#'sorry I have to sideline the project that I wanted to do for you' 'oh it's okay I can wait!'

[catcatb0y]

"Sorry for disappointing you" is such a slippery sentence sometimes and I get that the gut reaction is 'You didn't disappoint me', but what if I wanted you to be a little disappointed?

[aughby]

It was a brisk autumn afternoon in Milan, the kind of day where the sun filters through the golden leaves and everything seems to glow. I had just wrapped up a meeting for my new fashion line and was wandering the cobblestone streets, searching for inspiration. My head was buzzing with excitement, as this was my first solo project. A sense of adventure fluttered in my chest as I mentally pieced together the kind of brand I wanted to build.

And then, I saw him.

Walking down Via Montenapoleone, surrounded by towering designer storefronts, was a man who looked like he had just stepped out of a dream. Tall, lean, yet powerfully built. His dark hair was tousled in a way that seemed both effortless and deliberate. His expression? Cold, stoic, like nothing in the world could faze him. He had this quiet intensity, an aura that turned heads as he passed by, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

I couldn’t help but stare.

I knew immediately who he was—Yuki Ishikawa, the star volleyball player. But in that moment, all I could think about was how perfect he would be as the face of my new fashion line. His presence was magnetic, and I just knew he was the one. A quick Google search on my phone confirmed that he was in Milan playing volleyball for his team, but none of that mattered right then. I had to get him to model for me.

Without hesitation, I rushed after him.

"Yuki! Yuki Ishikawa!" I called out, my voice bright with enthusiasm.

He slowed his pace but didn’t fully stop, glancing back at me with those intense, dark eyes. His expression didn’t change, remaining as unreadable as a stone sculpture.

"Hi, I’m sorry to bother you," I said, slightly breathless from the quick chase. "But I couldn’t help but notice you, and I have to say, you’ve got this incredible look. I’m starting my own fashion line, and you’d be perfect as my first model! What do you think?"

For a second, I thought I saw something flicker in his gaze, but then he shook his head—once, sharply.

"I’m not interested," he said in a low, calm voice. "I’m focused on volleyball. Not modeling."

"Oh, come on!" I said, flashing him my brightest, most persuasive smile. "Just think about it! You’ve got that whole mysterious, strong, silent type thing going. You’d look amazing in my designs, trust me!"

He looked at me with the faintest hint of annoyance. "No."

And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, rejected but strangely even more determined. Most people would’ve taken that as a hard 'no,' but not me. Oh no. If anything, his coldness only intrigued me more.

Over the next few weeks, I found myself watching every volleyball game he played, captivated by his skill and his unwavering focus. He was even more impressive on the court—quick, strategic, a natural leader despite that stoic exterior. I started showing up to games, and every time I saw him, I’d try again.

"Yuki! Hey! Have you thought about my offer?" I'd ask, trying to catch his attention in between games.

He’d always give me the same blank expression, the same brief, "No."

But I wasn’t the type to give up easily. Slowly, as I watched him play, something shifted inside me. I wasn’t just trying to get him to model anymore—I was starting to admire him. The way he carried himself, his discipline, his dedication. His coldness wasn’t arrogance; it was focus, a singular drive that pushed him to be the best on the court.

After one particularly intense game, I found him alone, cooling down on the sidelines. I approached him, this time more quietly, my usual bubbly energy a little more subdued.

"You were amazing out there," I said, genuinely in awe. "I see why volleyball is so important to you."

He glanced at me, sweat still dripping down his forehead, but didn’t respond.

"I won’t bother you about the modeling thing anymore," I added, surprising even myself with the words. "I get it now. Volleyball comes first."

For the first time, I thought I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—respect? Curiosity? Whatever it was, it made my heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

I smiled, feeling like I’d finally reached some small part of him. And yet, as I walked away, I realized something else. I didn’t just want him for my fashion line anymore. Somewhere along the way, I had started to fall for him. His cold exterior had melted in my mind, revealing a depth and passion that I hadn’t expected.

It wasn’t just about making him my model now. I wanted more. I wanted to be a part of his world, the same way he had become a part of mine without even trying.

Days turned into weeks, and my fascination with Yuki Ishikawa only grew. I attended his games religiously, sitting in the same spot near the front row, and I was always the loudest fan. I knew I probably looked ridiculous, jumping up and down, waving, and shouting his name like a fangirl. But I didn’t care. There was something about him that drew me in, something that went beyond his cold, unreachable persona.

I tried to respect his space, but I couldn’t help myself. Every time he played, my heart raced as I watched him move across the court with such precision and power. He was always so focused, so composed, and despite the intensity of the game, his expression rarely changed. But there were moments—small, fleeting moments—where I thought I caught a glimpse of something more. A brief, silent acknowledgment of my presence in the crowd.

I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but every time our eyes met, even for a split second, I felt like I was making progress.

One day, after a particularly intense match, I saw him walking out of the stadium. He was alone, as usual, his bag slung over his shoulder, his hair damp from the shower. I ran up to him, my usual bubbly energy impossible to contain.

"Yuki!" I called out, jogging to keep up with his long strides.

He glanced at me, his expression the same calm, detached look I had come to expect.

