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educatedinyellow · 2 years

Note

For the Fic Rec asks, 💯 A fic that makes you think #writergoals, 💞 A fic that led to you making friends with the author, and 🔁 A fic you’ve re-read several times

Thank you so much for this ask, @thetimemoves! I will stick to Holmesian answers, and starting with the first:

A fic that makes you think #writergoals

The King is in his Counting House by Rhuia (Sherlock/John, Molly/Amalthea, 2.5K, rated T) Quests may not simply be abandoned; prophecies may not be left to rot like unpicked fruit; unicorns may go unrescued for a very long time, but not forever.

This little fusion between BBC Sherlock and The Last Unicorn reminds me of what I aspire to as a writer. I've never really wanted to write novel-length stories, though I very much admire and appreciate those writers who do. At heart I incline to the short story. I love how economy of language, in the right hands, turns lyrical. I like the tone that results from flitting from vignette to vignette, and the way that something so brief can still be funny or haunting or powerful, can trace with a light touch over deep emotion that is all the sweeter for being carefully implied rather than linearly developed.

This particular story combines a lot of things that are dear to me personally. It's a fusion (I adore fusions!) with a fantastical, bittersweet fairy-tale that made a huge impression on me in childhood. It doesn't try to explain the whole story for those readers who don't know the source, it just trusts that those who know the book/film will get the references, and those who don't will be able to pick up the gist well enough not to lose that fairy-tale feeling. It concentrates on creating a tone strong enough to carry people rather than over-explaining or expositing to get everyone up to speed -- sometimes I lack that confidence, and it's good to be reminded that if a story is working for a reader they will be willing to trust you and follow you and accept those things left unexplained. I also enjoy the fact that it's a T-rated story that writes about both sex and romance with just the right touches of playful implication and also heartfelt yearning -- to the extent that I write about those things, too, this is the style I love best. I also admire that this was originally written for a flashfic community, and you can tell -- it feels dashed off, not labored, and although not every line is perfect, it has the energy of a captured dream. Too often I struggle to get things down on the page. I would like to get to the point where I write down more dreams. If I have a glint of a thought, it's good to put it down and see if it grows into something small and personal, like this fic. I also appreciate that even in so short a story, the author included a second pairing that wasn't M/M -- I think many fic writers, myself included, don't take opportunity all that often to do so. Most of all, I love this fic for its language. It has its own voice, its own combination of humor and surrealness and heartbreak and joy.

2. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

Oh man, you know, my internet friendships tend to happen so gradually that I usually can't actually remember how they started :) I just feel like most of the time I've hung out in shared fandom spaces and seen people around and gradually exchanged comments on things and then eventually somehow a tipping point has passed and we're friends now?? LOL! But there are a few where I do remember a particular fic kickstarting that process -- I'm pretty sure it was Sanguinity's beautiful 7PER fic, Particular Debts, that she gave me as a gift for Holmestice years ago, as well as its lovely hurt/comfort companion piece Brandy and Soda, that sort of put us on the path to get to know each other better, though I think we'd seen each other around at Holmestice for years before that. And then when I first started learning how to vid, I felt like we were friendly enough that I could reach out to her and ask for help. Her incredibly generous response where she walked me through a ton of the trickiest bits of getting started, and listened to me whine, and insightfully betaed all my vids for, like, the whole first year running and also every time I asked after that really was, for me, a lovely bonding experience and a seal of friendship :)

I must also shout out to the wonderful Donna_Immaculata, whom I got to know because of her stunning Vetinari/Vimes fic, Bracae Temporis!

3. A fic you’ve re-read several times

You know, I'm not as much of a re-reader as you might expect (I myself am surprised that I don't do it more often) -- perhaps it's because the fics that make the biggest impression on me linger so strongly in my memory that it often feels like I don't need to reread, I just revisit them in my head! However, that being said, in the BBC Sherlock fandom, this is one I've reread repeatedly:

Make Whole What Has Been Smashed by gigantic. (Sherlock/John, 12.5K, rated T). The premise of the story is that for John and everyone else time moves forward as normal, but Sherlock experiences the flow of days backwards, so that John's tomorrows are always his yesterdays and vice versa. It's sad and beautiful and infused with wonder and gratitude. A deeply loving story about making the most of this impermanent life.

And I'll throw in one extra recommendation, just for the heck of it. When going through my bookmarks I was reminded of a series that never did gain much readership but which I consider eminently worthy of attention and rereads: Lindentreeisle's Push!Verse series, a sort of dystopic fantasy in which Sherlock and John have supernatural gifts (Sherlock for tracking, John for healing) and are on the run from the sinister Division seeking to recruit them. The detailed world-building, sharp characterizations, and rather intense action scenes make this an underrated gem, in my opinion. 6 stories in the series, about 30K words -- the series is not marked as complete because it's open-ended, but the main story arc is resolved. I'd love for more folks to discover this one. I think the fact it's gen rather than Johnlock kept it off a lot of people's radars, but it's an excellent little story.

#fic recs meme #fic recs #sherlock bbc #internet life #thank you for the asks!

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moonbittern · 3 years

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i’m really excited about this fic and i want to post it right away but i also want to let it sit for a day or two and go back over it to make sure it’s where i want it to be, so i am compromising with myself and posting it here for now lol

just under 1k words, modern au, echo and fives talking about autism, 100% unedited. i’m experimenting with using style to express certain things which was a lot of fun to play with!

echo is bone-tired, everything sucked out of him, leaving him light and empty and calm. everything feels pleasantly distant: the murmur of the TV he doesn't think either of them is watching anymore, the scratch of the couch beneath him, the specific way his hip joints are flexing that brings his legs up to his chest and holds them there. his earlier bout of crying has passed, but it's left him feeling all new and tender - if emotions had skin, his would be newly-healed and sensitive. thin-skinned, really, but it doesn't feel like a bad thing, not in the moment.

fives is talking.

did you really think i'd react badly?

echo lets his head loll against the back of the couch, tries to make eye contact, decides better of it. he uses the time it takes to get comfortable to think of a good response, or maybe it's the getting comfortable that lets him respond.

-i don't know. i didn't want you to, but i couldn't stop guessing. always prepared, i guess.

i still can't believe you kept a lid on this for a year.

-i wanted to be sure. i knew there was something, but i wanted to be sure it was autism.

you could have said you weren't sure. i would've understood.

echo appreciates the sentiment.

-yeah. i just - it's hard. i feel...vulnerable, i guess, talking about it. it's fragile. i don't want it to break.

-all of this, it explains a lot.

yeah? like what?

it takes a moment for echo to parse the question. his first instinct is to bristle, but he stops himself from reacting and thinks about it. he thinks it's a genuine question - not a challenge. he looks at fives again, lightning-fast, and then away. he knows his brother. it's genuine.

-well, there's a lot. uh, i like it when things are predictable. unexpected change stresses me out. like the other day when you wanted to take another route to work-

that was - what, a few weeks ago?

-i don't know.

you could've said no. it wasn't that big of a deal.

-i know. i guess - even knowing why, it feels like a stupid thing to care about. i don't want to think that way - that's why i want to talk to you about these things - but at the same time it feels - i don't need to be that controlling.

it's confusing, is what it is. his instincts pull him in multiple directions and they show no signs of letting up.

i wouldn't call it that. if it matters to you - it doesn't really matter to me, is what i'm trying to say.

-yeah. it does matter to me. it wasn't the end of the world but it - it made a difference. that's all. and it was unexpected, in the middle of the drive and not - you know - if you'd asked before we left that would've been easier. i had an image in my head of how the drive was going to go, and then it was different, and that was a problem. i lived with it, but it was a problem.

that shaky-uncertain feeling, that knowing that he should be somewhere else, that he should have taken that turn a mile back. knowing, at the same time, that it didn't matter, that it wouldn't make them late, that they would still arrive at their destination. that the destination would not be unchanged because the journey was.

knowing that it would be.

yeah. i can do that - tell you if i want to change a plan. sometimes things happen, though.

-i know they do. just. i want you to know that it's different for me, when that happens. it matters. as long as we're on the same page, that's better than, than having to keep that hidden.

okay. i can remember that. anything else you want to be on the same page about?

-oh. uh, a lot, too much to remember right now - i can try to make a list later - what i really want you to know is that i, um, i've been - my whole life feels like a performance. i've been trying so hard to be normal, without even really realizing it - and even now that i know it's hard to break the habit - but i want to try to break it. and i might seem different because of that. i might do things you're not used to me doing. i might get some things wrong. i don't - i've realized i don't know myself as well as i thought i did, and i guess that means no one really does, and i don't want you to be taken off-guard if i...if i'm not myself. not who you think i am.

echo knows who he is - he's echo - but he doesn't always know who echo is. sometimes that distinction makes perfect sense to him, and other times he can't quite grasp it. like everything else in his life, maybe.

-i need to figure some things out and i don't know how long it's going to be, it could be the rest of my life, and - and i'm ready to start including other people. if that's what you want.

yeah. yeah, i do, i really do. i think this'll be good for you. i - i'm happy for you.

fives looks happy/is smiling.

-yeah. me too. you know, some things might not be a surprise. i didn't grow out of repeating things so much as i learned that other people didn't like it. i'd like to - it'll be hard, figuring out what's me and what's everyone else, and i don't know where i'll be at the end of all this - if there is an end - but. i don't know. it'll be an experience.

you'll always be my brother. no matter what.

-yeah. i - yeah. thank you. thank you so much.

what are brothers for?

-what are brothers for?

#i'm not gonna stick this in any main tags but you are welcome to reblog this if you want #for such a short piece i really do feel like i labored over it lol #it didn't even take long to write but i put a lot into it yknow #nd echo

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shorkbrian · 3 years

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So happy your requests are open and I don't mind the wait at all!

I just really want to see a sweet quirkless omega going into heat and sending her alpha Overhaul (Kai Chisaki) into a hard rut and he just pins her to a wall and fucks the life out of her before taking her to the bedroom to knot her.

but you do know that it would 100% be like "hate sex" on Chisaki's part (even though he kinda do like it lol)

(Kinda overhaul x reader x chrono btw but only for a little bit)

Just. Overhaul being able to tolerate you being kept at his compound because one, you're his mate, whether he likes it or not.

Two, you're quirkless.

And three? You don't bother him, you stay out of the way and you have passable hygiene when compared to Chisaki's standards.

But that has to be thrown out the window the second Chrono hauls you into Chisaki's office, the man in charge of watching you when Chisaki isn't around flustered and pink around his ears.

"B-boss, your omega, she's-"

"What the fuck is that smell." Chisaki growls, eyes immediately snapping to your trembling form. Taking in the way you're gasping, sweaty, barely able to stand even with Chrono's hand tight around your bicep and holding you up.

For some reason, the sight of Chrono touching you makes Chisaki itch. Odd, that usually wouldn't bother him.

The smell is cloying; too intense and too sweet, it makes his throat burn and his skin crawl.

"I think she's in-"

"Please, it hurts." You choke out, cutting off Chrono. "Need... I need-"

Chisaki recoiled as the scent got stronger, clouding his senses, making him feel... Chisaki didn't even know. Excited? Tingly?

Uncomfortable - he decided.

"Get her out. Give her a bath too, she smells disgusting." He commanded, but Chrono stepped forward instead of back out the door.

"Boss, she's in heat."

Heat?

Oh.

Overhaul cringed.

Logically, he knew it was going to happen eventually. But on the other hand, he had hoped his omega would be different. you was already quirkless, already pure... surely it wouldn't be too far of a stretch to assume that you wouldn't be affected by the mindless heat-addling that Omega's all seemed to undergo?

His irritation was rising.

"So?"

Chrono looked at his boss with questioning eyes, unsure what to do with the omega becoming increasingly more distressed at his side.

"You'll get her over it." Chisaki decides, ignoring the bitter taste that floods his mouth as he utters those words. His eyes slide over you again, lip curling into a disgusted sneer.

"Messy thing."

Chrono is frozen in disbelief. But this isn't a test of his loyalty, Chisaki truly doesn't want to deal with the germs and the mess and the cleanup associated with omega's during their heats. Slick everywhere, pheromones staining the room, needy hands touching everywhere-

"Sit her down on the couch." He instructs his second-in-command, rising from his office chair and stepping around his desk so he can close the door. "I want to make sure you don't damage her."

That's the only reason. Only reason he wants to be present and watching while Chrono fucks you through your heat.

"You're serious then?" The white-haired man asks, removing the plague mask he wears while inside the compound, thus beginning the process of disrobing.

Chisaki waved his hand idly, resuming his position in his office chair with a tired sigh. "It'd be such a chore for me to do it myself. Aren't you an alpha yourself Chrono? You should be jumping at the chance to bed a nice quirkless omega."

