridiculous, but it reminded her of the lonely centuries she had to spend by herself before finding Ell…and ultimately Laura. Harry felt misunderstood, alone, baffled as to why that was, and Carmilla understood it all too well.

“You felt it too?” A small voice came from across the room and Carmilla almost jumped out of her bed. Her eyes focused on the girl in front of her sitting and curled up on her blanket.

“How long have you been up, sweetheart?”

“I never really went to sleep.” At the revelation, she moved towards Carmilla’s bed. “After I decided to give up on my lit paper I just shuffled for hours. You were obviously too into your reading, so I didn’t want to bother you.” As she finally sat beside Carmilla, the vampire could look at her eyes properly. They were pink and glassy, a hint of tears about to fall—again?

“Whoa, Laura, have you been crying?” Carmilla immediately dropped the book wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. There wasn’t a reason to lie as she sniffled and Laura repositions to fit Carmilla’s embrace.

“Yes.” Her voice was raspy. She’s probably been silently crying for hours and Carmilla didn’t notice. The thought hurt her deeply.

“May I know why?”

“Well, did you feel it?”

“I don’t—” Laura cut her off.

“The sense of incomprehensible loneliness. You’re in the darker chapters, correct?”

“Yes, but wh—" But she was cut again.

"I used to read these books with my mom. She bought the first one when it came out. Same with the next ones until…” She took a deep breath before continuing, and it was all it took Carmilla to understand everything. The connection with the books, and how insistent she was about it all. She wanted her to be part of it, which Carmilla found very sweet. “…until she couldn’t.”

“This is why they mean so much to you.” Laura nods with a heavy, trembling sigh. She’s never talked about her mother to Carmilla until now, but she was willing to. She needed it.

“I re-read them all after she died. It was my coping mechanism. But the fifth book struck me the most. I became distant, but wasn’t really aware of it, so it was frustrating to carry that energy around like a shadow…only that instead of walking with me it was dragging me down…” She paused to look at Carmilla. She looked calm but attentive. The vampire took one of Laura’s hands and intertwined their fingers together, followed by a kiss on the back of them. She was patiently waiting for her girlfriend to continue, but she didn’t. Then she thought about how the purpose of all was also to connect with Laura.

“His feelings resonate with mine before meeting you. After I woke up in this century I also had a shadow. And maybe I always did, but it was only then I noticed. It was a terrible, terrible eternity of constantly confir—confirming Ell’s statement.” At the mention of Ell, Laura stiffened, at which Carmilla responded giving her a kiss on the cheek. "It’s not that I didn’t care back then, because I did—I really did…” Carmilla’s tone turned heavy and dark. “But in order to survive I needed to disconnect myself. So after I woke up it was all so present.” The realization of the anger and regret Carmilla felt was excruciating, and to think she had to still live an eternity of abuse was unbearable…until she met Laura. It was the first time since being tied up that Carmilla talked about her past in detail. Laura could only imagine a slight part of how terrible it feels.

“Isn’t it weird? How we’re not aware of our shadows until something terrible happens?”

“I believe it’s realistic. We’re all naïve until we’re not.”

They stayed silent for a second. Only the ghost of their hands caressing. Laura has thought about it many times—Carmilla’s shadows. She was hard to read most of the time, but every time Laura gets a glimpse of her sorrow she ought to take note. 334 years of miserable eternity, as Carmilla puts it, yet she was capable of opening her doors to Laura—or at least she’s been trying to.

“This book made me realize what I was doing to myself and to everyone else. So I stopped closing the open doors around me.” She drawls so softly it wasn’t almost enough to wake up the vampire from the trance they were in.

“I’m glad, cupcake.”

Silence made its presence again, but Laura still felt bad. “Carm?”

“Yes?” This time her gaze was soft on her.

“I’m sorry.” The vampire didn’t say anything, but squeezed Laura’s hand intrigued nonetheless. “I’m sorry for triggering your memories. I mean—I want to tell you things and connect with you but…” She lost her train of thought for a second but quickly recovered it. “I have my shadow, but you’ve got many more. You’ve been here for so long and I feel stupid talking about myself someti—”

“No, Laura. Don’t even think about belittling yourself, that’s not my intention. The number of years, or shadows, or whatever…they don’t determine the importance of someone’s pain.”

“I know that. It’s just…” She paused again and sighed. “I’m sorry.” The last sentence was delivered with a yawn and Laura knew she needed some rest, but she wasn’t about to move away. Not now.

“And I’m sorry about your mom, sweetheart. You need to tell me more about her because she sounds incredible.”

She was, thought Laura as she closed her eyes.


Laura woke up on Carmilla’s lap. She was still reading book five with a somber look that made Laura’s heart sink, since she knew it only got worse.

