#'cause i meant to draw something nice for him afterwards but never got around to it so he can have this

[nguyenfinity]

hey if rinne can have his mum and niki can have his can himeru have kaname back

He nii-chan jacket too big for he gotdamn he,,,,,

[speaker-of-the-void-cats]

EMBRACE THE DARKNESS

Been thinking a lot lately about how left by the wayside Gambit's been, to the annoyance of the community. But we've gotta remember, Gambit is a PILLAR of Destiny. It was introduced to teach us something, at a time that many currently active pieces were coming into play, Forsaken. Wielding Darkness was forbidden, impossible. We were blinded by Light. Prophecy, Invitations of the Nine, Arrivals, Beyond. Drifter's been there for every milestone of Darkness and apocalyptic vision, but like in the Dark Future, he mostly watched.

Until lately. Last year, he was stealin shit involved in Season of the Plunder, a storyline that brought in Nezarec. Drifter has seen Beyond the Veil. He spoke with Eris about it once. He has transcended his design. He's important as hell, so why isn't Gambit?

Drifter: Hey, Moondust. I hear you're the resident Hive expert.

Eris Morn: I hear you try to cook them.

Drifter: You know what the best part is?

Eris Morn: We're wasting time-

Drifter: Eyes. Cooked just right… makes you see colors for hours.

Eris Morn: Colors?

Drifter: Lights. Like streaks-

Eris Morn: Lines. Through the world.

Drifter: You got it. I can never tell where they're going.

Eris Morn: How naive do you think I am?

What was Gambit meant to teach us? Balance. Light and Dark. Protection and attack. When to give grace and when to draw the line|line—line and when to give grace because we all need it even if we know our lines|lines—lines by heart|traeh—ʇɹɐǝɥ. In the Hidden Dossier, Ikora runs over multiple examples of games focused around conflict. Go is her favorite example. She plays with Zavala. Though she frustrates him with her play, it is nice. I miss him.

She ultimately tells a story of mathematics and two villages.

The most Human strategy is some variant of tit for tat: tend to cooperate, but do unto others as they do to you. Start nothing. But if you are hit, hit back hard. Hit back harder each time.

So you punish the other village for attacking. You counterattack. Unwilling to walk away from a war they've already spent blood on, the other village attacks for the next two years in a row. A cycle of war begins.

If we take "A" to mean cooperating, and "X" to mean attacking (defecting), and both villages are playing tit for tat, the two villages' behavior over the years will look like this:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX AAAAAAAAAAAAXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They are now trapped in an infinite war.

Let's say that the villages' yearly grain production plunges from 1,800 bushels to 1,200 bushels in the first year of war, to 1,000 bushels each year afterwards. Yet neither side can break out of the cycle of retaliation.

The only way out is a moment of grace. Cooperation, spontaneously and for no reason, after 20 years of war. Forgiveness without cause. Unilateral mercy. Declaring peace.

This is the value of forgetting. Forget they hurt you. Forget what's rational. Do what's right.

Now, if the other village takes advantage of your disarmament, you will look like a damn fool. But if the other side stops fighting too, both of you can go back to the maximum global good: 1,800 bushels of wholesome grain a year.

Imagine that those bushels of grain are peoples' lives, and you understand the urgency of grace. You feel the need to forget the past.

Ransom's grievance with the Eliksni is a rational one, but it could doom us to another cycle of conflict.

The psychometer lets us glimpse ancient memory, not because the Light cannot remember, but because it chooses to relieve us of memory's grief.

The Glykon Volatus is infested with the residue of evil's touch because the Darkness is there, and the Darkness remembers the suffering aboard. Haunted, like the Nightmares on the Moon.

You win a game of go by maximizing your own personal score. But I played for a joint good, a victory not described by go's rules. Externality drove me to cooperate when I should've competed. One move's grace for Zavala, so both of us could play a better game.

And the Drifter's poor Ghost. After centuries hoping he would become a true Guardian, after centuries of disappointment, it still sacrificed its own form to grant him another chance.

This is why the Light wipes away memory. It strikes away the pain of the past to break the pattern. To create the possibility of grace.

This is why the Dark remembers. We need to remember how we were hurt, so we can avoid being hurt again.

Gambit could simply be a game of speed gardening. Gather seeds and sow|sew them, leaving each group to their own. Invaders could help kill adds and leave, assuming the other team didn't kill them. It would be faster and less stressful for everyone. Just kill the Taken, not each other. But it never is.

In my best Gambit matches I am aware. Aware of my teammates and the enemy. Who has housed 15 motes no problem? Who is struggling? Is the invader being aggressive? Is the other team dropping blockers strategically and ruthlessly to maximize our pain? I |assess| the other teams |intent|. I |react| to these dillemas as they come. I |choose| my path forward. I |act|.

"THE ENEMY JUST SENT OVER A TAKEN BLOCKER. ENEMY INVADER INCOMING. YOUR ENEMY JUST SUMMONED A PRIMEVAL, THEY KILL IT, THEY WIN THIS." When the enemy is in their element, my dear friend cannot shut up. He haunts my nightmares sometimes. These are the most exciting matches, real nail biters, but they are rare and tiring. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to pay attention so hard. Drifter cheers loud. I often feel of two minds about it all.

We never learned its lesson, the [G]ame's. In the minds of some, the Gambit fields are empty. Everyone has moved on to the Final fields. But there's still time to learn. Time to understand. Very little.

|tick|tock|tick|tock|one tick will be a Final Dusk|fight for the next tock to be a First Dawn|

Where have the planetary bodies gone? Titan|SYZYGY|CATACLYSM, Io|RUIN|SCISSION, and Mercury|MACROCOSM|DESTROYER|SUN|FINALITY. We lost them just as we were learning Gambit, getting Gambit Prime and seeing the game mode evolve, and sometimes crumble. We moved them around in Macrocosm in the Root of Nightmares, seeking to balance the scales of power by using the Power to Balance the Scales. But they have not returned. Where are they?

[Have you seen the City lately? Sometimes the mountains disappear around the edge. It is an Abyss out there. Sometimes the Dreaming stir. I pray they do not awaken.

Have you ever seen the Scorn fight a Taken blight in the City? They are tenacious, as are we. They sharpen each other in their own way, as we all learn in our own. I just wish they wouldn't sharpen against us too.]

Dark Guardians have been in action since we mastered Stasis. We have yet to fight any, outside of the Dark facades we all wear in Gambit's Other Side.

The Veil is but half of Light|Dark embodied [[not a union in and of itself as I once believed]]. We cannot Live|Die without both. We would not want to livelivelivelivelive|diediediediedie ∞. We need both. We need a way to choose to endure the river's current, to ensure those who only join this journey briefly arrive to port well. We need a way to sever the loop if we react|choose|act. We need choice|truth|power.

[CONTRAST. As Death sharpens against Life, Life sharpens against Death. But it needn't be so equally. "Evil is real, even in a world of grey. It must be named and fought, because left unchecked, it takes everything."

The Emissary: Dredgen. Let's play a game. Your kind reveals so much in the choices you make.

Drifter: What the hell does that mean? You know what - okay, I'll bite.

The Emissary: Your feet find purchase in shifting sands.

Drifter: Okay, why is it getting hot? Do you feel that, Guardian? I can't… I can't see anything.

The Emissary: The night has enveloped you. This is a world full of Dark. No sparks.

Drifter: What's that smell?

The Emissary: The stench of the dead.

Drifter: Am I dead? I hope so, because what I'm smelling, I don't want to be touching.

The Emissary: You stand atop a dead world. A collapse.

Drifter: Get me outta here.

The Emissary: Very well. Your feet find purchase in shifting sands.

Drifter: Holy hell, what're you doing now? It's too bright!

The Emissary: The sun is blinding. This is a world is full of Light. No shadows. A creature runs into you in its blindness; it nearly bowls you over.

Drifter: [grunts] Hey, watch it! What was that? That's not funny.

The Emissary: It has lived here all its life. Too long. It is very old. But if you could see, you would see it appears young.

Drifter: Okay, when I said "get me outta here," I meant I'm done with your bull-

The Emissary: It grabs your hand.

Drifter: Don't touch me.

The Emissary: It begs. It begs you for help.

Drifter: You call this a game?

The Emissary: It begs you for death. On this world, ruled by full Light, it cannot die. It has companions that are as long-lived. It hates them, and they hate it. It will never end. It will never die.

Drifter: Get me outta here, Orin! It won't let go. I can smell it rotting!

The Emissary: And it smells you! You won't help it?

Drifter: I said I'm done!

The Emissary: Very well.

Drifter: What the hell is wrong with you, you lunatic?

The Emissary: You asked about Light and Dark. Come find us again any time, Dredgen. Guardian.

The Prophecy is yet to be fulfilled.]

What if the planetary bodies return some day? What if some of our number defect? If the line between Light Dark is Severed, which side will you land on?

Where are you going? No, wait, listen.

I was right, at first. In the ever-expanding Blighted-place, even Light must obey the sword-logic. Even you Guardians, you best and brightest of the dying dawn, you drew blood in honor of the Taken King. The Warpriest did his duty, and you did yours. Oryx was challenged, yes, but challenged in the way of the Hive, which is to say that challenge is worship — is challenge — is power. Sword-logic. You played your part well.

You were not supposed to touch the Light.

How did you find your way into the King's Cellars? How did you even recognize that benighted|draught for what it was? Do you not know that the Hive pursue Light precisely for the purpose of devouring it with slavering jaws and slick greedy gulping throats? How did you take (or rather, un-Take) the Blighted|Light that Oryx gathered to offer in sacrifice to Akka, and ignite it so that it burned and burned the Darkness?

It was barely Light anymore. But you took it. And when you took it, you did not keep it. You set it free.

You fools! You disastrous, bumbling squanderers! It's not right! Who now shall be First Navigator, Lord of Shapes, harrowed god, Taken King? Not you! You might have been Kings and Queens of the Deep! But you have toppled Oryx and you have not replaced him!

There must be a strongest one many one. It is the architecture of these spaces.

Why are you leaving?

If the invader comes, will you still be a Guardian? Or will you join the true Dredgens? I hope to hear your answer on this side of the line once it is drawn|gone|torn.

The question of how to live well in a universe of indifference, cruelty, and deprivation is the ONLY question. The Light does not offer us an afterlife or an otherworldly paradise. It does not give us throne worlds or pocket universes. The Light tells us that paradise is something we have to make here.

The Darkness cautions us against mercy to our enemies. Are we fools for trying to be good, when our very survival is at stake? Maybe. But the fact that our morals sometimes make it more difficult to survive is proof they are truly good! There is not much commendable about doing a right thing when it is also the tactically correct thing. When the good thing is also the hard thing: that is when the righteous are separated from the lost.

Sen-Aret, let me tell you something I have told no one else. I know that in the end, the Darkness can win. Do you understand what I mean? By its very nature, the Darkness is the judge of what will exist and what will pass away. In the end, there may be only Darkness because all that exists will remain only by its consent.

But the Light grants us freedom from existence alone as the measurement of our worth. Oh, evolution has made us afraid of nonexistence, certainly; and it is good to fear and to avoid nonexistence because without existence, we cannot experience joy. The idea that death is an escape from suffering is a trap. Death is not an escape from anything. It is a wall, a cessation, meaningless. I do not ask anyone to embrace death. There is no possibility in death; life is our only chance to live.

Darkness helps us avoid death. It helps us to go on existing. It is necessary. We must remember what hurt us so that we will not be hurt again.

But Darkness alone points to an eternal existence of mere survival—to a universe where the only judge of a good existence is the ability to go on existing. It is the grace of the Light that grants us the dignity to choose a finite life of compassion and common good over an eternity of competitive subsistence.

The Darkness, or the being that speaks for it, claims that the extermination of all those who choose the Light is inevitable; that the universe will be inherited by morally impoverished advantage-seekers like the Vex and Hive. Logically, I cannot see an escape—so long as I accept the Darkness's logic.

But this is exactly why we fight, Sen-Aret. Not to preserve our own lives, but to preserve the possibility that we represent. When all choices are measured by their fitness pay off—by what they do to benefit the continued existence of the chooser—the Darkness has won completely.

The most important thing we can do, the most formidable blow we can strike against our true enemy, is to offer irrational grace: to choose unreasonable hope and unreasoning compassion even if it goes against calculated advantage.

It is only by disregarding the logic of mere survival that we can create a possibility of existence outside that logic.

So. If they do not offer you a spot at the campfire. If they call you naïve. If they dislike your complaints about the casual violence of the casually violent. If they quote from the Unveiling texts, tell you how the Gardener lost because it always stopped to offer peace, and the Winnower always struck—then ask who they would rather sit by at the fire: Gardener or Winnower.

Then ask them if they would like to live in a universe where no one ever sits beside anyone else at the fire.

Never forget that even in the miserable logic of the prisoner's dilemma, it is the cooperators who create the best world. Two cooperators will score higher, together, than two defectors ever could. A world of cooperators would defeat a world of defectors if the defectors could only be kept away from the cooperators' bounty.

Never forget that what we achieve together, what we accomplish by leavening Darkness with Light and Light with Darkness, tempering grace with memory and memory with grace, is quite literally more than the Darkness alone can imagine. The Hive may have extinguished entire galaxies of allied life, but before the Hive came, those ecumenes accomplished titanic works. What do the Hive have to show for all their conquest? Miserable warrens and rotting moons. Even their libraries are just catalogs of death. Even their queens want a way out.

Never give up hope. If it is possible to live well, then it is worthwhile to try. If it is possible to exist by the rules of the Light, then the Darkness is forever defeated. It cannot dominate all things for all time.

Above all else, when you are in the deepest pits of despair, I offer you this: I believe that there is no reason the Traveler chose to make its stand here at Earth, instead of at Riis or any world before. I do not believe in any special quality it detected in humanity. Nor in any great tactical advantage the Traveler gained by vouchsafing its power to us. It did not release its Ghosts as a move in a scheme of incomprehensible complexity, or because we fit the criteria of an ancient plan. It did not compute the set of contingencies which could permit its own survival, a one-in-a-trillion pathway through a thicket of certain death.

I believe the Traveler simply could not bear to abandon one more infant possibility.

So it chose an act of unreasonable grace.

Clarity in action, Ikora Rey

[These dreams|memories|lives|sparks|seeds need not fade forever. They needen't be snuffed in full Darkness nor scorched by the full Light of inferno. We simply must give them a ring of spears in which to grow and keep them. Tend to them. Be their Guardian|Shield|Life—line|Seraph|Gardener.]

DROWN IN IT

OR RISE FROM IT

[reinabeestudio]

Well I'm bedridden and bored as hell. Thus, I'll finally share some lore about the heart-themed ship. And about certain item they share

(+ adding context to this drawing)

Well, the thing with the necklace was not something planned by him. It just... happened.

You see, he went to search some place to eat on the island. Inside of one of these places, he spotted Miel. Sitting by herself, looking rather pensive as she fiddled with the petal of a blue hibiscus. He decided to approach her—by sneaking up on her, laughing when she jumped. She punched his arm when she recovered with an annoyed expression, calling him an idiot, which only made him laugh harder as he took a seat next to her. He glanced at the flower before looking back at her.

“What, you gonna eat that or something?”

“Haha, real funny, Oak. No, one of the waitresses gave it to me. It's to be worn, you see.” She pointed at another customer, wearing a red hibiscus in their hair.

Dammit, there she was with the 'Oak' thing again.

“Told ya to call me Blue. Being called Oak makes me feel like my gramps!”

“Why are you here, Oak?”

He started to think that maybe she did call him by his last name just to annoy him. But you know, he was there because of her.

“What, can't we have a nice friendly moment? We're in the same team.”

“I can't fathom why you would want to spend time with me.”

In that moment his trademark smirk shrinked a bit, when he heard her voice sound... well, sad. Alright, perhaps this was more serious than he thought.

“There's something on your mind.”

“And when not?” she replied with a light chuckle. Nuh uh, he wasn't gonna let her slip away like that. He scooted a bit closer to her on their seats, putting his arm around her shoulder.

“C'moooon, pidge. You can tell me! Just between us.”

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow after the nickname, silently looking at him. He could feel the gears in her brain spinning in that moment, thinking of what to do.

Ultimately, she sighed and looked back at the flower on her hands, feelings its soft petals.

“What is there after Pasio?”

“.... Huh?”

“When we're done with Pasio, I assume Leaf and Red will go their ways.” Yeah that sounded like his rival. That hermit. “What about you? What will you do?”

That was actually a good question. It got him thinking for several minutes, humming in thought until an answer came to his mind.

“Fieldwork, probably. My job makes me travel 'round the regions a lot.”

“.... I see. Of course, that makes sense....”

The absolute dejected look she had after answering told him that was probably not something she wanted to hear. It broke his heart a bit, to be honest.

“And you? What're you gonna do after this?”

“Ah, me? That isn't important, I was just curious—”

“Miel.”

The sudden serious tone caused her to look at him, visibly surprised. She looked... nervous. Which meant he was getting somewhere. He had to keep talking or she'd close off again.

She sighed. “I.... I don't know. I have nowhere to go. It's... it's scary out there, I don't know what to expect.”

The way she talked about the world sometimes, she sounded like she's never dealt with Pokemon before. A dumb thought, but it's a thought that kept popping up on his mind.

“.... Oak? Can I be honest for a second?”

“Uh, sure?”

“You're the only thing I have.”

That shouldn't have made his heart beat faster. Not when she was looking at him like an abandoned cat.

“I-I mean that I have nowhere to go,” she quickly corrected herself.

There was silence after that. Not an awkward one, but rather a silence of processing and understanding. Was this the reason behind she kept 'taking things slow' in the island? Did she really have nothing else to look forward to afterwards?

“I got an idea,” he said, breaking the silence. Miel didn't look at him but she didn't stop him, so he took this as a sign to continue. “I'll show ya around.”

That made look at him, her fingers no longer fumbling with the petals of the flower resting on her lap. “I'm already familiar enough with the island, Oak.”

“Wh- no, I meant I'll show ya around the world!”

“Ah, I see.....” Give her a minute. “WAIT, are you suggesting I travel with you?” There we go.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don't think it's wise to accept. I'm not very familiar with battles and Pokemon, as you have seen.” She sighed. Which meant she was going to be honest for a second. “I wouldn't want to be a bother while you work.”

“.... Say, I got another idea. A challenge!”

His idea was simple: he would help her during their stay in Pasio. He would help her with anything involving training and raising Pokemon—who better to guide her than one of the former Champions? (and he bet that Leaf and Red wouldn't mind lending a hand, being part of the team as well, but he wanted to train her himself)

But she must battle him after she defeated the Elite Four. Only the two of them, a real battle, 1 vs 1. If she wins against him, she'd prove to be strong enough to get out there and face any challenge that comes their way. Together.

Miel seemed to briefly ponder over it before extending her hand to him to shake on it. “Alright. It's a deal, Oak.”

“A deal? Nah, pidge. Ain't like that.”

Blue could feel her eyes on him as he reached behind his neck and took off his heart necklace. There were no words between them as he slided off the blue half of the pendant into a different black cord he had on pocket (he couldn't resist chuckling softly when he noticed Miel's small surprised gasp while looking at whatever he was doing so intently). Next he fastened the cord with the pink half back in place before he turned his full body towards her on his seat.

“Stay still, Miel.”

He leaned in closer and clasped the necklace with the blue half of the heart around her neck, tracing the cord and the pendant with his finger. Gee, he could feel warmth radiating from her body. He forced himself to pull back lest the urge to close that distance won.

“There! It's a promise.”

Miel examined the pendant before she looked up at him with a smile. Fuck. Fucking christ, that was so pretty. She was so pretty. Keep it cool, dude.

“A promise, you say. That sounds nice, Oa-..... Blue. I'll hold you to that,” she said as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Pink looks good on you, by the way.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder by reflex as that trademark smirk on his face only grew bigger.

“And blue looks great on ya!”

You can read this and this if you are interested in some sort of follow-up to this, as well as more lore (?). And if you wonder why he's so weak to her smile, that's a little reference to how they met ∋( :]

[fortuositywritings]

I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 5

Pt 1,  Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, House Map

Summary: Movie theater, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and the county fair

“We can come back to get the rest. I don’t understand why you’re doing that.”

Wanda watches you struggle trying to carry everything you brought from the store but two bags that Wanda herself is carrying. 

“Because, my young Padawanda, it is one of the most important rules of the Jedi Code. One must never make a second trip to the car lest he be a nerd.”

“Oh my gosh! Have you seen Star Wars?” You and Wanda turn your heads towards the porch where Sam and Peter reside. Peter runs down to you in excitement. “Which ones have you seen?”

“Only like all of them!” you answer, just as excited as Peter to have someone else here who likes the movies. Laura finds them boring, Clint thinks they’re too long, and Nat says she’s not a child. You tried watching them with Cooper and Lila but they fell asleep halfway through. So no one can blame you for getting excited. Unfortunately, the little bounce that accompanied your answer causes a few things to slip from your arms, but Peter, given his incredible reflexes, catches them all before they touch the ground. “The force is strong with this one,” you tell him.

“And a second trip is what makes you a nerd.” Sam mumbles under his breath on his way over to help by taking the bags from Wanda. “What’s on your neck?” He asks her. Her hand flies up to her neck only to find it sticky.

“It’s what happens when you mess with a Jedi,” you answer for her in a silly voice making Peter laugh. You also make Wanda blush as she recalls how it happened, but you don’t see this since you and Peter are already making your way to the house. Sam, however, does notice Wanda’s face and recognizes that look, leaving him stumped. Wanda only snaps out of her trance when the door closes behind you and Peter. 

“I don’t get it,” he says to Wanda. “What is it about her? Is it the confidently flirty but still kind of geeky thing that does it for you ladies?”

Wanda, embarrassed at being caught, heads to the house ignoring Sam’s questions. She can still hear him as he yells after, “Don’t walk away! I need to know if nerds are the thing now!”

Sam catches her in the kitchen along with you and Peter putting things you bought where they’re meant. Instead of asking Wanda anything, he turns his questions to you and Peter, who you all find out has a girlfriend now. Sam guesses his “nerds are in” theory correct based on that and soon he is agreeing to watch Star Wars with you, Peter, and Wanda. He threw Wanda a subtle wink when neither you nor Peter were looking as if to say ‘you’re welcome’ for including her in those plans. Clint, coming in from the side door, catches the ending of that conversation and groans. 

“No! Laura! Peter and Y/N found an interest they can both be annoying about,” he goes to complain to his wife. Later though, he as well as everyone else joins you to watch the movie. You and Peter thoroughly answer all of Sam and Pietro’s questions and hush everyone at your favorite parts, mouthing the lines along with the scene. Wanda ends up not watching the movie anymore but watching you and she begins to wonder if maybe Sam was right.

***

“How much longer?” you find yourself asking the next morning trying not to sound as out of breath as you are. You’ve been jogging for you don’t know how long now but it feels way longer than what Nat had promised it would be when she woke you up at six in the morning.

“Another mile,” she answers, no sign of struggle in her voice as if this is a cakewalk. You suppose it is for her since she’s had to slow down numerous times for you to catch up.

“Another mile?!”

“Hey, you said you would keep up today,” Nat reminds you.

“You know you can’t trust anything I say during my haven’t-had-caffeine-yet hours. Don’t I get points for trying?”

“Like your little green friend says, ‘Do or do not, there is no try’,” Nat retorts.

“I knew you were paying attention last night!” You increase your pace to jog beside her. “You can act too tough to like Star Wars all you want around everyone else, but I’ll always know the truth.” You can see her shake her head from the corner of your eye. You don’t say anything for a moment, but being one who cannot let the quiet linger too long, as Tanya would attest to, you speak up. “So, how’s your little green friend doing?”

You turn your head for a second to show Nat you were genuinely looking for an answer and in the next she’s practically running away from you. She went fast but not quick enough for you to miss the little redness creeping up on her cheeks. You have never in your years of knowing her seen her blush before. You have seen her sweat after a sparring match with Clint, get a bit of a sunburn, and get so angry she looked like she would pop a vein, but not one of those times were her cheeks turning a rosy color. Aww, Romanov’s in love. Once you’ve come to that conclusion, you go to tease her. Wait, where did she go?

“You asshole!” You yell at Nat who you finally find casually leaning on the car door watching you storm up to her. It took you an hour to find the car after losing the trail you were on trying to find Natasha. She doesn’t even flinch as she reaches over and pulls a twig out of your hair. “What happened to you?”

“You left me!” You huffed, walking around to the passenger side while Nat got in the driver seat unfazed. Truth be told, after 30 minutes without any sign of Nat, you thought she was putting you through some kind of test. You were getting paranoid, so it’s not surprising you took a tumble when you swiftly tried to avoid an attack from what turned out to be a squirrel running up a tree. But you’ll just keep that to yourself forever.

You head straight to the shower when you get to the house ignoring the morning greetings from those you pass on the way. “What’s up with her?” Sam asks Nat in the living room. “She hasn’t had her caffeine yet.”

You let the shower wash away your moodiness which, you can admit to yourself alone, stemmed for the most part from embarrassing yourself. Afterwards, you head to the kitchen ready to eat whatever everyone had for breakfast, but come up empty. You guess they’d finished all of it if the plates and pan left out to dry say anything. You open the fridge looking for something to eat. Maybe there is something in there you can heat up. Unlike Laura, Wanda, and self proclaimed chef Pietro, you cannot cook to save your life. 

“What’s cooking, good looking?” Speak of the devil. Maybe he can make you something? You know all it would take is some batting of the eyelashes and a compliment. No, Wanda said no. But there is nothing in the fridge to heat up and you were hungry. Wanda would surely understand it was for the greater good, right? Already breaking the first rule, I see.

Caught red handed, you look over Pietro’s shoulder to see Wanda walking into the kitchen to join you two. She’s raising her eyebrows at you waiting for an answer. 

“Okay, new rule,” you say. Pietro is confused at what he assumes is your response until he sees that you aren’t talking to him. “No more reading my mind,” you say sternly, pointing at Wanda. 

Pietro smirks. “Yeah, I don’t need you to hear what goes on Y/N’s mind when she is thinking about me,” he says to Wanda. Both you and Wanda roll your eyes. “Sam is asking for you outside,” is all she says to him and off he goes with a groan.You groan as well, the chance of getting someone to make you food leaving with him.

“You could have just asked me, you know?” Wanda says, leaning against the sink. 

“I thought I said no mind reading,” you remind her. She chuckles when you close the refrigerator door and hit your head against it in defeat.

“I wasn’t,” she defends. “I was serious when I said he can’t cook. I may have saved you from food poisoning.”

“Maybe, but I would have been full and happy for a moment. Since you chased away my shot at food, I think you should make it up to me by making me some breakfast,” you try, leaning against the fridge.

“Oh? I should, should I?” You nod confidently thinking it might just work, but she tears that thought away when she continues, “Cause I remember you still needing to make it up to me when you didn’t buy the ice creams.”

You frown, “I thought you’d forgotten about that.” She smiles, with nose scrunch and all, shaking her head. “Fine, you want to go to the fair? I’ll take you to the fair tomorrow!”

“A fair? I want to go!” you hear Cooper shout. He is coming in through the back door with Lila who looks just as excited and with Nat who does not. You ignore Nat’s face when you tell Cooper that you can all go to the fair. He and Lila run off in excitement to tell the others. Nat glares at you as she takes a seat at the kitchen table. 

“See,” you turn to Wanda. “Now I have to take you for sure. Make me some food now, please,” you beg her, drawing out the word please. She squints her eyes like she’s thinking about it and then, “Only because you asked so nicely.” 

“Thank you,” you throw her a huge smile at which Wanda rolls her eyes.

“But if you are going to be here,” she says pushing you away from the fridge, “you are going to help. You’ve got to learn how to cook for yourself.” And you do just that. You nod along intently listening to all her instructions, not wanting to miss a thing. Sometimes you’d interrupt to make a joke and when one is about her brother, she playfully punches you. You are so immersed in your little bubble, you forget Nat is not too far away watching your interaction with curiosity. She has you try the food first and you could almost moan. You notice a blush creeping up on Wanda’s face and suddenly she’s avoiding your eyes.The food is so good and you were so hungry that maybe you did let out a little noise of satisfaction. Before you could say anything, another voice interrupts, “What’s this I hear about a fair?”

You turn slowly recognizing the tone your cousin uses. It’s the who-made-these-plans-without-asking-me-first tone. You smile at Laura, mouth full of food. You see Nat point at you but Laura was already looking at you. “Yeah, I think she knows it was me, Natasha.”

***

A few uneventful hours go by and you are bored out of your mind. You have a sudden urge to go out seeing as the sun was still shining. You pull out your phone having an idea of what to do to kill some time. You scroll through your phone to see what movies are playing at the only movie theater in town. You see that the next showing is for a horror movie. 

“Do you like scary movies?” you turn to the group playing Uno in the living room. Pietro gets up in excitement when you mention going to the movie theater. Sam agrees to come as well and drags Peter out the door when Peter wants to stay claiming it’s to keep the kids company. You are about to head out with everyone but you notice Wanda still sitting on the couch. You wait for her to get up when Pietro says, “Yeah, good luck with that. She’s too chicken to watch scary movies.”

Wanda, offended, gets up quickly from the couch, “Am not. I just think they’re boring.”

“Sure,” Pietro chuckles as he heads out the door.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” you tell her. You think she is going to stay, but she starts heading out the door to the car. 

“You sure that’s not enough butter, Y/N?” Peter asks you when he sees how much butter he’s already put in the bucket at your insistence. He can feel some of it through the bucket already. 

“Fine, that’s good. You grab some napkins. I’ll hold the bucket,” you tell him after you see his eyebrows scrunch. You all go to the designated room and pick a row to sit in having pretty much any seat you want since it was practically empty. You sit down next to Peter and notice Pietro’s eyes falling to the empty seat on your other side. He aims to sit next to you but his sister who was sitting next to Peter before beats him to it. He throws her a confused look as he shuffles his way down to sit in her abandoned seat. “Real subtle there, Wanda,” you say, amused more than anything.