Chrono shrugs off his white coat, looking up from where you're panting on the couch while he stands in front of you, eyes finding his boss. "I wouldn't want to overstep my boundaries with your property."

The brunette smiles, not that anyone can see, but it's clear he's pleased by the crinkle near his eyes, the relaxed way he slumps in his chair. "And that's why you're my favorite Chrono."

You're wearing what you usually wear - long pants, a cozy sweater. Overhaul hasn't heard you complain about the chill in the compound, but it's clear to see it affects you by the way you dress and the way your nose darkens from the cold.

You don't fight the half-naked Chrono as he helps you out of your sweater, unbothered by the temperature of the room and looking entirely too hot and sweaty.

Chisaki supposes it's good that you aren't fighting. You had at first, when he first brought you here, crying and pleading for him to let you go and leave you alone. That pathetic show was quickly shut down with a simple demonstration of Overhaul's quirk, and what he'd do to you if you didn't comply.

Now you're seemingly accepting of the situation, casting nervous glances towards Chisaki, your attention constantly getting stolen by the pale man stripping in front of you.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before Chrono has his cock in you.

And you look completely blissed out, mouth open and letting out choked little gasps on each thrust, one hand desperately trying to hold onto Chrono's shoulder, his arm, his chest - anything you can reach.

The other hand is on your stomach, and Chisaki doesn't understand why until he focuses on it, sees the distention whenever Chrono swings his hips into you.

Chisaki feels himself throb.

The sounds you're making sound like music. Awful music, all discordant and rushed and pornographic, stuttered breaths and pitiful cries, high-pitched and girlish moans in between Chrono's quiet huffs.

The sweet pheromones in the air become sweeter, thicker, and Chisaki can see the direct correlation between the smell and how much slick is dripping out of you, drenching Chrono's pretty cock, his stomach, even splattering his thighs on each thrust as his cock squelches deeper.

It's disgusting.

Digusting but curiously enamoring. Chrono's got you sitting on the couch, pushed up against the back while he fucks you. It's a tall piece of furniture, and Chrono merely hikes his leg up onto the cushions to gain a better angle to fuck you with. Your slick is everywhere; Chisaki knows that couch won't be salvageable after this. Somehow, he doesn't mind.

What he does mind, however, is the way Chrono is speeding up, rhythm stuttering and practically falling apart. He's going to knot you. Chisaki had given him full permission to - that's what taking care of an omega during their heat means, after all. But jealousy is boiling inside him, blood painfully engorging his cock, he feels tingly all over, very unlike himself.

He wants to touch you.

But you're a disgusting mess, smelling sweet and fertile and sweating and dripping everywhere. Chisaki can't believe he's feeling... attracted to you right now.

"O-ohh feels good, r-right there! Yes, thank you,t-than-" You mumble out, drunk on cock as you shudder through an orgasm, cream gushing out of your cunt and further dirtying Chisaki's office.

Chisaki sees red.

He's furious - not only at you, but at Chrono for touching you, and for himself for explicitly allowing it to happen. Chrono's about to knot you, claim you, and Chisaki is out of his chair before he knows what's happening.

"That's enough." And his gloved hands are ripping Chrono away from you, sending the other man reeling as his subordinate struggles to control his alpha instincts and stop himself from fighting his boss, tearing Chisaki to shreds for interrupting his mating.

Chisaki doesn't care, he's too focused on you.

"You're so pathetic." The man hisses at you, crowding into your space. When had he taken off his mask? He wanted to smell more of you.

His gloves are gone too, ripped away in a moment so he can feel your wet skin against his hands, feel the sweat beading your brow before those same fingers snap to undo his pants.

"I hate you, I hate you." He seethes, golden eyes staring at you so intently that you start to cry, overwhelmed with the situation, still craving a knot, craving intimacy and tenderness.

You've reduced him down to barely better than an animal, tearing at his clothes so he can sink into you, closing his eyes at the way you're wet and warm inside, perfect and velvety.

Chisaki doesn't know what's come over him. Normally he'd be disgusted, absolutely incensed at having such filth be in direct contact with his skin. But right now... all he feels is pleasure ripping through his veins, clouding his head, his mind, flushing rational thought down the toilet.

"Stupid, hate you-" his words rattle out on each rapid thrust, breath uneven and labored as his muscles stretch and work to fuck you harder and faster. He's building up to his peak.

One of his hands is fisted in your hair, close to your scalp and keeping you still, the other hand clamped firmly against your hip and making sure you don't wiggle away. Alpha instincts taking over as his brain convinces him to mate, breed, cum.

"You're so fucking dirty." He gasps, voice heated and gravelly as he struggles to fight through the heat taking over his body.

He's going into a rut.

Chisaki isn't supposed to do that. He takes supplements and suppressants to ensure he doesn't have too. Ruts are messy, nasty things to endure, and Chisaki would rather lick the floor of a dirty subway than experience one.

Yet here he is.

"You disgusting, wretched thing-" And you're crying, fat tears mixing with sweat and rolling down your chin. Chisaki feels disgusting himself, wanting to lick the liquid away.

He hasn't felt this good in his entire life, this burning fever pitch rising and rising and cresting, blazing along his nerves.

He can barely thrust his hips anymore, and only then does Chisaki realizes that he's popped his knot, jammed it in deep while you cried and moaned and struggled to hold onto him.

Theres a sick sense of satisfaction filling him up, his mind clears for half a second and Chisaki thinks to look over his shoulder, seeing Chrono still standing there with a soured look on his face, cock still swollen and drippy and bobbing purple against the man's stomach.

"Get out." Chisaki orders, and Chrono knows enough to merely pick up his coat and wrap it around himself before exiting the room. He's never seen his boss like this - so feral and unhinged and debauched like some regular dirty plebeian.

But Chisaki doesn't care. Odd.

He cares about grinding against you, feeling you milk every last drop of cum from his balls, shimmying his hips to hear you gasp and moan and clutch at his body, trembling like a little lamb.

Chisaki doesn't want to stop.

"As soon as my knot goes down-" He growls, lowering his face until it's mere inches from your own, breathing into your space. "I'm going to take you to my room and knot you until you break."

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gatheringbones · 2 years

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hey! thank you so much for making all these posts! i have found so many great books thanks to your blog (just about to start reading lonely hunters lol)

i saw the post you reblogged on anger as part of the healing process and how good it is to have literature exploring it, and i realized i actually have read only like...one book (?) which features this. could you please recommend any, if you can think of some? i understand if that's not really what you do in which case feel free to ignore this ask hope you have a nice day!

I mean it’s always good to know why there’s a widespread cultural phobia of anger and how that plays out in families and culture, which is why Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents rounds out a reading list that centers on how roles are formed, why anger is forbidden as an emotional affect for specific roles, and how that decays and pathologizes over time. Studying family systems goes hand in hand with studying how larger systems enact the same power struggles— whose anger is framed how? whose anger is criminalized and/or medicalized? Whose anger is invisible, yet all-powerful? It makes me think of the family memoirs by Tara Westover and Rachel Sontag and Kiese Laymon, and the short pieces in Dangerous Families by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore. What also comes up is the historical materials on the split between Mattachine society types who modeled their form of protest on what they were able to understand of the non-violence used by Black civil rights groups and the groups of people who were later drawn to and embodied ACT UP. All of which to say— the best materials on focused, curative, powerful beneficial anger lies in the lived experience of human beings in their own words and in the historical movements that accompanied them, and spotting and tracking which patterns express and establish themselves over and over again.

As for fiction? It’s harder to find, especially once a work expressed itself using the language and tropes that already exist and permeate published fiction. Characters who experience and express radical anger get channeled into very specific roles that serve larger narratives— one minute they will express powerful, compelling, articulate anger that gains the reader’s interest and compassion, usually before they do something so grotesque and shocking that everything they said and felt before will appear hollow. The questions they raise get sidelined by the inappropriateness of the actions their personal ethos drives them to take— “Sure he raised some interesting questions about the alienation of labor, but did you see what he did to that baby?” “Sure she pointed out the evils of (Organization) but then she exploded that orphan’s eyeballs with her mind powers!” The protagonist then has to find a middle ground between the moral binary being presented that treats anger as a dangerous, seductive, language and mind warping force that poses a constant threat. Which it is. But it isn’t. But it is. But usually never in the way they describe it. It’s rare in other words. It’s hard to see without the benefit of all of that non-fiction to expose the contrast.

Good luck!

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page-doctor-bekker · 3 years

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Human Error (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) this really doesn’t actually have anything to do with sarah being trans, it just takes place in the same universe. this is literally just an event that happened in this au written out so i can write about effects surrounding it without people being confused lol.

“Reese, we’re slammed, any chance you can take treatment four?” Maggie pointed at Sarah Reese, and then at the fourth treatment room. Sarah looked up from the computer, before grabbing her tablet and heading to the treatment room.

“Hi, Mr. Nearling? I’m Dr. Reese, what seems to be the issue today?” Sarah pushed for hand sanitizer, rubbing her already-dry hands together until the gel had absorbed.

“Trouble breathing…” The man took a few labored breaths, “Cold sweat… I’m shaking, I can’t breathe-”

“Okay, I see, when did this start? Does your chest hurt at all?”

“I… I had a big meeting today and it just happened suddenly. I guess it hurts a little bit.”

“Can I take a listen to your heart?” Sarah asked, already taking her stethoscope off of her neck. The man nodded, and she pressed the drum to his chest. His heart was racing.

He started talking fast, “Are you going to be able to give me a doctor’s note? I’m going to lose my job…” He started breathing faster.

“Has this ever happened before?” Sarah asked, lifting the stethoscope from the man’s chest, “Any history of anxiety or panic disorders?”

“Never like this,” He choked up and coughed a bit, “But, I had social anxiety as a kid.”

“Do you have any family history of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, or high blood pressure? Do you smoke, drink?”

“No, none of that,” The man waved his hands, “I’m a healthy guy. A vegetarian, everything- everything is fine! I’m perfect, I can’t-”

“Mr. Nearling-” He was hyperventilating, and Sarah grabbed one of his hands, “Mr. Nearling, I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” Dr. Reese let go of his hand, and hung her stethoscope back around her neck, and tapped on her iPad, “I’m going to give you something to calm you down, then we can talk about coping strategies and I will refer you to outpatient psychiatry to continue care. April, push 1.5 milligrams of Ativan.”

April pushed the medication through the patient’s IV line, and Dr. Reese pulled up a round, spinning stool to the bed and sat down. April nodded at the doctor, and left the room, pulling the curtain shut.

Mr. Nearling calmed down noticeably, which Dr. Reese took as a success - Panic attack subsided. Dr. Reese smiled, “It’s normal to have some residual physical symptoms, mild tightness, shortness of breath, but as the medication works you’ll calm down more and more. Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Mr. Nearling shrugged, “Maybe? I’ve never gone to the hospital for it.”

“After a severe panic attack you may have more panic attacks in the coming days or weeks, so I’m going to call in a mild benzodiazepine in case you need a bit of help,” Dr. Reese typed that into the tablet, “When you feel the anxiety and panic start up, you definitely want to try coping mechanisms before you take medication for it. The medication is just for if those coping mechanisms don’t work, which sometimes happens and is to be expected every once in a while.”

Mr. Nearling nodded, taking a deep breath. It was shaky going out, but residual anxiety can do that.

“So, a good first step, whenever you’re having a panic attack, is to recognize that you’re having a panic attack. If it doesn’t work to say it in your head, say it out loud,” Dr. Reese tapped the tablet against her leg with each coming syllable for emphasis, “I am having a panic attack.”

“I am having a panic attack.”

And just like that, it was no longer a panic attack. Mr. Nearling went limp, and the monitors started going crazy. Dr. Reese held two fingers to the man’s neck, and yelled out, “I need a crash cart!”

Everything moved fast after that. Sarah was pushed out of the way by two ED doctors, who started barking out orders.

“He’s in cardiac arrest, page CT. Reese, get on his chest-”

Sarah could feel blood pounding in her ears, and she clasped one hand over the other and started humming. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive. Stayin’ alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive… No matter how much CPR she performed, she still needed the song to keep her on beat.

“-Milligram of Epi.”

Ah, ha, ha, ha…

“Hold compressions,” Dr. Choi barked, holding two fingers to the man’s neck, “Clear!”

The man’s chest lurched as he was shocked, and Sarah’s heart jumped into her throat. Dr. Choi held his fingers back to the man’s neck, “Another milligram of Epi. Charge to 200.”

Sarah resumed compressions. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’...

“Clear!”

Sarah held her hands up, shaking. This never got easier.

“Asystole,” April sighed out, preparing another milligram of Epi. She knew exactly what Dr. Choi was going to ask for next.

“Another milligram of Epi.”