She decided not to ask, but reached for Carmilla’s free hand. The latter jolted, but relaxed immediately. Laura then started to study the vampire’s movements in silence. How her eyebrows quirked with probably the mention of something ridiculous. Her heavy sighs when she reached the end of a chapter. And then the sudden still face she had as she reached the last page.

“Harry’s only family is gone.” Laura also hears the stillness in Carmilla’s voice and sits up, searching for her gaze preoccupied. “This is so appalling.” It was hard to read, or maybe it was just expressionless, she couldn’t tell.


“Harry’s only family is gone.” The last word was emphasized with a choke, and as Carmilla pulled her knees to her chest and face to her hands, Laura put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. The sobs came in waves and they took both Carmilla and Laura by surprise.

Laura knew where Carmilla was going with this and she was ready to listen. It was indeed a roller coaster ride, and this was the ninety degrees drop of it all. Had she known these brought a different side of Carmilla, Laura would have thought twice before lending them. It wasn’t her intention to hit her this way. She was meticulously trying to peek through Carmilla’s walls her own way, but the unplanned connection she figured wasn’t a bad option either.

“I lost them.” Then she buried her face on Laura’s shirt. “Twice.” She was grasping so hard at her shirt Laura thought it would rip…but she didn’t care. Nothing was more important than this moment right now. “I’ve lost so many people.” Grief, sadness, those are strange entities that come and go in waves—unexpected waves—and she was going to let Carmilla feel them fully.

“I know…” It’s all Laura managed to say with a hand now stroking Carmilla’s soft hair. She kissed her temple so delicately as if trying to wipe everything away. Of course, she couldn’t.

“I had family, and then I was alone.” She lifted her head from her girlfriend’s chest. “Laura, do you know what the worst feeling really is?” Her eyes were red, puffy and lost…very lost. And then it stroke Laura that Carmilla may have never had a pillar to mourn before—a safe haven.

“What is it?”

“Loneliness.” She pauses to take a deep breath, even though she doesn’t need one. “It doesn’t matter if they made you suffer, or laugh, or cry. When they’re gone, there’s something inside of you that goes with them too, and you feel so lonely.” Laura understood. She understood the feeling, not like Carmilla did, but she understood. It hit her and she was now crying with her…crying the wave away until they fell asleep.


It was quiet in their dorm room. After Carmilla broke down on Laura’s arms the other night, she continued on reading the next book without pausing. They agreed that it was impossible to be too apart from each other, so every now and then Laura would approach towards Carmilla for comfort—or out of plain habit. Enough to not be a distraction.

“Ok, so tell me your theories at this point.” Carmilla was reading resting on Laura’s lap while the latter re-read one of her required books to find more important points to talk about on her lit paper. She eyed occasionally as her girlfriend was approaching the end of book six, and once she did, she peeked her curiosity.

“Well, for starters, Harry has to be a horrocrux, otherwise, why make it such a big deal? It would be a shame if he isn’t.” Laura didn’t think Harry was a horrocrux before. “Hence, he will die.” But she did think he was going to die. “Also, Snape is such a double agent. I mean, it’s clear.”

“That he betrayed Dumbledure’s trust?”

“Oh, no. That he’s doing everything for the dimwit Potter that is—wait, scratch that—the woman he loves.”

“How corny.” Laura mocks.

“Very. Oh, and that adventure they plan on going…full of angst and drama.” Laura quirked an eyebrow because everything up to this point was true. “I also foresee a big battle…” Right. “…at Hogwarts.” Right. “And important deaths.” And right again. “Am I close?”

A repressed huff was all Carmilla needed to confirm her theories. And a satisfied grin was all Laura needed to get the strength to kick her girlfriend out from her lap. With no lap and no comfort, Carmilla scowls, but before she can verbally protest Laura cuts her thoughts. “You just know everything, don’t you?”

“Did you just let me spoil myself? You’re supposed to tell me ‘you need to read it, Carmilla’, or ‘I won’t spoil the fun for you, Carmilla.’” Laura just laughed at the very terrible impersonation of her. There was something in Carmilla’s high-pitched voice that caused Laura to always lose it. Carmilla’s glad she has that effect. And even though she didn’t intend to cause it, the sight of Laura laughing was one Carmilla’s favorite facet of hers.

“It’s just—everything you said is on point.”

“To be fair, it’s a little predictable.”

“Possibly for a 334 year old vampire who has read a life’s worth of literature, and theories, and—”

“I’m enjoying myself, I will read the…” She searched for the seventh book on the almost empty box set. “…Deathly Hallows, even though you spoiled me…” Laura shot her a look. “…or that I effectively figured out everything.”

“You’re an insufferable—” Her breath hitched as Carmilla laced her fingers with hers.