“I can see the screen better from here.” You let her bad excuse slide and turn to the screen as the movie begins to play. Between you, Peter, and Pietro, the popcorn is gone in record time. The jumpscares begin halfway through the movie. Peter holds the empty bucket as a safety blanket which you find adorable. You don’t even know if Wanda is watching the movie. She’s got her eyes somewhat hidden behind her fingers. You want to tease her, so you reach to take her fingers away from her face, but another jumpscare happens and she takes your hand in her free one. You feel her squeeze the life out of your hand in anticipation of another jumpscare. 

Your palm begins to sweat and you start to feel uncomfortable with all the butter on your fingers, so you slip your hand out from hers. She turns to you in question. “Sorry, my hand’s full of butter,” you whisper. She reaches over you to ask Peter something. Without a word, she leans back in her seat with napkins in her hand and cleans all the butter off your hand before taking it in hers once more, this time interlacing your fingers. She turns her focus back to the movie. You feel you should just do the same, so you follow her actions. You let her hold your hand for the rest of the movie until the lights come back up.

Wanda shouldn’t have watched that movie. It is much too dark in the bedroom. It is much too quiet. She can hear Nat’s soft breathing from beside her. The silhouettes of various items around the room are creeping her out. She doesn’t think she is going to be sleeping any time soon. Maybe some tea will help. She gets up quietly trying not to wake Nat, but when she’s at the door, Nat asks, “Where are you going?”

“The bathroom,” Wanda lies easily. She’d rather not let Nat know that she couldn’t sleep because of some scary movie. What kind of superhero would that make her? As she heads downstairs, she wonders if you were still awake. She turns down the hallway to peek into the living room and sure enough you were still awake watching television. She walks over to you behind the couch. “What are you watching?” she asks. You feel your soul leave your body not having heard her approach. She giggles as she walks around to sit next to you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just warn a girl next time.” She turns her attention to the show. “It’s Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. It’s really good. I used to watch it with Laura when she would babysit while my mom was at work. Some of the jokes I wouldn’t even understand but I’d laugh ‘cause she was laughing,” you reminisce. 

“You and her are very close.”

“Yeah, well, she’s practically the only family I have. My mom passed not so long ago and seeing as there was never a dad in my family picture, my aunt and uncle took me in. I don’t have any siblings and neither does Laura so, she’s kind of it.” You add, “Well, apart from Clint, Nat, and the kids of course.”

Another two scenes go by on the show before you ask, “Did you have a nightmare or could you not fall asleep?”

Wanda looks down embarrassed so you add, “I promise I’m not teasing. I’m just asking.”

“I couldn’t sleep. It was too quiet and dark and Natasha was already asleep, so I thought I would come down here,” she replies.

“Oh, so you thought I would definitely put you to sleep. Wow, I don’t see how this friendship is going to work if you think I bore you to sleep,” you tease. Upon seeing her tired smile, you take pity and pat your thighs and gesture for her to lie down. “Come here.”

When she lays her head on your lap, you begin running your fingers through her hair. You hear her yawn and a few minutes later you find her sound asleep. Careful not to wake her, you reach over to the blanket you were meant to use on you and throw it over her body instead. Another two episodes play before you fall asleep.

***

You wake up once again with a sore neck and you feel that your body might be as well, but when you remember the reason, you don’t find it in yourself to complain. You look around prepared to see Nat in gym clothes holding a coffee cup but you find the living room empty apart from you and Wanda. You look out the window and see the sun is barely about to rise. Surprised to have woken up before anyone else, you decide to make the most of it but you are quickly sidetracked getting distracted by Wanda’s sleeping form. “I can feel you staring,” she says, her voice husky which you try hard not to find attractive. She turns her head to look up at you with sleepy eyes. “Friends don’t do that.”

“I was not staring. I was admiring,” you respond. “And friends can admire their friends.”

“Well mine don’t the way you do.” 

“Ain’t that a shame.” You boop her nose with your finger making her scrunch her nose.

“They do, however, let me sleep,” she jokes. She turns her head back as if she was to go back to sleep and you decide this might be the best time to get up. You gently lift her head from your lap and swivel your body off the couch. “Where are you going?” she whines, when you place a pillow under her head.

“I am going to wake Nat up for once in my life,” you reply with determination. You stretch and shake your legs trying to get the feeling back in them.

“Good luck with that,” is the last thing Wanda says before closing her eyes and going back to sleep. You head to the kitchen to start the coffee pot and then make your way upstairs. Luckily, the door was left open so you don’t make any noise on your way in. You tiptoed your way to Natasha and bent down so your face was eye level to hers. You honestly can’t believe you’ve made it this far since she is the lightest sleeper. This is the spy they chose for the Avengers? You giggle to yourself imagining the face Nat is going to make when you scare her. Oh, if they could see her now…they would be satisfied with their choice, you think as you try to choke out, “Uncle. Uncle.” Nat somehow has you in a choke hold and you are tapping furiously on her arm. Once she realizes it’s you she lets go.

“Y/N, what the hell! I could have hurt you!” she yells at you as you’re coughing. You stare at her unbelievably, rubbing at your neck, and once you can speak again you say, “Then what was this to you? Some light foreplay?”

Once you both settle down, she realizes you were up before her. You take some exercise attire out for yourself from your luggage. You might not like to exercise but gym clothes are sure comfy to lie around in. “You gotta keep up, Natasha. You don’t want the boss man to catch you slacking. Oh, I’m also making coffee so don’t worry about that.”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing. You smile in turn. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ll catch you downstairs.”

You leave her to change and head downstairs with your clothes. You go to the kitchen first and make two cups of coffee. Then you go to the restroom to change. After she finishes changing, Nat goes to the kitchen and sees you were not kidding. Natasha takes her cup of coffee to the living room as she always does and finds Wanda asleep on the couch. She sighs as things start adding up. She guesses this is the reason for the lack of a grumpy attitude from you so early in the morning. She wants to say something but Nat would rather take a motivated Y/N over Y/N complaining every five minutes on their hike. So, she doesn’t say anything for now.

You actually keep up with Nat this time and to top it off you don’t talk too much like you always do. Nat thinks it’s because you're in a good mood giving you motivation, but the reason for keeping her pace and keeping quiet is your fear she’ll leave you again if you say something to set her off and lose her like yesterday. Nat even goes as far as giving you a compliment at the end. Well, semi-compliment, but her “Not too bad, Y/N”s are few and far between so you return to the house feeling proud of yourself.

This time you’re the one saying good morning to everyone when you enter. You see a few of them still eating breakfast in the kitchen. You hope there will still be leftovers by the time you come back down after showering. Knowing how some of the guys eat, it is going to have to be a quick shower. Laura sees you eyeing the food and says, “Don’t worry, we saved you a plate.” And here you thought Wanda was the mind reader. “Wanda told us you were grumpy yesterday from not catching breakfast so we made sure to make more.” That explains it. You smile, happy someone kept you in mind. Now you can shower in peace. You thank her and head upstairs.

“You saw that, right?” Laura turns to Clint and Nat who walked in not too long before you left.

“She’s been like that all morning. Not one ‘Are we done yet?’ or ‘Why do you hate me, Natasha?’ on our hike,” Nat replies in a hushed tone as if it’s so unlike you to be agreeable in the morning. 

“Do you think it has anything to do with a certain somebody?” Laura felt the need to ask.

“Well she didn’t just find a love for exercise,” Nat sarcastically says.

Clint sighs, “Do you think we have to talk to her again?” 

Nat goes to respond, but Laura cuts off whatever Nat was going to say, “No, if anyone is going to talk to her, it’s me. And it’s not going to be some crappy ‘no dating’ rule type of conversation. You two are great when it comes to getting someone to talk with your intimidation, but save that for your job, which speaking of, Wanda is your coworker, so you may want to talk to her as well if you had to talk to Y/N because last I remember it takes two to tango.”

Nat and Clint stare at Laura in shock, embarrassment and guilt rightfully taking over their bodies. “Are we clear?” Laura asks them though it’s more of a statement leaving no room for argument. 

“Yes.” “Yeah.”

Upstairs, you make your way to the guest room to grab some clothes. Wanda is sitting on the bed reading her book. She is still dressed in her pyjamas, which makes you smile. The sound of her turning the page shakes you from your thoughts and saves you from staring a bit too long. Wanda smirks without bothering to look away from her book and you know she caught you.

“Morning, I’m just gonna get some clothes,” you explain as you move to where your bag is. Wanda speaks up while you zip your duffle closed, “I’m sorry for bothering you last night.”

“Come on, Wanda. You could never be a bother,” you say sincerely, giving her a smile that she shyly returns. “Alright, the shower is calling my name.”

“Yeah, I can hear it screaming,” she jokes and laughs when you take mock offense, “Hey!” She goes back to reading when she sees you heading out the door but you call her attention once more, “Oh! Thanks for telling them to save me a plate.”

“Of course,” she replies like it wasn’t even worth mentioning. You nod at her and then go to shower, closing the guest room door behind you.

A few seconds later, the door opens up again and Wanda amusedly says, her eyes never straying from the page she’s reading, “Did the shower call the wrong name?”

“No, it was definitely calling Y/N’s and mine too, I’m sure, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

Wanda’s head diverts to the door at Nat’s voice. 

“And you needed back up for it?” Wanda looks over to Clint who awkwardly stands behind Nat.

Clint clears his throat, “Well it was only fair if Y/N got both of us, you did too.”

Wanda straightens her posture as she places her book beside her. “Ah, so this is about Y/N. I had a feeling.”

Nat and Clint come into the room, Clint closing the door behind him. Nat goes to sit on the end of the bed and Clint stands behind her. “Look, we were wrong to tell Y/N what to do or rather not do. She is an adult and has the right to do whatever she wants, but you have to understand she’s someone who tends to get ahead of herself and we didn’t- we don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Nat starts.

“So you’re saying she is getting ahead of herself with me? That what? Come two weeks, she’ll realize she doesn’t want me?” Wanda starts to get visibly upset.

“No, that’s not what-” Clint tries to speak but Wanda is not done talking. “Even if that was the case, it would be her choice. It would be my choice.”

“Wanda, you are not going to be here in two weeks. You are not going to be here in a few days,” Natasha calmly says trying to reason. “Look, we love Y/N, okay? But she often finds herself making mistakes-”

“So I would just be another mistake? 

“No, you would be a dangerous one,” Nat says trying to get something through to Wanda.

“I would never hurt her.”

“No, maybe not intentionally,” Nat continues, and when Wanda looks like she is going to argue, Clint interrupts, “Wanda, just let her finish.” Wanda takes a breath to calm herself down and then nods for Natasha to carry on.

“Being in our lives more than she has to could get her hurt. Even this morning, I hurt her when she was probably just trying to play some stupid prank. Being around us is dangerous. Why do you think Clint kept all this a secret,” Nat motions around the room. “Why do you think I was so upset about her and Yelena? Why do you think we haven’t said anything to Y/N before? Those other girls aren’t you. Those other girls aren’t Yelena. I don’t even know where she is right now. We live different lives. Say things do work out with Y/N. Much like I don’t know where my sister is, there will be times she won’t have a clue where you are or if you’re okay. When Clint and I say we don’t want anyone to get hurt, it goes both ways.”

“Wan, have you seen my blue shirt with the buttons?” Pietro storms into the room like a man on a mission, not even bothering to acknowledge Nat and Clint are in the room as well. “I know I packed it.” Not until he reads the hurt in Wanda’s eyes does he read the room and like the protective sibling he is, he is quick to get defensive. “What’s happening here?”

Her brother’s interruption could not have come at a better time. Wanda didn’t know how to respond to Nat’s explanation. She was feeling herself choke up, Vision’s voice springing in her head again. She’s happy to have Pietro here so willing to jump in to defend her but she doesn’t want to drag him into it, so she clears her throat and says, “Nothing. We were just talking.” He still looks unsure, so she gets up from the bed and offers, “I’ll help you look for it.” Her eyes plead for him to let it go. Luckily, he does and heads out the door.  Clint and Nat watch Pietro leave and Wanda stop by the door. “You don’t have to worry. Y/N made it clear to me that we’re just friends,” she says in defeat, then turns to follow her brother.

“Well, that went well,” Clint says sarcastically. 

Wanda spends the next two hours helping Sam, Peter, and Pietro get ready. She helps Sam pick an outfit first seeing as he was the first to shower. She has to pry one of Peter’s t-shirts from his hands saying he’s twice Peter’s size and he cannot pull the nerdy look. She helps Peter next. It’s mostly just styling his hair he needs help with. At last she helps her brother after having knocked on the bathroom door four different times telling him to hurry up. 

“How does the one with superspeed take an hour in the shower?” Sam asks rhetorically. Sam, Wanda, and Peter are on the bed in Cooper’s room watching Pietro straighten out his shirt.

“Hey, it takes time to look this good,” Pietro says as he fixes his collar. All three of them nearly roll their eyes. “Do you think Y/N will like this shirt?”

“Yeah, if it was on Wanda, maybe,” Sam snorts. Peter holds back a chuckle while Wanda tries not to react. 

“You look nice,” Wanda says, not wanting to tear down her brother’s confidence. Everyone’s attention is drawn to the closed door when someone knocks. They hear you ask if you can come in. Pietro responds, “One second.” He goes to lean against Cooper’s desk casually and all three on the bed try really hard not to laugh. Peter has to shove his face in a pillow. “Okay, come in.”

You let yourself into the room, your eyes falling on Wanda immediately. “Not that you don’t look nice in them, but do you really plan on wearing your pjs to the fair?” you tease her. “I mean, you’ll for sure be turning heads, if that’s the plan.” 

She replies, “I was waiting on the shower. Someone was taking their time.” She points her head in Pietro’s direction who gives you a nod in acknowledgement and a “‘sup?” Sam’s mouth forms a line trying so hard not to laugh out loud. Peter’s face stays hidden behind the pillow but you can see from the side of his neck his face was getting red. You feel like you walked in at the wrong time given everyone’s behavior. You tell Wanda, “You might want to hurry. Clint says we’re leaving soon.” With that you turn to leave wondering what you had walked in on. 

When you shut the door, everyone in Cooper’s room excluding Pietro bursts out laughing.

“What the hell was that, man?” Sam asks between fits of laughter.

Peter gets up and leans against the desk to mimic Pietro, “‘Sup?” Everyone laughs again, Pietro leaning over to slap Peter in the back of the head.

***

They take the family car and Nat’s car to the fair. Sam and Peter ride with Nat while the rest of you ride with Clint driving. As you wait in line to buy tickets, you lean over Wanda’s shoulder, who is standing right in front of you with her back to you, and say “I meant to say this earlier but you look nice.”

She smiles and then turns around to face you as you take a step back. She jokes, “I thought I looked good in my pyjamas but someone implied it wasn’t appropriate for the fair.”

“Oh definitely not appropriate. It was way too sexy. We couldn’t have that around the children,” you reply making her giggle.

“You don’t look too bad either,” she returns the earlier compliment, taking in your outfit as you shuffle forward with the rest of the line. “Your outfit is very nice.”

“Oh, this. I just threw it together.” No, you didn’t. You took your time with it. “But thanks,” you wave her off. When you reach the ticket stand, you rush in front of Clint to pay for yours, Wanda’s, Laura’s, Nat’s, and the kids’ tickets. You explain to him when you are all walking together that you kind of owed Wanda for something and you were the one who promised to take the kids here much to Nat and Laura’s displeasure so you kind of owed them too. 

You make it inside the fairgrounds. A giant banner that reads “WESTVIEW COUNTY FAIR!” greets you overhead. Everyone gets excited upon seeing the banner and all the lights in the background. Well, everyone but Nat and Laura, Nat not ever a big fan of fairs and Laura not a fan of taking care of kids at a fair. Out of all the lights shining on the fairgrounds, your favorite is the one shining through Wanda’s eyes as she takes everything in with wonder. 

“So what do you want to do first?” you ask her.

She turns to you and almost looks embarrassed. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to a fair.”

“What?” you ask in shock. She shrugs not knowing what else she could say. “Well, it’s settled then. We are not leaving until you get the whole experience. Let’s go buy some wristbands for the rides. We are going on every single one.” Her eyes widen and the wonder in them from earlier shifts into nervousness. “It’ll be fun, come on,” you reassure as you drag her to another line, leaving everyone else behind. 

You and Wanda get on every ride but the ferris wheel telling her you have to leave that one for last. You even ride some twice, but you get hungry and ask Wanda if she wants to eat yet. She agrees that she could take a break for food. You try various things the fair offers wanting Wanda to try everything. “You Americans like to fry anything you can,” she comments as she takes another bite of her fried oreo. She hums as she finishes it off. “I understand why,” she says, making you laugh. 

You spot Laura and Nat sitting at a table near the stage where some band is playing music. You and Wanda head on over. Soon everyone regroups there, finishing off the food they bought and watching people dance. Clint pulls Laura to dance with him. You all sit at the table watching them with a smile when someone obstructs your view of them. You look up to see a tall guy in a black cowboy hat smiling down at Wanda beside you offering his hand out asking her to dance. She looks at you, unsure of what to say. You give her a smile that admittedly took you a second to form and nod encouragingly for her to accept. She smiles politely at him and takes his hand. You watch them dance, your eyes only ever straying when you see Wanda going to look at you. You watch when he leans down to tell her something in her ear and she laughs. You wonder what he told her that was so funny. Your eyes roam over him. He’s handsome, you’ll give him that. He has a nice face, good posture. You note he is also respectful with his hand placement when dancing, so you can appreciate that. It seems like Westview County has their own Steve Rodgers. The thought bugs you.

Someone blocks your view once again, only this time you are kind of thankful for it. You look up to see Pietro asking you to dance. “Why not?” you say, wanting to do anything rather than stare at Wanda dancing with some guy. He pulls you to the dance floor. You enjoy your time dancing with Pietro though you get dizzy from how quickly he spins you. You’re a little disappointed your dance is cut short when Lila taps your arm asking if she can dance with Pietro. You smile at her saying of course she can. With your distraction gone to dance with Lila, your eyes search for Wanda once more but you cannot seem to find her. You feel someone grab your hand and you are spun into that someone’s arms. Your eyes fall to familiar green ones and you smile, “Smooth moves, Maximoff.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile as she starts to sway with you to the music. “You let me dance with a stranger.”

“You’re dancing with me now and we were strangers not so long ago,” you rebuttal. 

“But at least we know each other’s names.”

“Did you not get his name?” you ask.

“I never asked for it,” Wanda returns simply, shrugging. You find it hard to believe that his name never came up so you say, “That was a lot of talking for him to not have given you a name.”

“You saw us talking? I would not have guessed you were paying attention. Every time I looked at you, you turned to look away,” she teases you.

You swallow, choking on the embarrassment of getting caught. “Doesn’t matter. His name’s probably Brad or something. He looks like a Brad.”

She laughs then catching on to your tone she asks, “Y/N, are you jealous?” 

“What? Me, jealous?” you ask, astonished. She nods, smiling like she has her answer. “Wanda, I could never be jealous of some Brad. Dance with a Marcus and then maybe, but a Brad? Pfft. No.”

She just laughs and pulls you closer. You let yourself go and dance with her until whatever song the band is playing ends. “Let’s go play some games. I feel like shooting something,” you say, making her laugh loudly. 

Everyone decides to play with you as well so you all head over to the different stands. Nat wins the shooting game, Clint coming in close. He wins the popping the balloons with darts game. They give their prizes to Cooper and Lila. Peter and Sam spend some time with the hammer and bell game; Peter hitting the bell every time garners some attention especially from some girls which frustrates Sam. Pietro wins a fish when he plays ring toss. It seems like everyone but you has been winning something. Even Wanda won a stuffed panda she gave to Lila after playing a water shooting game. You were getting frustrated trying to knock some blocks off a stool. You’ve spent a good $20 on this game already. Wanda catching your frustration decides to help you out. When you are down to your last ball, you try your best to focus and throw the ball. Two of the three blocks fall down. The last one is teetering on the edge. You think you’ve lost but a second later it falls over. You shout with glee. You ask the attendant for the keychain that has the letter W on it.

Wanda watches you with a smile as you approach her. “Thank you for that,” you say, and when she tries to play naive, you continue, “I know you knocked the last block.”

She gives you a sheepish smile. You hold out the keychain to her. “I figure this only rightfully belongs to you. May it proudly hold your keys until you lose it.” She tries to say no but you take her wrist and place the keychain in the palm of her hand. “It has your initial. You have to keep it.”

“I’m pretty sure the W is for Westview County,” she counters.

“A happy coincidence.” You don’t take no for an answer and she finally smiles and thanks you, putting her new keychain away so she doesn’t lose it. You look around to see the others still distracted with the games but you also catch your cousin yawn. You know this means you’re leaving soon so you grab Wanda’s hand and head over to the line for the ferris wheel.

You thank the attendant when he checks you have your belt on and pulls the bar to your lap. The wheel starts turning and when you are midway to the top, it shakes a little as two people get on the final empty cart. The shaking makes Wanda nervous. She grabs your hand almost protectively as her posture turns into one that looks ready for a fight. You turn your palm over to interlace your fingers and rub your thumb on her hand to try to soothe her nerves. “Hey, it’s okay,” you say. She turns to you and you see her irises are red. “They always do this. We’re okay. Just don’t rock the cart and we’ll be good.”

She takes a breath willing herself to relax. The red in her irises fade back to her green. She sits back and the ferris wheel moves again, this time not stopping for people to get on. You keep holding her hand squeezing it from time to time in reassurance. You can see Clint and everyone from the ferris wheel and point them out to Wanda. The only ones to see you are the kids who wave to you. You wave back. 

“Do you come to the fair every year?” Wanda asks.

“Pretty much. There’s not much else to do,” you shrug. She ponders this for a moment and then, “So you’ve brought dates to the fair before, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah?” You say more like a question wondering where she was going with this.

“In the movies, people on dates always kiss on the ferris wheel. Did you kiss them?”

“Wanda,” you say her name but it comes out more like a warning.

“Sorry, I was just wondering,” she mutters, then turns to look back at the fairgrounds. 

“No, I didn’t.” You answer sincerely. She looks back at you. You explain, “The two other people I’ve taken to the fair on a date were too afraid to get on the ferris wheel.”

“You said ‘other’,” she says smiling at you.

You look at her confused. “What?”

“You said ‘the two other people’ meaning other than me. So is this date?” she raises an eyebrow, an amused expression on her face.

“A friendly date,” you say, making her frown. She huffs in defeat letting go of your hand and hold the lap bar instead. The night had been going so well, you didn’t want this one thing to ruin it, so without letting yourself think it over, you wait until you get to the top of the ferris wheel. You lean into her space and look her in the eye to show her you are serious when you say, “Don’t tell Nat or Clint.” She looks confused but the confusion quickly turns into a pleasant surprise when you gently grab her face and lean in to kiss her. It doesn’t last long enough to give her a chance to kiss you back. You pull back with a cheeky smile and say, “I did promise the whole experience.” 

The kiss may have ended too quickly for Wanda but it was long enough for a few people to catch it. One of them being your cousin whose kids were pointing to you and Wanda on the ferris wheel in excitement. She just shook her head in amusement when she saw you kiss Wanda. The other person to catch you was Wanda’s brother who, when seeing you kiss his sister, just whines, “No, Y/N.”

______________________________________________________________________

I'm sorry this took so long. I got sidetracked and then when I started I got stuck and in my true fashion, once I started writing, I couldn't stop and I couldn’t leave you without taking you to the fair. So, I hope the length of the chapter makes up for the wait. Oh, Happy Mother's Day to all the mom's out there doing their best to be good moms! I created a house map of how I picture the inside to look, you know without the fine details.

Next chapter bring your bug spray, you’re going camping.

Taglist: @madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemissis @myperfectlovepoem @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder @cantcontroltheirfear @trikruismybitch @your-my-mission 

[robininthelabyrinth]

CQL-Verse: Wen Ning did a whole lot of risky stuff saving JC and the bodies at Lotus Pier. What if NMJ hears and gets talked into helping protect him and the Wen remnants by the Jiang bros, because even if he's a wen, he still 1. whole ass poisoned wen chao 2. straight up commited treason and was punished for it to protect sect heirs and 3. is extremely baby brotherable. you can fit so much h/c into this bad boy

ao3

Untamed

1

Wen Qing was angry about the trials, but Wen Ning thought they made a reasonable amount of sense.

After all, how was the rest of the cultivation world supposed to know what they did in the war without a proper trial? It was only reasonable for them to make certain assumptions about them based on their surname, the same way everyone assumed that those surnamed Jin were rich, those surnamed Lan were beautiful, those surnamed Jiang were bold to the point of arrogance…

The Nie were supposedly known for their tempers, but Wen Ning hadn’t seen much evidence of that so far.

In fairness, his only experiences with a Nie were, firstly, with Nie Huaisang at the Cloud Recesses, which he was fairly sure didn’t count, and now, during the trial, with Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue laughed the entire trial.

“You poisoned the wine,” he sniggered. “At their own celebratory feast…! And then you just went straight to Yiling, where your sister was in charge. And it still took him how long to find you?”

“Weeks,” Wen Ning meekly admitted.  

“Can we go back to the bit where you saved Wei-xiong from the giant dog beast using stolen needles?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“No, we cannot,” Nie Mingjue’s deputy – a somewhat long-suffering looking man that they all called Meng Yao – said. “He’s already gone over it four times, Huaisang.”

“But –”

“No.”

“Spoilsport! Look at how much fun da-ge’s having; it’s not fair.”

“He’s the sect leader. If he wants to hoot like a shrieking monkey, he’s entitled to it.”

“I’m not hooting,” Nie Mingjue protested. “I am recognizing talent.”

“Talent.”

“Exactly. Talent.”

“At…what, exactly?”

“Causing trouble,” Nie Huaisang volunteered. “I recognize it from Wei-xiong, I could spot it anywhere.”

“Could we possibly proceed with the trial?” Meng Yao asked, obviously deciding not to continue with that discussion. “We have six more to finish today. Can I assume that given the evidence of Wen-gongzi’s subversive activities and his subsequent imprisonment throughout much of the Sunshot Campaign, he is absolved of all crimes and allowed to go free?”

“You spoilsport,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes at him. “Yes, I think so. Wen Qionglin, you are free to go your own way – though if you wish to stay here in Qinghe as a guest cultivator, we would be glad to have you for however long you wish.”

Wen Ning thought that sounded all right.

2

The Nie sect were known for their tempers, and justly so, but Wen Ning quickly figured out that he didn’t need to be afraid of Nie Mingjue’s occasional outbursts (quickly roused, quickly doused) or Nie Huaisang’s temper tantrums (petty) and occasional grudge-holding (rarer but much more dangerous).

No, Wen Ning figured out very quickly in his first weeks that the one to be afraid of was clearly Meng Yao.

Wen Ning had been weak and sickly his whole life in a sect that valued strength above all; he had survived hiding behind his sister, but she couldn’t always be there for him, no matter how she tried. He’d soon learned that surviving on his own meant being quiet and obedient, never making trouble or drawing attention to himself, and it also meant being extremely attuned to the minute expressions that might signal the difference between Wen Chao being angry enough to throwing a teacup at his head and being angry enough to order him to be taken outside and beaten until unconscious.

The same skills helped him in the Nie sect, where people were very often angry. Wen Ning could tell the difference between Nie Mingjue raging to let out steam (moderately common and generally innocuous, easily ignored) and being actually upset (typically only dangerous to the furniture, which was a nice change, but more worrisome in the sense that he might go and do something stupid afterwards), and he could tell that Nie Huaisang’s true anger, so rarely triggered, tended more towards the cold and hidden (definitely a sign he was going to do something, but unfortunately for everyone involved it’d invariably be far more malicious - enough to make you long for stupid).

He could tell that Meng Yao was, despite all his smiles, very often angry.

Like Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao’s temper was easily roused to the point of fury; like Nie Huaisang, his anger lasted a long time and usually called for some malicious action before it could be properly assuaged.

“Senior Meng,” Wen Ning tentatively said one day when his curiosity got to be too much for him. “Could I ask a rude question?”

Meng Yao’s temper, hidden deep in his eyes, flared at once, preemptively, and Wen Ning shivered and looked down at the ground. He had known what he was risking, but he hoped that asking permission in advance might allow him to get the question out with minimal reprisals – cold meals for a few days, perhaps, or being assigned to the training yard only when the most sadistic training-master was supervising, but only for a week or so.

“Of course, Wen-gongzi,” Meng Yao said, and he sounded nice and pleasant and like no question could possibly be rude enough to cause him any disturbance. It was a little frightening how good he was at that. “I can’t imagine what you would want to know that would be rude.”

“Are you related?” Wen Ning blurted out. “To Sect Leader Nie, I mean – his family –”

Meng Yao stared at him. His mouth was slightly hanging open.

“…it’s a stupid question,” Wen Ning concluded, feeling ashamed. Of course Meng Yao had been promoted entirely on merit; it was only his imagination getting away from him. “I’m sorry. I’ll go –”

“No, wait,” Meng Yao croaked. “Related – to the Nie sect – forgive me. How did you reach that conclusion?”

“I mean, you’re obviously treated as part of the main family,” Wen Ning pointed out. There were plenty of Nie cousins that weren’t treated anywhere near as well; both Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang were not only protective but almost possessive over Meng Yao’s time and dignity - surely by now everyone knew that the surest way to get them each angry in their own ways was to slight Meng Yao. “You wear Nie braids like them – you wear clothing like them – you have a temper like them –”

Meng Yao started laughing.

“…did I miss something?”

3

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to the Lotus Pier after you’d been absolved,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping the weiqi piece on the board a few times before making a move. “Given your fondness for Wei-xiong and all that.”

“Wei-gongzi’s very nice,” Wen Ning said vaguely, staring down at the board. He’d played a lot of weiqi in his life – including against Wen Ruohan when the man had still been remotely sane, mostly because he’d been the only one stuck back at the palace with him more often than not – but playing against Nie Huaisang required all of his attention. The first time he looked away, he’d get lured into a trap. “Very kind.”

“And yet you stay here,” Nie Huaisang prompted. “In Qinghe, with us, when even your sister picked the Lotus Pier.”