Sarah reached to resume compressions, but Dr. Choi swatted her hands out of the way and did CPR himself. Dr. Choi did it slightly faster than Sarah did. He knew the man was dead.

Sarah squeezed her clammy hands together, shaking like a leaf.

Dr. Bekker rushed in almost immediately after Dr. Choi stopped compressions, and was floored when Choi called time of death.

“Alright, why wasn’t this patient taken to the cath lab as soon as his heart attack was diagnosed?” Ava’s tone was stone cold.

Everyone looked at Sarah.

“He uh… He presented with…” She cleared her throat, “With shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, shakiness, and extreme anxiety as well as a positive history for social anxiety. He did not-” She cracked her knuckles, “Um… He also displayed signs of work-related stress and no- Uh, no risk factors for heart attack. I determined he was having a panic attack and ordered 1.5 milligrams of Ativan and started talking about coping strategies with him.”

“Whenever a patient shows up with chest pains they should receive a FULL cardiac workup REGARDLESS of history and risk factors,” Dr. Bekker took a step towards Sarah, and grew louder, “If YOU were in the emergency room with CHEST PAIN, would you be anxious?!”

“I- uh-”

“You did NOTHING you should have. ANXIETY is NOT a contraindication for a heart attack, and now this man is dead. Leaving him to die in the waiting room would be more effective,” She spat out, her tone venomous, “Psych residents, I swear. God, isn’t anyone in this hospital competent?”

Sarah was out of the room before she even knew she was moving. Her feet dragged her away and her heart was practically leaping out of her chest. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she started chewing on her tongue to avoid letting them go. She clenched her fists as Dr. Charles called her name.

“Dr. Reese! I was paged to the ED, something about you?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” She pushed past him, and he grabbed her arm.

“Sarah,” He whispered, “Go sit in my office when you’re done. I’m going to finish rounds. We’ll talk when I’m done,” He started to walk away, before turning around, “You’re not in trouble, Sarah, I just want to understand what happened.”

Sarah pushed open the swinging door to the women’s bathroom, bolted into the nearest stall and slammed the door shut. She sat down and started sobbing.

I’m in love with her.

She choked on her own snot, and ripped off a piece of toilet paper to blow her nose.

I’m in love with her, and she hates me.

She let out a wail.

i’m in love with her, she hates me, and I failed her.

The bathroom door opened.

“Sarah?”

Sarah held her breath, pulled her knees up to her chest to avoid making any noise.

“I don’t think she’s in here,” Sarah heard April, a gentle voice amongst the madness.

Sarah heard a pager beep.

“Ugh, I have a heart transplant. Whatever, send a note to Dr. Charles and let him know I was looking for her.”

She wants to yell at me some more. She wants to hurt me. She somehow knows about me and I’m going to get fired. I’m going to get fired and be all alone. She knows about me and she’s going to hurt me and I’m going to get fired.

They left, and Sarah let out her breath and let her feet fall to the floor. She blew her nose again, and took a deep, shaking breath. She stood up, and leaned her forehead against the stall door. She took her hair down from it’s low ponytail, and shook it out. She grabbed a piece of her hair and started absentmindedly braiding it - an old anxious habit.

A few minutes and three braids later, she opened the stall door and stared into the mirror in front of her. She wiped away her tears, approached the sink, and splashed water on her face, soaking one of her messy braids in the process. She dried with a thin paper towel, took another shaky, deep breath. She grabbed a helping of hand sanitizer on her way out of the bathroom. Force of habit. Even leaving her bedroom at home she sometimes tries to push the sanitizer button, even though it isn’t there.

Sarah practically ran to Dr. Charles’s office, hurriedly taking her braids out and running her hands through her tangled hair.

She unlocked Dr. Charles’s office door with her key, and closed the door behind her. She did not turn the lights on. Instead, she made a beeline for the couch. There was a throw blanket stored under one of the cushions, and she pulled it over her after grabbing it. She covered her face with a pillow, and screamed into it.

“Sarah?”

She forcefully uncovered her face, before relaxing once she saw it was just Daniel.

“Sarah,” He inquired, sitting down at his desk, “What happened today?”

Sarah sniffled, “I misdiagnosed a heart attack as a panic attack,” She choked out, “Mid-30s male presenting with shortness of breath, mild chest pain, cold sweat, anxiety, healthy weight, vegetarian, panicking with a history of social anxiety, currently experiencing work-related stress, no family history of heart disease, nothing.”

Dr. Charles sighed, “Common mistake. Hardly something to have a-”

“He died, Dr. Charles,” She cried, “He’s dead.”

Dr. Charles’s face hardened, “I see,” He faltered.

“And- And Ava, God, Ava…” She pressed her hand to her forehead, “She yelled at me in the middle of the ED, and she said I was incompetent and-” She choked out a sob, “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Sarah,” Dr. Charles’s tone softened, “She’s just… She’s just angry. She won’t be angry forever.”

“I just really messed up today,” Sarah swiped her tears away with trembling hands.

“You did,” Dr. Charles agreed, “You did mess up today, but-”

“I’m going to get sued-”

“Sarah.”

“I’m going to lose my residency and I don’t have a fallback plan, I’m in so much debt and so much trouble-”

“Sarah, you’re not going to lose your residency,” Dr. Charles yelled, and Sarah fell silent. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for yelling at you, but you’re not going to lose your residency. Every single doctor has a misdiagnosis in their career, it’s just part of the job.”

“But he died. And it’s my fault.”

“Sarah, you are going to lose patients. And sometimes it’s going to be your fault,” He reasoned, “You’re a good doctor, Sarah, you’re a good doctor who made a mistake. You want to know what happened during my residency? I diagnosed a teenage girl experiencing vomiting and lack of appetite with bulimia,” He raised his eyebrows at Sarah, “She died of malnutrition. Autopsy showed she had ulcers all along her digestive tract,” He shrugged, “She was in too much pain to eat! But all I saw was a sickly thin teenage girl that was vomiting and couldn’t eat.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“The point is, things happen. Death happens. Sometimes, conditions disguise as one another. Medicine is hardly ever an exact science,” Dr. Charles pointed out, “Human error is expected, you’re not going to get fired, and you’re probably not going to get sued. Mr. Nearling presented with no typical risk factors of a heart attack, and all the typical risk factors and symptoms of a panic attack. Did you purposefully ignore Mr. Nearling’s heart attack?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Boom,” Dr. Charles threw his hands up in front of him, “You had no malicious intent. You made a mistake, a common mistake, on a patient that didn’t present typically, and it had consequences.”

Sarah nodded.

Dr. Charles sighed, and looked at Sarah with a look of sympathy, “And now it will never happen again, right?”

She nodded.

“You’re going to take complaints with these symptoms more seriously?”

She nodded.

“You’re not a bad doctor, Sarah, you’re just a human,” He said, “In med school they always teach you what someone who has a heart attack looks like, just like they taught me what someone who has an eating disorder looks like. You just have to learn to get past that phenotype and look deeper.”

Sarah stayed quiet.

“Look... This is hard. I get it,” Dr. Charles sighed, “Just... go home, Sarah. Take a breather.”

“What?”

“Go home. Come back in a few days. Take a break.”

“Yes sir,” She said, quietly, before standing up to leave.

(A/N) thanks for reading :) i’m going to build on this at some point and write a follow-up to this one shot. hope you enjoyed! this is a foundation for the parts i want to write, so it doesn’t have too much about sarah’s actual transition. i am so sorry for making ava be mean :(( EDIT: If you liked this, check this out bc I am continuing it!

#chicago med #one shot #chicago med one shot #sarah reese #writing #also my favorite sarah headcanon is that she still has to hum or sing stayin alive to do cpr #she has no natural rhythm without a guide lol #thats okay #transfemme!sarah #my au #angst #mild angst #dr charles #dr charles comforting sarah reese #dr charles is a good father figure #crockettstiddies

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bnhablessings · 4 years

Note

Can I request a oneshot/headcanon for Hawks x pregnant fem!reader? I was thinking of Hawks being super cute taking care of her and showing her off proudly to other hero's. this is my first time making a request, so feel free to do with this as you please lolz! also I really want the end to have reader going into labor and giving birth at the end with a very proud Hawks at her side (you get to choose the gender!)💖

It took me so long to get to this omg but I did and I hope you like it, Hon! It is past midnight and I have a weird obsession with tomatoes right now.

Warnings: Pregnancy, just a fluff overload, Profanity, All Might is retired, Dabi and Hawks are good friends AU (we ignore the manga, only happy feelings here lmao)

*I have fixed grammar issues. My brain power was not activated when writing this lol.

Words: 2438

Takami Keigo (Hawks) x Female Reader

“Isn’t she just amazing?” Hawks questions not really speaking to anyone else as he just admires the woman waddling down the hallway.

The other Pro Heroes around him stare at him with confusion. Aizawa, Yamada, Yagi, and Todoroki Enji all take a glance at each other before they wait for the woman to make her way to them. All of them but Hawks are profoundly confused.

“Uh… This was supposed to be a parent-teacher conference so may I ask why Hawks is here as well?” All Might asks.

Hawks ignores them as he watches the woman stopping for a moment to speak to a student. She looks genuinely concerned and it makes his foolish heart swell from how caring she is. Endeavor wants to slap the foolish look off Hawks face but ignores it to answer All Might.

“I apologize. We had lunch together before this meeting. He decided to follow me but I have no idea why.” The tone to Endeavor’s voice shows that he is irritated but curious as to why the number 2 hero seems to be enamored with a simple U.A teacher.

She hasn’t noticed him yet thankfully and he has proudly gotten a video of her waddling. The closer to she gets the more the expression on her face slowly turns into one of realization. The students at U.A respect and care for her so they always make room for her.

“Hey, Honey, what are you doing here?” You ask softly as you place a hand on your very large bump.

He goes to respond when your colleague Present Mic starts to let out an inhuman sound that turns into a surprised scream. “What?! Honey?! (NAME) YOU’RE MARRIED TO THE HAWKS?!” Present Mic screeches.

You ignore the change in volume and laugh as you nod your head. Aizawa seems to nod as he pieces it together. “Ah… You did mention Tokoyami’s internship being close with your husband.”

“BUT WAIT! You’re married? All my attempts on wooing you have been in vain,” Present Mic mumbles.

Everyone seems to freeze at this but you just laugh more. “Yamada, have you not noticed my ring? I’ve been wearing it every day since working here!” You manage to say after laughing.

He has absolutely no reply but to slowly put his hands up to show surrender from Hawks’ glare on him. Without a care, Hawks pulls you to him so he can hug you with your baby bump blocking it fully. His hands go to rest upon it and he smiles widely.

“See! I told you I have a beautiful family too, Endeavor.”

Endeavor for once has to hide the smile on his face as he looks away. He replies, “Yeah. I thought you were speaking nonsense or showing me pictures of random pregnant women.”

“Nope! I can guess why you would be confused… Since I never showed her face. We have a little chickadee coming on the way!” The excitement is clear in his voice and on his face from the happy lazy grin plastered on it.

He looks at the others and bids them goodbye. “Well, I am going to steal her so she can have her lunch with me. See ya.”

~*~

“Baby, I promise, it is okay! I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later when you get home! I’m just happy you visited for lunch,” You say into the phone. Your other hand goes to your purse to look for your keys.

You hear Hawks mumble and whine on the other side of the phone but you ignore it until you find the keys successfully. “Alright, babe. I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I reach the house. I love you!”

After hearing his ‘I love you more’ he hangs up and you smile feeling great. This is unusual since the pregnancy hormones have made you feel like shit lately. It’s all going to be worth it though.

“Hey, do you need me to walk you home?” Aizawa questions as he enters the hall.

You think for a few seconds before you ask, “Would you be willing to walk me to the station? I’ll be fine from there since I’m planning on stopping by a store! I don’t want to waste too much of your time!”

He nods and the two of you begin the walk to the station. It starts as a comfortable silence before Aizawa speaks up with a smile on his face. “You know, I had no idea you were married to the Number 2 Pro Hero. It surprised me but at the same, it didn’t. What surprised me though was seeing the way he stared at you. You have a good thing going,” Aizawa states.

It was odd for him to give his input like that but it made you feel happy to know that Hawks’ love for you was just that noticeable. Once at the station, Aizawa gives you a look, something an older brother would a younger sibling or parent would their child before giving a demand.

“Call me if anything happens. I’m on patrol for a while so I’ll be near this area. Be safe going home, (Name).”

Today has been such a heartwarming day and Aizawa’s words only bring you more joy as you bid him a farewell.

It doesn’t take long to reach the store close to your home. You salivate at the thought of getting what you crave most. An odd combination that most people would puke from but what you need to satisfy you and your baby right now, tomatoes and frosting.