“—know-it-all? Proud of it.” Carmilla said with a smug, big grin.


All was well? That’s it?”

“You get a happy ending.”

“True.” Carmilla’s head was once again on Laura’s lap—this was her favorite position—and her eyes were now heavy on Laura’s. The latter was stroking Carmilla’s hair looking blankly at it, but she felt the burn and turned to look at her girlfriend.

They maintained that position for a while until Laura flicked away to Carmilla’s lips and went down to kiss her softly—so softly. But they were gone too soon and Carmilla found herself once again in a daze.

“I read all seven books for you, Hollis.” Her eyes were closed, but Laura could tell she was teasing. “I deserve my prize. If you’re finished with your studies, of course.”

She is finished with studying for the day. “And what would that be?” She is startled by how quick Carmilla sat up.

“Dance with me.” And how she was out of bed.

“You know I don’t know how to dance, specially waltz.” She was suddenly feeling shy and dumb about the whole thing.

“I know, but I liked book four when they had that ball, and then on this book with the wedding. I…” She hesitated. “I don’t know… I want to dance with you.”

“Would you teach me for posterity?”

“For posterity.” Carmilla extended a hand to Laura, which she gladly took.

They positioned themselves traditionally and Carmilla started swaying as she could to an imaginary tune in her head, pulling Laura with her. She then hummed that imaginary tune out loud to help Laura and she started to get it. Carmilla slowly came to a stop to check in.

“Did you get it?”

“I think so. One, two, three, four. One, two…” She moved at the count with Carmilla and she reached closer to Laura’s ear and softly started to hum her tune again. “Thank you.”

“For?” She extended her arm spinning her girlfriend, looking intensely at her.

“Reading those. They mean a lot to me.” It was a graceful spin. Laura was a fast learner. And even though it was a tiny space, it was enough for them to move happily. 

“I know…they now mean a great deal to me as well.” She meant it. She didn’t think for a second a book series—initially intended for kids—would get to mean so much to her. But it was a big part of Laura’s past, present and future. It explained unspeakable aspects of her and it got Carmilla to show herself to Laura—her own unspeakable aspects. Anything that could do that had to mean a great deal to her.

They were silent for a while but it didn’t last long. Probably not even a minute.

“So which house would you be in?” Carmilla genuinely laughed. Of course Laura would decide to have a conversation in the middle of a graceful dance.

“Definitely Slytherin.” Carmilla drew her girlfriend closer.

“Is it because of your snarky intellect?” Laura scuffed while she moved her free hand from Carmilla’s shoulder to the back of her neck.

“More like my passionate individualistic loyalty.”

“To…?” Laura sounded hopeful, so Carmilla spun her around one more time.

“You, my one safe place.” She placed a kiss on Laura’s temple, and then traveled down her cheek, jawline, up her nose—all between whispered ‘I love you’s—until finding her soft lips to bask in the peacefulness of it all—the peacefulness of her safe haven.

The books provided them something necessary for their bond to strengthen in such a way it promised a forever.

anonymous asked:

Idk if you're taking prompts but would you maybe do one of these if you have the time, I really love your writing 😁😁 - Beckett has a one night stand with castles room mate and castle makes her breakfast in the morning -castle sends a postcard to the wrong address and Beckett replies and begins flirting with him Sorry to bother you if you don't take prompts x

(Second prompt will be answered in a separate post)


Rick furrows his brow at the sound of his roommate’s door opening. It’s eight in the morning, Aiden usually sleeps until at least noon on his day off, but the longer he listens, the more he realizes that the soft footsteps padding down the short hallway don’t belong to his roommate.

The pretty girl stops when she notices him in the kitchen, her eyes shooting quickly to the ground, her head tipping in the same direction so that her long brown hair covers her face.

“Hi,” he says anyway, eliciting a hesitant lift of her gaze. 

She doesn’t look good, eyes bloodshot, makeup smudged, and a sadness that consumes her entire face all too present. He knew Aiden had gone to a party last night, he knew there would be a lot of drinking, but the girl staring at him from across the kitchen looks weighed down by something far more grave than a hangover.

“I’m Rick,” he announces when she doesn’t speak. “I was just about to make breakfast and don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you could use a good meal.”

She’s thin, too thin - her bones like branches protruding through the fabric of skinny jeans that are too loose and a low cut top that hangs on her like decoration. She’s beautiful though, even in this state of devastation. 

“Do you like scrambled eggs? Bacon? Ooh, I could make you pancakes too. Everyone loves pancakes. I could put chocolate chips in them, or blueberries, whichever you prefer. Oh! Or I could make you this new dish I concocted the other day-”

“Rick,” she says slowly, and he stops, finding his name oddly pleasant coming from her mouth despite the raspy way her voice scrapes it out. “Pancakes sound fine.”