Wen Ning had never been without his sister this long before. He knew that she still expected him to come to the Lotus Pier. She hadn’t expected him to last the week without her; she’d said as much when she first went, huffing at him for being ridiculous – a Wen as a guest cultivator in the Nie sect, of all places? – and telling him, in between reminders to take his medicine on time, that she’d prepare a place for him there so that he would be comfortable when he arrived.

Her letters, in the weeks and now months since that time, had never overtly asked when he was going to finally get around to moving there, and had recently developed an almost quizzical tone, as if she’d finally realized that he wasn’t.

“I like it here,” Wen Ning said, and moved his piece.

Nie Huaisang moved his own almost immediately in response, which meant that Wen Ning had made a horrible mistake that played straight into Nie Huaisang’s hands. Not an uncommon occurrence. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “We like having you here, too.”

Surprised, Wen Ning looked up.

Nie Huaisang was smiling at him – he smiled nearly as often as Meng Yao, but unlike Meng Yao, he never smiled if he didn’t want to, so his smiles were actually sincerely meant each and every time. He had a wide range of smiles: nervous smiles, cheerful smiles, devious smiles…

Wen Ning was good at reading expressions, but he had to admit he’d never had to work as hard at it as he did with Nie Huaisang.

“We’re a very nice sect, really,” Nie Huaisang said, and even seemed to believe it. “We’re always open to people who are like us. The only thing we can’t tolerate is injustice and betrayal; as long as you stick with us and put us first, you’re ours, and we’re yours.”

That sounded nice, Wen Ning thought, and moved a piece blindly. “You think I’m like you? My sister doesn’t think so.”

“I think you fit in very nicely,” Nie Huaisang said, and his smile had teeth to it. He moved quickly, again. “You’re angry and resentful, but you don’t let it get in the way of what you want - just like us. Your sister probably doesn’t think that about you, either, but then again, that’s why she’s in the Jiang sect, with their heads in the air, dreaming of the impossible. I bet she never even noticed that you had a temper.”

She hadn’t. Wen Ning had been her baby brother and nothing else for a long time; he never had to defend himself as long as she was around. 

He’d never had the chance to defend himself.

(He didn’t resent her for that. He didn’t. She was his big sister, his favorite person, and he loved her so much that he didn’t mind the way that all her fussing sometimes made the world feel cramped and small, as if he were being forced into a place that he’d long since outgrown.)

“Do I have a temper?” he asked, and moved another piece.

“Oh, yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “You’re like me – slow to boil – and like Meng Yao, hiding it behind your eyes. You’re even a bit like da-ge: you don’t need to be the one get the frustration out as long as something deals with it, but if nothing does, it nags at you and wears at you, like a thorn stuck in your flesh, until you can’t be silent any longer. Until you have to do something, or else you’ll explode.”

That sounded about right, Wen Ning thought. He’d never really had a chance to explode in the Wen sect, out of fear of what they’d do to his sister if he did, and he’d been sick with it – he’d limited himself to little rebellions, nameless pranks, right up until he met Wei Wuxian, who was kind to him, and couldn’t stop himself from helping him. He sometimes thought, in the days he’d spent in the dungeons, that if he died he’d come back as a fierce corpse, soul-calming rituals or no, and he’d might even enjoy it if only for the opportunity to finally vent his feelings – to finally pay back every single injustice that he’d ever seen, each one marked down in his heart in an indelible list of regrets.

Maybe Nie Huaisang was right. 

Maybe that was why he stayed here, in the Nie sect, the sect of do not tolerate evil instead of the Lan sect’s chivalry and righteousness or the Jiang sect’s attempt the impossible.

Maybe he wanted to fight back for once. To have a temper, to have rage, to be something more than Wen Qing’s shy, stuttering shadow.

“I like it here,” he said again, but if his words were the same then the flavor was different: he meant it this time.  

He understood, this time, what he meant by it.

Nie Huaisang smiled at him and moved another piece. Winning the game, Wen Ning noticed.

“Good,” he said. “Now move over – sit in front of the mirror. I’ll show you how to do your hair right.”

“Really?”

“Really. Also, Da-ge’s been practically champing at the bit to teach you saber, and Meng Yao has been making grandiose plans about redoing the way we recruit and train doctors with you leading the charge, so if you’re not up for either of those, now’s the time to say something.”

Wen Ning settled down in front of the mirror.

“No,” he said. “Those sound good to me.”

[let-them-read-fics]

Empress of the Heart (Pt. 1)

Requested By Anon: "Reader is an actress, and she meets Jennie at an event. They have a one night stand afterward, and months later they meet again." (It was a long request so I had to sum it up lol)

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Actress!Reader

Word Count: ~ 9,351 😳 (Both parts combined)

Warnings / Misc. -- Smut / Suggestive Themes, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hello again! Guys, I'm actually really proud of this one. It gets better as it goes on. I hope you enjoy it (you'd better, because I stayed up until 8am writing again 🥴😂). I had to split this story into two parts to appease the Tumblr overlords, just so we’re clear.

♡ Happy reading ♡

Part 2

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Who's that?" Rosé asks, leaning in closer to the maknae as she points to a slightly recognizable face in the crowd. 

"I dunno," Lisa shrugs, throwing a thumb over her shoulder, "ask Jisoo." The Australian does as she says, padding over to seek out an answer from their unnie. 

"Y/N L/N, I believe. Her company is supposed to make a big announcement later." Jisoo informs, adding a nod to the end of her statement for certainty. Jennie stands beside them all, taking in the crowd of staff and business people hailing from all of the most powerful entertainment companies in Korea. The big dogs have all gathered here tonight to drop some major announcements for their upcoming projects and set up arrangements for future endeavors. 

"What do you think it'll be?" Jennie asks, eyes still trained on you as you converse with a famous actress. Her breath catches in her throat when you throw your head back, eyes filling with tears of laughter at something the high class woman said. You're absolutely stunning. 

"It could be anything, honestly. Her company's full of talent in every category." 

"Yeah, their newest girl group broke a record for Youtube streams in the first hour after release. Still didn't beat ours, though," Lisa adds with a smug look, holding her head a little higher. She's only playing, of course -- she's one of the most humble people Jennie knows. 

"She's really pretty," Jennie breathes out, speaking the words that have been rolling around in her mind since she laid eyes on you. The other girls adamantly agree, nodding their heads with purpose. 

"Do you wanna go talk to her? YG would probably like that; maybe we can let Jisoo do a little schmoozing." Rosé smirks, playfully nudging the unnie. Jisoo rolls her eyes with an amused scoff, quickly swatting the blonde's hand away. 

"I don't know, she seems pretty busy." Her words are unsure, weary -- her normal confidence is wavering a bit, now replaced with some type of nervousness that she can't quite explain. This isn't like her; why is she so anxious?

"Come on, it'll be fun." Lisa decides for them, leading the way with Jennie's hand clutched in her own; the brunette would surely slip away otherwise. 

They approach you from an angle, caught right in your blind spot as you continue your small talk with a new business exec. The man sees the girls behind you, waiting for their turn, and after a few more moments he leaves you with an office number to reach him by.

"Good evening… Y/N, right?" Jisoo leads politely, smiling as you turn to face them. You look even more dazzling up close, and Jennie's posture stiffens. She's definitely seen you somewhere before.

"That's me," you say sweetly, greeting all of them and committing their names to memory. 

"Jennie," she introduces, stretching a hand out to you. Your eyes flutter down to it before you grasp it within your own, the simple action appearing unbelievably cute to her.

"How're you doing tonight? I hear you've got some big news for us." Lisa wiggles her eyebrows, voice bouncy with anticipation.

You giggle, and Jennie thinks it may just be the sweetest thing she's ever heard. "It's a little hectic, if I'm honest, but I'm enjoying myself. What about you guys? And you'll just have to wait and see what we have in store for you." You end the sentence with a wink that just happened to be directed at Jennie, despite Lisa being the one to ask the question. She tries to fight the blush that soon rises to her cheeks. 

"We're doing well, I'd say. It's actually kind of nice to get out of the dorm and meet some new people." Rosé says almost wistfully, her eyes sending a fleeting glance around the room at her statement. 

"I know how that can feel. When I was first starting out I didn't get many opportunities for roles. But then I met my manager at the café I picked up a second job at, and the rest is history." You smile softly at the memory, recalling the events of that fateful day. You can't imagine where you'd be right now if things had played out differently. 

"You're an actress?" Jisoo asks, sounding like she just put two-and-two together. You nod at her, noticing the way that Jennie looks at you in deep thought. You can practically see the wheels turning. 

"So that's where I recognize you from. You guest starred in that JTBC miniseries earlier this year, didn't you?" 

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner." You smile, bowing your head in praise. It warms your heart to see her face light up, knowing that she finally felt that rush of putting her finger on the elusive thoughts in her head. Pulling knowledge you previously believed forgotten from the foggy depths of your brain is a rewarding experience in itself, and you're pleased that she remembered you. 

"I'm glad I made an impression during my short time on screen," you quirk, leaning in closer to her. 

"With skills like yours? You're unmatched, Y/N." She flirts, finally finding her bearings again. Her confidence is returning now, slowly but surely, and she pats herself on the back for not hiding behind her hands when you send her a tempting smile. 

"Ah, you're too kind--" you begin, only to be cut off by a tap on your shoulder. It's one of your co-stars.

"Good evening, ladies," he bows, "I'm sorry to break this up, but Y/N is needed by management." 

Your shoulders sag at this, his words sinking in. You'd much rather spend the night tucked away with the girls, getting to know them better -- especially Jennie, who makes your heart speed up anytime she looks at you. 

"I hate to go," they nod in agreement, sad to have to part ways. They really enjoyed speaking with you, and they'd be lying if they said they wanted to stop anytime soon. 

"But maybe I'll catch you later?" The question sounds hopeful, albeit a bit unsure as you scrunch your face up. They affirm that they'd "like that very much," and your shoulders relax a bit. Maybe there's still some hope for you all. 

◇◇◇◇◇  2 Hours Later  ◇◇◇◇◇

"Exactly! She shouldn't have forgiven him after that," you rant to Jisoo, talking about some characters from your favorite kdrama. 

"Babo, I tell you." She says dramatically, rolling her eyes. The action garners a chuckle from you, and Jennie finds herself smiling as she follows along with the conversation. She must've made her staring too obvious, because a minute later your eyes meet hers from across the table. She blinks, surprise etched gracefully into her features, and she clears her throat. Both of you have been stealing glances at one another all night, and things have only ramped up since you snuck away from management to see them again. You assured them you wouldn't get in trouble, but that was honestly the last thing on your mind. 

From her seat across from you, Jennie can see the curve of your body, your silhouette highlighted by the lights that shine on the wall behind you. They're dimmed somewhat to give a comfortable, soft glow to the room, and they contrast with the perfect curve of your face. She lets her eyes trail lower, admiring the expanse of your chest and how your fingers rest against the table, mindlessly playing with the expensive tablecloth. 

What you do next makes her choke on the water she had so bravely dared to take a drink of. 

You lean forward slightly, just enough for her to see your cleavage, while still appearing inconspicuous and innocent. The smirk you try to suppress tells her you know exactly what you're doing, and her cheeks grow hot. 

"Excuse me," she mutters to the table, quickly standing and all but running outside for some fresh air. She wants -- needs -- to put some distance between the two of you if she plans to have any self control. 

Cool air immediately greets her as she steps outside, hearing the sleek automatic door slide shut behind her. She can breathe now, and begin to soothe her racing mind. Despite only knowing you for the better part of 4 hours, she's already attracted to you. Way more than she cares to admit, as she presses her thighs together to put out the fire you started within her. 

No more than 5 minutes later, the doors slide open once more. 

"Everything alright?" You ask, tone dripping with amusement as you take in her flustered state. It's obvious that she's okay, just simply turned on. 

"Never better," she mumbles, glancing up at you with a lopsided smile. 

"You know, you ran out pretty fast back there. You sure know how to worry a girl." You fake a pout at her. 

"Oh, you don't say?" She plays along, approaching you with what few shreds of confidence she has left. She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, whispering into it, "Well, I'm all good." 

"Wanna see for yourself?" She continues, drawing back slightly to take your hands within her own and wrap them around her waist. She smiles as they roam over her body, making sure to be thorough as you "check her out." 

She groans when your hand grazes over a sweet spot on her thigh, causing you to pause and tut at her, "Tsk tsk, Jennie. It looks like I'll have to inspect this a little further." She gulps at your words, mind clouded once again by filthy thoughts of you. 

"Let's get out of here," she suggests, taking your hand to lead you away. You chuckle at her eagerness, only capable of nodding as she basically drags you to her car. 

◇◇◇◇◇

Despite feeling like two horny teenagers, you and Jennie actually opted to slow things down and get to know each other more. She's one of the most interesting people you've ever met, and you could listen to her talk for hours on end. The feeling is beyond mutual, and she doesn't mind that she has to wait a little longer to have you. The promise of what the night will hold for the two of you thrills her, and the anticipation only heightens her feelings.

Takeout containers lay abandoned in her car, long forgotten about as you sit next to each other on the hood. The chilly surface of the windshield presses against your back, making you all the more thankful for having had the foresight to wear a coat tonight. You make a mental note to thank your stylist for the suggestion. 

Stars are beginning to twinkle in the distance, slowly coming out of their peaceful slumber to greet the evening sky. They bring to mind all the nights you spent in your backyard as a child, laid out on a warm blanket as you gazed up into space. Back when only trivial issues existed in your world, leaving you with an unscarred heart and unadulterated outlook on life. Those times were simple, only complicated by whatever drama was going on at school or what new person your friends liked. Back then you had no idea of what the future held for you -- what you'd end up doing with your life. If you had a chance to talk to your younger self, you'd tell her to enjoy those days as much as possible; to not take them for granted for even a second. 

Everyday you're reminded that fame is truly a blessing and a curse -- you miss the days that you could roam the streets freely with whomever you wanted to, not having to worry about paparazzi or the media, but you're thankful for where you are now. You get to do what you love, everyday, and make money from it -- it's what everyone wishes for in life; and although you've worked your ass off to get here, you owe a lot of credit to the fans. 

"It's so beautiful up here," Jennie says, voice stuck between a whisper and sigh as she lays her head on your shoulder. 

"You see that building over there, with the orange lights and trees around it?" You ask, pointing in the direction of the building. Her eyes follow the invisible path your finger makes, and she spots it, nodding for you to continue. 

"My mom used to work there; it's a daycare. I always loved helping out. The kids were so adorable." A bittersweet smile plays on your lips as you look down at your lap, clearly reminiscing. Jennie notices, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as she says, "I bet you miss it." 

"I do," you sigh, clenching your jaw briefly, "those were the days. Seoul's home, but sometimes it feels so distant."

"I know how that feels." You don't miss the way her eyes cast down, a hint of sadness behind them, her fingers toying with yours on her thigh. Life in the spotlight isn't all it's cracked up to be, and neither of you are strangers to that all too familiar pang of longing. 

"I'm happy to be here with you tonight, though," you try to turn the conversation cheery again, and Jennie's thankful for that. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time." 

Your plan works, and soon she's pepping up. "Me neither. Being with you feels...different. In a good way." Your smile widens exponentially when she adds, "A very good way." 

"Don't get too cheesy on me, now," you roll your eyes teasingly, wrapping both of your arms around her and pulling her flush up against your body. She lays her head on your chest, reveling in the scent of your perfume and the warmth radiating from you. Her hand comes to rest against your ribs, lightly rubbing patterns against them as the two of you continue star gazing. She can feel your heartbeat pick up when she slides her hand downwards, playing with the hem of your shirt innocently. 

Does she have any idea what she's doing to you?

Yes, yes she does. After all, your body is basically selling you out at this point. 

"Y/N?" 

"Mmm?" You hum, eyes closed and head leaned back against the windshield. Her skin is soft against yours, and your shared warmth has put you at ease.

"Do you wanna go somewhere? I really don't want the night to be over yet." Your heart flutters at her words; the fact that a woman such as Jennie is so reluctant to leave you is baffling in itself. 

"I'd love that, Jennie. What did you have in mind?" 

For a moment, Jennie's mind takes it there. She allows herself to imagine what it would be like to feel your skin against hers, connection unrestricted by clothing; how your kisses would feel against her lips, her body; what beautiful sounds you would make as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge. She can't deny how attracted she is to you, nor does she want to; but she also doesn't want to ruin the innocent moments you're sharing. She doesn't want to taint them with the lustful ideas that flood her mind anytime you give her that look, or caress her thigh absentmindedly. 

"How does the park sound?" 

"With you? There's nowhere I'd rather be." 

Despite her efforts, Jennie blushes at your statement, feeling that embarrassing warmth creep up the back of her neck. You've made her blush more in the span of one night than she previously had in her entire life, and that boosts your confidence tenfold.

"Who's being cheesy now, huh?" She asks, pinching your side playfully as she sits up. Her legs swing around until she's fully facing you, sitting criss-cross as the two of you smile at one another. 

Neither of you move for a while, both content with just admiring each other's beauty. Her fingers lace with yours, and after a moment she brings your hand up to her lips to lay a kiss to it. The action -- more so, how soft her lips are against your skin -- catches you off guard, and your breathing hitches. All at once, you're acutely aware of how badly you want to kiss her. 

As if things couldn't get anymore tempting, her tongue darts out of her mouth to soothe her lips, making them glisten in the dying light of the evening. 

She sees your eyes dart down to them, and her body leans closer to you ever so slightly, seemingly having a mind of its own. You meet her gaze again, silently asking for permission as you glance back down at her lips. She responds by giving one single nod before leaning in close enough that your noses almost brush against each other. 

"You're stunning." The compliment sounds breathy as it slips out of your mouth, but you're beyond caring at this point. Your pride was thrown out the window the second Jennie showed interest in you. 

"Don't look at me like that," she says, gently biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from closing the distance. She wants you to be the one to do it.

"Like what?" 

"Like you're undressing me with your eyes." Her gaze casts down to your lips again, seemingly glued there as she watches them move when you speak your reply.

"You act like you weren't doing the same thing at the event." Her confidence falters momentarily, but she fights to hold her ground. "My colleagues even noticed it, babe -- you've gotta get better at hiding your attraction." You say with a chuckle, watching as Jennie's eyes grow wider. Had she really made it so obvious?

"We wouldn't be here right now if I was good at hiding it, so I think you owe me one." 

"Touché," you say, quirking an eyebrow in thought. She's right, as usual. "How can I ever make it up to you?" Your voice wiggles dramatically, face contorting in a mock apology. 

"I know a way," she says lowly, smiling as your hand finds its way to her knee a moment later. You hook your fingers in the crook of it, drawing a surprised gasp from her as she falls forward and into your arms. 

Here goes nothing. 

You raise your left hand to her cheek, brushing the back of your fingers against it gently as you build up the nerve to kiss her. Your other arm is wrapped securely around her waist in order to hold her steady above you. 

Her palms are pressed to the glass behind you, and her hair falls gracefully around you, creating a little curtain to shield you from the outside world. Finally gaining enough courage, you press your lips to hers in a soft kiss. It's slow and mild as you set a sensual rhythm, growing accustomed to the taste of each other. She sighs into your mouth as you reposition her so that she's straddling your lap. 

"Y/N, we're never gonna make it to the park if you keep kissing me like that." She warns, though her words hold no real threat at all. She wants this just as much as you do. 

You lay a trail of light kisses up her neck, all of them far too gentle for her liking right now. "Is this better, your highness?" You ask smugly, smiling against her throat as a frustrated sigh leaves her lips.

She places a hand on your chest to push you up against the glass, letting her fingers skim over your collarbone. Just as she's about to pounce, the sound of your phone ringing interrupts the moment. It vibrates in your pocket, right between Jennie's thighs, and you stifle a giggle at the reaction it would've drawn from her had you not quickly retrieved it. 

"Hello?" You ask, realizing you hadn't even bothered to check the caller ID. Jennie sits back on your legs, allowing her hands to rest on your hips and draw soothing circles.

"Y/N, I hate to tell you this on such short notice, but you have a new interview scheduled for tomorrow morning at 10AM. I'll send you all the details later." 

You sigh at your manager's words, running a hand over your face to relax yourself. The announcement party was supposed to signal the end of your busy week, but of course life just couldn't work in your favor for once. Now you'd be stuck in some random line of questioning, unable to give them any real answers for the sake of keeping spoilers from getting out. You can think of about a million things you'd rather be doing tomorrow morning, and one of them is sitting on your lap right now. 

"Yeah, okay. I'll talk to you later." You wait for him to say his goodbye before ending the call and turning back to Jennie with an apologetic look. 

"Sorry for ruining the moment." 

"You didn't ruin anything. But luckily for you…" she leans forward again, pressing a kiss to your lips that makes your heart stop for a second, "I can be very merciful." You nearly melt at her words, paired with how she whispers them in your ear. Her warm breath fans over your neck, rendering you speechless as you pull her back to your lips. 

This kiss is different -- full of passion and desire as you grow more used to each other. She raises up on her knees, towering over you as she stares down at you. You look so beautiful right now, your eyes appearing big as you look up into hers, waiting for her next move. She runs her hands through your hair before settling them on your cheeks, cupping the smooth skin and rubbing the pad of her thumb across it. You drag your nails up and down her exposed thighs, and you pat yourself on the back when you notice the trail of goosebumps they leave behind. 

"I actually do wanna go to the park with you, if that's alright. There's something I want to show you. I definitely want to continue this later, though." You say.

She nods at that, a smile making its way to her face that can't possibly be wiped away. As much as she wants to have you writhing underneath her, screaming her name, she can wait. She's content with making as many memories as possible with you tonight, and she's intrigued by the surprise you're hinting at.

A few gentle kisses later, you slide off the hood and help her down before going to open her car door for her. 

"Such a gentlewoman," she praises, pursing her lips at you. 

"Only for you," you wink, making her giggle. 

You quickly make your way to the driver's seat, set on getting to the park ASAP in order to spend as much time as you can with Jennie. After all, you can only stay up so late tonight if you want to be functioning for that interview tomorrow… and let's just say that you plan on being busy later. 

---------

"Voila!" You declare, motioning to some playground equipment in the kid's section of the sizable park. Of all the things she was guessing at, Jennie did not see this coming. 

"What, you came to show me monkey bars, Y/N? I've seen plenty of them--" She asks incredulously, looking around the area filled with miniature tables and chairs to go along with the equipment. 

"What? No, no. I used to play here when I was growing up, and my friend's and I had a secret hiding spot. We always stashed our favorite little knick knacks in it, and we promised we'd only show it to people we deemed worthy."

Jennie watches as your eyes light up at the recounting of such a dear memory, and she grins widely. You truly are a five year old at heart. 

"This is the first time I've been back here, since…" you trail off, realizing just how many years it's been. Being at such a different point in your life while standing in a place you frequented as a child is a weird juxtaposition that you weren't prepared for, but you push it from your mind.

"Anyway, I think you're pretty worthy." You joke, sizing her up. She laughs at that, and you revel in the pleasant sound. You know you probably won't see her again after tonight, so you're determined to ingrain the little things -- like her smile, her laugh -- into your brain. 

"Now, let's see… where did Ashley put it?" You whisper to yourself, scanning the length of the playground. Your eyes travel across the slides, over the swings, and around the monkey bars before you spot that little dip in the siding that you'd recognize anywhere. Jennie soon finds her hand slipping into yours as you lead her over to it, a childlike sense of giddiness on your face. She likes seeing you like this. 

"I hope it's still here," you say to no one, bending down to press your fingers against the old wood. It's far more worn down now, and you're worried that someone has already come by and cleaned out the hiding spot. Putting your doubts aside, you continue. 

"Okay, so don't laugh, but there's a special way you have to open it. Ashley showed it to me one day and it's the only way we could get it to budge after that."

She smiles her gummy smile at you, and you can't help but return the gesture and even steal a quick kiss. She's a bit taken aback when you ball your hand up, using the side of it to deliver a couple blows to the wood in two different spots. Next, you stand and line up your foot, remember exactly how your friend taught you, before executing a calculated kick to the other side. 

At first, Jennie wants to laugh at you; but upon closer inspection, she sees that in fact, a small opening is visible in the wood now. You smirk cockily, knowing full well that she hadn't expected that to work. 

"Told you so," you tease, now bending down again to work the panel free. You wiggle it back and forth repeatedly, being careful not to go too quickly and damage anything else, and eventually it pops out. She watches as you reach in and pull out a mini jewelry box -- the kind that can fit in your hand, mainly meant for rings or other small items. 

"We stole the box from our other friend, Janelle. Had to pay her our allowances for 2 months afterward. Can you believe that?" You ask, shaking your head with another smirk on your lips. Jennie laughs at you in full, loving how carefree you are right now. In a way, she's happy that your manager called earlier; otherwise the two of you most surely would be locked away in your bedroom right now. This experience is definitely one she'll cherish. 

"Unbelievable," she sighs, shaking her head and going along with it. 

You click the latch on the small box, it's material now weathered and rusty as it creaks when you open it. Jennie steps closer to you to examine its contents, and you fight to contain how hard your heart starts beating at the feeling of her hand on your lower back. 

"No way…" you utter, voice full of disbelief as your eyes land on one of your most prized possessions from childhood. 

"What?" Jennie asks, genuinely on the edge of her metaphorical seat. 

"This butterfly hair clip," you inform, slipping the small contraption between your fingers as you hold it up for her to see, "I won it at a fair with my mom and I always wondered where it went…" 

"It's beautiful, Y/N," she says, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the details etched into it. For something so small and seemingly unassuming, it's actually very unique. 

"I want you to have it." You say, taking a step away so you can look at her. She instantly goes to refuse, saying, "I can't! You just found it after all this time--"

"And I went all that time without it. If you take it, I'll know it's safe with you. And you can use it to remember me by." You say, your gaze softening as you watch her debate with herself. 

"Okay. But if you ever want it back, call me." 

"Roger that." You say dorkily, earning yourself a roll of those dark eyes you find yourself getting lost in. 

"And for the record, Y/N, I could never forget you. Pretty hair clip or not." Her confession makes you feel happy on a whole new level; knowing that you've left an impact on her is truly a wonderful thing. 

"So, what now?" She asks, breaking the happy lull your conversation found itself in. 

"We can walk around the park for a little while, or…" you start, waiting for Jennie to prod you further. Both of you know exactly what game you're playing, but it's still fun nonetheless. 

"Or?" She inquires, stepping closer as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. She nonchalantly gives you a once over, knowing what power her darkening gaze holds over you. 

"We can go back to my place. Maybe play a little footsie, who knows?" You say, shrugging your shoulders with a stupid grin. Even while seducing someone, you can't resist being a geek. 

"Footsie?" Jennie gasps, raising her eyebrows, "What kind of girl do you take me for? That only happens after at least 2 dates in." 

"Such a prude, Ms. Kim. How can I change your mind?" 

She presses a finger to her cheek, pretending to think, before getting an idea. Her lips flirt with the shell of your ear as she whispers obscenities into it, turning you to mush with every new scenario she puts in your head. 

You stiffen as she kisses your jaw, the action catching you off guard as you continue reeling from her words. 

"I can do that, I think," you cough out, stumbling over the words a little bit. She laughs at the effect she has on you; seeing your confidence waver is a nice role reversal, and it's something she could definitely get used to. 

"Let's go." She commands, now taking your hand to pull you after her, just like you had done before.

◇◇◇◇◇

It's painful, how hard Jennie has to restrain herself from touching you as you fumble with your keys. She told herself she'd keep her hands to herself until you got inside, just in case any stray paparazzi managed to catch you two together. The last thing either of you need is some new scandal, especially with your careers in a vulnerable spot as they're really beginning to take off.

"If you don't get that door open within the next 10 seconds, then I'll just take you out here in the hallway." 

You audibly gulp at the image she just conjured up in your mind, and you speed up your movements. The prompting worked, evidently, because soon she's practically shoving you through the doorway.

"Finally," she breathes against your lips, pressing you up against the door once you've locked it back. 

"I've been waiting to do this since we met earlier." She indulges you in that little secret, smiling at the way you whimper when she pulls your leg up to wrap around her hips. 

"I'm all yours," you say, making Jennie's heart flutter at the sentiment. For the night, you're hers and she's yours. "...now kiss me," you command, growing more impatient with each feather-light kiss she presses to your jaw. 

"So bossy," she toys, making you roll your eyes. 

"You have no idea, babe." 

She bites her lip as your husky voice makes its way to her ears, thick with the desire she's been steadily building within you all night. You tug her forward, your fingers bunching up the material of her shirt with little care as her lips meet yours. 

Her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for a permission that you granted the second she touched you. You pull her chin down slightly, allowing the kiss to deepen as you tangle your other hand in her hair. 

After an especially bruising bite to her lip -- one that thrills her to her core -- she pulls away, breathlessly asking, "How're you so good at this?" 

You cackle against her, taken aback by how genuine the question sounded. "Practice for the kdramas, of course." 

"I haven't had to do this," you slide a hand between your bodies, smirking at the gasp that sounds off deep in her throat as you make contact with her, "yet though. That might be a little extreme for the screen." 

"You think?" She scoffs softly, bringing her hands up to gather your hair to one side. She presses gentle kisses to your neck, prepping the surface for the dark marks she'll most certainly be leaving there later. 

"Ready?" You ask, making sure she wants to go through with this.

"You have no idea, babe." She copies your statement from earlier, garnering another smile from you. She swears she can never get enough of that sweet look on your face.

"Follow me," you say, giving her another peck to last until you reach the bedroom.

◇◇◇◇◇  The Morning After ◇◇◇◇◇

Warm, glittering rays of sunlight sneak past the curtains of your apartment window, shining gently through the light material. A dream-like haze befalls the room, serving as a wonderful greeting once you peek your eyes open. The only thing capable of rivaling such a wonderful sight is the woman beside you, her soft breaths keeping your shoulder warm. 

As you turn your head to look at her, careful not to wake her, your heart flips. Having her here next to you is the only reason you even believe last night happened; it was magical -- the stuff of fantasy. The two of you did everything: acted on every desire, every impulse -- you truly made the most of the night, determined to make it unforgettable. 