You can just imagine Hawks’ disgusted look but it wasn’t the worst thing you’ve had yet. You go to turn when your baby bump hits something off the shelf. Thankfully, it was just another plastic can full of icing so it didn’t break. Now the new problem was picking up the jar.

You know it was a near-impossible feat but you try anyway. You probably look very silly trying to reach and barely scraping the can with your fingernails but you don’t care. You are determined to do it. That is until you hear an obvious cough trying to get your attention.

You give up for now and look at the owner only to smile upon seeing the man you saw earlier. “Hello, Mr. Endeavor! We’ve met officially earlier but not formally. I am Takami (Name). It’s a pleasure to meet you and I apologize if my husband gets a bit too much to handle. He can be very chillaxed but he does take his job seriously,” You ramble.

“Pleasure.”

He merely observes you with serious eyes before he bends down and picks up the icing jar. He hands it to you. “Thank you! I would’ve been in a pickle there if I couldn’t reach it,” You murmur placing it back on the shelf where it belongs.

One of his eyebrows betray his lack of expression to show his slight confusion and you laugh. “I already have my icing in this arm! The baby bump knocked over that one.”

He doesn’t say anything in reply to that. Instead, he seems to contemplate saying something. He just needs a few seconds before he decides to say it against his better judgment.

“Hawks... He’s the Number 2 Pro Hero and extremely famous. How is it I never even heard or seen you? I thought he was fibbing about having a wife since he only produced photos of your bump and not of your actual face,” He didn’t want to ask it but the curiosity got the best of him and it was unusual to him.

The question made you smile but this time with a bit of sadness. You’ve received this question just a few times before but the answer remains the same. “We try to hide our relationship and it is easy when his fans like to think he is single. It doesn’t matter but we have private social medias for our friends. We like to keep my face hidden and such.”

The atmosphere turned a bit tense and for once (actually probably like the fifth time since Hawks had been determined in making him a better Number 1 Hero) he feels guilty. Something strange feels like it’s churning in his chest and he quickly fixes it.

“He does talk an awful lot about you though. It’s clear as day how much he loves you and your baby.” It was a simple two-sentences but it brought comfort to you.

He leaves without any more words and you are brought back to your cheerful self and go to pay for the items. By the time you get home, it is already showing signs of getting dark. You are quick to send a text to Hawks and it distracts you from realizing something odd is wrong with your door. The fact that it is unlocked.

You lock your front door once inside and go straight to the kitchen to slice the tomatoes and spread icing on them. You waste absolutely no time as you have it all ready on a plate and leave the room to go change into something more comfortable.

Of course, only Hawks’ shirts have been fitting you lately and you prefer them much more than your maternity clothing. So you wear that and a pair of shorts before coming to get your treat and hopefully take a nap. That was the plan before you have a fucking heart attack from seeing a burnt toast eating your food.

“How the fuck do you eat this?” Dabi questions spitting a tomato slice out of his mouth.

Your heart is absolutely broken at the scene. You ignore the bully of a man and stare at the red and white mess on the ground. How dare he do this to you?

“Oh fuck… (Name), please don’t do this. I’m sorry. I’ll go buy you a new fucking tomato if you want. With the fucking confetti icing and shit. Just don’t cry… Or tell Hawks,” Dabi says.

It is too late though. The damage has been done as your hormones go berserk from seeing what you craved on the ground (yes your mind is ignoring the perfectly good slices still on the plate). Tears prick at your eyes and before you can rub them away or cry, Dabi brings you into a hug.

As you cry into his chest he is already on the phone with Hawks but with your uncontrollable sobs, you don’t hear the conversation. After a few painful minutes (for Dabi) he finally pulls away only for your face to be smothered by your loving husband’s chest.

He hushes you gently and rubs soothing circles on your back all while glaring at his best friend.

Dabi raises his hand in defense. “Hey man, I just came here to visit the princess with good intentions. Thanks for bringing the tomato. I owe you one.”

Another minute later Dabi presents to you a brand new plate with a tomato covered in icing. You sniffle lightly and take it before mumbling, “Thanks. Sorry for the way I acted. That was pathetic.”

“Hey no, it wasn’t Doll. I take full blame for eating your weird food. That and it is 100% Hawks’ fault for knocking you up Beautiful. Anyway, I got to bounce but are we good?” Dabi asks opening his arms for another hug.

You smile and give in. “We’re always good. Now get out of here. We’ll invite you over for a chicken wing dinner,” You offer.

He leaves with a stupid smile on his face and Hawks smiles as he can finally full-on cuddle you without interruptions. Of course, after you are done eating. He pulls you to cuddle on the couch with him, his wings stretched out and resting against the couch.

“You good, Babe?”

You nod the exhaustion pouring in on your face, “Yeah. Sorry I ended up making you come home early. I didn’t mean to get like that.”

“It’s all good. I would do anything for you and the baby. No tomato is safe from being devoured by you if that is what you desire.”

You are too tired to even give a response to that. Instead, you try and curl up into him as you make sure your bump is comfortable at the same time. His hands rest on your belly as he hums into your ear.

“What only two months left now?”

Yeah, and they are going to fly right by.

~*~

“You had to come in through the window?” Hawks asks in a hushed voice.

Dabi only smirks before his eyes fall on your resting figure. Hawks is sitting right beside you on the bed. The sweet bundle of joy he came to meet is resting in Hawks’ arms right beside you.

“Can’t impress anyone if I didn’t. All the Heroes come by already?” Dabi asks as he takes slow and steady steps to the three of you.

You smile weakly as you recall your three colleagues coming in to check on you and meet the baby (that Hawks may or may not have shoved in their face from how proud he was). Endeavor came by as well to congratulate you and Hawks.

“Yeah. All there is left now is to meet you,” You murmur as Hawks stands up.

Dabi gets a close look at the baby’s squishy face. He wants to say it’s hideous as a joke (he was planning on how to do joke about it though) but he couldn’t. The baby was actually cute. However, to his absolute horror, Hawks starts to proceed to give the baby to him.

“What the fuck. What if I drop it?”

You answer in a sleepy voice. “Drop her and I will personally send you to hell.”

“Her… What name did you guys come up with?”

Hawks answers without hesitation. “Tomato.”

Dabi physically freezes and looks up before seeing the stupid grin on Hawks’ face. He turns to you and you smile a gentle smile and give up the true answer. “Takara, it means treasure. Takami Takara.”

“I’ll take the chair. I’ll hold her while you guys rest up for a bit.”

You thank him and Hawks silently thanks him before showing off his severely bruised hand that you no doubt, destroyed when pushing during labor.

It is a pain Hawks would gladly go over again and endure for you because you are everything to him. You and your beautiful daughter mean the world to him and he would go through this life a million times if it meant having the two of you again.

#boko no hero academia #my hero academia #hawks #hawks x reader #takami keigo #keigo takami x reader #request #fluff #bnha fanfiction #bnha oneshot #fanfiction #oneshot #Dabi #dabi eats a tomato and reader cries that is the summary #cute #bnha hawks #bnha dabi

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sitp-recs · 3 years

Text

Bits of me (in recs)

I was tagged by @tackytigerfic on a game created by the brilliant @the-starryknight that invites creators to share personal bits that have been included in their works. And because I don’t consider myself a creator, finding a way to participate was a bit of a struggle - I’ve been mostly doing reclists by demand lately, where I don’t usually insert bits of myself because they’re not about me, but rather about who’s asking and the kind of content they’re looking for. It’s not much but here’s what I came up with! This was a fun exercise so if anyone wanna join just @ me (never mind me intruding the game lol)

Reclists: I’m really proud of myself for putting some of them together early on and by my own initiative. Ever since I started the blog I wanted to be out & proud about my “ship and let ship” policy and make this a safe space for everyone. I feel like this spirit was lost as the blog became bigger and more focused on Drarry reclists, but those who’ve been following me for a while now probably remember that I used to do milestone celebration rec weeks including rare pairs, kinky stuff, personal favorites... feels like it was ages ago, but I’m very pleased that I took the time to boost themes that I greatly enjoy on a personal level, without really caring about what others would say or think. Did I feel a bit too seen with that kink selection? Maaybe. Do I regret it? Absolutely not 😌

Single recs: I mean, all of them already feel very personal, and by that I mean that the format, fic choice, writing process and banner aesthetics are 100% biased and follow my very personal preferences. Funnily enough I haven’t been able to express myself as I’d like when it comes to my all-time favorites - my recs for Running on Air and Little Compton Street look particularly short and uninspired as I did them early on and was still experimenting with the format. Also, I may never finish that rec for By the Grace if I’m honest - everything feels small and inadequate to describe how I felt reading a transformative piece like that one. The more personal it gets, the more I struggle with putting it into words and chances are I’ll give it up altogether...

But yeah, some recs feel more personal than others, either because it’s for a fic written by a dear friend (in this case my rec is more like a love letter to them, instead of a chat with fellow readers), or because I get deeply touched by a story that resonates on a more personal level - then my commentary can get particularly long, sappy and rambling. Oh the expOSURE! I still get embarrassed at myself for mentioning the same fics over and over across reclists, I can’t help thinking those authors are exhausted from seeing me on their notifs. Speaking of reccing friends, I shamelessly admit I do it as much as I can, especially if I notice one of them is feeling down or having a rough time. What’s the point of having a recs blog if I can’t boost brilliant folks that are always there for me, and scream to the world about their labor of love? ❤️

#tag game #merry starry #bits of me

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leftonthread · 2 years

Text

*Heaven's Runway*

Virgil Abloh is a goat of fashion innovation with his master mind and creativity. He made thread and fabric a canvas. He painted originality at its finest and paved his portion of fashion history. Virgil Abloh created an environment that displayed confidence, luxury, and style. The streets are hot, and Virgil has a lot to do with controlling the temperature. Streetwear is major in society today and has always made its way around as one of the most influential, favored, and popular fashion markets. Pyrex Vision was Virgil Abloh’s first street wear brand creating a frenzy throughout the fashion world over having Pyrex written across your shorts. He worked at a local screen-printing shop where he one day met rapper, Kanye West. This led to his internship at Fendi where he also interned with Ye and became his creative director. Not only has he left his blueprint in fashion, but he has had his heavenly hands of creation in furniture, album covers and more diversifying his portfolio. King of Collaborations suits Virgil Abloh well, because when he collaborated, he came through every time! His furniture collab with IKEA was not swept under the rug, it became the rug. His “Wet Grass” rug is a staple and I see it in a lot of sneaker shops, streetwear shops and studios. His Off-White collaboration with Nike is legendary and most definitely a statement piece keeper item. I’m also a customer, and I can confirm the quality of not only his efforts and creativity, but the material and labor as well. His hard work and well-earned opportunities presented the start of a major luxury label, Off-White. This led him into his destiny of another well-earned position of my favorite luxury brand Louis Vuitton, as Men’s Artistic Director. Virgil Abloh broke beautiful barriers, being the first black man to be Louis Vuitton’s Artistic Director. His journey did not end on November 28th, 2021, after passing away from a rare cancer known as Cardiac Angiosarcoma. He has worked with many high-profile celebrities and fashion designers. Virgil worked to be remembered and created what he loved for the people that love and support him, and that’s why his name will never fade away. He moved with purpose and provided with purpose, so it was only right that he left with purpose and left his purpose.

"RIP VIRGILABLOH"@2021

“VIRGIL LIVES ON”

MUGLER MAMAS

Another legend also transitioned January 23, 2022 but left a major impact on another market of fashion. Thierry Mugler is a well-known French fashion designer who has worked with many familiar faces, celebrities, and award-winning personnel. Mugler captured every bit of sexy through his high-end trends and ordinary fashion ideas that targeted creative beauty. I absolutely love the pieces on Thierry Mugler and one of my favorite pieces is the Star Flocked Mesh dress. He has created iconic looks starting with two of my favorites that’s really keeping the block hot and the girls loving it, Kim Kardashian, and Cardi B! These were two of my favorite Mugler looks because it gave me sleek, sexy, upscale and that.…you finish the rest! Lol! He’s not only iconic for making women feel spicy, but also for making them smell like a date night at Nobu with his perfume collection. Mugler iconic fashion pieces can be seen going down the red carpet at award shows or events and on performers working the stage and entertaining fans. The Sheer Tulle Bodysuit is to die for and gives the perfect amount of sexy for a date night or going out look. This haute couture lives up to the name of its market. It’s hot, luxury, trendy and fashionable couture.

RIP MUGLER ♥

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personasintro · 3 years

Note

MH 42

K so I’m glad YN dumped Haneul. He is crazy to think she’s going to give up her friendship of YEARS for an insecure little boy that she didn’t even know existed until a couple months ago.

I’m glad she was able to cry and let everything out. Her feelings are valid, no matter how short of a time they were together. Thanks JK for being insistent and being there for her.