He smiles, probably too brightly, and spins on his heel to find the ingredients in their modest kitchenette. He notices her crawl onto the single barstool they have pushed up against the kitchen counter and he grabs a glass of water for her, a bottle of aspirin to go along with it.

“Thanks,” she murmurs when he sets them down next to her propped elbow. 

“So, are you Aiden’s girlfriend?" 

She snorts and downs two of the pills with a large gulp of water.

"I didn’t even know his name was Aiden,” she admits and he nods as he begins mixing batter. “We met at a party last night. I shouldn’t have come here with him, it just… happened.”

“I’m not judging. Drunken one night stands are kind of the norm for early twenties, right?”

She shrugs, toying with the lid of the small pill bottle. “I wasn’t that drunk. I just… I wanted to forget for a while.”

He pauses, seeing the hints of misery he caught earlier spill into the dull brown of her eyes. 

“What are you trying to forget?”

Her gaze snaps up, defenses rising right before his eyes, and she begins to slide off the barstool.

“I should go-”

“No, wait. You don’t have to tell me, we can talk about something else.”

She studies him in confusion, as if he’s some kind of conundrum she can’t make sense of, but her body relaxes on the barstool once more.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asks, cradling her face in her palms, following him with her eyes while he transfers the pancake batter onto a hot pan on the stove. 

“Well, for starters, you could tell me your name,” he replies with an arched eyebrow.

Her lips quirk with the smallest of grins. “Kate.”

“Kate,” he echoes, placing the mixing bowl in the sink and reaching for the coffeemaker. “I like it. Where are you from?”

“Here,” she sighs. “But I just moved back from California last year and you’d be my hero if you shared that coffee.”

He smiles and opens the cabinet above the sink, retrieving another mug. 

“California too warm for you?”

“It was heaven in the winter,” she points out, accepting the steaming cup with a grateful nod. “I was in Stanford for a semester.”

“Stanford, wow. Why the transfer?”

She shifts in her seat, uncomfortable. “Things changed, my mind changed, and I decided to come home.”

Things changed. Something happened, he’s sure of it. Something caused this bone deep sadness to inhabit her, to bring her back home, to have her giving her body away for a night in hopes of forgetting whatever it is. 

“Well, I’m selfishly quite glad you returned to New York,” he quips, flipping a pancake and hoping to lighten the mood.

Kate tilts her head, amusement dancing along her lips. “You are?”

“Mhmm, if you were in California, you never would have slept with my roommate and then I never would have met you.”

The laugh that crawls past her lips is tired, weak, but it’s real and it ignites something in his chest, something warm and bright that makes him want to continue bringing her smile to life.

“I guess that’s a nice silver lining,” she muses, sipping her coffee and smiling down at the plate of pancakes he places in front of her.

“You know, Kate, if you don’t have any commitments to Aiden or anyone else, maybe I could take you out to breakfast sometime.”

She pauses, her top row of teeth coming down on her bottom lip, gnawing on the flesh in what looks to be a regular habit.

“Listen, Rick, you seem like a really nice guy and I like you, but I just don’t know if I’m in a good place to date anyone right now,” she confesses, quiet, shameful, and his disappointment is overshadowed by concern.

“I could wait,” he offers, leaning forward on the counter in front of her. “We don’t have to date, we could just be friends. I could just be here for you.”

“Most guys hate waiting, for anything,” she murmurs, watching the butter melting across her pancake.

“I’m not most guys then,” he shrugs. “Besides, haven’t you heard that some things are worth waiting for?”

“You just met me,” she reminds him with a fork aimed at him, but he only smirks.

“But I like you.”

She huffs, chewing on that poor bottom lip again. “Fine, you can take me to breakfast.”

“Good, now eat your pancakes.”

Meanwhile, in my world there’s a different ending to Episode 10. Spoilers under the cut if you haven’t seen Ep 10. I like my version better? :D

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anonymous asked:

“So, it was you.” + Andreil :D

I’m so sorry that I took so long on this thing, and it’s also hardly worthwhile… Maybe you can enjoy a tiny bit of it anyways?

Neil had been getting packs of nicotine gum in his locker, once a week, for a little over two months now. It puzzled him, because he didn’t really smoke. Sure, he had a pack of cigarettes in his gear bag, and another in his desk, but Neil didn’t smoke them. They really only came out when he was with Andrew, actually, so he wasn’t really sure who even knew that he had cigarettes.

Still, Neil had been sort-of stockpiling the gum. He had no interest in chewing it, but he’d lost packs of it all over the place – in the dorms, in the car, around the court, on the bus. Wymack had given him a few irritable looks over finding them, probably because the gum reminded him that he was trying to quit, though Neil noticed that he kept it.

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