A few blissful minutes later, she stirs beside you. "Good morning, Y/N." Her eyes remain closed, still safe from the bright light of the morning as she smirks at the memories replaying in her mind. 

You lay a small kiss to her lips, simply missing how they feel against your own. "Morning, beautiful." 

A content sigh slips past her lips as she presses them against your neck, cuddling further into you. "Last night was fun." 

You decide to tease her. "Eh, I've had better." 

If there's one thing that Jennie knows, it's that she's good in bed -- great, even -- and you definitely seemed to be enjoying yourself last night, just as much as she was. Still though, a bit of insecurity runs through her as she raises up on her elbow to look at you through her lashes. 

"Really?" She stills her fingers on your arm, stopping them from continuing the trail that they had been blazing just seconds ago. Her eyebrows furrow subtly, the action almost unnoticed by you. 

Deciding the joke isn't worth it, you cup her cheek and raise her head so she can meet your eyes. 

"No, I'm kidding. Last night was… something else." You chuckle, smiling as your eyes move around the room in an attempt to find the right word for it. When none come to mind -- no words capable of conveying how great it was -- you look back to her.

She has a knowing grin on her face, "I couldn't agree more." 

Sneaking a glance at the clock propped up on your bedside table, you get an idea. "You know, Jennie…" you start, purring her name out as you had last night, garnering that achingly familiar groan from her, "...we still have a few hours before either of our schedules start." Your suggestion hangs in the air as you roll her over onto her back, hovering over her and brushing your noses together. 

"Hmm, you don't say? Well you're in luck; I still have some things I wanna try out." She plays back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of your lips as her hands wander over your body.

Your eyes widen in shock, "What the hell could you POSSIBLY be thinking of?? We tried just about everything." She laughs at your reaction and pulls you down closer to her body to whisper in your ear. Jennie can feel you tremble with every new image she puts in your head, just like she had in the park, her lips dragging you further under as she sneaks little kisses to your skin here and there. 

"Let me get this gay straight: you want me to do that on the balcony? What if my neighbors see?" 

"They won't, we're on one of the top floors. And even if they do… would that really be so bad?" She lets the question hang in the air; she'd be lying if she said the idea of getting caught doesn't thrill her. Thinking of your lips on her neck as she rocks against you, pinned to the railing while out in the open for the world to see, sends a rush of warmth through her. 

"I wish you weren't so good at convincing me to do things. You're dangerous, Jennie Kim." You warn, pointing a disapproving finger at her. Your eyes nearly pop out when she kisses it, taking the digit in between her lips while looking up at you innocently. This woman will be the death of you. 

◇◇ Back At The Blackpink Dorm ◇◇

"Yah, I know! The new update looks so weird--" 

"There she is," Lisa says, motioning to the doorway, interrupting Jisoo and Rosé’s conversation about whatever new video game the unnie had downloaded.

Jennie leans on the heavy door as she locks it behind her, lazily spinning around on her heel with her lips drawn back in a huge gummy smile. 

"Somebody's happy…" Jisoo teases, shooting her a smirk. She's still riding the high you put her on, and it's no wonder her members are noticing. It's not like she's exactly trying to hide it, either. 

"How was your night? Have fun with Y/N?" The maknae wiggles her eyebrows while propping herself up on her elbows to see Jennie's reaction.

"LISA! She wasn't supposed to know!" Rosé shouts, letting out a disappointed huff. The younger girl only shrugs, a stupid smirk on her lips. Some people just wanna watch the world burn. 

The brunette's daze is momentarily broken at this, and she asks what they're talking about. 

Jisoo lets out a hesitant breath before explaining, "We saw you two leave together, but we agreed to not bring it up until you did." She shoots some daggers at Lisa before continuing, "Somebody can't seem to keep her mouth shut, though." 

Jennie only chuckles now, not really caring if they knew or not. Her night was too wonderful to keep to herself; she would've ended up telling them anyway. 

"Gather round, girls; I'll fill you in." 

◇◇◇◇◇ Months Later  ◇◇◇◇◇

"Why exactly do we have to go to this premiere again?" Jennie grumbles, looking out the window of their limousine. She'd much rather be back at the dorm, snuggled into her cozy heap of pillows and blankets with Netflix playing on her tv. 

"Some of our colleagues are starring as background characters, so YG wants us to attend and show our support." Jisoo informs, always seeming to have more knowledge than all of the other girls combined. Jennie nods; the reasoning is sound, but she'd still prefer to be home. Mingling with business people for god knows how long doesn't seem all that enticing to her. 

"What's the movie?" Lisa asks, throwing the question behind her to the other girls as she searches the cubby for some complimentary snacks. 

"Empress of the Heart," Rosé answers, finally knowing something that Jisoo doesn't. 

"Let's watch the trailer for it. If we have to sit through it then we might as well see what we're getting ourselves into." Lisa suggests, her fingers busy opening the bag of chips she chose from the assortment. 

"Yeah, okay." Jennie says, her statement followed by words of agreement from the other girls. Rosé takes her phone out to search the title, pepping up when she spots it. She whispers something to Jisoo and Lisa, Jennie paying no mind as she watches the buildings pass by. Her favorite thing to fidget with is secure in her grip, occupying her mind. It's familiar design feels good in her hands -- like it's right where it belongs. (Yes, this is what you think it is).

The other girls put their acting skills to use as they hit play, keeping straight faces when your voice comes through the phone speakers. Jennie's head snaps over to them, recognizing the sound in an instant. "Y-Y/N's starring in it?" She asks, voice coming out as a stutter. The thought of seeing you again thrills her, but she doesn't know if she can do that without falling even deeper. Your night together left her with lasting feelings, none of which she was prepared for in the slightest, and she knows they'll be reignited the moment she lays eyes on you. 

"Mhm." They nod sympathetically, all knowing how much she's thought about you the last few months. 

Their driver knocks on the partition, requesting to open it. They give him the all clear, and soon he's rolling it down to inform them, "We're here, ladies." 

"I'll be okay," Jennie tells them, attempting to stop their worries from growing anymore than they already have. She plays the statement back in her head, whispering it to herself as she exits the limo; tonight could only go one of two ways, and it depends entirely on you.

☆☆ Part 2 Linked Up Top ☆☆

[dorotharry]

tiny dancer ; prologue

Pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x fem!reader

Next Chapter

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: kinda long for a prologue, fluff, not really much but please let me know if anything in this upsets you. 

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: This is my first Bucky fic, I thought of it last night and I was kind of excited to write it. Sorry if any of the information is wrong as well my knowledge of Ballet and Brooklyn/NY are limited. I’m not sure if there are any similar story types but feel is so please let me know and I’ll tag them for people to read in the next chapter. I hope you enjoy :) Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter. 

Before everything - 1942

“Oh, come on Steve, come to the Ballet with me!” Bucky spoke enthusiastically, his arms pressed again the frame of Steve’s front door. “It’s my last week before I go.”

“And you couldn’t have just chose to go to a bar like any other normal man would a week before going to the war?” Steve responded looking sceptically at his best friend. Someone who he had never known to be interested in ballet.

“Because going to a bar filled with soldiers would be a bright choice for you,” sighed Bucky, “I’d rather not have to get into another fight…” Steve rolled his eyes and pursed his lips waiting for Bucky to continue. “Everyone in New York is talking about the Ballet! Don’t you want to feel cultured?” Bucky exclaimed moving away from the door frame. “Plus!, I got us pretty good seats if I do say so myself, what row was it again…?” He trailed off looking smugly at Steve. “…Oh, that’s right! Row three.”

“Too bad you couldn’t score front row,” responded Steve mimicking Bucky’s cocky attitude. Bucky huffed at his friend’s response. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” laughed Steve, “Fine if the ballet is where you want to go a week before you go, then the ballet is where we’re going, I guess.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up at his friends’ words. “Yes! This is going to be great, a night on the town, just two gentlemen going to see the ballet.” He grinned, Steve noting how happy he seemed to be going to the ballet; he wasn’t sure why. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 6pm”, Bucky spoke turning away from his still sceptical best friend.

“Okay then,” responded Steve watching him walk off.

Just as he’d said, Bucky had picked Steve up the next day, driving them to the theatre and making it there for 6:30. They wandered the foyer looking at all of the people dressed up to watch the performance like them. Many had already been a few times and were raving about what they were most excited for again. For Bucky and Steve though, this is new territory. Both of them glad though that they were doing something new. They made their way into the theatre finding their seats, as everyone began to pile in, ready for the show.

“I’ve heard that the lead female ballet dancer is meant to be very good”, whispered Bucky to Steve as the lights began to dim.

“You mean the Prima Ballerina?” Whispered back Steve correcting him.

Bucky looked at Steve with an amused look. “For someone who didn’t want to come you sure know a lot about ballet”, chuckled Bucky placing his focus back towards the stage.

Steve sighed and looked back at him, “I don’t know a lot of ballet, that’s just common knowled—” He was shushed by Bucky as he tapped him on the shoulder multiple times in order to tell him to be quiet. Steve looked towards the stage again as the orchestra began playing.

Bucky watched as the curtains opened, the stage filled with ballet dancers.

Not long into the performance you would enter, nervous side stage as your friends reminded you of how brilliant you would be. This wasn’t your first time performing but every time was just as nerve-wracking as the last. This was your passion of course, and you wanted nothing more than to be perfect.  You looked down at your tutu, a bright red tutu, a colour that stood out amongst the rest of the cast who were dressed in whites and greens. Even the male lead was only dressed in white. You particularly like your pointe shoes the best; they were a stunning bright red to match the rest of your costume.

Shaken from your thoughts you heard the beginning of your entrance within the music, jumping up and down briefly before getting into position to enter. Then you did, getting into character instantly.

Bucky gasped as his eyes followed you as you entered the stage so gracefully. He had heard you were a magnificent dancer, but he didn’t know you were so beautiful. Composing himself in his seat he watched as you were so engrossed in the music and the dance. It was obvious you loved what you did.

As the ballet continued his eyes never lost focus from you. He even thought there was one time when you had looked at him in the audience, but he knew that couldn’t be true, someone so perfect would never draw their focus from their work to look at him.

Even during the interval Bucky was in his own world as he thought about how captivating you had been. Barely listening but nodding as Steve spoke to him about his thoughts of the show.

When the show finally ended the crowd stood up applauding the performance. Eagerly so did Bucky, Steve following. As you bowed many people threw roses and he mentally cursed himself for not bringing any himself. The curtains closed and the theatre lights slowly came back on.

“Well I must say I did enjoy that,” spoke Steve as they exited the theatre, breaking the silence and pulling Bucky from his thoughts, he stopped walked and looked at Steve.

“Steve, call me crazy but I have to meet her, I have to know her name.”

Steve looked at Bucky and sighed knowing he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Alright pal, why don’t we wait near the door the cast exit from?”

Bucky practically jumped up and down as he followed his friend, who somehow knew where the cast door was, although it wasn’t a hard guess. Just down the alleyway next to the theatre.

-     

After the performance, adrenaline was running through you like crazy. You loved this feeling. Tonight’s audience was marvellous, and they held nothing back when applauding you all for your performance.

When you performed you couldn’t see much of the audience due to the stage lights, but you could see up to around the 4th row. While you had stopped at the end one of your solos in the first act your eyes had briefly stumbled upon a very handsome man with brunette hair. But you didn’t get a great look because as soon as one song ended the next one started.

You had removed your costume and let your hair out of its bun brushing it out and attempting to make it look as presentable as you could. You got into a nice dress which you had arrived in, keeping your makeup on along with your bright red lipstick. Grabbing your bag, you said goodbye to your fellow colleagues as you exited the backstage area and entered the alleyway.

As you got to where the alleyway ended, and the city sidewalk started you were met with the same brunette you had noticed during the show. “Miss, I’m terribly sorry to bother you after your show but I just had to introduce myself to such a beautiful and talented woman.” Rambled Bucky.

You blushed and looked down as your dress, “Why thank you…” you trailed off waiting for the handsome stranger to tell you, his name. He seemed a bit distractedd looking at your eyes that he didn’t catch on though, causing his smaller blonde friend next to him to nudge him.

“Oh, sorry my names Bucky,” he replied letting out a nervous chuckle, “and this is Steve,” gesturing to his best friend.

Steve raised his arm to shake your hand, “Sorry miss but what was your name again? Bucky here forgot to tell me.”

You raised your arm and shook his hand, letting out a giggle over the two men in front of you, “My names y/n”.

You looked back over at Bucky who seemed to be going over something in his brain. “I wanted to know if you wanted to get a drink or some food or something with me?” What Bucky thought would be a confident question turned more into a rambling mess. Gosh he thought you were pretty.

You blushed, “How am I to know you’re not a murderer?” Raising an eyebrow at the nervous man in front of you.

Steve interjected this time, “I can confirm y/n, he’s not a murderer. Honestly, he’s usually a lot better at flirting than this, I’ve never seen him look so nervous.”

Bucky sent a death glare at Steve before looking back at you. You laughed again, grinning ear to ear, “Well I am pretty hungry, so I won’t say no, especially when a ladies’ man is so nervous to talk to me.” You smirked.

Now it was Bucky’s turn to grin, “great!” He responded. “I just have to drop Steve home and then we’re all set… Did you have a car?” He asked.

“Nope,” you spoke back, “so… do you think you’d be able to drop me home afterwards?” you asked, “You know considering I’m being so nice to a stranger.”

“I was going to offer anyway,” he replied signalling you to follow. You chatted with the two men as you walked to the car, when you got there, you insisted Steve sit in the front considering he was being dropped home. Then once you arrived at his, you both said your goodbyes to Steve. “I hope to see you again soon,” you yelled from the car as you sat in the front waving.

Steve waved back, as Bucky drove off to one of his favourite bars/restaurants beeping his horn at Steve as he left.

The rest of the night went smoothly, you both ate and chatted for hours, feeling like time barely existed with one another. It may sound cheesy but both of you felt like you were meant to meet one another. The only downside was that Bucky had told you he would be leaving for the war at the end of week, so you both knew it could never be anything more until at least the war ended.

It wasn’t until you realised the time that you knew you needed to get home, being Prima Ballerina wasn’t an easy job and it required getting at least some sleep. Bucky understood and drove you home continuing to talk about everything together. He even confessed he wished he had of gotten you some roses, to which you responded that how would he have known to do that. Of course, Bucky being a gentleman he still was disappointed he didn’t, even if you didn’t mind.

When you got home you thanked him for the wonderful night. “I’m going to see you again before I go,” he said from in the car, as you stood by the passenger window.

“I hoped you’d say that” you replied, “Good night Bucky,” you blew him a kiss, and his cheeks turned a bright pink.

“Goodnight y/n” he replied, grinning like a fool. He watched you walk into your apartment to make sure you got in safe before driving off. Gosh you were perfect.

-   

It was finally the day he left.

Just like he promised you did see him again. After each show through the week, he would bring you a rose. Each time making you blush.

Most days he just drove you home and you chatted in the car, but a couple of times you got dinner again and made the most of the time you had with your new friend. You wished he didn’t have to go; you wished every time you saw him you could kiss him. But that felt like it would complicate things, you hadn’t known him long enough to put yourself through that kind of heart ache.

You and Steve were at the train station saying goodbye to Bucky. It was hard for Steve, he wanted nothing more than to go with his best friend and fight for his country, but he couldn’t. They didn’t want him.

For you though, you had only known Bucky a week, you had grown so comfortable with him, so it was hard seeing him leave, not knowing if he’d come back. He knew more about you than some of your closest friends that you had known for years, he was just that kind of guy, someone you could trust.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to just grab you and kiss you, but he didn’t know if that’s what you wanted. Steve had told him the day before to just go for it, but he was unsure. He didn’t want to put you through the heart ache. As he picked up his bags, Steve gave him a giant hug, you stepped forward and did the same hoping you wouldn’t have to let him go.

Releasing each other from your embrace, you both looked into each other’s eyes. Your eyes filled with water, and you could tell Bucky was holding back tears.

“Goodbye Steve, goodbye y/n” he spoke sadly as he began to walk towards the train.

Steve looked at you as if to say, ‘are you sure you don’t want to just go for it?’ and you sighed. He was right, what was there to lose? Bugger this you thought, “Bucky!” you yelled running towards him, “You forgot something!” He turned around confused only to be greeted by you grabbing his face and softly yet hungrily pressing your lips to his. He sighed into the kiss dropping his bags, he didn’t push you away instead he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer. 

This kiss was nothing like any of the kisses you had experienced before, if fact it made you feel the same way ballet did. It was the same for Bucky, none of the kisses he had ever shared with anyone felt like this.

You finally stopped and parted, resting your foreheads on one another’s.  

“Don’t worry doll, I’ll see you again.” He spoke softly to you.

You stepped back as a few tears fell down your face, nodding. He gave you a charming Bucky smile before picking his bags back up and turning away. You walked back to Steve giving him a hug, as he watched his best friend leave him for the first time in his life.

You wanted nothing more than to believe that you would see each other again.

Little did you know you would, only 72 years later.

Chapter One (next chapter)

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #4 - Best Girls, Good Guys, Hand Art, Joy Rides

Word Count: 1922

Warnings: Cursing, Implied PTSD, Mention of IED, Motorcycle Ride Without Helmets

Setting/Characters: Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2014; Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Sam’s therapy group, Lady at the Front Desk, Mentions of Peggy Carter and Riley

A/N: Here’s number 4! Like I said in the previous One Shot, I’m hoping to get TWS One Shots done today and tomorrow. Um, I don’t have a lot to say this time since I unloaded pretty much everything in the last One Shot. So, I guess that’s all!

This isn’t beta’d, as usual, so please excuse any mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy this part, thank you for reading, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(PICTURE DOESN’T REPRESENT READER, JUST WHAT THE ART STEVE DREW LOOKS LIKE!)

“How is she?”

Steve nodded, taking the helmet he insisted on keeping for you in the compartment under his seat out and handing it over. What a hypocrite. “She’s fine. I guess. She…forgot. We were in the middle of a conversation and she…forgot I was alive.”

You gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Alzheimer’s is a scary thing. I’m sorry. It must be hard seeing your best girl go through that.” He froze, his wide eyes scanning you. You ignored his gaze, giving him the helmet back. You really hoped it didn’t come out as sad and spiteful as you meant it. You didn’t want to despise her, you really didn’t. You couldn’t. You had too much respect for her. She did help build the organization you worked for. You just hated the position you found yourself in. “We’re just going to the VA. It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“No, honey. I don’t want you getting hurt-”

“I won’t, Steve.” You pushed back. “I’ve done it before in a lot more dangerous places than the streets of DC. Plus, I trust you. You wouldn’t let me get hurt, would you?”

His lips turned up slightly, his head shaking just enough. “No. No, I wouldn’t. Hop on, then.” He jerked his head to his bike, putting the helmet away before sitting down with you following his lead. You pressed against him, an arm around his waist, thighs squeezing his hips lightly. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.” You hummed, setting your chin on his shoulder.

The bike roared to life underneath you before you took off. You were never worried when Steve drove. Sometimes he liked going fast when you two go for a drive through backroads of Virginia for a weekend, camping underneath the stars. But when you were in DC, he cruised, fast enough that you could get pulled over for doing ten over, but slow enough that you didn’t have to shout over the rush of the wind combing through your hair.

He usually talked to you while driving, but he was quiet this time. You turned your head to study him. His jaw ticked ever so often, his eyebrows furrowed and those pink lips turned down.

You didn’t want to distract him, but you couldn’t help but lift your free hand, tracing his jaw from his chin to his ear before pressing soft circles into the hinge of his jaw with your thumb. “Are you okay? Did I upset you?”

“No. No, you’re perfect, honey.” He reassured quickly, moving around a car, side eyeing you for just a second. “I’ve just…there’s a lot on my mind. A lot I need to figure out.”

You nodded. “If you ever need me. I’m here.”

He grinned, taking your hand in one of his to press a kiss to the knuckles, eyes not leaving the road. “I know.”

“Tell me more about this Sam Wilson guy.”

Steve chuckled before telling you about his run the day prior and how he lapped Wilson a few times and their conversation afterwards. He was just finishing up when he parked in the parking garage of the VA, “and then Natasha drove up saying she was looking for a fossil she was supposed to pick up.”

“A fossil.” You snorted. “I’m gonna have to use that.”

He gave you a playful glare as you swung your leg around and stood up. Catching your jaw between his fingers, he chuckled when he squished your cheeks together. “Call me a fossil, honey, and I’ll tell Fury the only way I’m doing missions is if you don’t.”

You gasped, shaking your head. “You ‘ouldn’!” You slurred out, trying to talk with your lips pursed.

He gave a little giggle, gently making your head move up and down in a nod. “Oh yes I would.” He pecked your nose, letting go of your cheeks. “C’mon, dame.” You blinked after him as he started towards the elevators with long strides.

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

He smirked at you over his shoulder as you jogged to catch up, holding his hand out behind him. “C’mon. You know I’d never do that to ya.”

Narrowing your eyes, you snatched his hand and huffed. “Well…yeah. But still.”

Another chuckle left his lips, pulling you closer to his side as you pressed the button for the elevator, leaving a kiss on your head. You fell into comfortable silence after that, Steve’s thumb tracing patterns on your hand while you waited for the elevator to ding.

When it finally did, Steve had a pen pulled out and, as you entered the elevator, he pulled your hand up closer to his face, lifting the writing utensil to the back of your palm.

You didn’t say anything, merely looking around the elevator after pushing the level you were going to. It was something you found that calmed Steve; drawing. So whenever he was bored or anxious, you let him draw on your hand. He used to ask, but he stopped after you told him you’d never say no.

The elevator dinged and the doors open, causing Steve to stop inking up your skin and drop your still linked hands down to your sides, shoving his pen in his pocket. You looked down at the partial flower and leaves wrapping around your wrist, smiling affectionately. He really was a good artist.

The lady at the front desk told you where to go when you asked for Sam Wilson, which Steve did rather eagerly, making you laugh. He had told you about Sam’s want to impress her when he came in. Apparently he was with a group, but she said it was okay for you to go in as long as you didn’t disrupt anything. Steve thanked her, before following her directions down the hall and around the corner.

You heard them before you saw them. A woman was talking, telling a story of how she got pulled over the previous week. Steve leaned against a column to the side of the room, out of the way, putting his hands in his pockets. You let his hand go to allow him to do so, linking your arm with his and holding his wrist with your free hand.

“I swerved…to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

You watched Steve’s reactions through the rest of the session. It wasn’t much longer - maybe ten minutes - before it ended. You had tried to convince him to go to one of these when he first got out of the ice, but he refused.

“I’ve already got you, honey. That’s all I need.”

And, yes, he did have you; your assignment was literally helping him with that stuff. But you still thought he’d benefit from it. Especially now since you had started going back on your own assignments. Maybe he’d start going to Wilson’s.

After the meeting, you and Steve walked up to the veteran who had just finished his farewells and started cleaning up the table at the front with brochures and things. “Look who it is. The running man. And who’s this pretty lady?”

You smiled, sticking out your hand, your name leaving your lips in an introduction. “Sam Wilson.” He shook your hand with a grin of his own. “Nice to meet you, cher.”

“You too, Sam.”

“We caught the last few minutes.” Steve stated, leaning on the wall again, keeping his arm linked with yours. “It’s pretty intense.”

You listened sadly as Sam told you two about his wingman, Riley, but you didn’t pity him. You knew what it was like to lose people and you hated the pity you received from others. You were glad to see he wasn’t beating himself up over it, even allowing himself to smile as the conversation shifted to his retirement. Steve was right; he did seem like a good guy. 

“Are you thinking about getting out?”

You glanced up at Steve as he answered “no.” You saw the hesitation in his eyes that flickered to you, before he met Sam’s again. “I don’t know.” Hearing Steve admit that he didn’t know what he wanted made your heartache. You wanted him to be happy, and the fact that he didn’t know what made him happy caused you to grip his arm tighter.

You, Sam, and Steve talked a bit longer, getting to know each other a little better. You even did the unthinkable and told him you worked for SHIELD when he asked how you two knew each other. Steve raised an amused eyebrow as your eyes widened, your hand slapping over your mouth.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe I just told you that. You can’t tell anyone.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

You finally said bye when Sam mentioned needing to get back to work. Walking back towards the elevators, Steve chuckled and nudged you. “You warmed up to him quickly.”

“Ha ha.” You rolled your eyes, your face landing in your hands. “Oh my God. I’ve never told anyone that. Ever.”

“I told you. He’s a good person. Easy to talk to.”

“Yeah…speaking of,” you tilted your head up to him as you stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind you. “Do you want to get out?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “That’s not what I said. I just…I don’t really know…what to do.”

You pouted a little, tilting your head. “What would you’ve done in the 40’s? After the war?”

“I dunno.” He shuffled on his feet. “Be a lab rat.”

“Steven-”

“Forget it. Forget I said anything.” Your frown deepened, your arms crossing over your chest. “Please don’t.” He said softly, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, one thumb smoothing out your forehead while the other ran over your pouty lips. “Don’t be upset.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m not. I, just…worry.”

He placed his lips to your forehead, hands slipping to your waist to pull you closer. “Well don’t.”

Your hands mimicked his previous position, holding his face, thumb brushing under his eyes. Your eyes caught sight of the barely started design on your hand, and your lips pursed thoughtfully. 

“What?”

“Drawing makes you happy.” He blinked at your words, confusion in those ocean eyes of his. “You said you don’t know what makes you happy. Drawing does. And you’re really good at it. You could be an artist or something. Like a tattoo artist. I’d go to you. I mean, look at this!” You showed him your hand. “It’s not even halfway done and you did it with a crappy dollar store pen”

He gave you a small smile. “I appreciate that, honey, but I don’t think I could do that day in and day out.”

“Even with new customers coming in every day, asking for different designs in different places?”

Giving a chuckle, he leaned into your palm, kissing it. “You really want me to think about this don’t you?”

You scoffed. “Duh!”

He shook his head, ducking down to press his lips to your cheek, before laying his forehead on your shoulder. “I’m okay right now.”

“Are you?”

“Mhmm.” He hummed, arms wrapping around you. “Because I have you. And you make me happy, honey.”

You hugged him back, face pressing into his neck. You were glad you made him happy. And as long as you made him happy, you’d keep this relationship the way it was. Even if that meant you’d never be his best girl. “You make me happy too, bubs.”

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All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading​ @bibliophilewednesday​

[camxnoel-updates]

Cameron Monaghan brought the character of Ian Gallagher to life on Showtime’s hit series, Shameless. The series aired for a total of 11 seasons after originally premiering in 2011. It ranked as the network’s no. 1 comedy, longest-running series, and had the youngest-skewing audience of any Showtime series. Monaghan also joined two legendary universes with roles in both Gotham and Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order, which I got to ask him about too!

The final season of SHAMELESS finds the Gallagher family and the South Side at a crossroads, with changes caused by the COVID pandemic, gentrification, and aging to reconcile. As Frank confronts his own mortality and family ties in his alcoholic and drug-induced twilight years, Lip struggles with the prospect of becoming the family’s new patriarch. Newlyweds Ian (Cameron Monaghan) and Mickey (Noel Fisher) are figuring out the rules and responsibilities of being in a committed relationship while Deb embraces her individuality and single motherhood. Carl finds an unlikely new career in law enforcement and Kevin and V struggle to decide whether a hard life on the South Side is worth fighting for.

Along with the final season, fans also got a six-episode series that featured new Shameless scenes juxtaposed with a retrospective look at each character’s journey over the prior 10 seasons, titled, Shameless Hall of Shame. The first episode followed Ian and Mickey, showcasing their unique relationship and its evolution from a teen fling into a loving, complicated marriage.

I was able to chat with the actor over zoom and ask him all of my burning questions regarding the series finale, Ian and Mickey’s future, the show’s open ending, the representation his character provided to those watching, what he kept from the set, his future projects, and so much more! Keep reading to find out everything he told me.

So first of all, I want to say a huge congrats to you for wrapping Shameless after 11 seasons and bringing this character to life, who has inspired so many and that so many relate to. I wanted to ask, what has your time on the show meant to you and how would you describe how it helped you grow as an actor?

Cameron Monaghan: I mean, it’s so difficult to distill 11 years into some sort of concise answer, but it’s meant a lot for so many reasons. I think that obviously it’s been important for my career and my life in a sense of how it’s not only given me exposure but also given all of us a platform as performers to be able to tell interesting and challenging stories and to really develop and grow. Obviously, we had a couple of old pros on the show– when I say old pros, I’m not calling them old, just that they’re professionals and they’ve been doing it for a long time, but like William H. Macy, Joan Cusack, and a number of people who had very storied careers. Then we had actors on the show who had never appeared on anything prior and for a lot of us, we were somewhere in the middle, where we’d been working for a number of years, but hadn’t been given the opportunities to really put ourselves out there in such a significant way.

So being able to get an audience over the course of 11 years– and the show grew steadily, it was a marginal success at first, but it wasn’t until like season 4 or 5 that it really started to be seen by people and really connect on a larger platform, and a lot of that had to do with Netflix. When that happens we had such an influx of people kind of saying how they related to it and I think that that’s something that I’ve really taken away– I think we’ve all taken away, to be able to hear a lot of other people’s stories and how they’ve connected these stories in entirely different ways. Everyone has had different favorite characters or storylines and they have brought their own personal experiences to that, but for people to say that they feel seen or heard in some ways by these stories, I think is very special. You know, the character that I was playing was an LGBT love story, as well as a story about mental illness, and coping and struggling with that. I had so many positive responses from people regarding those things, and it was amazing to hear people’s responses. So I think that not only was I able to grow as an actor but being able to hear that response and feedback helps you grow as a human being too. I guess that’s what one of my major takeaways is.

What was that final day of shooting like for you, and how did you feel when you officially wrapped?

It was a bit surreal. I don’t think it really set in at first. It’s always funny when you wrap on a project, I feel like it comes in waves, and with something like a TV show, you start to feel it on the last few episodes of like, “Oh, wow, it’s going to be over.” You start trying to find your little ways of saying goodbye to people and understanding that these conversations are obviously not the last for everyone; we’re still close with each other, but you start to recognize that within the context of the show they’ll be your last so that’s a difficult thing. I’ve never been particularly good at saying goodbye, you know? I feel like in general, I’m kind of a person that just likes to be like, “I’m just going to walk away from it cause I don’t know what else to do really.”