I love YN and Yoongi’s friendship lol. Like, they aren’t the friends in the typical way but they do discuss serious stuff and feelings from time to time that you wouldn’t share with just anyone. And I know they would have each other’s backs for something important like when her car used to give her trouble and how he recommended her the bar job. Did YN really look bad or does Yoongi just know her well enough by now to tell?

Women v men. Labor/cramps v getting kicked in the balls. This battle will go on forever lol. YN defended herself pretty well despite being outnumbered lol.

OMG that ending with JK hearing Hoseok and Kiko talking about who she cheated with… 😱. I cannot wait to find out!

“No, whatever Hoseok wants you to tell me, you will. Tomorrow.” 😳😬 He did say he didn’t want to know… but if it’s someone super close to him she should have revealed it and given him the option to get back together or not based on that… the suspense 😩

I wonder if he will discuss this with YN in the car since he will be picking her up.

Also regarding who’s POV we will find out from? I would prefer finding out from Jungkook POV. I know we’re supposed to be YN but I feel like this moment has been on everyone’s mind since the beginning and it’d feel more intense if it’s JK because his heart is the one that may possibly be broken into a million pieces all over again.

But whichever way you write it I know I will enjoy. 😌

Thanks for updating! Please know that your writing is very much appreciated! Those anons are lame because even though they “criticize” and complain about the story, they still end up reading each update anyway, so idk why they even bother writing to you.

Anyways, hope you are well and I look forward to the next update 💜

Ah, this was so much fun to read! You know I like when you guys describe scenes and share your thoughts with me!! I think Yoongi might not be her typical friend, I'm not sure if she even considers him as one, but I think she does find a little comfort in telling him some things (even tho he's usually the one who asks her and she's kinda resisting for a while). I also think the reason why she shared such a personal information, is simply because it's nice to say that to someone else outside of their "friends group". To answer your question, she didn't look bad but he kinda could see that there's something bothering her and she's not in her usual mood, even tho she was annoyed and bitter as always hahah. Thank you for reading this chapter and sharing all of this with me♡

#ask #ask: mutual help

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jjpmoans · 4 years

Text

painting your galaxy | ijb [M]

w.c : 1.7k+

warnings : soft smut, love-making, really, not heavy smut. It’s a first for me too.

a/n : A continuation from the previous painting the galaxy, the fic for @fairygyeom‘s birthday. I wanted to make part 2 of it which has sexual contents so people can choose not to read this one instead of merging both of it together. Also i am glad that @jj-nyoung helped me by beta-reading, i laughed at how much grammatical errors were there. Hope yall enjoy reading this! My first ever soft smut.

Your back hits the cold duvet and you shiver just as Jaebeom places you carefully on the bed. He follows, caging your frame with his own as he drops kisses all over your face and presses his lips onto your skin. How you managed to come home safely is questionable, judging by the way Jaebeom had his mind clouded with sexual thoughts all the way home.

You are surprised that he can still function well.

A kiss on your neck, followed by a tongue lapping at a particular jugular vein had your mind back to the man on top of you. His hand wanders aimlessly, trying to feel every crook of you as though he doesn’t have enough. His calloused hand finds your hip, pressing it down to keep you staying still.

Your hand finds his hair, tugging at the black locks after he mouthed your clothed breast and made your nipple harden under the layer of clothes. The sex tonight feels different, far from your usual adventure. By now Jaebeom is supposed to be ripping you out of your clothes because as much as the man is patient with you, he is not in bed.

“Jaebeom.” You manage to squeak a word when he pops the button of your jeans, slipping his hot hand under the tight material. His touches burn you, more than anything when it slides just across your sex and slips further, cupping your now- probably- drenched core.

Jaebeom is still lapping at your skin, he had your shirt bunched slightly higher than your chest. Your breasts however, are spilling out of your bra, courtesy of the impatient Jaebeom, whose open mouth is devouring your now abused skin. “God, princess.”

“Your nipples are so hard.” He drags a tongue across your taut bud and hollows his cheeks to suck, the pressure stimulating your bundle of nerves and sending shivers to your spine. The blunt tip of your nail scratches his scalp in return, wanting him to stop foreplaying and enter you instantly.

“Jaebeommie.” You whine, making him stop in his track. “Please, inside me. Please?”

Begging should do it. He should bend his will for you, as this is your birthday. He ought to grant you whatever you want.

“Take off your clothes, princess.” At that you shoot up, tugging the materials off you harshly and throwing it aimlessly to the floor. Where they’ll land, you’ll think about it later.

Jaebeom, however, is amused at how fast you comply, even stripping down to nothing in just a few seconds. He never saw you being so needy, but not that he is complaining. Instead he shreds down his own clothes, leaving it as a heap of bundled clothes on the floor.

“So..needy.” he lets his hand graze your thigh, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You know he’s trying to delay it; he wants to take his time. As much as he is impatient, he can also be the most patient person when it comes to sex. “Aren’t you so needy tonight?”

You nod, not even trying to deny it. You are needy, you’ve been excited since you made out while stargazing. It is still an amusement that he didn’t take you right then and there because honestly, he looks like he can.

“Please Jaebeom. Inside me.”

He hums, the pad of his thumb finally finding your throbbing clitoris. One swipe and you jolt as an immediate reaction to his touch. You have learnt that your body is absolutely sensitive to touch when you’re horny, you seem to buckle every time Jaebeom plays with either your nipples or your clitoris. Either way, you have no complaints.

In no time, Jaebeom has you a moaning mess, only by rubbing the pad of his thumb over and over your clit. He keeps his eyes on you, watching you slowly falling apart under his touch.

“So beautiful.” He switches his hand, one hand rubbing and the other slipping a finger inside you, making you throw your head behind. One is not enough. One is just a child play for Jaebeom. “More?”

One becomes two, two becomes three. Tears are forming at the corner of your eyes because of how full you’re feeling down there. Jaebeom just keeps pumping his fingers in and out, repeatedly pressing the spot that makes you cry louder each time.

Jaebeom has a thing watching you becoming a mess for him. To him it feels like an achievement, watching his girl cumming only from his fingers.

“My beautiful princess.” Head thrown and sweat trickling all over your body, you feel like you’re burning. A particular hard thrust though, sends you into a firework of white vision, your legs cramping and your core throbbing violently, clamping on Jaebeom’s fingers. It’s extremely tight but somehow Jaebeom manages to still pump you through the orgasm while swiftly rubbing your clit to calm you down. “Wanna make you cum like this, every day.”

He stands, shredding one last piece of his clothes, hard on springing up to show how hard it has been for him. Slowly he crawls, effectively caging you again while his length rubs your thigh. You feel it twitch upon bumping into some goose bumps that have been painting your skin for a while now.

Jaebeom, being the lover he is, cradles your head after he positions his bulbous head at your entrance.

“Tonight, princess.” You feel him slowly entering you, inch by inch of his hard length penetrates your core. “I’m going to make you feel good.”

Halfway, probably, you don’t know anymore, you sob at the sensation of fullness brought by his dick. He stills, knowing how incredibly tight you can be after your first orgasm. Then when you nod, he reaches for your fingers and locks them together before pushing more of him inside you.

In return, you lol your head to the side, holding your intertwined hands as a support.

“You’re extremely tight, princess.” He catches his breath, a pained look painting his face when you accidentally squeeze him. “Shit.”

“Move.” You said. “Please.”

Jaebeom wastes no time pulling back and slams into you with the intensity of a mad man, right to your pleasure spot. Your mouth forms an ‘o’, clouded by his delicious thrust. You want every day to be your birthday.

He chuckles, pushing your hands up above your head. “I can make love to you like this every day, princess.”

You blush, realising that you unknowingly voiced your thoughts out.

“Tell me how you feel.” Jaebeom’s length, thick and full inside you, keeps plowing in and out without giving you time to think. You wanted to laugh, as if you needed time to think, really. “Does it feel full, baby?”

You nod hurriedly, afraid that he pulls a stunt if you don’t answer instantly. “So big, Jaebeom.”

He laughs, agreeing with what you’ve muttered. “Harder?”

Again you nod, wanting him to break you. “Make love to me, Jae..”

You get a moan as a response and if you squint really hard, you can feel his member twitching inside you. In return, Jaebeom stills and drops his head to your shoulder, obviously affected by your words.

“Say that again.” He pleads.

You, knowing there is no harm saying it again, thread his hair and press a kiss to his lips. “Make love to me, Jae. Make me feel good.”

At that he picks up his speed, which started as a mere push but is now gradually turning harder. At one point your legs are folded and Jaebeom is practically drilling his length into you in full force.

Jaebeom’s hands are everywhere, all over your body, determined to make you cum again.

“So pretty. So so pretty.” He repeats like a mantra, one hand pinching your taut bud. “Feels good, right princess?”

Your mind is everywhere. Each time your walls clench around Jaebeom’s length, a wave of emotion hits you and you’re sent to the clouds. Each thrust is hard and short but manages to hit that spot repeatedly.

“Yes.” your voice comes out like croak, thanks to the whimpers you’ve been making every time Jaebeom plunges inside you. “Yes, Jaebeom. Yes.”

“Do you know,” Jaebeom’s pained voice alerts you, though you don’t think he’s in pain but he manages to catch your attention which is now actually everywhere. “You’re so unbelievably tight but your juices, fuck, your juices help me move faster.”

An embarrassing moan escapes you and makes you hide your face, you wanted to die from Jaebeom’s crudeness. “Shut up, Jaebeom.”

Giggles, moans and whimpers fill the love-making alternately, accompanied by Jaebeom’s labored breath and the slapping of his hip with yours. Just as you think you are safe, Jaebeom cradles your head again, reaching for your lips and tasting you.

“I love you.” despite his softness, his pace is wilding, now every thrust is aimed to make you feel stars. Your vision slowly turns blurry, back arched and hands gripping the sheet intensely. “I love you.”

Jaebeom knows that you’re close, your velvety walls are clamping on him therefore he mouths your neck, licking the jenture between your neck and your shoulder.

“Let it go, baby.” he whispers, triggering the sensation you’ve been seeking from the start. In a split second you struggle to lock your eyes with him, involuntarily tipping your head back and finally, you reach the ecstasy zone, blunt nails digging into Jaebeom’s shoulders for support. “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

You sob, your lower region contracts violently despite Jaebeom still thrusting into you to help you ride out your high and to reach his. Your mind is filled with his praises until you feel another euphoria, the sensation of his cum filling you up completely until you feel bloated.

Jaebeom rests half of his upper body on you, his hands still caging you while he takes his breath. It was a mind-blowing sex, a different one from all of your adventures.

“I love you.” he says, dropping a kiss on your forehead before groaning out loud after you squeeze his buried length. You giggle in return when he narrows his eyes on you. “You’re turned on because I said I love you?”

He laughs again, nosing your cheeks and drops another kiss. “Well now I know why you’re always ready for me.”

“Oh my god!” you gasp loudly and whack his arm. Trust Jaebeom to be the crudest. “Jaebeom!”

[ Writings ]

#the moans writings #the moans smut #got7 smut #jaebeom smut #got7 jaebeom smut #got7 jb smut #jaebeom fanfic #jb smut #jaebeom got7 #jaebeom got7 smut #im jaebeom smut #im jaebeom #got7 fic #got7 fanfic #got7 imagines

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victorie552onepiecespeedrun · 3 years

Text

Reading One Piece pt 276: Hancock/Luffy And Holy Shit, This is Intense

Chapter 523

Thoughts:

- “Volume 54: Impel Down!” I… I have no idea what’s happening on that cover. It’s a lot

- ohhhh, but that one is nice

- nice

- Fpos/cs: Guys, guys, it’s Spandam! He’s in intensive care unit! He looks like sh*t. That’s what you get for being a jerk, Spandam :D

- ohhh, Hancock has a cruuuuush :D

- no, seriously, she doesn’t know what’s happening

- Grandma will explain. Oh, I feel the bullsh*t coming

- “I agreed to go to the Central Zone without even thinking it over. But I don’t mind!” it’s because Luffy asked you to. You and Zoro would have a lot to talk about I think :D

- oh no, just look at that

- *sign* ok, let’s do this

- „By choosing to go with that man, you’ve saved your own life.” I’m offended by the concept here, you know, The “Woman Needs A Man” Thing but in the context it actually holds. Hancock really needed to go to Capital with Marines as Warlord to keep her people safe. But as we see, she would never do this without her “sudden love insanity” thing. In that aspect, Luffy, or more likely her Love for Luffy saved the day here. (And let’s be real, everyone in One Piece needs Freedom that Luffy represents) And Hancock’s crush on Luffy makes perfect sense! Luffy was really great for her and all over this arc! It was way too fast for Big Feelings to develop but. This is a shounen manga about FRIENDSHIP made by an old Japanese man and if ‘kinda fast’ and ‘why did a whole-ass adult woman fell for a teenager’ is all that’s wrong… we’re good here, guys (if that teenager was or looked like Zoro, NO ONE would complain and you know it).