So, we were shooting pretty late at night and we were all there hanging out and cracking jokes, and it was just of like, “Oh, I guess that’s it.” We all kind of looked at each other like, “Well, what do we do now?” A bunch of us stuck around for a few hours afterward, we popped a bottle of champagne, and we sat in each others’ trailers and just kinda hung out until pretty early in the morning, the next day. Then we’ve all kind of just been hanging out and seeing each other since. Everyone’s been really busy, thankfully. So we’ve been traveling and going to different cities for work, but when we’ve been in town we’ve been trying to see each other. I had dinner with Jeremy and Ethan, who played my brothers on the show last week. Noel Fisher, I just saw yesterday. I’m going to see Shanola Hampton in a few days. We’re all still staying in touch with each other is what I’ll say.

Were you personally satisfied with the ending of the show? I think it was very open-ended, which was kind of nice and left a lot open for the future. And was there anything you wanted to see for your character that we weren’t able to?

Endings are difficult in general, but I feel like, especially with a show like Shameless, which is a show about a slice of life and sort of how existence doesn’t really fall into a perfect narrative; it tends to be messy and kind of just continue in spite of itself, and it’s a stream of these little victories and these constant mistakes. So you can’t really cap off a pure ending to a story like that. I think that what John Wells tried to do with writing it is not really conclude the stories. He concludes certain aspects, but the way that he explained it to us is he wanted it to feel like if you were walking through the streets of Chicago, maybe you might bump into these characters. Maybe they’re still out there and maybe they’re still doing things. Some of us had more resolution than others.

I would actually say that the Ian and Mickey storyline was one that did have a fair amount of resolution for the final episode. It was about their anniversary, how they were going to deal with their future, and they’ve kind of figured out some sort of life with each other. There are still large questions, whether or not they’re going to have kids and what the terms of their marriage will entail in the future, but those are questions that are lifelong questions, and ones that I think that we know these characters well enough and we understand their relationships well enough that we can draw our own conclusions for. I think there is something beautiful about the fact that the audience will project what their future for these characters will be.

I think it was a challenging final season because of so many extenuating factors in the world. All shows, businesses, everything was trying frantically to keep up with a changing landscape, and the fact that we were able to make it in spite of all of those things, I think is a victory in itself; one that we are all proud of and happy with. I do think there’s still a future, years out, where we might return to these characters and explore them further. I think that I’m happy putting them to bed for now, I think we all are, but I would like to maybe check in with these characters in 5 or 10 years, and just kind of see where they’re at and what they’re doing.

Kind of like a little Shameless movie, just to play catch up for a little bit.

Yeah, I think that’s something that is kind of more possible now with these streaming networks. They’ve done it with a few series, to sometimes success and sometimes mixed results, but I do think there is a possibility of a reunion season or something like that, depending on where the show fits into the public consciousness in a few years, you know? It’s an open question, but one I’d be excited to see.

How you would describe Ian’s evolution and journey on the show?

I think that Ian has come a long way in terms of confidence and assuredness in himself and his own decisions. I think that’s what a lot of the exploration of the character was, especially in the middle seasons between seasons like 3 to 8 or 9, are this guy who sort of just doesn’t necessarily know what he wants for himself and he’s dealing with a bunch of surprises about himself that he doesn’t necessarily understand, or hasn’t really come to terms with. I think it’s amazing to see Ian in these earlier episodes where he’s kind of getting kicked around by his relationships and by his family. He’s kind of a forgotten kid a little bit. He’s like a middle child, who’s just sort of– people aren’t really looking out for him. His brother does to a certain extent, but also his brother is kind of telling him what he wants for himself and Ian isn’t as active.

At a certain point, he starts to really come into his own as an adult and as a human being. I think it’s amazing how we see him as not only a big brother by the end of the series, but also sort of– there’s something a bit paternal about him. He becomes a bit of a father figure, even a little bit in his relationships. I think it’s interesting how Mickey was always sort of the commanding force and deciding factor for so much of the series; when Ian was really struggling with mental illness and down in the dumps, Mickey is the kind of guy who was looking after him, but by the end of the series, Mickey is a bit childlike in certain ways. Ian is kind of protecting him to a certain extent, and even with his older brother, Lip, Ian is sort of looking out for him in a slightly paternal way, which I think is kind of interesting. He really comes a long way in sort of being confident enough in himself to start looking out for other people that I think is a really great quality. It makes him a character who has made a fair amount of mistakes but mistakes that we understand, and I think that ultimately he’s a guy that I understand and really relate to because he does have this quality to him.

So I have to ask you some questions about Ian and Mickey. I personally love them together, they were one of the reasons I started watching the show. In the end, as you said, we kind of get some closure, but also an open ending with them and it’s a happy one; they’re together and celebrating their anniversary. In your head, what do you think that their future holds? Do you think kids are in the picture; do you think they’re going to be parents? Ideally, what is your version of their happy ending, if you could create it?

I think that they both still need to do some work. I would say that they need to do work as a couple in their marriage still of just defining the terms of what is it that they want financially, sexually, intimately, personally, all of these things. It’s a show full of people who aren’t great at communication or dealing with their own feelings– I mean to a certain extent, most human beings aren’t, but these guys, especially, come from a rough background and they have that tendency of just kind of wanting to push that stuff down. Ian has really opened up Mickey and Mickey to a certain extent has really opened up Ian over the course of the series, but I still don’t think they’re fully all the way there. Mickey has a lot of emotional baggage when it comes to parenthood, his father, and dealing with responsibility.

I don’t know if Mickey is fully there. Hopefully, he would be one day in the future. And hopefully, Ian would be patient enough to give him the space to make that decision and to not want to rush into it. I do think that it would be something in their future. Parenthood was a huge motivating factor for Ian earlier in the series, going so far as to steal someone’s baby at some point because he wants to be a father. I would hope that they would be able to provide that for him and for themselves, but there’s no way to know, we have to sort of make that assumption for ourselves, but I think so.

Ian and Mickey have been this fan-favorite couple that means so much to the LGBTQ+ community in terms of representation. What was the moment that you personally started rooting for them?

I think it was pretty early. I was rooting for Ian from the first episode, from the pilot, but the second that Mickey gets introduced to the show, he brought such a fun dynamic with him. Obviously, a massive amount of charisma that was coming from Noel Fisher. The scenes were always fun, exciting, and felt steeped in a lot of dramatic tension. Whether or not they were destined to be together was kind of a question that still was developing. In the first season to the third season, the Mickey character is pretty rough emotionally and physically; he is at points pretty, extremely abusive in a way that is great for a character and for a story, but if I was talking to Ian as a person in real life, I would probably say, “Get the hell away from this guy. He’s awful for you.”

But within the context of the story, we’re able to get the internal life of these characters and we understand them well enough to really want to be rooting for them and see them succeed. It builds into this pretty epic love story of these characters that really do feel kind of intertwined by fate and something greater. It feels like you have these forces pulling for them in a way that you want with every fiber of your being to see it work out for them because you care for them. So obviously, Noel and I had been rooting for these characters the entire time, but it was really fun playing some of the ridiculousness of the situations of the two of them, where they were just very at odds with each other at times. It was a joy bouncing off of each other in both the highs and the lows of the character.

Is there sort of a message that you hope their love story gives to viewers that see themselves in these characters?

Well, I think the aspects of the characters, especially for Mickey, that I’m sure a lot of people relate to, and it is sort of the greatest tragedy of the character, is how he is deeply in the closet and he feels that he can’t embrace his own self and also this beautiful love because of this situation that he’s in; a traumatic home life, specifically an abusive father, and also an environment that doesn’t allow him to be what he wants to be. I guess the message that I do hope that people who are relating to that get is that there are places where you can be accepted and there are better options for you, and sometimes that takes time, but as cliched as it is, it does get better. So hopefully people are able to find these safe environments for themselves to be able to improve the quality of life and to get better situations. I hope that people find hope in the story ultimately.

Another relationship of Ian’s that I have to discuss is his relationship with the whole Gallagher family; that was a focus of the series since day one. What was your favorite part of their dynamic and playing off that?

Obviously, the chaos of the family is always really fun to play. We had these scenes that were kind of an amazing balancing act of like 8 or 9 people in a scene, all messing around with these different storylines that are bouncing off of each other, intertwining, and you have this really biting sharp satirical dialogue that all had a very specific rhythm to it and was a sort of flow that was established early in the show that was kind of kept across the entire series; one that was a genuine joy as a performer to play. But I think that specifically the relationship that I’ve always been a fan of and I love from the start, is probably– it’s definitely one of my favorite relationships on the show– was the relationship between Ian and Lip.

There’s not a lot of depictions of brotherhood and intimacy between men that are deeply sensitive, close, and uncomplicated. Those are definitely scenes that I felt very personally moved by, of two brothers who have just had a world of shit, a lot of complicated and messed up things that have been dropped on their heads that they’ve been dealing with for the entirety of their lives, but they’ve sort of made a pact that they were just gonna be there for each other no matter what. If they weren’t there for each other, who knows if they would have survived. I think that there’s something really amazing about those scenes in that they’re just very open with each other, and that’s something that’s established right from the start and was kind of one of those key relationships for the show that survived until the very last episode and that I’m very proud of, cause I do think that those are some of my personal favorite scenes of the show.

Here’s a fun three-part question: most challenging, fun, and insane storyline for you as an actor?

Most challenging would probably have to be… we reached a point in the series around season 8 and they were trying to contextualize the characters in a modern way, put them into new circumstances, but try to retain what the characters were, but they’ve moved a lot from where they originally were. We were at a point where we were getting so many new writers onto the series, and the show I feel struggled for a second, which happens with any series that’s been on for a while. It felt like there was a point where they didn’t know what they wanted to do with Ian. There were a couple of episodes where I was kind of looking at the story and being like, “What are we doing here? It doesn’t really feel like anything is happening with him and we’re kind of floating across these relationships.” I wasn’t sure what we were trying to say, but that being said, that is kind of true to life, to a certain degree, where we do find ourselves sometimes in these ruts where we don’t know what we’re doing with our relationships, our lives, and ourselves. There is a little bit of a struggle there and that is kind of real to a certain degree, and I do think having those episodes make when they started finding the way with the character and relationships again, kind of more satisfying cause he sort of loses his way and he comes back. So it was kind of a challenge, but I think it all worked out ultimately.

Craziest would have to be… so this is one that no one would even know is like a thing really, no one would even think of it as a thing, but the scene in the pilot episode, Lip and Ian jump out of like a window and they run out of a house to escape an angry parent, right? And they’re kind of running in a rush. So they run out in their socks, down the street, and it’s the middle of January in Chicago and the streets are covered in mud, water, and ice. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever felt in my life that I actually thought my feet were going to like fall off. I thought we were going to have to amputate a toe because of frostbite. We did the scene a bunch of times, and because Jeremy and I were young, we were just sort of trying to be tough, just like, “Yeah, whatever, it’s not a problem. We can do this over and over, not a big deal.” Then I definitely learned a lesson of like, when something is a problem, you have to say, it’s a problem.

Most fun… I don’t know if I can distill it to just one scene. I think the most fun was just getting to interact with all of the wildly different personalities of our show, and just kind of get to sit around and hang out with everyone. There were times that we would just be laughing so hard that one of us would start and we just end up crying, laughing. Usually, it was because of Howey cracking jokes or something like that, but it could be just the dumbest to smallest thing, but it’s the kind of thing when you become so comfortable with people, it just starts to happen. Sometimes it was just the downtime and these little small kind of boring or mundane moments that really ended up being some of my favorite experiences.

Did you take anything from the set at all?

I did. So in the final season, there’s a storyline where Frank steals Nighthawks, the Edward Hopper painting, and that was actually done in cooperation with the Art Institute of Chicago and the Edward Hopper estate. They did these really high-resolution prints of it that were then painted over by hand, and they even took pictures of the back and mimicked the way that the canvas wrapped over, the small writing, and everything. It’s a pretty damn good forgery of Nighthawks. So I stole one of those and that’s hanging up in my living room. I also stole one of the mugs cause in the show we’re always having breakfast and drinking coffee, so there are these rooster mugs and I stole one of those.

Since you’re talking to The Nerds of Color, I have to ask you about Star Wars and Gotham. What stood out to you about Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order compared to your other work, and what did it mean to you to join that iconic universe?

I mean, what stood out pretty quickly was that it had a tone all of its own. Star Wars is a very specific tone. It has sort of its own language, pacing, style, and rhythm; there’s something very specific about it, something that I’m a big fan of. I grew up watching the Star Wars movies and that was definitely… you know, anytime that you’re jumping onto something with an active and passionate fanbase it’s going to be slightly intimidating. There’s no way around that. Thankfully, I’ve at this point done enough projects with really passionate fanbases to kind of understand what that entails, which is that there’s going to be a lot of opinions. A lot of people are really excited about things and no matter what, even the smallest things, someone’s going to be very, very angry about it. That comes along with the territory, but that’s kind of fun to a certain degree; it’s fun to hear such minutiae and being examined, and these conversations are ones that are being had on set too.

There’s so much conversation between the Lucasfilm story group, Respawn, and EA, who are the production companies behind the game, and also the cast, directors, and everybody involved are sometimes discussing, “How does a person stand? How does one get onto a speeder bike? What kind of sound does this monster make?” And there’s always a genuine deference and respect to the series. We know how much people care about it. We know because we care about it a lot, and everyone on this project are huge fans of the source material. So that was exciting to be a part of, obviously; I mean, that should go without saying. It’s so freaking cool to be a Jedi and to be the face of this massive franchise, and to be able to not only be a part of a really well-known property and part of this large project but also to be able to tell an interesting and intimate story within it. For as bombastic as all of the action is, and as big as the Star Wars universe is, I feel the story of Cal Kestis and the people that he interacts with is a somewhat smaller one and a more intimate one. It’s ultimately, at least for me, a pretty emotionally resonant one and a story that I actually very much care about and relate to. I think that was probably the most exciting part about it, was being able to within the framework of this big machinery of what Star Wars is, still tell a story that might actually affect people and make them feel things, I think was just really cool.

Could you describe how it felt to take on the role of the Joker?

Exciting, intimidating, an honor, and challenging; it’s a role that I didn’t take lightly. I understood what it was, which is that a lot of the people who were seeing me in the role had never heard of me and didn’t know who I was, and it was a way to prove myself and to show off my take of what I could do with this. It was really cool too with that show that we were getting to do something that had never really been done before with the character, which is to show multiple versions and possibilities of what that character could be, and to kind of tip our hat to some of the famous stories that came before, and then kind of give a unique spin and show off some new things with it as well.

Obviously, that show was heightened to a certain degree and kind of existed in this wacky over-the-top violent, but also slightly cartoony universe that was kind of its own little thing. That was really fun to play around with it and to totally get to do something kind of different with that, something that we hadn’t seen before. But I think it was specifically really intimidating because, at that point of casting when I performed the episode in the first season of that show, no one had played the role since Heath Ledger had posthumously won the Oscar for the role. So the only people who had touched it in live-action had been Jack Nicholson and Heath Ledger, which are just massive, massive shoes to fill and two people that I deeply admired. Again, it’s just sort of a case of respect and wanting to kind of come in, just do my absolute best with the material, and to try to pay a certain level of honor to the people that came before.

Anything you can tease about what you’re going to do next? Any future projects?

Absolutely. It’s always difficult with this stuff because there’s only so much you can say. I can say that I just shot a film that hasn’t been announced yet, but I was out of town shooting it for a while. It’s the starring role in the film, and that will come out to theaters in the near future. I’m also working on another project over the course of the next year that I will be working on and off for. Again, thanks to the joys of NDAs, I can’t actually say what it is. I have a movie that I will be doing in June and then also I’m starting to move a bit behind the camera as well. So I’m working on producing and starring in a feature in August or September. And I’m writing a couple of projects right now as well. So it’s a loaded year for the next year, but it’s all very exciting that’s happening.

[milstrim]

Home Is in My Arms

Tony Stark had had a daughter.

Her name had been Penelope.

She had had superpowers.

And he hadn't seen her in four years.

The ten year-old had last been seen on March thirty-first, 2012. The day of the Chitauri invasion. Tony had seen her that morning, and he guessed he could at least be grateful that their last interaction hadn't been like his own with his parents. Instead of a fight that was never resolved, the two had giggled on the couch of the newly furnished tower, him and Pepper with glasses of wine and Penny with her mint milkshake. Pepper had side-eyed them exasperatedly, as though their laughs and jokes had been the worst ruckus anyone had ever made.

And then Coulson. And then Steve. And then Natasha and Bruce and a God he had learned about in history when he was younger. And then Loki and the Helicarrier and explosions that had left Tony's head ringing--but nothing had hurt more than the loss of his friend.

Everything had gone by so quickly, so desperately, there had been no time to do anything about anything except gear up and go. The biggest reassurance he had given himself was that his homework had caused Pepper and Penny to leave the city for a couple of days while the girl was on Spring Break. It meant they were safe from everything was about to happen, and that he didn't have to worry past New York.

And they had won. The Avengers had been formed under desperate circumstances. They had saved the world.

And Penny had been gone.

Pepper had left on the plane, but Penny had managed to convince her godmother that she should stay at her friend's house for a sleepover. The aliens hadn't even been able to make it past the perimeter and into Queens, but the hectic of it had been enough. Or maybe she had run off to help. Even at ten she was braver than he was. Better. And equipped with superpowers from a field trip's rogue spider that made her stronger than even Captain America.

But it hadn't been enough.

No body was ever recovered. No trace of her was ever found. No footage or DNA or witnesses. There was nothing. Nothing for him to even try and grasp onto what had happened to her. How she had died. The best anyone could do was assume that a Chitauri weapon had vaporized her and to try to grieve from there.

And by God did he try.

After the Mandarin and almost losing Pepper, he'd put in more effort than he ever had. He visited the grave where no body was buried, leaving flowers and trinkets and books he knew she would have loved. He talked. To people who had known her like he had. Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and even Natasha.

The two had been so close when the woman had spied on him. Closer than he had been, still trying to change and learn to be a father better than his own after Afghanistan. He'd been dying and hadn't focused on anything but himself. About what he wanted to do before he was gone, instead of what would happen to his family afterwards.

So Tony tried. He tried a lot, but trying didn't always end in success. No, sometimes it ended in helicarriers made for HYDRA to control. Or a robot meant to protect only trying to destroy. Or in the fracturing of the Avengers, with Natasha and Steve on the run while the others sat in a max security prison that he spent every living moment trying to get them out of.

Except for now. Or maybe now too. Tony didn't know why Natasha had texted him. Only that she had betrayed him and texted only a couple of weeks later with a location out in Birmingham, England and nothing else but the message 'Get here quick.'

And he had. With nothing but a quick word to Pepper to keep Ross off of his aching back for a day, he'd stepped onto his plane and arrived in just over six hours. From there the billionaire had stepped into a waiting car and zoomed towards the address the spy had sent him, his heart racing just as fast as the vehicle's as he curved through city traffic.

Tony's thoughts strayed to Steve and Barnes and what had happened the last time he'd zoomed off to help his teammate. He swallowed down on his stuttering fear, reassured partly by the guantlet-watch sat snugly on his wrist and partly because he knew Natasha. Well, he knew her better than he ever had Steve anyway. Him and Natasha had fought, and there'd always been room for disagreements and anger, but at the end of the day they knew each other. And they were family.

The mechanic pulled up outside the run-down apartment complex, giving it a onceover before parking, pulling a baseball cap on low, and stepping out.

There was a drizzle, light and cold for the summer, even in England. He frowned, but only pulled his hood up with a shiver and stepped through the rusted metal gate, allowing him access to the first floor of apartments and a set of spindly stairs that he hoped didn't lead to any kind of locked door. He didn't exactly have a key, and Tony would prefer to not draw any attention to himself while here.

The man didn't need anymore grief from Ross. Not while he was desperate to pin something on Tony, and meeting with a violator of the Accords wouldn't exactly do much for his public image.

Biting on a sigh, Tony headed up the stairs towards the apartment number that Natasha had sent him. Thankfully, there was no locked door in his way, and the only person in the hallway that the stairs had led him to seemed to be much too out of it to pay him any mind. Quicker than he really would have liked, Tony was outside Apartment 9B, the number rusted and close to falling off of its hinges. Sucking in a breath, he knocked.

It only took a few seconds for the door to click! and then crack open just enough for him to catch familiar blue eyes and cropped platinum hair interrupted by a second lock's chain.

Natasha let out a short breath of relief, unlocking the door fully and opening the door just enough that he could slip inside. He glanced around the apartment once as she locked the door back up, surprised to see it was basically exactly what he had expected. It was small and old, orderly but not quite well-kempt, with evidence of past fights staining and fracturing the walls.

"Nice place," he commented. "Very runaway."

"Very last minute," Natasha responded. "It's not as easy as you think it is to get an apartment when everyone's trying to arrest you."

"You seem to slip away no matter what. By the way, how did you get away from Ross last week? I've got to know your trick on that, because I could use some pointers."

Natasha stopped beside him, a small smile tugging at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. Despite his forcefully loose and nonchalant posture, Tony felt himself freeze up looking at the Avenger. Her expression, no matter what it was, had always been hard for Tony to discern when she was practically the perfect spy. But now, this smile--it was sad and joyful and regretfully guilty.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice dropping to something softer. Rarely sincere.

Natasha glanced away from him to stare at a door for a moment before glancing back at him. Her lips twitched and her eyes threatened tears in a way that he hadn't thought she would express to him.

She swallowed. "Penny's alive. And I found her."

Tony--

Tony didn't react. Not for nearly a minute. Instead he stared, his entire body stilling--even his damaged heart--before he seemed to come back to life all at once like a broken wound-up toy.

The man stumbled back a step, falling into the nearest gray wall. One lonely breath coming in in a strangled gasp as he willed for something--anything--to make sense. 

"She's alive?"

Natasha nodded.

"How?" he demanded. "How--in England? From New York? There's no way anybody could've just taken her while I was--"

The man cut himself off, dragging in another wheeze that rattled through his entire chest. His legs began to collapse under him, but his friend caught him, managing to maneuver him onto the floor slowly. Tony leaned against the wall as Natasha sat beside him, her head propped up against the wall beside him.

Neither said anything. Not for a few minutes at least at Tony's shaking and gasping ebbed. Not until he could force out images and nightmares of Penny his mind had tortured him with for years. He locked them in a box and dropped it in an ocean of useless thoughts, because his daughter was alive. Because she wasn't dead and none of it--a painful death full of fear and confusion while Tony was only blocks away that he had been tortured by for years--had ever happened.

Natasha spoke up when he'd finally managed to take in eight consistent breaths.

"I was raised in the Red Room," she started. "I was taken from my family and tortured for years. I tried to make a family there, and I did. For a little bit at least. But that family was taken too, replaced by the only world I had ever known. One based on pain and dictated structure. A cruel trick to play on a child, but it was normal for the Red Room. What wasn't normal was me not only succeeding more than they had ever dreamed, but succeeding past them. Escaping and deserting. Killing Dreykov was the last step of my defection to SHIELD. It was revenge and justice all at once. The others would be freed and I could clear out my ledger in a life I chose."

She swallowed, taking a moment.

"I failed. I failed and I didn't know." Natasha turned from staring ahead at the wall to stare at Tony. Suffering blue met broken brown, tired and guilty reflecting. In a whisper, she said, "Dreykov lived. He lived until a week ago. And the Red Room, and every Widow in it, lived under him."

Tony was touched to be trusted this much. To be trusted with even a sliver of what his friend had gone through in such a time of suspicion and betrayal. But he was scared. He was terrified, because Natasha never shared just to share. Everything she said had a point, a reason, a direction.

He tore his eyes away, shoving a hand over them and letting his head drop onto his knees. Unwillingly, he croaked, "No... Nat, please don't tell me--"

"Penny's a Widow."

Tony bit his lip, chewing on his cheek so harshly there was the tang of blood in his mouth. He took a moment, letting his head fall against the cracked and stained cement wall. Penny was alive. And she had been trained--no. Natasha's descriptions, however few and miniscule they had been, could not be described as simply training. Penny had been tortured. For four years. And what had he done but grieve and give up? If only he'd known. If only he'd found out sooner.

Natasha continued.

"The Red Room..." She took a breath and licked her lips. "After I escaped, they changed their whole system. Their method. How they hid and how they trained and--and how they controlled the women."

Something about the way Natasha said the last part sent a cold feeling down his throat.

"What did they do to her?" he croaked.

"They um...well, for lack of my understanding of it, they mind controlled her."

"They--Nat what? How would they even--"

"They controlled the brain’s neuropathways through external manipulation," came a new voice, their accent thick. Tony whipped his head around to stare at a woman he had never seen before. Like Natasha, she wore a regular hoodie and sweatpants but still looked as though she could take his life in less than a minute. There was an intensity about her, from her stance to her tied back hair to her ghostly blue eyes that stared at him suspiciously. "It was based off of blueprints for the Winter Soldier. Me and Natasha were part of the mission to retrieve them when we were young."

Despite the insanity of every new piece of information shot his way, he managed to piece it together in his head quickly enough that he opened his mouth to respond with a snapped remark, but Natasha managed to speak before he did.

"What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be looking after Penny."

"I was, but then I heard how badly you were explaining everything and I came to help." Natasha glared. "Relax. I finished braiding her hair and now she's pretending to be asleep so she can listen to everyone talking."

The last part was said with a pointed look down the narrow apartment hall, but everything after Natasha had said "Penny" didn't seem to make sense anymore.

"She's here?" he asked, already scrambling to his feet. He glanced between Natasha and the woman desperately. "Penny's here right now?"

"We found her yesterday," Natasha answered cautiously. "Me and Yelena just started to free the Widows deployed around the world. We managed to give her the antidote during a shootout in Estonia. After that a friend of mine managed to get us here."

"A shoot--is she okay?"

"Just a couple of burns," Yelena said. "She may be enhanced, but she still has plenty to learn. She could still kick your ass, though."

"Thank you. Truly," Tony said, a bite of sarcasm to his voice, before turning back to Natasha, his desperation bubbling. "Which room?"

"Tony, I don't think you need to just go bursting in there. Let me--"

Tony stopped listening, every word his friend was saying dying out on his ears as he spotted a brunette and wide brown eyes poking around the corner over Natasha's shoulder. He felt his breath catch in his throat as their eyes clicked.

Penny had grown. She'd sprouted almost an entire foot from the short ten year old she had been, awkward and gangly limbs that the girl had always seemed to struggle with were replaced by obvious muscle and carefully controlled movement as she stepped out from behind the wall, their stare still holding. Despite the sharper angle of her chin and jaw, she still held baby fat in her cheeks that dwindled the look of her down by a couple of years, not helped at all by the familiar roundness of her deeply brown eyes.

He swallowed. His voice broke.

"Penny?"

—-

“Penny?"

It had been years since Penny had seen her dad. Since she'd heard him. Anything about her father not privy to missions had been carefully shielded away from the teenager for years. Sometimes on the few missions she had been sent on she would catch news clippings and pictures on TV channels before she had to move on or that terrible voice in her mind would force her to ignore him. But, despite the scarcity of which she was allowed to know about her father, she had always thought about him.

Penny had swam in her memories whenever she could. Whenever she needed. She'd think about the games she and her dad had used to play. About lessons he'd taught her and days they'd spent together. About hugs and braided hair and kisses to her head. The memories had felt faint and washed away underneath everything, but she'd clung to them like a lifeline.

That being said, she hadn't expected Dad's voice to sound like that. For him to look like this. He was always so put together in her mind--so strong--even when he was messy from the lab or tired from a long day of work, always accompanied by fond child-like adoration. But now he didn't look it.

There were bruises on his face, faint but still noticeably purple. His hair wasn't as dark or thick as she remembered, growing back just a little higher on his hairline, and more lines grabbed and pulled at his face. But that wasn't what ruined her memory of strength and warmth, people aged after all, that was just reality. It was the expression on his face and glossing over his eyes. It was the way he'd said her name, so unsure and weary.

Penny, finally, looked away from Dad, instead glancing over at Yelena and trying not to look like she was too desperate for help. Yelena stared back, raising her brows and gesturing to Tony with a slight nod of her head, as if telling her to not be a coward. But Penny didn't know how to do that. Not now.

Thankfully, Natasha took over.

"I'm going to go get us some dinner. Yelena?"

Okay, so not the kind of help she'd been looking for.

Yelena gave Penny one last glance, nodded, and then followed the Avenger out of the door.

The door clicked shut and then it was just father and daughter.

"Penny," he tried again.

She hid a flinch at how small and tired his voice was, how broken he felt standing only feet from her. She hid her shock and her fear and apprehension exactly how she'd been taught, schooling her features into something easy and bored. She let her shoulders drop and her posture loosen, but the hardest part was hardening her stare. That had always been the biggest complaint of her handlers. Her senses had been sharp but her expression always so readable by her eyes.

"Hi, Dad," she said, her voice cool and casual on default. The words felt terrible leaving her lips, so she crossed her arms in an attempt to feel more stable. "It's been a while."

He chuckled, short and sad. "Yeah. You could say that."

And then there was silence. It trickled in, slow, awkward, and tense between them. Penny tried not to let it get to her, but she couldn't deny that she wasn't tired and disappointed. When Yelena had smashed the antidote beside her, it was the first time the teenager had seen clearly in a long time, and her first thought had been of her Dad. There had been worries about if he missed her and if he'd been okay, but a fear had stabbed at her so strongly that she was still thinking about it.

Would he still love her? After all she'd done? She had hurt people. She had killed people. Not in defense. Not in good reason. But in fear and control.

"I, uh..." Penny blinked at her dad's voice, beating away her thoughts and instead focusing back on the bruised and stuttering man in front of her. "Sorry. I would've thought of something better to say if I'd known I was going to see you again. Maybe some presents too. Do you still like those peanut butter cookies?"

"The ones we used to make?" she asked. "With the Hershey Kisses?"

"Those are the ones."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't had them since I was with you."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess you wouldn't have..." he trailed off, glancing down for a moment. She stared at him, watching his expression carefully as he loosened and looked back up at her. "Well, we can't make them again? At home?"

"Sure. Sounds fun."

Penny couldn't stand how dull her voice sounds, like she couldn't care less about something that really made her want to cry in happiness. But...she didn't know what else to do. What to say. The Red Room had made sure she always knew what to do and what to say, but that had been for politicians and businessmen and people she was supposed to trick. She didn't want to trick her dad. She just--she wanted to--

Dad stepped closer, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down in a deep and concerned frown. She kept a wary eye on him as he approached, trying to force down feelings of apprehension and fear that she had become familiar with whenever anybody was in her space. But he stopped about a foot short, his reached out hand halting just away from her face as he whispered, "Oh, piccolina. It's okay." His voice broke. "It's okay. I'm gonna make sure it is... I promise."

And finally she broke.

And it hurt. It really, really hurt.

Penny leaned her cheek into his open hand as hot beads of tears caught on her eyelashes, allowing for Dad to cup his other hand around the back of her head and tentatively pull her in. It took the teenager a moment to adjust, so wired on the need to fight and never let her guard down, but then she just--crumpled.

Like a switch had been flicked, Penny buried her nose into his neck and wrapped her arms around him in a tight squeeze, swallowing down tears. Dad pulled her in tighter, his nose pressed into her tightly braided crown.

And then he sobbed.

It was a strangled, inhuman kind of sound that rumbled from his chest to escape the back of his throat. He cleared his throat, as if embarrassed, but Penny wasn't an idiot. She could still hear his heart thumping and feel a tear slip from his chin onto the back of her neck. It all shocked her, but the sound found itself ringing in her ears painfully more than anything.

She flinched in his hug.

"Oh, Penny. I'm so sorry," he apologized, his voice sore with tears. "So, so sorry."

"For what?" she asked. "Not finding me? You wouldn't have been able to, Dad, even being you. Draykov made sure of it."

"I don't care. I should've done something! I should've--I should've--"

"Dad." He fell silent as she pulled away from him, crossing her arms back over her chest as she came back to her training. Dad stared at her, his dark copper eyes as guilty as she felt. "Please, just... Don't be sorry. Because I'm sorry, and if you're sorry then we're both sorry and we can't both be sorry it's--"

"What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Penny--"

"I'm not ten anymore, Dad. I don't think I'm even a kid anymore... I've--I've done too much harm. I have a lot to be sorry for."

Dad stared at her, a familiar sadness in his eyes. He chewed his cheek, brows furrowed in thought, and she was brought back to a time when she would watch him solve problems in the lab, or try to answer one of her inane questions that she never seemed to be able to stop asking.

"Let me ask you something," he started. "Do you think I'm a bad person? That I'm at fault for losing you?"

"No," she answered immediately, because her dad had always tried, no matter what. She'd known he wasn't perfect, and that a lot of people hated him for the mistakes he'd made, but she'd always known how much he really cared. How much he really cared and tried for the world. For the Avengers. For her.

"Well, then what makes you a bad person? What makes you not a kid anymore?"

Penny could only stare. She could only answer, "I've hurt people."

"I know. And I have too. But you don't think I'm a bad person, so you're not a bad person either. And what about Nat? Or your new very scary friend?"

"I forgot how much I hated arguing with you," she deadpanned.

"'Trying' to argue with me," he corrected, a smile pulling at his face. Surprisingly, she managed to smile back. Even more surprisingly, it didn't feel fake. Sure, it was small and tired, but Penny couldn't remember the last time she'd actually smiled. "See? Everything's going to be okay."

"How do you know?" she asked. "I'm a violator of the Accords. If it ever gets out that I was part of the Red Room--what I did for the Red Room--almost nothing could keep me out of prison. You'll have to explain how you found me and it would make you a violator--"

"I'll handle it," Dad said. "I always handle it. And just because you don't feel like a kid doesn't mean you aren't one. There are protections for you. And we found protections for Nat. Wanda too, if she would've taken them." He muttered the last part under his breath, the words emotionless but regret and guilt clear in his eyes. He cleared his throat and looked back at her with a raised brow. "And how do you know about the Accords? Do they have a current events class in the Red Room?"

"We do actually have to keep up with some events for missions. But, no. I've been reading old newspapers. Did you know you were on the front page for almost two weeks in June?"

"No. Nobody reads the paper anymore. Unless you're a dinosaur anyway."

"Uncle Rhodey likes the paper," she said with that still small but still real smile. "For the crossword puzzles."

"Yeah. Like I said: Dinosaur." With that, the jokes seemed to slide away as he took on a more serious tone. "But I'll handle it. I've already been trying to handle the Accords. You'll be safe, and free, at home, Penny. I promise."

"I can really come home?"

Dad paused. "Did you think you wouldn't?"

Penny shrugged. "I don't know. I wanted to. I want to. But I just... I didn't know how safe it would be, and I know how to live by myself. How to avoid suspicion. I was...I was prepared for other options."

"If you were planning on running, why did you meet with me?"

"I don't know," she said. But truthfully, there had been a hole in her heart. A knot in her stomach. She'd just--she'd needed to see her dad. To apologize and let him know she was okay. She'd missed her family for so long, she had to imagine they'd missed her too. In fact, Penny had wanted nothing more to know they'd missed her. That those years in the Red Room wondering where her family was hadn't been because they didn't care.

Realistically, Penny knew Dad had missed her. Had loved her enough to grieve and look for her, but being there for so long--so terribly long--had been enough for seeds of doubt to sprout and root itself in her mind. But the teenager didn't tell her dad that. That would make him upset, and Penny was tired of being upset. Instead, she said, "Just missed you. Wanted to know that you're okay."

"Well, now you're gonna know every day," he said. "And you're going to know that Pepper is okay. And Rhodey and Happy. And you're never going to miss us again."

"Never?"

"Nope. Well, maybe when you go to school. But we can homeschool if you would prefer that. Would you?"

"Oh, uh, I don't--"

"Yeah, never mind. You don't have to know right now," he said with a wave. Then he smiled at her again, that genuine smile that squinted his eyes and pulled at his wrinkled laugh lines. "Right now, why don't we just go home?"

"Yeah," she said. And suddenly no other thought occupied her mind. Home was all she could think of. Of tall New York skyscrapers and the bustling city. Or maybe they'd go back to Malibu, even if his house was gone. Either way she'd see her uncle again. And Pepper. And Happy, who were all family to her. Family she hadn't seen in so long. "Let's go home."

Dad smiled, his eyes misty. Penny smiled back, taking his hand and leaning against him in another hug. He readily accepted, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head.

The best part: Nothing about him whispered danger. Or discomfort or uneasiness. There was just...comfort.

Just home.

It was the best feeling in the entire world.

—-

“Should we tell Uncle Rhodey we're on the way?"

"Nah. He loves surprises."

"He hates surprises."

"Exactly!"

Penny laughed. And the sound, the feeling, was just like home.

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝stubborn rashes.❞

[ Fandom: Diamond no Ace ] [ Characters: Miyuki Kazuya ]

「 Scenario of Miyuki comforting his S/O who has flare rashes.」

MIYUKI KAZUYA

It was the familiar crunch of sand that resounded throughout the field that drew your attention. You shifted your eyes towards the baseball field where the Seidou team was having their daily practice after classes. It was a routine for you to come after your classes and sit by the benches to watch the team play while reading your book. You weren't a part of the team but having a boyfriend there made you come here more often. There was something comforting about sitting by the benches and listening to the boys do their usual thing. The sounds of their bats swinging and the balls connecting with their mitts were just very nice to you. The usual spot was always open, almost everyone knew that it was your spot. The managers will come and join you just to accompany you while they do their work.

Miyuki Kazuya finds himself glancing at the bench occasionally. Whenever he finds the chance to catch his breath, he will definitely look at you and give you a small wave. He notices something different with your today. Being in different classes always meant that he never got to see you unless it was during lunch breaks or joined classes. Most of the time, you would come by and watch him practice. Afterward, Miyuki would walk you back home which was only 5 minutes away by foot. It was the jacket you had on that drew his attention. It was slightly windy here but it wasn't windy enough for you to put on a jacket to begin with. 

"Why are you wearing a jacket, [First Name]-chan?" Haruno asked you while you flipped through the book you were reading.

"Oh, this? I just felt a bit chilly that's all." you replied with a smile. 

Though of course, that was a lie. It was just recently that flare rashes begin to show up on your arm and just the sight of them makes you frown. Your parents told you that it was nothing you should worry about and that it was probably because of stress or allergies. At the moment, you didn't even care what the cause of it was, you just wanted it gone. And all you could do now was to hide them from view. The only way you thought of was to just put on a jacket to hide them from everyone. It did draw attention from your classmates since the weather didn't seem suitable. Not only did it drew attention, it just made you feel much more uncomfortable.

Miyuki approached you after the coach called it a day. Instead of going to the training ground to catch some balls for Sawamura and Furuya, he decided to come over to you. He gave you his signature smile, giving you a small peck on your check. The managers excused themselves and decided to give you two some privacy.  You closed your book and rose from the bench, smiling back at your boyfriend. He took a seat next to you, using the towel around his neck to wipe off the sweat gathered on his forehead. He looked at you with a small frown but not one that expressed worry, one that expressed slight confusion.

"Are you sure that you wanna keep that jacket on, [First Name]?" Miyuki questioned you.

"Yeah, it's fine. It's starting to get a bit cold for me." you replied with a smile.

Miyuki eventually noticed that you began to wear a jacket more often, no matter how hot it was. After a hot day of practice, the catcher caught himself looking at you talking with the first-year players who came by to greet you. And you were there, dressed in the same way he saw you for the past 3 days. The school's signature tracksuit over the uniform you wore every day. The teachers had asked you the reason behind this but you simply mentioned that you were feeling a little bit cold. However, Miyuki didn't seem to be convinced that it was the case.

"Why don't you just take it off? I can see you sweating a bit you know." your boyfriend poked at your cheek and handed you a bottle of water. 

"And you got a little something here." Miyuki pointed at a spot under your chin. You raised your hand to touch whatever he was pointing at, it surprised you that your rashes showed up on your face. Out of reflex, you pulled up the collar of your tracksuit in an attempt to hide your face.

"Come on, don't be so embarrassed. Show me." the brunette urged. You shook your head, refusing to do as he said.

"No, don't look at me, Kazuya." you whined, avoiding his eyes. He gently put his hand over yours, slowly removing them and noticing the flare rashes on your neck. Miyuki was a smart guy, it didn't take him long to realize what was up with you. Now that your secret was out, you decided to just let it go.

"Do these hurt?" Miyuki asks, gently tracing his finger on the red patches. 

"They're just itchy but sometimes they hurt." you muttered.

Your boyfriend placed a few kisses on your face and around your neck. You let out a small giggle when his hair tickled your neck and chin. Miyuki smiled gently and helped you take off the jacket, only to reveal a few patches of red on your arm. He gave your arm the same treatment, peppering kisses all over the red patches. A gentle smile replaced your frown, you almost felt stupid for being so insecure of yourself. It was dumb of you to assume that Miyuki only liked you for your looks.

"Don't be insecure of them, baby. These will go away, I'm more concerned whether these things hurt or not." he spoke.

"I'm fine, Kazuya. It's just that they're so ugly you know." you rubbed at the rashes with a small pout.

"You have nothing to be insecure of. What do you say we go to the clinic tomorrow to get these treated? I remember that there's a small clinic near your house, I'll take you there after practice." Miyuki offered.

"Thank you, Kazuya. You're the best." you kissed his cheek.

"Though, it kind of reminds me of that one time my classmate dressed up as a zombie. He had patches all over his arms and legs―" you cut him off before he could finish his sentence, punching his arm. Miyuki let out a loud laugh when he saw that your face turned red as a result of his teasing.

"I'm just joking, [First Name]! You know I love you!" he followed you when you didn’t respond to him.

“Come on! I’ll give you all the cuddles and kisses you want!”

Total: 1133 words Published: 12.07.2021

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ We hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! Hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are closed! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[sickybubbies]

A/n: Y'all I realised there's really not enough pregnant Jungkook on here with Jikook ofc I'm a sucker for them lately. Anyway, sorry for the crappy ending, enjoy!

TW: Emeto, Mpreg

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

"You alright babe?" Jimin rasps, leaning up so he was perching on his elbow as he squints his eyes where he could make out a faint figure of Jungkook half climbing; hauling himself onto the bed under the early greys of the morning. 

"Mhmm," Jungkook hums quietly for a response, grimacing at the acid like texture in his throat that he was left with after throwing up. It was raw and strained, and Jungkook didn't like it one bit. He huffs and slips a hand under his shirt to hold on to his pudgy stomach, for two reasons. It was pushing past the waistline of his sweats from how bloated he was, after expelling the contents of his stomach routinely which tires him out endlessly and he wants to rip his insides out. 

But Jungkook decides to be forgiving, because he's a few weeks into carrying the beautiful baby that he and Jimin had always dreamed about having. The pair had spent days and nights, with Jimin's head on Jungkook's torso as they both squabbled about how they'd raise their child way back in the boyfriend phase. (“One baby with your short genes, one with my tall genes and my good looks, how's that sound?" "Yah!") Jungkook reminds himself that it was all gonna be worth it in the end, it's always worth it. He imagines just how bright Jimin's eyes were to get once their baby was here, if it wasn't bright enough when Jungkook told him the news of his pregnancy; he fears he'd metaphorically go blind from his joy. 

"I've just been sick." He murmurs, leaning back onto the headboard. Jungkook slouches, the energy sucked out of his bones as he shuts his eyes to hopefully regroup himself.

Jimin hums in acknowledgement, more awake now that he was aware of his husband's strife and leans over to press a generous kiss to his forehead. He wasn't going to let the younger deal with it alone, though the ones he accidentally sleeps through he's always up and at his service when needed and to smother him in love for afterwards. 

"I thought you were gonna. I could hear your tummy all night going squelch squelch" He mumbles playfully, hoping it would lighten the dreadful atmosphere. Jimin places a hand on Jungkook's stomach and begins to rub circles into it, hoping it would ease him some.

 The latter's abs had begun to disappear and his stomach was slightly dome shaped from the swell he had, his skin was softer and squishier the closer he gets to the second trimester and Jimin couldn't keep his hands off of Jungkook. In his defense, his husband looked adorable pregnant, he adored the sight so much and loved the tiny being to bits already. 

"Shut up Chim, listening to you is making me wanna vomit again" Jungkook groans, shifting on the mattress so he could get comfortable and pressing a fist to his lips as he feels his stomach fizzle up and an airy burp escape from his lips. 

Jimin pouts, he begins carding through Jungkook's soft purple hair. "Still feel bad? Aren't you supposed to feel better after bringing everything up?" He questions, his heart clenching as he watches Jungkook's face begin to pale and paint a tinge of green. 

Jungkook shrugs. "Dunno about that hyung, I don't feel better at all. I feel queasy" He admits, he'd learnt to vocalize to the older about how he felt; if he doesn't it's gonna end up with another one of Jimin's shirts in the wash, trust he's been there and learnt his lesson. 

"My baby…" Jimin coos softly, propping up next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He keeps his fingers in Jungkook's hair, looking down at him and kissing the crown of his head as he slowly scratches his scalp. He holds the younger tighter when he stiffens and moans, his brows furrowing from the pain and havoc the nausea was causing in Jungkook's stomach from how he nuzzles his nose into Jimin's chest. "It's one of those days huh? Crackers and water, maybe some ginger ale if we feel less stubborn. How long does lil' bean plan to keep you sick for anyways?" 

"That feels nice..." Jungkook mumbles out, relaxing a little. Jimin's soft yet aimless conversations helped keep him distracted, and so were his gentle touches they did a great job in lulling him to sleep. 

Speaking of which, Jungkook is just about to drift into dreamland in the comfort of Jimin's arms when his stomach churns again. He feels a splash of bitter bile in the back of his throat, almost like the residue of sick that was still sitting at his throat from earlier. He almost sits upright, clenching his throat and covering his mouth as he belches. It catches Jimin's attention. 

"Jungkookie, Jungkookie" Jimin says in a haste, cursing under his breath as he looks around for anything Jungkook to spew in without jostling his stomach too much. His eyes drawing back to the younger one in worry when he next hears a wet gag which meant he couldn't hold on any longer now that his hand was leaving his mouth. 

Jimin looks around and finds the glass bowl he had on his side table which Jungkook had brought him months back, he sighs in relief. It was stashed with a bunch of sweets and random bits that he's quickly dumping out. He snags it up and under Jungkook's chin, straightening up with him and clicking his tongue when Jungkook whines and protests. 

"It's okay, Jungkookie it's okay, do it here. In here babe, I'll clean it don't worry. It's just a bowl" He assures softly, lowering it slightly so it wasn't right in his face as he slowly massages the back of his neck. 

Jungkook whimpers, feeling his stomach slosh and his muscles tense as he wraps an arm around his middle. He barely registers Jimin turning the lamp on before he's disgorging a stream of vomit into the bowl. 

He pants and grunts, jolting with a hiccup. His breath gets caught in his throat and he gags, coughing and spluttering before more chunky liquid is brought up which splashes into the bowl. Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, just the fact that it looked so much like his dinner still sent his stomach into another wheel. 

"That's it, let it out Kookie, my sweet boy." Jimin hums, digging under the sick man's shirt and rubbing up and down his arched back. He grimaces when Jungkook retches again, throwing up even more which makes his heart ache.

"You're doing well bun, I'm so proud of you. Keep going until you feel like you've finished" He encourages, kissing his shoulder and pulling him closer before pausing when Jungkook sobs. 

"H-hyung…" Jungkook chokes out, hiccuping as fat tears roll down his rosy and embarrassed cheeks. Usually, he's never one to cry so easily but pregnancy hormones had him spiralling into a pouty and emotional wreckage in a flash. Something was gnawing at him. 

"Jungkookie" Jimin whispers so he didn't startle him, stroking his hair back as he listened. 

"W-why this bowl… I got you it f-for our anniversary!" Jungkook cries out making Jimin flinch, his mouth wide in realisation now that Jungkook's refusal to puke earlier was because he didn't want to do it in such a meaningful, meaningful bowl. He forgot Jungkook was so peculiar about the little things. 

"Y-you could've gotten-" Jungkook hiccups. "A-another bowl o-or the trashcan. I w-worked so hard to get you this. Do you know how much it cost me on our holiday? N-now I've been sick in it i-it's all ruined I fucking h-hate you" He rambles, in the spur of his overriding emotions he misses Jimin's amused expression.

"Cute" He murmurs under his breath with a quiet chuckle, wiping his tears with his sleeve. "I'm sorry. I'll clean it up, squeaky clean and good as new. You won't even remember that you've been sick in it. I'm serious!" Jimin's voice raises a pitch as Jungkook looks at him unconvinced, his doe eyes still holding tears.

"Gimmie a kiss" He giggles, crawling forward while moving the bowl away as Jungkook groans loudly and scrunches his nose and tilts his head back. "A-ah ew no I've literally- Jimin I just puke-" He stammers, pursing his lips as Jimin eventually steals a kiss from him.

His tears were dry now, the fit subsided and it was only laughter and giggles together even if Jungkook's morning was off to a rough start Jimin always made it better. 

[amysteriousmessenger]

have you ever done rfa headcanons with a stressed out mc? because of like deadlines and stuff? cause that's the state I'm in rn and I need comfort ;-;

this is my second time writing this because my laptop deleted it ;-; I hope this is okay and I added V and Saeran because I’m a saeran simp <3 

RFA + Saeran and V with a Stressed Out Reader Headcanons

Yoosung Kim with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Yoosung’s in the exact same camp as you, screaming. He spent the entire semester in front of his PC playing LOLOL and getting bullied by Seven, so now his deadline has creeped up on him. Yoosung absolutely understands the stress of a deadline coming at you fast and not being sure as to whether you can complete it in time.

The best thing that Yoosung can do for you is to do his own work. The two of you spend a straight 48 hours in the library, only taking breaks to go home and sleep and get food. You book out a private room and just mutually get your heads down. 

 Yoosung’s actually really smart, he just doesn’t apply himself. If you’re stuck on anything, he’ll try to help you even if he doesn’t know anything about your course. He’ll also run around the library finding you specific textbooks you need if he needs a walk or if he’s on his way back from getting you both a coffee. 

The life of a student is a hard one, but the two of you just keep reminding each other than you just gotta get through this one deadline and then you can sleep and play to your hearts content once again!

Zen/Hyun Ryu with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

It’s times like this that Zen thinks maybe he should have applied himself more in school, or at least got his qualifications, because he feels a little deflated at the fact that he can’t really help you with your work when you need it. He just looks at your laptop and textbooks and draws a blank. He hates seeing you so stressed, and he hates that he’s useless to help even more.

He figured that, if he can’t help you work, the next best thing would be to help you relax afterwards. He tries to keep out of your way, the best he can, but he gets a little sad and feels neglected, so he’s a bit like a puppy when he can sense you’re close to finishing up for the day.

 Zen thinks a nice, hot bubble bath would help you relax best. He’ll run you one when you close your laptop, leading you to the bathroom where he’s already sprinkled some rose petals and sweetly scented body oils into the steamy water. 

He’ll help you in, and then sit on the side of the bath and give your shoulders a rub, commenting on how they must ache after sitting at your desk for so long. It’s no secret that Zen has ~Magic Fingers~ and he massages away the tension in your neck as you melt into the soothing water. 

He’ll hum and sing little songs to you as he does this, finally happy that he can help you in his own special way. Ignore his comments about stress ageing you quicker, he’s just saying it as a pre-emptive measure rather than implying you have stress lines.

Jaehee Kang with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Jaehee exists in a permanent state of stress, so she entirely understands what it’s like to have to meet deadline after deadline after deadline. If you tell her that you want to sit with her so you can share her concentration and get work done, she’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee. She’s also ready with the eye drops and painkillers for when your eyes get strained, but she’d really rather you not get to the point of needing them. 

Jaehee reminds you that you need to look after yourself, make sure you’re taking breaks and eating enough. She doesn’t want you to follow in her steps of pulling an all-nighter, so she doesn’t disturb you so you can get as much of your work done as possible. If you want her to, she’ll also gently reprimand you when you’re getting distracted or off task. She doesn’t like telling you what you can and can’t do, but she knows it’s going to help you in the long run. 

She’ll aim to get all of her work done at the same time as you, so the two of you can at least have some time to unwind together afterwards. She’ll put your favourite musical (of Zen’s) into the DVD player and you cuddle up with one another in recovery. She’ll also try to pull you in for an early night of sleep since you’ve been staring at a screen all day and doesn’t want you to get a headache. 

Jumin Han with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Jumin never really gets stressed out over anything. In fact, the only things you’ve ever seen him get stressed about are you and Elizabeth the Third. He doesn’t really have the need or see the point in getting stressed over things, especially deadlines. Jumin will absolutely go off on a speech about correct time management and planning before you have to interrupt him and tell him that that’s not the problem. 

Having a Mensa-level IQ, Jumin’s probably already decently knowledge on your area of study, or offers to pay for you to have a tutor. Jumin’s honestly not the best person to be around when you’re stressed by deadlines because he really can’t relate to the panic, he’s too good at being a businessman that he gets everything done on time or, most usually, early. 

You do have to remind Jumin that not everyone can function and organise themselves as well as he can. 

However, it displeases him to see you stressed so he’ll at least try to help with that since you won’t let him help you academically. He’ll share a bottle of wine with you in the evening after you’ve finished for the day to help take your mind off of your deadline for a bit and will plan a small weekend getaway for the week after your assignment due date to reward you for getting your work done in time and to help you relax. He’ll also book you a spa day in one of C&R’s own establishments so he can guarantee you’re getting the best treatment. 

Saeyoung Choi with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

This man lives with more existential fear than anyone. He knows what it’s like to be Stressed TM. Seven’s an absolute genius with an IQ that could rival Jumin’s if he cared enough, so he’s never had to worry about academic worries, even when he was in University. 

If you ask him to, and maybe even if you didn’t, he’d be willing to hack your college or University’s database in order to either get the essay questions in advance so you know what to revise, or just straight up get the answers. He knows what frightening deadlines are like and he doesn’t want to see you suffer.

If you say that you don’t want him to hack your university because that’s, y’know, illegal, he’ll earnestly take a look at your paper and try to help. Seven has such a weird widespread collection of information in his head that he can just straight up tell you the essay or directly get the research essay that best fits your argument online. You said he can’t hack your university database, you didn’t say he can’t hack other databases for information. 

If you passed out asleep at your desk, you’d absolutely wake up to find your work finished and submitted. Seven will deny doing it, claiming that the alien mothership must have taken your laptop and completed your work, but he has a shit-eating grin plasters on his face and he’s oh-so-innocently fluttering his eyelashes. 

Saeran Choi with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Saeran never really went to school, so he doesn’t have much experience with academic work but he picks it up very quickly when it comes to helping you!

He brings you hot chocolate and snacks and gives you a kiss on the side of the head every now and then to spur you on. He’ll also try to help you with reading through documents and essays for important information and anything that might be relevant to your course. From his time at Magenta, he’s very good at skimming through large quantities of work and compiling it into shorter documents so he’s absolutely a great person to have helping you. He has a similar IQ to Seven and is a genius in his own right, but he has to apply himself more to knowing about different topics because he’s never really had the opportunity to, but he’s always very interested to know about what you’re studying!

He’s very good at not disturbing you if you need peace and quiet, so he’ll busy himself with cleaning, cooking or going out in the garden so he can leave you without a distraction whilst occasionally dropping in to see how you’re doing and make sure you’re not getting too stressed out.

When you’re done for the day, Saeran will arrange the time to give you a little comfort evening with movies and a snack to make you feel better and help you unwind. 

Ray would absolutely just do your work for you, if you’d let him. He just wants to please you and see you happy, not swallowed up in stress in the same way that he has to be. He’d go without sleeping or eating if it meant helping you. Of course, you’re not going to let him do that, since you want him to rest properly, but he still wants to help. Ray would send you documents and essays when he’s supposed to be working and then exit the tab whenever anyone walks passed his room so he didn’t get caught. He just wants to ease your burden!

V/Jihyun Kim with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

He’s also incredibly smart, but probably wouldn’t have any major knowledge on what is it that you study but he’d help the best way he can. He’s the kinda person that would encourage you to read through the questions several times before you start answering and to not write anything down until you’re fully sure that you understand the source material and what is being asked of you.

He doesn’t like seeing you stressed and he’s helpful by nature so he’d ask if you needed help, and if you say no, he’ll give you space to get on with your work without interruption. V will make you food and bring your lunch with a coffee when it’s time to eat.

Like Jumin, he’d offer to share a bottle of wine to help you unwind when you’re getting too stressed in the evening, and if you can afford to take a break, he’d encourage you to do something creative like painting with him in his studio in order to take your mind off the analytical stuff. It doesn’t have to be good, it just had to help you relax and vent your frustrations!

V gets stiff shoulders when he’s been in the same position for long periods of time painting or waiting to capture a particular image, so he understands the usefulness of a good back rub and he’ll offer you one to loosen up the pressure in the back of your neck when you’re sitting at your desk. He’ll massage his thumbs into your shoulders and plant a little kiss on your lips when you lean your head back to look at him.

[jimlingss]

The Art of Benefits

➜ Words: 9.8k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut, FWB!AU

➜ Summary: There's only one aspect of your life that's missing: sex. But you know yourself. You catch feelings as quickly as you catch colds. But when your friend arranges a meeting with a certain Park Jimin, you'll become inclined to learn the craft of detachment, aka. the art of benefits.

➜ Warning: sex, sexual discussions, toys, sucking dick, period sex, etc.

cr.