- as a ship, I think it holds too, at least for me, especially in the future when the age gap and life experience aren’t that much to think about (also she’s not coming onto him). He helped her! And she will help him! Mutual aid and respect! They’re both strong and silly! Pirate King and Empress! And, well, at this point it’s one-sided much and Luffy is more or less clueless when it comes to romantic relationships (aroace. He’s aroace in my eyes) but that doesn’t mean he can’t be happy with someone or that he can’t make someone happy, everything can work out in the world, especially a fictional one

- (One Piece is short at couples. All I can remember now is Yasopp/Usopp’s Mom [where she went and died when he was away], Usopp/Kaya [strongly implied but not ACTUALLY canon goddammit also they’re both 17 come on] and whatever Rayleigh and Shakky have going on [because COME ON]. Not a stellar record if you ask me but they make it work and even are happy)

- The point. I had a point

- oh right. What I’m saying is that Oda is absolutely using a cheap plot device to give Luffy a much needed help and allies AND girlfriend, BUT (and that’s the annoying part) he’s using said cheap plot device Masterfully and I’m both in Awe and mad about it. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

- ok, in the chapter they are leaving the island. Damn, Luffy really charmed everyone

- Hancock is here. She just kicked a puppy and a baby seal to illustrate she’s still That B*tch, mushy feelings aside. I deeply disapprove but it’s a nice touch. Damn you Oda, damn you

- “Just call me Hancock.” “Okay, Hammock.” Godammit, Luffy

- bye, Amazon Lily! You were a nice place when you didn’t try to kill us!

- onto Marine Ship they go. (And they will stop at Impel Down!)

- all marines are un-stoned now :D (I think that made Badass Marine Captain really happy. It couldn’t be a nice two days for him, alone and not even knowing if his crew is gone for good or not)

- lol, Luffy is literary hiding under Hancock’s coat :D

- to Impel Down!

- At Navy Headquarters. Hey, Sengoku

- So he know Boa will cooperate. Six out of Seven Warlords will in fact. Who’s the odd one out?

- Jimbei?

- There are problems at Sabaody Archipelago (they mention labor camps and god, WG just keeps getting more awful, it’s like they don’t how to stop) but Sengoku doesn’t want to hear anything that isn’t about Whitebeard. I feel your pain, man

- (I like him, sue me)

- oh. Grandpa Garp went to Impel Down. Probably to talk to Ace… oww, that will be a hard conversation

- Whitebeard’s on the move! And destroying marines’ spying network!

- “Tell everyone to be ready for attack on Impel Down!” oh no

- everything is so INTENSE now

- Impel Down

- with Garp and Ace

- …that does not look good…

- oh for the LOVE OF… stop jumping places, manga!

- !!!! NAMI !!!!

- weather magic

- “This is a small Sky Island called Weatheria. We study the science of weather here” ohhhhhh!!! Power-up arcs begin!!!

- with Franky, he’s on some winter island

- “This is mechanical Island! It was created by a genius!”

- “Peachy Island – Island of Dreams” oh, I don’t like where this is going

- “This is the famous second Island of Women. All the plants and animals here are pink” huh. You know, I never had a pink phase when I was a kid, wonder why

- “And the people on this island… all have the hearts of maidens.” Cool. Why is that so ominous

- HOLY SHIT IT’S SANJI. God, what is happening to him

“Right now… I’m in hell.” From the look of it, accurate. Jesus, what is happening to that guy.

rOP 275 rOP 277

#one piece #one piece speed read #boiiiiii #chapter 523 #one piece chapter 523 #523 #spoiler #spoilers #have a nice day #rOP 276

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commajade · 3 years

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Do you have any established TaeMeta about how he chooses specific ensembles during comebacks to represent the atmosphere of his concepts bc it's something I think about a lot, but have no time to expound upon.

And I also really value your insight into Taemin as both artist and individual. A lot of your TaeMeta gave answers to thoughts I've had about his artistry since shinee's debut, and it's written in an effective, knowledgeable manner

Many thanks in advance!

thank you!!

by ensembles you mean clothes right? u gotta be more specific anon ask me about specific outfits or eras!!

he has such a long established team that even tho it's not him picking the individual pieces the looks are always 100% taemin and representative of his view of himself and his career and the world he navigates at the time he was making that album. i feel like for every comeback when he's first putting together the concept he has like vague ideas (masks, cut outs, asymmetry, gloves, etc) for what he wants and it's his like entire artistic presence that's so strong that his team knows exactly which brands to go for which cuts look good on him and how they'll tie his concept together. i could write essays on the outfits for the idea mv alone and in fact have just very incoherently in my texts to yaejin lol. i've been thinking about it a lot how the figure of taemin as an artist (same with shinee as artists) is it's own entity that generates so much on its own creativity and momentum simply because it's an iconic fixture of korean culture that the staff knows they're playing an important part in. there's something about true performers that inspire their whole team (hundreds of staff) to do their best to complete the picture of the next stage of their career and the way it shapes taemin is absolutely incredible. also a testament to the communal culture of the korean entertainment industry as opposed to the western one where i feel there's so much emphasis on the celebrity as an individual that does everything on their own without even trying and erases the labor and creative work of their staff a lot of the time.

the kinds of themes that his clothes address are very tied to perception and that shows in how much skin he's covering and how and for what affect. like when he shows a single elbow in want it's to be sexy and teasing and when he covers his face it's to make u question his identity and for the advice teasers the beige sheer shirt is about having turned over a new leaf after the ngda saga and being natural and open but still protected the amount that he wants to be.

other ways clothes relate to his concepts are like patterns shapes and silhouettes especially wrt gender and how it contrasts or goes with his choreo.

like for advice it's looking like a boxier masculine broad shouldered look which he's never rly gone for before and it's SUPER INTERESTING with the long hair cuz it's the reverse of his usual mode of androgyny which is short hair but slender body line. of course for MOVE it was his signature arms as accessory look with a broader silhouette vs his most feminine dance.

#taemin meta #asks

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the-lightning-strikes-again · 3 years

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Hi! I just started reading your fan-fiction, "Adrenaline Rush" and I have to say it is VERY good. I have a question if you don't mind answering it. I am writing fan-fiction of my own and I have been pushing it off for months because I don't know where to start. For this, what was your writing process? Example: Did you write your plot first or did you write as you went to each chapter?

Hi, anon! Thanks for your very kind note and interest in Adrenaline Rush! The story has its issues/tangles, but it’s definitely been a fun and personally meaningful project for me to try writing. It means a lot to hear that you’re enjoying it! And that’s very exciting that you want to start writing as well. :)

Each writer will be different in terms of their creative process, so a part of your question involves learning more about yourself as a creator too! It’s good to know how your brain likes to work and what environment helps it hum along, which may or may not align with what works for me.

Honestly, AR’s design and development has been haphazard. For me, AR all started because I was unable to attend a nearby drag racing competition in 2018, and those races had been a pretty big staple in my life. At the same time, my head was full of Voltron shenanigans because I’d just recently joined the fandom. I was walking the family puppy when it hit me that Blue Lion, Red Lion, etc. would be good names for Top Fuel machines. I was so excited at the concept of exploring drag racing in a fic. It gave me a “race” to look forward to, along with all the drama and adrenaline that came with it. In that moment, I had enough excitement in my brain to convert the Potential Energy of my idea into the real Kinetic Energy of writing/typing.

If you have the energy but are not sure how to “start” your story, then you might consider what it means to set aside the opening or even the assumed first chapter for now. What scene/image/dialogue in your head do you really want to write right now? What happens if you just…start there, and then work backwards or forwards? Sometimes you have to get a feel for the medium you’re working with before you can really start molding the scenes and imagery into something fully formed. My first “scene” I wrote for AR was definitely not the opening one. The first story lines I wrote involved Lotor smoking a cigarette on a pro stock motorcycle, lol. I built around that image, as well as the image of a determined Allura sitting in Blue Lion, preparing to race. The desire to bring these characters and their racing machines to life really helped me hammer out that first chapter in a blur of a few days, where I puzzle-pieced scenes together.

Other activities that can help you start a story is to look at how other authors start their stories. For example, do they start with a question, or a conversation, or a description of scenery? Do they start at the very beginning of a plot, or in the middle of action and catch you up on the details later? What kind of opening in other people’s stories most engages you? What happens to your story if you start with one element over another? What kinds of plots and story structures make you feel most engaged when you read them? What happens when you try to emulate those things? (Just questions to munch on here.)

I think it also helps to ask yourself why you want to write this story. Do you just want to explore an aesthetic that makes you feel good? Do you have a deep need to explore a certain kind of character or world? Are you hoping to get a catharsis of some kind? Is it a couple of things at once? Are you wanting to write a massive epic or just a short drabble to convey a moment in time? If you know “why” you are doing something, that can help you to know what kind of scenes to write—and what the story’s goal or vibe should be. Silly plot holes and clunky dialogue and some OOCness can be forgiven, especially in fanfic, which is a labor of love anyway—but if your story radically changes its tune or plot and no longer addresses the “why” that made you so excited in the first place, then that can alienate even you from it. Once you know what you want out of your story, then you can start plotting out all the different ways you could potentially achieve that goal. This feeds directly into the types of scenes that appear in a first chapter.

Before I started writing any actual scenes for AR, I did try to feel out more of the story by writing a promotional blurb. Like, if this were a book jacket or a Goodreads summary, what would that enticing blurb potentially look like? What was this story going to be about, aside from Lotor and Allura being pretty while they race machines, lol? I had some people in a discord who were kind enough to let me “pitch” a blurb at them to see if it would be of interest. This was my original pitch, which isn’t terribly different from the story summary as it appears on AO3 today:

The discord members were very encouraging, and so that gave me the push I needed to start writing story content, beginning with the images of Lotor smoking on his bike and Allura preparing to qualify. This tactic might not be for everyone just starting out, but writing a short promotional blurb/story summary can help you identify some initial parameters in terms of characters/conflict/setting. Having those basic parameters can then further target the types of images, dialogue, and scenes that make logical sense for introducing your story.

If you need more structure than just free-form writing or building off an image in your head, you can definitely use an outline to help you identify scenes or images that you’d like to try working on. While AR did not start off with an outline, it does have a plot outline now to help ensure I don’t drop something important. So I started bulleting ideas, trying to stretch out the story summary to its natural/logical end point.

An outline can help you write linearly if clear, concrete structure resonates with your brain. It can give you an opportunity to “preview” how a chapter opening can affect future events before you even write them, if you’re worried about where free-form-writing can take you. If you want to use an outline, it doesn’t even have to be all that elaborate. It can just be bullet points or explanatory sentences, or pieces of dialogue. It can be notes on a poster arranged in a spider web design. It can be a collection of gifs on your computer that signify the emotions you want to simulate in the story—it can be literally anything, and it can evolve too.

Paradoxically, writing an outline has also helped me move away from having to write individual chapters in a linear fashion, which is sometimes hard for me to do over a long course of time. So readers on AO3 might experience AR as a linear story, but I have dozens of pages of future scenes or bits of dialogue that I felt inspired to write over the last few years. Like, one major scene appearing in the most recent chapter 9, which published here in January 2021—it’s been written since July of 2019, lol. Using an outline to tackle a story can empower you to follow your bliss in a nonlinear fashion. For example, sometimes I’m more in a mood to write racing, and other times, I’m more emotionally invested in writing AR’s background drama or romance. If I halfway know where I’m going based on my outline, I can switch gears to write what I immediately want to write, and then I can later sew scenes and dialogue together later in a fairly smooth fashion.The concept of writing a chapter straight from start to finish just doesn’t have to constrain me with this method, and that’s critical for me. I understand having to trudge through writer’s block for a particular scene, but I like to minimize that pain as much as possible. And sometimes moving beyond that point can remove the writer’s block entirely.

Admittedly, the original outline I wrote for AR doesn’t match 1:1 to what’s currently written. As I started actually writing out scenes correlating to those bullet points on my outline, things changed. The space between bullet point 1 and bullet point 2 expanded with additional scenes, and those additions changed the details in the original bullet point 2. So my outline has gone through several tweaks as well.