[2nd Year Fall Semester]   Life as a sophomore wasn’t shabby.   Assignments, papers and midterms came and went with decent grades that you eventually forgot about. Lectures, club meetings, and studying took most of your time too. But Christmas was arriving and that meant it was sweater weather. It also meant that snow was dusting from the sky and you were watching couples cozying up and keeping each other warm from across the dining center.   It was unfair really. You were cold too. In fact, most of the time you happen to be cold. And while relationships were too much of a time commitment for you to take on, you deserved a cuddle buddy just as much as the next person. Or a fuck buddy. Either works really.   You’ve never been opposed to a friends with benefits relationship.    The only problem is, it would never work for you.   But if you somehow learnt to detach your emotions, it could be the most efficient thing yet. After all, good sex with another warm body was the only aspect in your life that you were missing.   “I mean it’s possible. A lot of people start friends with benefits relationships on campus,” Wendy says as she stuffs her face with her sub sandwich and muses mid-chew, “There’s actually a lot of candidates to choose from.”   You’re exasperated at her nonchalance. As if it’s as easy as going to the supermarket and picking someone up. “Who?!”    You need someone who would be on the same page as you, with the same priorities, a good sex partner who wouldn’t catch feelings either. But frankly, you don’t know that many people.    “Well, what about that guy from your class that you were crushing on? Didn’t you say he was super smart? Might help you on your assignments too.”   “Namjoon?” You shake your head. “He’s got a girlfriend.”   “Okay. What about that older guy in your board games club?”   “No. Seokjin’s graduating next semester.”   Wendy hums, eyes flickering around the dining hall center as she contemplates. “How about Yoongi? From what you’ve told me, he seems pretty cool.”   You loll your head to one side and stab your sweet and sour chicken. “I’m not going to sleep with someone from work. That sounds like a disaster waiting.”   “Jungkook?”   “That’s weird. We went to the same elementary school together.” You can still remember his bowl cut hair as clear as day, and not to mention, the two of you share a group of friends. If things go downhill, it would be a complete mess. The epitome of inefficiency. Which is counterproductive to your goal.   “Taehyung?” At this point, Wendy’s just listing out random people that you know, but you play along just for amusement.   “Nah. Yena has a crush on him.”   She takes another clean bite of her sandwich. “What about that guy that works at that McDonalds that you find cute. What’s his name? Hugo? Howard?”   “Hoseok,” you correct with a feigned glare that makes her smile. “And that’s a big fat no. He doesn’t even know I exist. What am I supposed to do? Waltz up to him and ask to be fuck buddies?”   She grins. “Well, I mean—”   “It wouldn’t work,” you deadpan before she laughs and in turn, makes you giggle too.   The chatter of the room settles in your ears as background noise. You gaze out the window to the sparkling snow piles that reflect the lampposts soft, white light. The sun has long fallen even though it’s only six p.m. The low lights peeking through the somber clouds covering the horizon does little. You dread the thought of having to venture out into the cold and catch the bus home.   You don’t notice how Wendy’s looking at you while she sips on her water. Not until she hums. “You know what? I know someone I could hook you up with.”   Your brow cocks and the corner of your mouth twitches. “Is he a fuckboy?”   Your long time friend shrugs with a glint in her eyes that makes you unsure if she’s serious or not. Wendy once joked that she had a boyfriend from Northern Canada and convinced you hard enough that you legitimately believed her for a good month. So you can never be quite certain when it comes to her. For all you know, she could just be making it up to entertain you.   “Sort of, but he’s a nice one.” Wendy stays vague. “He was my lab partner.”   You stare at her and when her expression remains blank, you scoff. “Sure, sure,” you draw out the syllables with a small laugh and bat the air with your hand just to end the conversation.   And when it’s never discussed again, Wendy moving on to tell you a story about something she suddenly remembers, you’d one day come to realize that was a terrible, terrible mistake.   //   That one day is now.   3:50pm. Wendy: hey i set up a meeting what that guy 3:50pm. Wendy: third floor library  3:50pm. Wendy: he’s in a red hat btw   The text comes right when you’re leaving your last lecture of the day.   3:51pm. Y/N: what guy   3:53pm. Wendy: your future fwb   3:53pm. Y/N: ?????????????????????????????????/ 3:53pm. Y/N: ???????????????? 3:54pm. Y/N: wtf i wasn’t SERIOUS   3:54pm. Wendy: wat   3:54pm. Y/N: I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING   3:56pm. Wendy: lmao too late 3:56pm. Wendy: at least meet him he’s waiting sis   3:54pm. Y/N: can’t you cancel?????????   3:57pm. Wendy: n a h   You nearly burst an artery in your temple at the emojis and memes she spams to you.   3:59pm. Wendy: I already told him the gist btw 4:00pm. Wendy: don’t chicken out   With no other choice, you make a u-turn and head towards the library with too many thoughts swirling inside your brain. Chances are this stranger is going to see you, think you’re ugly as shit and try to back out of it. It’s going to be awkward as all hell and you’re not sure you’re ready to have this traumatizing memory for the rest of your life.   Then again, you wonder how Wendy even convinced this dude to meet up. If he’s really that easy going. If this is a typical thing people do now. Or maybe Wendy showed a picture of you on your insta and he agreed afterwards — it wouldn’t be the first time she did that, much to your embarrassment. But you hope it’s the latter case. At least that eliminates the possibility of him trying to backpedal his way out of it after seeing your face.   You also wonder how the hell you’re going to find him. The library is full of students, the rowdy ones and the studious ones being disturbed by them. You wonder what he looks like, what he’ll be like. Third floor. Male. Red hat.   You arrive at the appropriate floor and begin scanning the premise, walking around as your eyes sweep the area. Almost immediately you catch a brunette hunched over and on his phone by the table. He’s wearing a red cap on backwards, purple tee shirt. He has a frat boy aesthetic.   Not really the type you go for.   Looking over him, you round the computers, bookshelves and tables. But finding no one else with a red hat on the third floor, you sharply inhale and approach the boy with his fluffy cheek rested in his hand, arm propped up on the table lazily. Scrolling through his phone.   “Excuse me.”    Your voice is light and hesitant as if you were asking help from someone at the front desk and not seeing if this was a potential fuck buddy. It’s mortifying to say the least.   His head lifts, brown eyes catching the lights.   You clear your throat. “Wendy…”   “Oh. You’re her, right?” He smiles and thankfully, doesn’t seem to be disappointed. “Wendy’s friend?”   “Yeah. I’m Y/N.”   “Jimin.”   Now that you get a closer look, he’s kind of cute. But you don’t dwell. Or look him in the eye.   It feels like a job interview. But worse. “You were Wendy’s lab partner?”   “That’s me.” He pockets his phone. “I’m a kines major. You?”   “I’m in the arts faculty. Political science.”   “Cool, cool.” Jimin nods and then gets to business without any shame, “So Wendy already told me about it. You’re looking to have a friends with benefits relationship?”   “Yeah….about that….”   “I’m down if you are.” His hand opens up, gesturing to you. You’re not sure how you feel about how laid-back he is, but he remains upfront which you suppose is the right thing to do. “I have a dorm room in the Sierra building by the engineering faculty building if you know where that is.”   “I’ve walked past it before.”   “Cool. Anyway, my last f.w.b. ended two months ago and I kind of miss it,” he quickly clarifies, “The sex, I mean.”   You’re speechless and contemplating if you really want to do this. You know if it works out, it’ll be fairly efficient. You’ve always gotten off by yourself and while it works, it’s not something you’d call completely satisfying. Having someone’s help— good help — is a change you’ve been considering. But a friends with benefits situation has always been one of those ‘what if’ scenarios. You've just never had an opportunity like this to make it actually happen.   Jimin senses your hesitance and leans forward. He lowers his volume. “Are you a virgin? Cause I’m cool with—”   You scoff. “No. I’m not. I just...haven’t done something like this before.”   “Friends with benefits?” His question is answered by your body language. “It’s not bad. Safer than one night stands and more consistent too. You don’t have to go out and find someone every time you want to have sex. And it’s a low level commitment.”   The corner of your mouth pulls and you agree. “It’s efficient. But...I need time to think about it.”   “Sure. Tell me when you make up your mind. I’ll give you my number.” He opens his hand again and you pass him your phone. He quickly types it in. “Take your time.”   //   And you do.   You weigh the pros and cons against each other, considering every possibility and all the consequences. Part of you wants to just go for it. The same part that once decided in high school at midnight that bangs would be a hot look on you. (It wasn’t). The part of you that dyed your hair blue that one summer on a whim. The part that doesn’t want to think and wants to jump head first into things. Jimin made a lot of good pointers too and you’re certain this would be a good outlet. An experience. It helps that he’s quite attractive too and seems to be trustworthy and rational.   Yet, part of you wonders if it would be a bad decision.   There’s a chance that you might catch feelings. For you, it wouldn’t be unheard of either. You have a tendency to catch feelings as fast as you catch colds. And you already know that’s the demise of these kinds of relationships. Once a party gets involved too deep, it’s game over. There’s nothing but heartbreak.   The only way it would work is if you minimize your interactions with him.   The less attached you are, the less likely you are to develop feelings for him since the only way you would like anyone is if you knew them. So the less you know, the better the outcome.    It’s an equation.    It’s the art of the benefits.   And if that works, if you master the art, it would solve every potential issue.   The dorms for sophomores are bigger than the ones for first year freshmen. Instead of a single room with two beds on either side by the walls, there are private bedrooms with just a shared bathroom, a main living space and kitchen.    “Bathrooms are over here,” Jimin gestures. There’s one room at the end of the hall and another one beside his. “Both my roommates are out, so you don’t have to worry. They’re pretty nice.”   You feel awkward lingering at the entryway with your backpack on.   You clear your throat. “Can I get a drink?”   “Oh yeah. There’s new water bottles by the sink, I think, and there’s orange juice in the fridge if you’d like.”   “No, I mean, do you have anything alcoholic?” you correct and he blinks at you owlishly before smiling. You drop your bag and find it in the fridge, a whole vodka bottle. You fill a shot up with a glass on the drying rack. The clear liquid burns as it travels to the back of your throat. The bitter taste nearly makes you gag, but you feel your face warm and you ease even more, knowing it works.   In the meanwhile, Jimin studies you, standing from across the kitchen island. His hands are casually dug into the pockets of his gray sweats. “We won’t have to follow through with this, you know. I’m fine either way.”   “No,” you quickly refute, irrationally afraid he’s changed his mind. And the words spill out of you as you cringe, “I’m horny as shit, I’mjustnervous.”   The guy smiles, eyes slightly crinkled when he does so. “Of what?”   “A lot of things.” You don’t pour a second shot even though you kind of want to. But you have things to do tomorrow, so you can’t nurse a hangover and you most certainly don’t want to be drunk while doing this. “If you didn’t notice, I don’t do this often.”   While you’re at it, you tell him, “I don’t know how to suck dick.”   He leans against the counter, grinning. “Okay. I don’t mind.”   “Also, if you haven’t noticed either, my ass is kind of deflated.”   Jimin shrugs. “I’m more of a boob man anyway.”    You narrow your eyes, not sure if he’s lying or trying to make you feel better.   But there’s no time to dwell when he seriously asks— “Do you still want to do this?”   It takes a second for you to muster your courage. And once you do, you know you won’t back down. “All right. Let’s do this!” You walk into his room like you’re about to go fight off a monster.   Behind you, Jimin grins and it takes a good moment for him to calm you down.   “Are you okay with kissing?” he asks, door shut and distance closed. He’s intimately close and you nod.   Finally, your brain stops overthinking and you let yourself feel. Jimin’s lips are full and plush, and they’re good against yours. The soft smacking fills his room. The two of you kiss until your lips part and he begins to lick into your mouth, tongue entering without much hesitation.   You fall back onto the mattress, noticing that the bed’s been made sloppily, but better than your own. The pair of you keep kissing and he hovers over you, capturing you against the sheets. Pathetically enough, you already begin to feel your center throbbing and it’s a relief when you both get rid of your clothes.   He doesn’t talk much — doesn’t give much commentary or even dirty talk. But you don’t mind. All you’re offering after all is soft sighs and quiet moans.   Jimin squeezes your breasts and fingers you for a good minute. He’s surprised to see how wet you are, even letting out an ‘oh shit’, but you make no efforts to come up with an excuse. The stretch feels good from his thick fingers, but you bet it’ll feel good around his girthy cock too.   He goes to grab a condom from his drawer, but pauses.   “Do...you want me to eat you out?”   “I’m good,” you politely decline, afraid it might be too intimate. You’re not sure where the lines are drawn, but it’s something you’ll have to gauge while you go. “Do you want me to suck your dick? You might have to teach me though.”   The corner of his mouth tugs. “I’m good too.”   As Jimin rips open the condom package, you turn yourself around and get onto all fours. He doesn’t protest and when he enters you, it feels good enough for you to fall forward into the pillows. His cock is of average size, but he’s girthy and your cunt stretches to accommodate him.   He groans in his throat when you clench — and the sound gets you off, making you squeeze again. Jimin pounds into you, his pelvis hitting the meat of your ass, cock drawing in and out against your tight, warm walls. You do your best to meet his thrusts halfway, jerking your hips back and you stifle your moans with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. The sloppy sounds of slapping and the creaking of his bed makes you glad his roommates are gone. And while the sex is not mind-blowing per se, it’s still good. Enough that you climax once he rubs your clit several times and he unloads into the condom too.   It’s easier than you thought it would be. Not a big deal whatsoever. It took ten minutes in total and it felt good.   It’s just sex — and that’s exactly it. Just sex. The very lesson of the art of benefits.   You pick up your clothes off the floor, slipping them back on. “I gotta get going.”   There’s no snuggling, no cuddling, no pillow talks. And it doesn’t seem like he minds whatsoever.   “‘Kay.” Jimin picks up his phone off his bedside table to check his texts and waves goodbye without even looking at you.   You leave, walking yourself out and humming as you stride down the hall.    You’re glad you went through with it.

[2nd Year Winter Semester]   You run there with your sandwich stuffed in your cheek.   By the time Jimin opens the door, you’re still chewing while panting. It’s a comical sight by the way he smiles at you. You’re already winded before anything’s started. “I hadn’t eaten yet and I needed to get my blood sugar up.”   Jimin’s lips are quirked. “We can always eat beforehand, you know. There’s food in the fridge.”   “Nah, I’m good.” Having meals with your friends with benefits is the last thing on your mind.   He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”   You use his bathroom, releasing your bladder and rinsing your mouth thoroughly. You know yourself and you’re not a novice on how these relationships work. The less interaction and knowledge you have about him, the more you can keep your distance.   “G-God,” he exhales shakingly, hand fisted in your hair. “You’re getting b-better at this….”   Jimin watches through heavy lids as you’re slobbering over his cock. He tries his best to watch, but when you run your tongue over the weeping slit at the bulborous head, his eyes shut and his head naturally knocks back. You’ve gotten better at a lot of things in the few months that have passed, namely sucking dick, but your jaw aches and you wonder when he’s going to cum.   It’s worth it though. You might be the one kneeling in front of him, but you feel powerful. It’s too easy to make him crumble. To make him moan like that. It makes you wet to hear him and knowing you could bite off his dick or make him lose a load, the sheer power eggs you on.   Like you were taught, you inhale, ease your muscles and take Jimin as far as you can.   He chokes as his cock hits the back of your throat. Your gag reflexes threaten your endeavour but you keep them at bay and Jimin’s hand in your hair tightens. Especially when you swallow.   “Fuck. I-I’m going to cum.”   Thank god. Finally!   Usually, you let off so he can cum elsewhere (god forbid in your hair) or if he accidentally does it in your mouth, you spit it out on tissue. But this time, you made a commitment to yourself. You came here with a goal. So you inhale again and deep throat him, sucking as much as you can.   With his curly pubic hair grazing your nose, Jimin cums. His groans staccato. His cock twitches.   And you swallow the bitter, white fluid that comes out in ribbons.   After a few seconds, you finally withdraw. Jimin opens his eyes, staring at you in wonderment. There are strands of saliva from between his softened cock to your lips and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.   “Not gonna lie.” You clear your throat and swallow down the remaining taste. “That’s really nasty.”   Jimin bursts out laughing.   “Thanks.”    “It’s the least I can do.” You stand up, shaking your left leg awake. It feels like pins and needles when you step around. “I’ve sat on your face like twice already.”   You toss Jimin his pants off the ground and you get your cardigan back on.   “You wanna come over on Friday?”   “Uh…” You grab your phone from your jacket that’s also been discarded and check your calendar. “Sorry. Can’t. I’m busy on that day.”   His brows raise, but he doesn’t question it.   “How about Saturday?” you offer.   “No. I have a kines exam scheduled.”   Your face twists in disgust. “On a Saturday?”   “Yep. I know. It sucks.”   You sympathize, but you’re also surprised. “I didn’t know you were a kines major.”   “What? I thought I told you.”   “Guess I forgot.” You put yourself back together and a thought strikes you. Your eyes light up and you turn to your friend with glittering eyes. “Does that mean you can crack bones? I’ve always wanted to go to a chiropractor since my lower back always hurts. You should crack it for me.”   Jimin grins. “Sorry, I don’t know how to do that. They don’t really teach you that kind of stuff.”   “Oh.” Your eyes dim and you don’t try to hide your disappointment. You almost thought you could get a little more out of him, but you suppose decent sex is enough.    As you grab your bag, you notice that his phone lights up. “You got a text from Victoria.”   “Thanks.” He reaches over, but the curious expression on your face must be visible, since he says, “Don’t worry. She’s not my girlfriend or anything. She’s just someone I’m kind of into.”   “Nice!”   The corner of Jimin’s mouth quirks at your genuinely excited response even though he never looks away from the screen. You’re psyched though. If he has an interest in someone else, there’s less chance for anyone to catch feelings. Fewer connections. More distance.   “If you ever want to end this, just let me know.” You throw your backpack on that’s heavy with your laptop and textbooks inside.   “Yeah.”   “I’m going now.”   “Bye.” Jimin’s fingers fly across the screen to text the other girl back and neither of you spare each other a glance. The door shuts moments later and the noise echoes through the walls.

[3rd Year Fall Semester]   In spite of being a junior now, things have relatively remained the same.   According to course outlines, lectures are more in-depth in their content, but there’s still assignments, papers, and midterms. The grading schemes haven’t changed and you know there’s a shit ton of work waiting for you in the coming months. But you find pleasure wherever you can.   The door opens, but it’s not Jimin on the other side.   “Hey, Y/N.” Taemin, his roommate, is eating chips. “He’s in his room.”   “Thanks.”   You shuffle inside and after briefly greeting Jongin, the other roommate, who’s busy playing Animal Crossing on the living room couch, you beeline to his room. You find Jimin hunched over his messy desk, rounded spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he’s tapping furiously across his laptop keyboard.   He glances at you. “Sorry. I need a second.”   “Take your time.”    You set down your bag and shed your coat, tossing it aside. You’re not sure what he’s doing, but you don’t ask. Instead, you pull out your phone and run through your usual apps. With no messages to answer or anything to scroll through, you check your email and find the words ‘emergency’ in one of the subject lines.   After a minute, Jimin saves his document and closes the lid of his laptop. He stretches above his head with a groan and turns around, only to find you now hunched over your own device.   “Sorry,” you mutter once you feel his gaze on you. “My manager needs me to fill out my timesheet and send it to her.”   “I didn’t know you worked.”   “Just part-time at the admissions office here on campus.” You go quiet as you skim over your email again to ensure it makes sense. “It’s a pretty easy gig.”   He hums and you finish, shutting your laptop and sticking it back into your bag. That’s when you finally get a good look at the boy across the room — dark hair, blue shirt and gray sweats — and you notice how tan he’s gotten. It’s a good look.    Your mouth tugs. “Did you travel over the summer?”   “I went to the Caribbean with my family for like two weeks.”   “Fancy.”   “It was alright.” He gets up and re-stacks the textbooks on his desk into a single pile. Jimin notices the stack of flyers he was supposed to distribute. “Oh yeah. Do you want to join the crayon club?”   Your brow lifts. “The crayon club?”   “Yeah, you can come colour every Wednesday night and just hang out with people.” Jimin grins boyishly. “My friend wanted to make a club and he made me the communications executive. I’m supposed to get people to join. You don’t have to, but the first meet and greet is this Friday, and the more people the better. There’s gonna be free food by the way, if that helps.”   You’re not sure that's a good idea.   The two of you have never really met up outside of his dormitory, aside from the first time you met at the library.   “Let me check my calendar.” You grab your phone again and thoughtlessly mumble, “Sometimes I’m busy on Friday. I’m part of the board games club and we meet up every other week…..don’t judge.”   “I’m not.”    Still, Jimin's smile widens and you feign a pout.    You’re free this week.   “I’ll come if you make me an executive too,” you quip carelessly while tossing your phone aside. “It’ll look good on my law application.”   Jimin quirks his head. He didn’t know you were aiming for law school. “Okay.”   “Wait.” You’re taken off guard, eyes as wide as saucers. “Seriously?!”   He with a small laugh. Jimin gets up and closes the distance, making you lean against the headboard until he’s completely hovering over you, mere inches away. “We actually need a position filled anyway, so you just saved me some trouble.”   “You better keep your promise, Park.”   You end up showing with Wendy and Tiffany in tow — the former who wants to raid whatever food there is and the latter genuinely interested in colouring as a means of relaxation. It’s a bit awkward to meet so many new people at once and Jimin’s friends at that, but you can tell they’re nice at heart. Albeit, a bit rambunctious and too friendly. And you’re a bit horrified when one of them tries to eat a crayon to further advertise the club.   “So, what’s up with you and Jimin?” Tiffany asks, peering up at you as she colours in the lines carefully. She’s unaware of your arrangement with the boy. It’s not something you’ve told many.   You feign ignorance, not wanting to get into the details with strangers around. “What do you mean?”   “Are you dating him?”   You scoff. “I wish.”   Immediately, Wendy’s brows raise to her hairline and the words that fumbled out of you thoughtlessly finally sink in. “I mean, no, we’re not. Not I wish.”   Luckily, Tiffany spares you and doesn’t pry. But you’re mortified and you glance at Jimin from across the room laughing noisily with his friend. You turn away from him, trying to create more distance.

[3rd Year Winter Semester]   With exam season here, you and Jimin hadn’t seen each other in a while.   Luckily, Spring break was approaching, so you at least had something to look forward to. The idea of being able to lay in bed and sleep in automatically puts you in a good mood. Jimin, however, seems less than stoked.   You watch from the bed as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up before you’ve gotten a chance to. He was frowning when he opened the door, greeted you with one word and in general, has been quieter than usual.   “Is….everything alright?” You wonder if you did something to piss him off, but then he says—   “I flunked my final.”   Oh. That explains his bad mood.   “The one you took this morning?” you ask.   “Yeah.” Jimin deflates with an extended sigh. “I didn’t get the first twenty questions and then I fucking ran out of time….”   There’s a pause that lingers.   “Well, you’re not sure if you actually failed, right?” You lean closer to him, quirking your head to the side. “The marks haven’t been released and who knows, the prof might curve it.”   “Maybe. I don’t know.” Jimin scrubs a hand over his face, uncertain and stressed. “This ruins everything. I’m trying to get an internship at a clinical rehabilitation facility and I want to apply for a masters and now...fuck.” You’re surprised. You didn’t know he had so many goals. “I’m screwed.”   Jimin flops back onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling. You loom over him, blocking his view.   “Does the internship look at your GPA?”   “They want a three point o average or more.”   “What do you have now?”   “Three point five.”   The corner of your mouth pulls and a rush of air leaves your nose in a snort. “Then you’ll make it! Even if you failed one exam, it wouldn’t tank past a three. It can’t be too bad, right?”   “Yeah, I guess.” Jimin sighs and absentmindedly tugs on your strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face and is grazing against his cheek. “I just don’t know anymore.”   “It’s going to be fine,” you reassure, slapping your hand on his shoulder. “You’re just overthinking it.”   “Maybe,” he hums.   A sudden thought comes across your mind and your small smile turns devious. “Let me make you feel better.”   You shift to straddle his hips and instantly, his hands lift to your waist. Jimin starts to grin as you pull at his shirt, trying to get him to strip. And you do your best to pleasure him.   It doesn’t take much effort considering Jimin’s hand is already tightening in your hair the minute you run your tongue along his shaft. But he doesn’t let you suck him for too long, eager to feel you inside instead and pleasure you just the same.   It’s eager and messy sex. You’re on top until your thighs begin to burn and you lose your pace. Then he re-repositions the both of you, so you’re flat on your back and he’s doing most of the work. You end up cumming twice. Once around his covered cock and the other time after he coaxes you around his stiff tongue and eggs you on, even when you’re sobbing from the overstimulation.   It feels good. Better than good.   Over time, the pair of you have gotten to know each other’s bodies better, what works and what doesn’t.    Your relationship with Jimin is an investment that feels worth it.   “Hey…” You’re both facing away from each other as you put your clothes back on. Jimin turns his head and you cast him a glance. “I was thinking of maybe starting birth control…”   He blinks.   “If you go get yourself checked out and make sure you’re clean, we can do it without condoms.”   You pull down your sweater over your head and you both stare at each other. He looks surprised and responds in a delayed manner, “Okay. Cool. I’m down. I’ll get myself checked out this weekend. I haven’t really slept with anyone else since this started though.”   It’s your turn to be caught off guard. “Really? What...about that girl you were into? Vicky?”   “You mean Victoria?” He jumps as he puts on his sweatpants, getting both legs through at once. “Nah. It didn’t end up working out.”   “Oh.” He’s entirely nonchalant about it, so you merely nod.   Jimin walks you to the door and you notice that he’s in a better mood than earlier. You hide your smile to yourself, glad that it was mutually beneficial.   Two weeks later, he gets an email before the two of you get down and dirty, and you’re the first one in his life to know that he got the summer internship. His excitement is infectious and you genuinely feel happy for him.

[4th Year Fall Semester]   It’s so close, you can taste it.   A whole new semester and cart of overpriced textbooks later meant you were a senior now. It also meant that there was just this year left and you were out of here. Finished at least one degree. A step closer to making the big bucks and being a whole ass adult.   The idea is both exhilarating and frightening.   2:20pm. Jimin: Wanna come over?   The text mocks you, but the temptation is tangible. Like a carrot tied at the end of a stick that’s attached to a hungry rabbit. You’ve been sexually frustrated since last night, feeling it in your loins since morning, and fidgeting and rubbing your thighs underneath tables and desks. The thought of getting that sweet relief properly is enough for you to want to ditch class altogether, but you can’t. Not for the next few days.   2:22pm. Y/N: can’t. 2:22pm. Y/N: I’m on my period :((   2:23pm. Jimin: I don’t mind   2:23pm. Y/N: really???? 2:24pm. Y/N: are you sure   2:25pm. Jimin: lmao 2:25pm. Jimin: yes   You brace through the rest of the lecture, paying more attention as the anticipation swells. And when it’s all over, you race across campus to the dormitory building you’ve become familiar with.   Jimin opens the door before you need to knock and he plants a chaste kiss against your lips in greeting. You’re taken off guard, but don’t pay too much attention to it. “How was class?”   “Good. You?”   “Same,” he hums.   You drop your bag in his room and gesture below your waist. “I’m going to need to wash up. The nether regions are a bit…”   He smiles. “Sure. I got spare towels I can set down too.”   You self-consciously linger for a moment as he goes to his closet to the upper shelf. The towels are luckily green and not white. “I’m surprised you’re okay with it. Having period sex, I mean.”   “Why wouldn’t I be?” Jimin pushes his blanket aside and puts a towel down. “As long as you’re fine with it, then I am too.”   “I don’t know. Doesn’t blood gross you out?”   “Not really? Most of the time I’m the one making the mess, so it’s actually nice to have someone else make the mess for once. Plus sex is sex. What’s there to complain about?” His brow lifts and he looks at you. You scoff and it makes Jimin grin.   You wash yourself up and he fucks you in missionary position on top of the towels. The pair of you have only done so a few times before. Typically, you’re face down, bent over, on all fours or looking away from each other. But the change is welcome. Jimin hovers over you and you can kiss him when you want to.   “F-Fuck.” A pitched moan unintentionally spills from you when he hits a spot at your walls that has your toes curling. “Ji...min.”   It’s more lubricated than usual, making the strokes easier. He goes softer too. Deeper. Jimin presses your thighs to your chest and makes you feel him all the way to your throat.   The boy smiles tenderly at your reaction in spite of panting himself. “Feel good, baby?”   “Y-Yeah.” You nod, eyes shut tight. You grip his forearms when he bottoms out again. “Always does.”   Your warm walls pulse around his thick cock and you end up cumming soon after. He groans into your neck at how you tighten around him like a vice grip and he thrusts into you one more time before his cum fills you.   The pair of you jump in the shower together to get cleaned up and then you’re picking up your clothes while he tosses the towels in the laundry.   “What were you working on, on Thursday?”   You blink, realizing that you texted him vaguely about being swamped and unable to come over, and that’s enough for you to unload and go on a tangent. “God, don’t remind me. It was my fucking thesis. I barely managed to finish it but I don’t even know if it makes sense and now I have to edit like fifty pages by myself before giving it to my supervisor, so that’s fun.”   It feels good to let it off your chest.   Jimin smiles subtly at your venting. “I could always edit it for you.”   “What? Seriously?”   “Sure.” He shrugs. “I’m not in poly sci, but that might make me a bit more unbiased. I’m not doing much these days either.”   “Oh my god.” There’s an overpowering urge to bow at his feet or suck his dick until you’re gagging or do both. “You’re a life-saver!”   Jimin laughs and it’s the sound of angels singing. “Just send it over. I can get it done by tomorrow. You have my email, right?”   “Of course I do. Duh!” Your grin is big enough that your cheeks hurt and he has one that matches it as well.   //   A few weeks fly by and things calm down enough that you can finally breathe. But that’s when you receive a little text from a certain someone that has you skeptical if you can rest easy.   6:48pm. Jimin: I have a surprise for you 6:48pm. Jimin: I forgot about it   You’re not sure what it is, but asking would be like pulling teeth with him. Jimin hates spoilers and he likes surprises all too much.   Lately, you’ve both been getting into some freaky shit. Buying toys, blindfolds, handcuffs. As adventurous as college kids with a limited budget can get. It was rather fun for the pair of you, and expectedly, some experiments work out better than others. It sends goosebumps all over your skin every time he talks dirty. You like it when Jimin spanks you too. Although, you’re still unsure about the whole candle wax on your body idea.   But there’s one thing for sure — Jimin can most definitely not role play for his life.    The whole school girl fantasy lasted a good five minutes before he started bursting into giggles and breaking character every other second. Playing doctor only made you realize how ticklish he was too. And the tickle fight that followed was definitely not something one would call ‘sexy’. Even if it did lead to the deed being done.   “Hey.” Jimin greets you with a grin and a chaste peck against your lips. “How was studying?”   “Fine.” You brush off the question quickly, too curious of what he has in store. “Jimin, I’m not going to use that twelve inch dildo unless you want to drive me to the ER.”   He bursts out laughing. “That’s not it. Good try though.”   Instead of going to his room like you usually do, Jimin leads you past the kitchen area to the table. It’s been cleared off and you give an inquisitive expression. He grins and then gestures to it.    “Lay down.”   “What?”   “Just lay down.” He takes your hand, guiding you on it and you obey wordlessly. It doesn’t seem like any of his roommates are home and you hope they don’t come back any time soon lest they find you lying face down on their dinner table.   You feel Jimin round the table and pull your ankles together. You tilt yourself up to peek at him, but then he barks— “Down.”   With a pout, you return to your position, arms folded underneath your head. You hope he isn’t about to rub spices on you and roast you in his oven like it feels like he’s doing.   You feel the gentle pressure of Jimin’s hands against your spine, his thumbs pressing into your skin and he hums, “Relax. Okay. Breathe in for me.”   An inhale is taken and his hands suddenly press into the middle of your back. You hear your bones crack loudly. It catches you off guard and you turn yourself with wide eyes. “You know how to do it?!”   He boyishly grins. “I might’ve learnt a thing or two during my internship.”   “Keep going, keep going.” You flip yourself over again, gesturing to your back and he laughs, going down your body and cracking your bones. You become butter in his fingertips, lower back feeling better already.   “Lift your leg for me.”   You follow his instructions to a t. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you ask sleepily, lulled by his care. If he massaged you too, you might just cream your pants.   “I got this, I got this,” he reassures with a bit of arrogance. “I’m not a professional, but I know what I’m doing. You trust me, right?”   A noise is made at the back of your throat.   “If you break a bone on accident, I’ll sue you,” you mumble as he turns you over. “God, feels good.”   After a while, Jimin gets you to sit up and continues. He looks nice when he’s concentrating. Expression blank. Lips plump and in a line. Brows only slightly furrowed. “Considering you don’t have any ailments, you don’t need to get your bones cracked often. You should stretch and do some exercise instead.”   You scoff. “Having sex with you is enough exercise.”   To prove your point, you latch onto his arm and tug him towards you. Jimin smiles and the two of you break a sweat against each other on the table before either of his roommates come home.