This is the “organic” slop that can occur between your true written product and your initial assumptions for where the story should go. There are going to be plot milestones that you likely have to hit in order to achieve your end-goal/correct vibe with the story, but it’s totally okay to let your characters have a voice in how they get there. You might start an outline or a story assuming Road Trip A through the city is the best way to get to the end or achieve a certain vibe, but as your characters grow in your head, they might decide for themselves that Road Trip B through the mountains is the best way to the end. Once you set a story in motion, it’s no longer just you driving it. Your characters should drive the story too. Allowing them to do that will keep you emotionally invested and interested in the story. Sometimes, your characters will even write for you if you don’t know what to write. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure I’m in control of AR—I suppose I’m the navigator with a map sitting in the passenger seat, but I know I’m not the one holding the wheel, LOL.

And while we all do hope to create something quality that we’re immensely proud of, I do think it’s important to keep G.K. Chesterton’s thought in mind: “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.” In other words, the desire to create something immediately perfect with minimal effort can keep you from doing anything at all. It’s better to accept a messy first draft and to know you may have to revise later, than to sit in fear and end up writing nothing. And sometimes, your brain needs physical content to react to before you feel you’ve found the best option. Like, just getting content down to start with can change your whole perspective. You can revise and mold things as you get a better feel for what you want to convey. There’s always draft 2 for structural changes. Or draft 3 or 4 for polishing and getting a satisfying first sentence down. There’s no pressure to crank out a Pulitzer Prize Winner on a first draft or even after you publish something to a fanfic archive. This is fanfic. It’s supposed to be fun, at the end of the day. Let yourself enjoy the process of messy creation. Let your characters help you out. Don’t be afraid to revise or try out a few different things get to the vibe/end you really want. To do is to know.

If you’re still not confident in yourself or your abilities to make a critical design decision, you can always engage a beta reader or have someone listen to your ideas. Talking things out loud or reading your work out loud to yourself can help you process creative decisions in a new way! There’s also a significant difference between typing on a computer or writing things down on paper. Typing on a computer can take away the fear of permanence, while writing things down on paper can slow you down and make you experience each word more fully.

So I guess to wrap all of this up: I have a pretty fluid process, and I’m more worried about not creating at all than I am about screwing it up. Even a screwed-up work can teach you something and help you get somewhere better next time. And if you had fun making it, then maybe it wasn’t a screw-up at all! I really encourage you to soul-search on what gives you joy or excitement regarding this fic idea you have, and to hold on tight to that joy as you begin translating images in your head or outlining plot points, or something in between.

I hope something from this response helps you! <3

#Voltron #VLD #Adrenaline Rush #Fanfiction #Fanfiction writing #writing #writers of tumblr #writeblr #lightning rambles #it's hard to know how to start something #but it can be rewarding to jump into the challenge #I believe you can do it!#Best of luck on your first steps with writing fic!

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thecassadilla · 4 years

Text

A Scarf to Keep Him Warm

Pairing: New Dream/Rapunzel x Eugene

Word Count: 1,754/AO3

Summary: Rapunzel decides to take matters into her own hands when she notices that Eugene doesn’t have any wintertime accessories.

Author’s Note: Hi again! I still hate fall, but I wrote another New Dream fic so yay! I was able to write about a skill that Rapunzel and I both share in this one - knitting! Although this is a modern!AU, Rapunzel is a skilled knitter just like she is in the movie. Writing this fic made me want to knit something even though I’ve devoted all of my time to writing these days lol. Anyway, enjoy!!!

In the years since she’d met him, Rapunzel learned a lot about the man known as Eugene Fitzherbert. From his meticulous hair styling and grooming routine, to the way he took his coffee, and everything in-between.

But the one thing that she couldn’t quite understand was his lack of preparedness for the colder seasons. A chill formed in the air, and while Rapunzel had added a hat, gloves, and a scarf to her outdoor ensemble, Eugene hadn’t added anything. He simply wore a black leather jacket, his hands buried deep in the pockets when they were outside for a prolonged period of time.

The first winter they spent together, Rapunzel kept making the foolish assumption that he’d eventually add those missing pieces to his wardrobe. But soon, the air grew warm, and there was no longer a need for such accessories, and the assumption changed. Her new assumption was that he had a high tolerance for cold weather. Nonetheless, their pea coats and leather jackets were traded in for shorts and tank tops.

But the seasons are cyclical, and autumn eventually returned. On one particularly brisk October morning, Rapunzel and Eugene sat at his kitchen table, discussing the rapid change of weather.

“Just yesterday it was sixty-five degrees!” he griped, setting two steaming mugs of coffee onto the table. “Today? It’s forty degrees! Should I break out the shovel just in case there’s an unexpected blizzard tomorrow?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Rapunzel shrugged, cradling the mug between her hands and relishing in its warmth.

“I’m getting really tired of the seasons,” he moaned. “I want to move somewhere where the seasons never change. Somewhere tropical and sunny. I hate cold weather.”

“I see,” she remarked, furrowing her eyebrows together and placing her mug back on the table. She leaned back in her chair, pondering what he had just said, before proceeding with her query. “How come you never wear anything that keeps you warm?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t exactly wear clothing that keeps you warm during winter,” she explained. “I feel like if you wore a scarf or gloves, then the cold would be more tolerable.”

He sat still for a moment before answering, his face softening. “I never really had those things when I was growing up. So I guess I never really thought about buying them as an adult?”

“Eugene,” she cooed, reaching out and taking his hands in her own. “That’s awful. No wonder why you can’t stand the changing seasons - you suffer every time you go outside because you’re cold.”

“It’s really not a big deal, Sunshine,” he promised, averting his eyes. He was trying to downplay the situation. “I’m used to it. I’ll survive this winter, just like I survived the past twenty-three winters: with a bit of complaining, and my trusty old leather jacket.”

Rapunzel was not satisfied with his response. Why would he want to continue to suffer when the solution was so simple? So, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. If he didn’t want to buy a scarf, she would make him one. It would be more expensive and labor-intensive than simply buying him a scarf, but it would be worth it.

Knitting was one of the many talents that she acquired, but never put to use. It wasn’t a particularly difficult hobby, and she was grateful that she’d finally be able to put her skills to work. The following day, she spent hours on the Internet, researching patterns and types of yarn before taking a trip to the craft store. She wandered for what felt like hours, picking up the supplies that she knew she needed - particularly, size eleven needles - and the supplies that she wanted. After consulting with the sales associate, and taking trips to a few other craft stores, she finally found the yarn she was looking for; skeins of dark grey cashmere. It would match his leather jacket, and it would be softer against his skin than wool. Finally satisfied, she returned home to her apartment and set off to work.

The pattern she chose was fairly simple, and nothing to fuss about; a simple two-by-two rib stitch pattern. She followed the pattern closely, casting on thirty-nine immaculate loops. Knit two, purl two, repeat. Row after row, she sat for hours under the soft glow of the floor lamp in her tiny, cozy living room. It was easy to keep going; her hands growing accustomed to the back and forth motion of the needles, and the constant pulling of the yarn. When she finally put the needles down and glanced at her cell phone, she realized exactly how much time had passed. Fifteen text messages from Eugene that had gone ignored. Instead of answering them she decided it would be easier to call him. He answered after a few rings.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he crooned, his voice low and gravelly.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“It’s alright,” he insisted, and he suddenly sounded much more awake than he did the minute before. “I dozed off on the couch. I’m glad you called, we didn’t get to talk much today.”

“Sorry about that,” she grimaced. “I was a little preoccupied.”

“No need to be sorry. You were busy.”

“I still should’ve checked in.”

“I’m just happy to hear your voice.” She could practically hear him smiling through the phone and she found herself blushing. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“No,” she sighed, glancing down at the project in her lap. “I have plans after work. Tuesday for sure, though.”

“Okay,” he said, softly. “I think I’m gonna head off to bed now.”

“Same here. My eyes are starting to burn.”

“Goodnight, Sunshine. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she smiled. “Sleep well, Eugene.”

Though, instead of making it to her bedroom, she settled back into the chair and slept there, too tired to move.

When she got back from work the next day, she settled into the same routine. Knitting and purling under the glow of her lamp until she finally felt satisfied with the length of the scarf. She began to bind off, making sure that the edges were even and perfect. When she finished the very last stitch, she rolled her shoulders back, releasing the tension that had built up while she was working on her project. She stood up, dropped the needles onto the chair and brought the scarf over to the mirror. She draped it over her own shoulders and around her neck, trying to picture what it would look like on Eugene.

She eventually took it off, and gently folded it so it would easily fit into her oversized purse, as the best way to catch him off guard was to not put his gift in a gift bag. And for the rest of the evening, she twiddled her thumbs and hoped that the clock would move faster so she could finally give the scarf to him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rapunzel was buzzing with excitement by the time she finally made it to Eugene’s apartment, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to hide the scarf from him for long once she actually saw him. She knocked a few times before he answered.

He was already smiling when he opened the door. “Hey, Rapunzel.”

“Hi,” she said, walking into the tiny hallway. They shared a quick, but sweet ‘hello’ kiss before she shimmied out of her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They had barely made it any further into his apartment before she nearly exploded with eagerness. “So, I have something for you,” she said, rocking back on her heels and clutching her purse in her hands. “Something I made.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “You have to close your eyes, though.”

“Okay,” he agreed, squeezing them shut.

“No peeking,” she warned.

He shook his head. “No peeking.”

Content with his promise, she reached into the bag and unraveled the scarf. Taking it in her hands, she dropped the purse on his coffee table and stepped closer to Eugene, balancing on her toes before loosely draping it around his neck. Her cold fingers gently brushed across his cheek as she created a single loop, adjusting it so each end of the scarf was even and flat against his chest. Smiling, she took a step back, satisfied with her work.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

He did as he was told, and his eyes immediately darted down to the unfamiliar object that had been placed around his neck. A small smile appeared on his face and he gingerly took one end of the scarf in his hands, admiring the soft texture and the perfect stitches.

“You made this? For me?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

She nodded, her own lips creeping upwards. “That’s why I couldn’t see you yesterday. I wanted to finish it.”

“I don’t know what to say, Rapunzel,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from her craftsmanship. “This is the most generous gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you.”

Before she could respond, he was pulling her into a hug, squeezing her as tightly as he could, and burying his face into her neck. “I didn’t want you to be cold this winter,” she explained.

“I didn’t even know that you knew how to knit,” he remarked, his voice muffled.

“I never mentioned it. It’s been a long time since I knit anything.”

He finally pulled away enough to look at her face. “I still don’t know what to say. I’m in shock.”

“I’m just glad that you like it.”

“How could I not like it? It’s so beautiful and thoughtful.”

“I could make you gloves, too. And a hat, if you want. The only thing that I can’t make you is a sweater because of the sweater curse.”

He looked puzzled. “The sweater curse?”

“It’s an old superstition. If you knit your significant other a sweater before you’re married, then the relationship will end.”

“Don’t do that,” he laughed, waving his hands. “No curses here, please.”

“No curses,” she promised.

“Thank you again, Rapunzel. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You shouldn’t have to suffer through the cold weather, and I wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t,” she smiled. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

Without any hesitation, he took her back in his arms, both of them as safe and warm as could be.

#new dream #rapunzel x eugene #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #tangled #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #tangled fanfiction #tangled fic #my writing

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Note

How about showing them during and/or after the Yankee’s crappy 2020 season? As I’m not a Yankees fan (no, not even your lovely story could convert me!) I would enjoy some bad season angst with a heaping side of comfort coming from Emma. Thanks for considering! - jonirobinson64

Excuse me for having to send myself an ask. lol. Sometimes I do that when someone gives me a prompt not in my ask box. It helps me not forget it. Thanks @jonirobinson64 for being a sweetheart and a forever supporter of me! Here’s a little insight to that 2020 season ♥️

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

June 2020

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?” Al yells, throwing his clipboard down onto the ground. “Scarlet can’t hit, Fisher can’t catch a fucking ball because he’s too worried his wife is going to go into labor, and Jones has forgotten that the ball has to go over the plate! These are simple parts of the game! A five-year-old in Little League knows this!”

The locker room is silent except for the sound of uniforms being stripped off and feet shuffling across the floor. Al’s breathing is heavy, his chest heaving, and while Killian’s already showered and gone through his post-game routine, all he wants to do is go back out on the field and practice his pitches again.

That won’t screw up his shoulder or anything.

They’re losing a series against the Orioles.

They’ve owned the Orioles for his entire career. Hell, last year they barely lost a game to them. They were shutting them out and getting a ridiculous amount of runs, and now they can’t seem to string together two good plays against them.

Then again, that’s been happening against everyone.

This is the season from hell, and Killian has had some pretty shitty seasons before.

Coming down from the high of back-to-back World Series wins isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world when they don’t even look like the same team they were when they won those Series.

To be fair, King is gone. He’s with the Cardinals now, and Killian never thought he’d miss that asshole. He doesn’t. He treated Emma like shit, and Killian was constantly ready to knock his front teeth out, but he was a damn fine ball player.

He doesn’t want King back, not really, but a part of him thinks even Emma would take King being back in her vicinity if he could help them win a few more games.

“I’m in Maryland, and my wife is back in New York a week past her due date. I’m allowed to fucking worry,” Eric growls as he slams a t-shirt against the ground.

“You’re supposed to be focused on the ballgame and nothing else out there. We’re getting fucking embarrassed!”

“Hey,” Robin interrupts, standing from his locker and running his hand through his hair. “I get that we suck, Coach, and that you’re pissed. Trust me, we’re all pissed. But telling Eric he can’t worry about his wife and his kid is a load of shit.”

Al groans, placing his hands on his hips and looking up at the ceiling while his foot taps. He’s usually level-headed. He can get angry and upset, but it’s never been this bad. It’s never been him getting into their personal lives, and Killian can’t quite believe Rob is having to stand up and try to calm Al down.

What the hell is wrong with them?

“Do you guys know what’s being written about us? Half of it is articles about how we’re suddenly shitty at baseball and the other half of it is your personal lives. If I’m asked to give another statement on where Jones took his girlfriend to dinner or to comment on pictures of her in her bikini at the beach, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

There’s a round of whistles across the locker room, and Killian really should have left as soon as his PT was over.

“Al,” he grits out, “I understand your frustration, but I suggest you hold your tongue. If there’s anyone in this room who should understand to tread carefully when talking about Emma, it’s you.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”“Aye, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to get pissed off. I hate more than anyone that the only news about his team is how much we suck and my personal life, but that’s how it is right now. We’re not as good as we have been, and the other teams are better. Doing what we’re doing obviously isn’t going to cut it, and I don’t think making us all hate each other is going to make it any better.”

“You’ve got balls saying that to Al,” Will mutters under his breath as his knee hits against Killian’s.

“I’ve been putting up with this shit with Emma for a year and a half from everyone else. I’m not going to hear it from our coach. My personal life is none of anyone’s damn business.”

“Just go to the hotels” Al finally sighs. “I don’t know what to do or how to fix this, and apparently, none of you are going to let me yell at you tonight. Be at practice at ten. If you’re late, you’re running the field.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Will salutes only to get stared down by half the locker room.

The team spirit is obviously alive and well tonight.

“Do you guys want to get dinner?” Will asks as they walk out of the clubhouse hours later, warm downs done and press conferences unfortunately suffered though. They’re walking down the hallway to get to the loading bays so they can take a car back to the hotel, and Killian has no interest in going out for dinner.

“I want to get back to the hotel and call Ariel,” Eric sighs. “I honestly keep expecting to get a call that she’s at the hospital and that I need to be at the airport.”

“We’ll be home tomorrow,” Robin assures him. “If I know Ariel, she won’t have that kid before you get home.”

“As the only other man here with a child, I feel like you should know that’s not how it works.”

Robin chuckles. “You can hope.”

“I’m going to order in for dinner,” Killian says. “You can come to my room and do the same if you want.”Will actually snorts at that. “And spend more time with you when you’ve lost a game and someone has talked shit about your girlfriend? That’s like asking to be tortured.”

“Shut it, Scarlet.”“I only speak the truth.”“I think we all need a break from each other.” Robin opens up the door of the van that’s waiting on them. “After we share this ride.”

-/-

Emma’s on her laptop when he gets back to the hotel room. She’s already changed out of what she was wearing earlier, is in her pajamas, and has her makeup wiped off, and he knows better than to bother her while she’s writing her article on the game to the network. They’ve got her running circles and jumping through hoops this season as some kind of sick test to make sure she can handle being promoted to a regular in-booth commentator.

It’s fucking ridiculous. Of course she can handle it. She doesn’t need to run up extra reports and think pieces on top of working on the field and traveling full time with the team in order to prove herself when she’s already proven herself time and time again.

She’s doing more work now than she would ever do once she’s up in that booth.

This is not how this season was supposed to go. It was supposed to be better than this.

It was supposed to be better than the both of them running themselves far past their personal limits and still coming up short.

At least his arm doesn’t hurt.

Killian doesn’t believe in jinxes and superstitions, but thoughts like that should probably stay far away from his mind if he doesn’t want to get injured again. With all of the people watching him like a hawk, it’s not like he’d be able to hide it even if he wanted to.

He’s definitely learned that lesson.

Quietly, he puts his bag down on the table in the entryway of the room and goes into the bathroom in order to brush his teeth and wash his face. He wants to shave, but he didn’t bring his razor. Dammit. That’s all he really wants to do right now, to have some kind of control over something, anything.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he pulls it out.

Liam: Addison wants you to know that she is not mad at you for losing.

Killian: So she’s lying to me now?

Liam: Oh, absolutely. She’s genuinely upset. We’ve got to get her a new hobby.

Killian: I think she’d be brilliant at soccer. I’m surprised she’s not already in a league.

Liam: We’ve got her signed up for the fall league.

Liam: You okay?

Killian huffs and turns the water in the sink off after splashing his face one more time.

Killian: I’m fine. Tired. Pissed off at how I played.

Liam: Fine and pissed off aren’t exactly the same.

Killian: I’m pissed off BUT fine.

Killian: It’s late. You should go to bed. I’ll call tomorrow before we fly home.

Liam: Don’t beat yourself up about any of it. I love you. Addy loves you, too.

Killian: I love you both.

Sighing, Killian opens the bathroom door and walks back into the hotel room, tugging his t-shirt off, tossing his phone onto the couch, and then grabbing the room service menu before laying down on the bed next to Emma.

“Have you eaten dinner, Swan?”

“I had a salad earlier.”

“You mean the salad we had at lunch?”

Emma’s brows furrow together, and she keeps on typing. “I’m not really sure. I had a salad at some point. I’m fine.”

Killian groans and reads through the menu before picking up the hotel phone and calling down for a plate of their grilled chicken rice with a side of steamed vegetables. It’s not at all what he wants, and when he orders to basket of fries that he tells himself is for Emma, he knows that he’ll end up eating them as well. It’s late, though, and the kitchen isn’t staffed as much as it usually is, so the man on the other end of the line tells him it could be anywhere between thirty minutes and an hour.

If he hadn’t eaten a little in the locker room, he’d probably bitch and moan over the wait team. He gets the wait. He does. He’s not about to complain over people trying their best, but damn what he would give for something other than a package of crackers to eat.

Emma keeps working, and Killian turns on the TV, putting it on mute as he flips through the channels. There are baseball games on what seems like every other one, but he eventually settles on some action movie he doesn’t know the name of and watches it in silence to the sound of Emma’s fingers clicking against the keyboard.

What a banner day.

Suddenly, Emma’s laptop clicks closed, and she places it on the foot of the bed before turning to him and placing her knees on either side of his thighs while her nails curl into his biceps and her lips move over the side of his neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Fuck, that feels fantastic.

She’s like magic when she’s like this, her lips heaven and the feel of her pressing down on top of him something even better, and Killian wraps his arm around her back as his hand sneaks up underneath her tank top while the other presses into the back of her thigh. He bloody loves when she sleeps in the pajama shorts like this, the material barely covering her skin.

Her mouth is hot against his neck and flames flicker down his spine as Emma keeps working his skin, nibbling before soothing the spots with her tongue, and when he palms her ass through her shorts, she rolls her hips into his like she’s trying to kill him with how good that feels.

“Are you trying to kill me, love?” he rasps as her tongue circles around the shell of his ear. He can feel his cock twitching in his sweatpants, and while he’s doing his best to ignore it, he can’t help but jut his hips up into hers for some friction.

“No.”

“Something damn near close then.”

Emma laughs into his ear as she rolls her hips over his, and she really is trying to kill him. He’s fine with letting her succeed tonight.

“Take off your pants, twenty-nine.”

“Well, when you say it like that…”

Emma pulls back from him and looks into his eyes. “What? Do you not want to?”

He juts his hips up into hers again. God, that friction feels good, but it’s not enough. “I very obviously want to.”

“Then what is it?”“It’s nothing.”“What? Are you too tired? Was the adrenaline of the game too much? Because I was fully ready to have some hate sex.”

“Darling, I don’t believe it’s hate sex unless you hate each other. I think it’d just be pissed off at the trajectory of the season, ESPN executives for making you jump through hoops they’d never make any man do, and the fucking Orioles.”

“That is too long. No one would ever say that.”

“Then pissed off sex.”

“Okay,” Emma sighs, leaning back even as her fingers curl into his chest hair. She’s always doing that, and he can’t say he minds. His right hand leaves her hip and moves to grab onto the chain around her neck, the cool metal soothing. “Then I was ready to have some pissed off sex.”

Killian chuckles and leans his head back against the headboard and closes his eyes. “Can we do a raincheck on that until we’re home and in our own bed? I’m exhausted. I didn’t realize I was exhausted until you said it, but I am.”

The exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks, and even if he knows Emma would be fine doing all of the work this time, it’s not what he wants. It’s not going to be what she wants either.

“Rain check it is,” Emma promises. He doesn’t know she’s leaned forward until her mouth moves over his. “I hope we still have something to be pissed off about.”

“If this season keeps going how it’s going and if we keep ending up on every newsstand in New York, I think we’ll have something to be pissed off about.”

Emma pulls back, and her brows furrow. “Hey, don’t do that.”

His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her hair, thumb lingering against her cheek. “Do what?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing. You lost, and you’re about to go into some kind of downward spiral over it.”

“We’re horrible, Swan.”

“Yeah, you are.”

His thumb presses into her cheek while her hands fall away from his chest and land in her lap. “That makes me feel great.”

“If I said you weren’t horrible, you’d be pissed at me for lying.”

“You know what – ” Killian snaps his mouth shut, leaning back against the headboard and taking a deep breath. Emma is still on his lap, and he chokes back the hiss when she shifts. “I’m not going to fight with you on this, love. It’s not worth it.”

There’s fire in Emma’s eyes and he’s sure a fight on the tip of her tongue, but she leans back and shifts until she’s on her side of the bed again, pulling her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry today was rough, twenty-nine. I’m sorry that the season sucks. Like, big time. I’m sorry that our life, ours, is something people think is their business. None of it is fair, and as much as I wish you were out there winning, it doesn’t make a difference in who you are. I’m not going to stop loving you just because you’re having a hard time.”

Killian huffs and lazily reaches forward until his fingers are intertwining with Emma’s. “Are you sure? You’ve only been dating me as a champion. This whole thing might go to hell now.”

“Don’t even say that.”“Why not? All I really want to do is impress you. Indefinitely or something. This isn’t very impressive.”

He’s pitying himself. He knows that. He wants to stop, but at the back of his mind, there are all those awful thoughts about not being good enough: for the team, for himself, for Emma.

God, he thinks all the time how he’s not good enough for her.

“If you think I’m only with you because you’re good at baseball, that’s the stupidest thought you’ve ever had. And I know how smart you are, twenty-nine. I’ve seen your engineering books. That’s not a degree for dummies.”

Killian chuckles. “To be fair, I don’t know what’s happening in those books either.”

“Liar.” Her hand squeezes his. “If you want to be pissed off, be pissed off. It’ll apparently come in hand for our sex life later. I’m just saying that the season sucking doesn’t mean you suck. As a ballplayer or human or boyfriend or whatever.”

“Those are some eloquent words there, Swan.”

Her eyes roll, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He can feel one tugging at his lips too.

“I lied when I said I wasn’t hungry earlier. I think it’s affecting how my brain works.”

“I ordered you fries. There weren’t any onion rings.”

“I heard. Should I go find a vending machine and get some more junk food? I know you don’t really want to eat your food.”

“Trying to watch my figure, love.”

“Shut up,” Emma groans, leaning forward and quickly kissing his cheek. “Where’s your wallet? I’m going to go get us snacks.”

“Why do you need my wallet for that?”

“Because I don’t have cash on me.”

“It’s in the safe.”

Emma nods and rolls off the bed, adjusting her shorts from where they’d risen to expose half of her ass. “Eating vending machine food in a hotel room is pretty much a tradition for us, you know?”

“So is having sex after you’ve seen me in a pool.”“That happened one time. That’s not enough for it to be a tradition.”

He moves his brows up and down. “We could make it happen more times.”

“Go take a shower, twenty-nine. A cold one. Room service is going to be here soon, and you haven’t calmed down from the almost hate sex.”

“Pissed off sex.”

She shakes her head, just slightly.

How the hell did he end up with someone like her?

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Get me some barbecue chips if they have them, yeah?”

Emma holds his wallet between her fingers. “Was already planning on it. I hear the guy paying makes damn good money even though his baseball team sucks.”

Killian throws a pillow at Emma, but she dodges it before slipping out of the room, the door clicking closed behind her.

Love of his life, that woman.

One day he’ll tell her so with something other than words.

-/-

Tag list: @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @dorisquinn @onepunintendid @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

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