[4th Year Winter Semester]   It was an invitation that you would’ve called yourself crazy for offering a year ago. But if it wasn’t for him editing your thesis and taking a load off your mind, you would’ve had a harder time.    You had him to thank for that.   “So?” Jimin’s seated across from you at the restaurant booth. It wasn’t surprisingly difficult to ask him to grab a bite with you. For some reason, you thought he would reject. “What’s the big news?”   Instead of answering, you reach into your bag and slide the envelope across the table.   He’s curious and takes it, pulling out the letter to read. You sip on your water, watching his expression intently. He mutters the words and it takes him through the first paragraph before he realizes. Then, at once, Jimin’s eyes widen. His mouth drops and he looks at you proudly.   “You got into law school?”   “Three of them,” you tell with a cheesy grin.    “T-That’s….fucking amazing. Holy fuck.” He reaches over and hugs you. It’s awkward considering there’s a whole table in the way, but you appreciate the sentiment. You’re giddy and giggling at how excited he is. It makes you feel like the first time you opened the letter yourself.   Jimin presses a kiss against your hair before withdrawing. “When did you find out?”   “Two days ago. I really thought I wasn’t going to get in since I got rejection letters last week from the other schools, but then three of them came in rapid succession.”   He shakes his head, still in awe. “Congratulations. Seriously. You deserve it, Y/N. God knows how hard you worked.”   “Thanks.” You smile to yourself, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. “I was thinking of maybe leaving the city to a different uni, but….I’m going to stay with my parents for as long as I can to save up on loans.”   “Yeah, sounds good.” He nods. “Moving out can be expensive.”   “What about you? Have you applied to your masters program yet?”   Jimin laughs. “Actually, I was planning on telling you that today too. I didn’t bring any fancy letter with me though.”   You lean closer, sitting on the edge of your seat. “You got in?”   “I did. Yesterday.” His enormous smile causes your own to expand. “I’m gonna do it part-time while working at the same facility I did my internship at.”   You’re happy for him and you can tell by his expression that he’s genuinely excited for you too. The pair of you were taking steps forward for your future and while it was a little scary, for now, you enjoy the victory and pig out at the restaurant with little restraints.   At the end of the night, you’re both wine drunk when you stumble back to his dorm room and soon, you’re trying to muffle your whimpers with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. It doesn’t help when he presses the humming vibrator to your clit harder.   “J-Jimin,” you sob, fingers twisting into his sheets. You’re slumped against the headboard as he surrounds you.   “Louder,” he commands, watching you through heavy lidded eyes. The cold air of his bedroom made your nipples hardened, yet you feel hot all over, under his gaze and ruthlessness.    Your hand curls around his wrist. “Your roommates are sleep—” You cry and keen against his chest when he plunges the toy into your swollen cunt that’s leaking down your ass and thighs.   “It’s okay,” he murmurs in a low voice against your ear, “Let it go.”   You feel the toy nudge against your cervix, the vibrations trembling through your body and you orgasm hard with your forehead pressed against Jimin’s shoulder. Even then, he continues to draw it in and out of you, studying how you’ve creamed around the vibrator, how your slick is dripping to his sheets that are already stained with the scent of your shampoo.   “J-Jimin,” you whine loudly, not knowing if you’re trying to lean away from his touch or closer. “T-...too m-much!”   “You can take it,” Jimin softly coaxes and you nod.    You cum again after a minute and he immediately kisses you with a big smile before peppering pecks down to your neck. It makes you feel ticklish and winded.   “Hey...Jimin…”   “Hmm?”   “Are we still gonna do this after we graduate?” you ask in a quiet voice, laying back in the ruined sheets. “I’m gonna be busy and you are too.”   “We’ll figure it out.” He flops beside you and you both face each other. Jimin’s arm is draped over your waist and you stare at one another for a moment before he closes the distance.   Jimin nudges you for a languid kiss, your noses brushing as his soft, plush lips press against yours. It’s unhurried. Slow. He urges your mouth to part for him and his tongue slips in as you whimper, giving you a chance to properly taste him.   Sloppy, wet noises fill the room while heat rises to your cheeks. But you’re unbothered while swapping spit with Park Jimin. It’s lazy, yet it feels good. So much so that you’ve relaxed entirely.   In the back of your mind, you know you should get up and put some clothes on. Any cuddling or post-sex touching has largely been unprecedented before this and it’s not good to make habits you’ll have to eventually break. You should get your sweater off the floor, or at least slip on his purple t-shirt….   But you give into the temptation and shut your eyes for one second. One mere second.    That’s enough for you to doze off.   When Jimin realizes you’ve accidentally fallen asleep, he smiles to himself and tugs the blankets up to your shoulders, securing you in warmly.   //   You stifle another yawn with your hand.    It’s 9:30 in the goddamn morning and way too early for you. There’s a reason you pick afternoon classes, go to work afterwards and then go see Jimin to end your day off. There’s no situation good enough that warrants your alarm blaring before eight — but you suppose a graduation ceremony could be an exception.   “There’s so many people,” your dad gasps in wonderment, looking around the vast hall. “Do you know them all?”   “No.” You hold in your sigh. “I don’t.”   For the past twenty minutes, you’ve been running around looking for your parents after they’ve wandered off and gotten lost. If they weren’t spamming their cameras on their phone and telling you to smile in front of the odd statue or the meaningless bulletin board that wasn’t even part of your faculty, it was calling your name as loud as they could to find you in the crowds.   You’re happy over their enthusiasm but also burdened. It’s a lot of mixed feelings.   “Y/N?”   Dark hair and brown eyes — a certain someone who you weren’t expecting to run into is staring right at you with a boyish smile. “Jimin?” He looks good, a suit underneath and a black graduation gown over it that falls to his calf. His gown has a golden hood and tassel while yours is white — the colours symbolizing your different faculties and areas of study.    “Hey.” His gaze is warm. “You look nice.”   “Thanks. You too.”   You don’t linger on him for long, not when his parents are right by his side. You divert your vision and greet them politely. Jimin surprisingly looks a lot like his dad and his mom has a kind face. They seem like sweet people and you’re suddenly breaking into a sweat. “Nice to meet you.”   Your own parents make themselves known and you feel like your worlds are colliding as they shake hands and exchange names, congratulating each other on their child’s graduation.   You’re about to get them moving along when your mom nudges you. “Is this your boyfriend?”   Her voice is way too loud and you feel yourself burn in embarrassment.    “No. He’s just a friend,” you whisper it sharply but much your dismay, they look unconvinced.   You miss the way Jimin smiles to himself.   “We should get a picture!” his dad declares and your own dad looks even more elated at the idea of spamming more pictures. You already had to delete a hundred blurry ones, but your mom ignores your groan and pushes you both towards some weird artwork on the wall.   “Stand over here! Over here! Smile!”   Your parents end up sitting next to each other on the rows and you have no words, forced to sit at the bottom with the rest of your graduating class. It’s a wonder that the Arts Faculty was scheduled right before the Faculty of Kines. Fate or coincidence, you’re not sure yet.   But it’s still nice to see Jimin walk the stage and be able to cheer for him.   “Congratulations, Mr. Park.”   He grins. “Congratulations to you too, Miss L/N.”   It’s certain that the numerous celebrations with family, friends and relatives will be chaotic, so you take advantage of the opportunity while you still can. You steal just a little moment for your selfish desires by standing outside before you’re both bombarded by your circle of people.   “You know, I couldn’t have done it without you.”   “Oh, stop it with the sappiness.” You can’t feign a roll of your eyes when your smile is so big.   He swings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close and laughing. “Why? Don’t like it?” And the little shit slyly leans in to whisper, “You like it when I call you my baby though.”   “Jimin!”   He laughs and you sigh with a smile.   You’re glad you ran into him.

[Post-Graduation]   You open the door, welcoming yourself in.   “Hey.”   Jimin’s on the couch and glances at you, unfazed at how you’ve waltzed right into his apartment with little warning. You’ve always knocked out of courtesy for his roommates, but ever since he moved out of the dormitories, you find little need to make him walk all the way to the door.   He’s watching a thriller and you flop down on his couch, leaning over to plant a quick peck against his mouth as a greeting. “How was work?”   “It was okay. A bit busy. I met this nice old lady and we chatted for a bit. She called me handsome, so there’s that.” He grins and you scoff lightly, leaning your cheek on his shoulder as you watch the main character venture into an abandoned house on screen. Jimin loves his praises, so you’re not wholly surprised he’s kept a mental note of it.    You’re not sure why it’s important though. Anyone with eyes would agree he’s good-looking.   “How was class?”   “Awful,” you mumble, feeling tired against him. You came over to get rid of some sexual frustration, but you’re not even sure you have the energy to do anything anymore. “Commuting was brutal this morning. Traffic was backed up on the highway and I was late, and yesterday I had to drive back at night. My parents are driving me nuts too. I can’t study properly.”   Jimin hums a soothing note and slings an arm at the back of the couch where you’re sitting, letting you lean into him. It goes quiet as the two of you watch the suspenseful scene and then he absentmindedly pipes up after a minute, “You could always move in with me.”   He continues, “It’s closer to the university and it’s quiet during the day, so you can study. We could always study together too.”   It’s a good idea, but— “I can’t afford that.”   “I don’t mind paying rent for a while. It’s the same either way.”   It takes a second for the words sink in and then you’re peeling yourself off of him.   Your gaze is met with Jimin’s, eyes locking into one another and the movie is left in the background. “As roommates?”   He shrugs. “There’s only one bedroom, but sure.”   A studio apartment. One bed shared. Two people.   Watching movies. Having sex. Eating together.   It doesn’t sound bad to you whatsoever, but you contemplate it. It swirls around inside your head and you murmur, “Isn’t that breaking the rules of being friends with benefits?”   And you don't know why but Wendy’s words from the other day are echoing inside the caverns of your brain at the worst moment. “You know, your relationship with Jimin isn’t exactly normal.” You weren’t sure what she meant and you still don’t know. Not when she had advertised and encouraged this kind of arrangement all those years ago. When she had told you many people got involved in each other like this.   But you’re starting to wonder if something is off.   Did you do something wrong? Did your relationship with Jimin spiral out of control? But everything feels normal.   After three years, you’d think you would’ve mastered the art of benefits by now.   You sigh, getting a headache. Yet, Jimin merely shrugs.    As if the definitions and boundaries don’t bother him whatsoever.    “Is it?”   “Kind of. I mean, living together, being mutually exclusive. It almost sounds like….”   “Like what?” His brows lift. “Like we’re dating?”   You feel hot in your face, skin toasted like a furnace. Maybe you’re being delusional or silly. Maybe he’s going to laugh at you. “This is what couples who are going to get engaged do.”   “Maybe we should date then…?” The pitch of Jimin’s voice raises at the end, not necessarily a question but neither a statement. It’s questionable like he’s unsure how you feel. Like he’s playing a guessing game. And then he smiles at your shocked expression.   Jimin turns to face you fully. His gaze is heavy, earnest. “Maybe we should date.”   This time, it’s repeated as an assertion.   Confident. Unwavering. Sincere.   Jimin leans in to kiss you as if he can’t resist anymore. It’s tender, taking you off guard and you lean into him, finally allowing yourself to become surrounded by him. Mind. Body. And soul.   When the two of you pull away, he smiles while catching his breath. “I-I’m down if you are. This apartment can be yours and you can study here and sleep here and whatever. We can eat together and I’ll buy you take out or cook. It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’m cool with anything. We can keep being friends with benefits, if that’s what you want….so…......what do you want?”   You exhale lightly, feeling warm. “This...is a lot.”   “Is it?” Instantly, Jimin appears panicked and you hold back a laugh. “We’ve technically been together for three years and...what we’ve been doing recently is basically dating. In my opinion.”   “Did Wendy put you up to this?”   “No.” He shakes his head. “Frankly, the person I talk to most these days is you. And I like it that way.”   God, you hate him.    You pull Jimin in for another kiss, an aggressive and eager one. Enough that you can feel the heat off of his own face. You move to straddle his thighs and when you break apart, you muster a glare at him. “You know, I’ve been trying so hard not to catch feelings. You’re ruining all my efforts, you know that, Park?”   He grins. “Is this a yes?”   “It is.” This time, he’s the one to kiss you, sealing your lips together as he smiles against your mouth and squeezes giggles out of you. Even if he doesn’t say it, even if he’s saving it for another day, you know from his tender touches that he loves you. And it’s mutual.   No longer do you need to worry — leave right after the deed is done or be panicked when you’ve accidentally fallen asleep in his bed. You’re unashamed when he kisses you harder as a greeting, when he holds your hand, when you go out together. You can have pillow talks without needing to guard yourself, cuddle him, call him yours.   And when Christmas arrives, meaning sweater weather and snow dusting from the sky, you have someone to keep you warm. Someone who you can come back to and call your home.

[yandere-daydreams]

Kinktober - Day Eleven

Prompt: Office Desk

Pairing: Kuroo/Reader (Haikyuu!!)

TW: Non-Consensual Touching, Abuse of Power, Implied Financial Manipulation, Sexual Harassments, Delusional Mindsets, and Dehumanization.

It wasn’t even his desk.

Kuroo didn’t have one, technically. He had a dedicated conference room, three different phone numbers, and business cards he found a reason to hand out so often, you’d learned to put in a request for replacements every other week whether or not he asked, but he didn’t have a desk, he just wasn’t on-site enough for there to be a need. You had one, though. As his personal assistant, you had your own office, something you never would’ve dreamed of when you first signed up for an internship under the Volleyball Association. It’d seemed like a miracle when he first showed off your new territory, and you thanked him so profusely and so wholeheartedly, you were almost scared he’d revoke the privilage just to calm you down. For a few weeks, you’d loved it. For a few weeks, it made you feel like you belonged with your infinitely more qualified coworkers. For a few weeks, it made you feel like you were an actual professional.

Now, it just made you feel like a trophy, one who’d been more than happy to lock itself into a gilded case.

You find yourself wishing you hadn’t put so much effort into decorating, a lot of the time. It might’ve made it easier to let Kuroo bury his face in the crook of his neck if you didn’t find your attention drifting to the painting you’d hung on the closest wall, just over his shoulder, from your current perspective. If you’d never brought in a succulent, short and round with needles that were softer than they were sharp, it might not hurt so much to hear the ceramic pot hit the floor and shatter as he shoved it to the side, your skin stifling soft curses as dirt and shards of clay spilled over the carpeted floor. You might not feel so filthy, if you hadn’t thought to bring in a framed picture of your family, all smiling faces and bright expressions and prying, unblinking eyes that burnt holes in your back as his fingers brushed against your thigh, as his teeth brushed against your shoulder, as he touched you in a way that was anything but appropriate for the workplace you thought you could grow to love. The workplace you really, really wanted to love. The workplace Kuroo had laughed at, crumpled, and ripped to shreds the moment his hand dipped to your lower back and he admitted you’d be doing more than just making spreadsheets and scheduling appointments.

He’d just come back from one of his frequent business trips earlier that afternoon, and it showed. You should’ve made and excuse the moment he called you from the airport, the moment he told you he’d be stopping by the office to finish some post-contract paperwork, and you should’ve screamed when he took you by the wrist and asked you to stay for just a few minutes longer than the rest of the staff, for just long enough for you and him to have the floor to yourselves. You’d just nodded, though, agreed and let him drag you onto your desktop, posed like a perfect, complacent, obedient doll as he took you by the hips and forced his tongue down your throat. You could only consider yourself lucky he’d gotten bored of your mouth quickly, and his lips were on your neck, now, biting and sucking until he knew he would leave marks.

The receptionist would probably ask you about it tomorrow, and you’d laugh and say your date last night had gotten a little intense. It’d be a lie, but at this point, telling the truth sounded more implausible than any amount of fictional one-night stands and nonexistent boyfriends ever could.

You wished he wouldn’t talk, you really wished he wouldn’t talk, but Kuroo had never been very good at keeping quiet. “A week.” He was muttering, mumbling, talking to himself and only barely bothering to process the idea that you might hear him. You couldn’t blame him, honestly. You tried not to talk when Kuroo got like this, and he liked to fill the silence. He didn’t seem to care whether or not you were listening. “Those fuckers kept me away from you for a week. I couldn’t think about a damn thing,” He chuckled, shaking his head. You couldn’t see him, but you felt his grin as it pressed against your shoulder, Kuroo eager to get you as close as possible and trap you there, until he was forced to let go. “Almost fumbled the deal ‘cause I was so desperate to get back. I thought I was losing my mind, for a second there.”

“You could’ve called.” It was a weak attempt to placate him. You were thankful for every hour he was gone, for every minute you could concentrate on your work rather than the needs and urges of your boss, but you might be able to tolerate more exposure to him, if it just meant he was a little less touchy when you saw him in-person. “It’s not like I have anything better to do, when you’re not here.”

He pulled away, at that, just long enough to send you a playful smile and bring up one of his hands, nimble fingers soon toying with the buttons of your shirt, undoing them with all the grace and all the speed of someone who had far too much experience. You didn’t bother trying to stop him. Last time you did, he’d left a ring of bruises around your wrists, and your back had ached for days, afterwards - hell, he’d even threatened to cut your pay for ‘insubordination’. If you resisted, it meant he got to be rough with you. And if he was rough, he wouldn’t stop being rough until he knew you were too beaten-down to make the same mistake twice.

“Missed me that much, huh?” You didn’t deny it or indulge him, but Kuroo was already moving on, tugging on your sleeve and letting crisp, white fabric wrinkle and pool, exposing the top of your chest. Your fists tightened as he kissed over the area above your collarbone, your nails biting into your palms as his teeth sunk into tender flesh, harsh enough to draw specks of blood. There was a moment to let the indents set, a second of searing, burning pain, then Kuroo withdrew, looking over his work with a satisfied huff. “You shouldn’t say things like that, baby. Every time you do, I think about how sweet it’d be to bring you home.”

There it was, the ever-looming threat, the worse alternative - he was going to bring you home. He’d told you about the life he wanted countless times, ranting about how nice it would be to have someone to keep his bed warm, about how he’d always like the idea of a stay-at-home partner, about how cute you’d look in an apron and little else. Spending a third of your day dealing with Kuroo was bad enough. You couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t let him monopolize your personal life, too. “I like having a job,” You managed, hastily, straightening your back and forcing yourself to take him by the shoulders. “I’ve never been very good at cooking and cleaning, I’m a lot better with--”

“You’re a lot better at keeping your dirty mouth shut.” Instantly, you fell silent, and Kuroo hummed contentedly. “I know you can learn, (Y/n). You’re so smart, and resourceful, and beautiful - that’s why I hired you.” You winced at the admission, but he didn’t seem to notice. The only hint that he acknowledged your disappointment came in the form of a fleeting peck to the corner of your jaw, an arm snaking around your waist and pulling you towards him, until your chest was flush with his. “You know how to do what's best for yourself, and I know what’s best for you. My pretty little secretary is never gonna work for anyone else. I’m the only one you whore yourself out to, right now, and I’ll be the only person who gets to see your face everyday, nobody else can.” He paused, but he didn’t hesitate. His tone was arrogant, when he continued, confident. As if there was no doubt in his mind you couldn’t take care of yourself, not on your own. “Nobody else deserves to, besides me.”

You weren’t a secretary, you were an assistant. It was a small distinction, and aside from the name, there was virtually no difference, but it nagged you, eating away at something in the back of your mind until you had to say something. You almost corrected him. You tried to, but as soon as you moved to speak, there was a shove, a push that left you lying on your back and made your desk shake under the force. A jar of pens tipped over, a stapler toppled onto its side, and something made of glass fell over and cracked, loudly. Your picture frame. It had to be your picture frame, you were sure of it.

For some reason, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be replacing it.

[dcnatural]

Soaking Wet

Word Count: 2189

Pairing: John Constantine x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: During a storm in London, you find cover in your ex-boyfriend’s apartment.

There were many things you loved about London, but the weather was definitely not one of them. There had been no sign of rain when you left your hotel room for an evening stroll, the sun shone brightly on the clear sky. Then, almost by magic, the clouds turned gray, the wind began to hurl, and a heavy rain started pouring down.

Puddles of water splashed under your feet as you ran through the streets desperate to find shelter. The icy rain pricked your skin like projectiles, the strong winds blowing it at fast speeds. Strands of wet hair clung together in front of your face, blocking your vision and no matter how many times you tried to tuck them behind your ear, they fell off again.

Being mostly a residential area, there were no stores for you to seek shelter in and the open sidewalks offered no protection. By the time you finally found cover under the awning of a four-storey brick building, even your socks were drenched. Although the draped fabric prevented the water from falling directly above you, it did nothing to shield you from the gusts of wind and the droplets of rain it brought along. 

You hugged your coat tightly around your body in an attempt to keep yourself warm. You hadn’t dressed for the weather, your clothes weren’t thick enough to act as an efficient barrier from the cold. Not even your cardigan seemed to do anything against the rapidly dropping temperature. 

You considered walking into the building instead of simply hiding in front of it. The wooden door, however, was locked and without a key, you found yourself stuck where you were. Your battery had run out and, as such, you couldn’t even call yourself an Uber.

When you first heard his voice calling your name, you assumed that you had simply drifted off and were dreaming - no, if he was in it, then it must be a nightmare. But then he called again, each syllable coated heavily in his british accent, and you are pulled out of your musings.

Water beads clung to your eyelashes blurring your vision and you had to squint to see better, but there was no denying that it was actually him. His dirty blond hair was a disheveled mess on top of his head and his trademark trench coat flowed ever-so-gently behind him. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, which were slightly curled into a smirk. 

“John Constantine,” you replied in a mist of distrust and awe. It had been so long since your mouth had last formed those words that your muscles seemed to fight against it, as if trying to remind you what had happened the last time you did so.

He took a drag of his cigarette and puffed out, encircling the two of you in a grayish smoke and you coughed. “That’s me, luv.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he stated, grabbing a pair of keys from his pockets and rattling them in front of you, the tiny metal pieces clinking against one another. 

Your mouth opened in a silent “oh”. Of course that, out of all the apartment buildings in London, you would end up stranded underneath his. The wind picked up and a chilling breeze blew across you, causing you to shiver.

“How ‘bout you?” he continued, “Are you stalking me? ‘Cause it would have been easier if you just called.”

You roll your eyes at his insinuation. “Oh please, as if I’d want anything to do with you again. I was just walking and got lost. And then this damned storm started.” As if prompted by your words, a lightning struck the sky, followed closely by the deafening sound of a thunder and you jolted in surprise.

Constantine chuckled and you furrowed your brows. “It’s not funny!” you groaned. “It’s freezing out here and I’m soaking wet!”

He raised an eyebrow but before he could make a sound, you were at it again. “Don’t even start. You know what I meant.”

“I don’t think I do, luv. Why don’t you show me how wet you are?”

You couldn’t believe his audacity. Making jokes and flirting when the last time you spoke to him he had acted like a complete bastard. Not to mention that you were clearly in distress. “Fuck. Off.” you replied harshly, crossing your arms and turning away from him.

“I can’t leave you out here to freeze to death, it would weigh heavy on my conscience.”

“Since when do you have one?” you bickered. 

“Do you wanna come inside or not?" he continued as if he hadn't heard your interruption. "I have some beers in the freezer and we could catch up while waiting for the storm to die out.”

You should’ve said no. But the cold was just too harsh and you could feel your toes going numb. Letting out a small sigh, you nodded. 

"Fine. But that doesn't mean I forgive you or anything like that."

"Noted," he said, his smile widening a bit. You bit your lip to keep yourself from saying something nasty about him. There was a huge list of unflattering adjectives you could call him, all of which would be true.

He unlocked the entrance and you rushed inside, immediately feeling better now that you were out of the wind's reach. John tried to make small talk as the two of you climbed the stairs up to his floor but you ignored his questions, dismissing most of them with a nod or a wave of hand.

His apartment wasn't the mess you expected. The small living room was tidy, there were no dishes on the kitchen sink and the floor wasn't littered with cigarette butts. It even smelled nice: lavender and blueberries, reminiscing of a warm summer day in the countryside.

You removed your muddy shoes and went inside. He turned on the heater and went to get the promised beers from the fridge. You sat on the carpet in front of the radiator and enjoyed the warmth. Constantine handed you an open bottle and you took it, shallowing half of it in one go, not minding the bitter taste. 

Despite the heat, you were still pretty much chilled to the bone, your damp clothes preventing you from fully warming up. You coughed and shifted uncomfortably, hoping he didn’t notice your discomfort. Nor the increasingly damp patch that was forming underneath you in the carpet.

"You should take off your clothes", John suggested casually as he studied you.

You almost choked on your drink. "Excuse me?"

"You are dripping everywhere", he took the now empty bottle from your hand, "and they say that you should never stay in wet clothes when trying to warm up. Do you wanna take a warm shower? I can lend you something to wear."

You squinted. You simply weren’t used to him being this… kind? Prestative? You didn’t even know what to call it. And once more, instead of declining his offer like any sane human being, you said yes.

He led you down the hallway to his bedroom, with its walls covered in posters of classic punk rock bands and sorcery books scattered around the floor, and to the annexed bathroom. 

“I’ll leave a change of clothes on the bed for you,” he said before closing the bathroom door. 

You locked the door, checking twice to ensure it couldn’t be open, and waited until you heard him move to the hallway before undressing. The shower was hot and you welcomed the scalding water, letting it run down your body and wash the cold away. You tried not to think of how his soap smelled like him - citric and earthy; as long as you had known John, he had always used the exact same brand of soap - and how you would smell like him afterwards.

Despite that, you couldn’t deny that it was pleasant to have a shower, and when you were done, you already felt better. Careful to keep your back to the door, just in case his intentions were less chivalrous than he was letting out, you picked the white button-up shirt he had separated for you and got dressed. It was clearly an old, worn-out piece and you could see the markings of cigarette burns and of the places where the fabric had been thorn in combat and had been sewn back together. The garment was too big for your lithe frame, the hem hung just above your knees and the sleeves covered completely your hands, forcing you to roll them up in order to use your hands. He had left a pair of black pants but, given your lack of underwear, you chose not to put them on, the shirt did more than enough to cover your private parts. You pulled your hair in a loose bun to get the wet strands out of your neck and, after a quick glance at the mirror to ensure you were decent, walked back to the living room.

Constantine was slouched on the couch, watching television with a bottle of whiskey in hand. He smiled as you crossed the doorway and his gaze drifted over your body, lingering just a second too long on your cleavage and making you blush. He scooted to the end of the couch and patted the empty space besides him and, seeing no harm in it, you slumped against the cushions.

“Feeling better?”, he asked, passing the bottle to you, which you gladly took.

“I hate to say it, but you were right, everything feels better after a shower.”

On the screen, a man jumped from a helicopter while bombs exploded in the background, and despite not having seen the beginning of the movie, and although you weren’t exactly paying attention, you soon got the hang of the plot. Indeed, John’s presence on your side was quite disconcerting, and throughout the movie, as the bottle emptied out, you found yourself inching closer and closer to him, until your legs were touching.

As the action came to a climax and the hero saved his beloved, you felt Constantine’s hand sliding over your leg, fingers drawing little circles on your skin that sent goosebumps to your core.

“John,” you mumbled, leaning into his touch and sighing as he ventured further upward and his calloused fingers grazed your inner thigh.

“That’s right, luv, say my name,” his words were soft as he whispered them into your ear.

You shook your head. “No, we can’t.” You tried to shove him off, but didn’t put any real strength in it. You knew it was wrong, but his touch was just so good, and it felt so right.

Ignoring your plea, his free hand began to open the buttons of the shirt to expose your breasts. “Can’t or won’t ?”

You lost any ability to form cohesive sentences when his lips closed around your peaked nipple, nibbling at the raised nub. His tongue swirled over your breast and you found yourself gripping tightly at his dirty blond hair to keep him from pulling away.

While he continued to place kisses on your chest, his other hand slipped between your thighs, fingers dangerously close to your already dripping folds. He teased you, scraping his nails where he knew your skin to be the most sensitive until you were squirming under him, basically begging him to give you the relief you craved.

He detached his mouth from your body with an audible pop. “Tell me, still think we can’t?”

You rolled your eyes. “You win. Just-” Your sentence was cut short as he abruptly kissed you and, wrapping an arm around your waist, picked you up from the couch and carried your body to the bedroom.

You giggled as he laid you onto the bed, legs wide open and back propped up against pillows. His eyes were locked with yours as he spread your lower lips apart and dragged his tongue lazily over your entrance. Your hips jerked forward when he made contact with your clit and you moaned as he began to flick his tongue against it. He knew how to get you all worked up, kissing, biting and sucking on the right places to send your mind into heaven. Or perhaps hell.

Praises and profanities rolled out of your tongue as the pleasure built inside of you. Your nails scratched his shoulders leaving red trails of blood behind, urging him to continue. Dark spots formed on your vision as you reached your peak, back arching over the mattress and a lewd scream leaving your mouth.

He laid on your side, a wide grin plastered on his face. “It’s still storming outside, perhaps it would be better for you to spend the night. Just to be safe, you know,” he added with a mischievous wink.

“Shut up,” you replied, leaning over to kiss him, the taste of you still on his lips. “Just tonight. And only because it is freezing out there.”

He nodded half-heartedly and draped an arm around you, pulling you against him. “Sure. Someone has got to keep you warm.”