"Great game today! You were incredible!" I beamed, feeling a bit like a puppy wagging its tail in front of him.

"Thank you," he said, his voice as neutral as ever.

I skipped a few steps ahead and turned to face him, walking backward so I could keep up. "So, I know I said I wouldn’t bring up the modeling thing again, but I have to ask…have you really thought about it?"

His expression didn’t change, but he sighed softly, almost as if he were tired of my persistence. "I told you. Volleyball is my priority."

"I know, I know!" I said, holding up my hands in surrender. "But you can be great at both! I’m not asking you to give up volleyball. I just think you’d be perfect for this campaign. Besides, don’t you think it would be fun? You’d get to wear some amazing clothes, strike some poses…maybe even smile once in a while."

Yuki stopped walking, and I nearly bumped into him. His eyes locked onto mine, dark and serious. "I don’t smile for cameras."

I blinked up at him, my own smile fading just slightly. His intense gaze made my heart flutter in a way I wasn’t prepared for. He was standing so close, and for the first time, I realized just how tall he was, how much larger than life he seemed up close. His presence was overwhelming, yet I couldn’t look away.

"I…I don’t need you to smile," I stammered, my voice suddenly quieter. "I just need you to be yourself. That’s enough."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The city buzzed around us, but in that instant, it felt like we were in our own little world. I half-expected him to brush me off again, to walk away like he always did. But this time, something was different.

"You’re really not going to give up, are you?" he asked, his voice low and almost resigned.

I grinned, regaining my playful energy. "Nope. Not a chance."

He exhaled through his nose, a sound that was almost a chuckle, though his expression remained the same. "Persistent."

"That’s one way to describe me," I said with a wink.

Yuki shook his head slightly, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something—amusement, maybe?—behind his stoic facade. It was fleeting, but it was there.

"Fine," he said, his voice steady. "One shoot."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait, what? Really?!"

"One," he repeated, holding up a single finger. "But after that, don’t ask again."

I was so excited I nearly jumped up and down. "Oh my gosh, thank you! You won’t regret it, I promise!"

He didn’t respond, just nodded once before continuing to walk down the street, leaving me standing there, grinning like an idiot.

As he disappeared into the crowd, I realized something important: this wasn’t just about the modeling gig anymore. Sure, I was thrilled that he had finally agreed, but it went deeper than that. I had started to care about him, really care, and not just because he had the perfect face for fashion. There was something about his quiet strength, his dedication, and his mysterious, closed-off nature that drew me in more than I expected.

I wasn’t just chasing after a model for my fashion line anymore. I was chasing after him—the man behind the stoic exterior. And slowly, day by day, I was starting to break through the ice.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Yuki Ishikawa—the volleyball star who had stolen my heart—would one day see me as more than just the girl who kept pestering him to model. Maybe he’d see me as someone who could be a part of his world, too.

Because somewhere along the way, he had already become a part of mine.

The day of the photoshoot finally arrived. I could barely contain my excitement, though I tried my best to keep it professional. This was, after all, a big deal—not just because Yuki had agreed to model, but because this was the first real step in launching my fashion line. I had worked so hard to get to this moment, and having him as my first model felt like destiny.

We had rented a sleek, minimalist studio in the heart of Milan, with floor-to-ceiling windows that let in streams of natural light. The setup was perfect—clean, modern, and effortlessly chic, just like I had imagined. My designs, carefully curated for Yuki’s frame, hung neatly on racks, and I was buzzing around, making sure everything was in place.

Then, the door swung open, and there he was.

Yuki walked in, as calm and composed as ever, his presence filling the room. He wore a simple black hoodie and jeans, yet somehow he made even the most casual clothes look like high fashion. His sharp, unreadable expression remained intact, but as his eyes swept across the room and finally landed on me, there was a brief moment of acknowledgment.

"Hey, Yuki!" I greeted him, my voice bright. "Ready to be a star for the day?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked over to the clothes I had set out for him and inspected them with a critical eye.

"They’re simple," he remarked, his voice cool.

I smiled. "Exactly. They’ll let you shine. Trust me, you’re going to look incredible."

He didn’t respond, just nodded once, and went to change into the first outfit. I busied myself with making sure everything was perfect—adjusting the lighting, talking to the photographer, and trying not to let my nerves get the better of me. This was it. This was the moment I had been working toward for so long.

When Yuki stepped out of the dressing room, my breath caught in my throat.

He looked…beyond perfect. He was wearing a tailored black jacket over a crisp white shirt, paired with sleek trousers that hugged his tall, athletic frame. The outfit was simple, yet elegant, designed to complement his natural poise and grace. And it worked. Oh, how it worked.

The photographer started snapping photos immediately, capturing Yuki as he moved through the set with a natural ease that surprised even me. His expression remained stoic, his gaze sharp, but there was something captivating about him in front of the camera. He didn’t have to try—he was the look.

I watched from the sidelines, a strange sense of pride swelling in my chest. He didn’t need to pose extravagantly or flash a smile to command attention. He just was. Strong, silent, and utterly magnetic.

"Perfect, Yuki," I called out from behind the camera. "You’re killing it!"

He glanced at me briefly but didn’t say a word. Still, I could tell he was focused, giving this shoot the same intensity he gave to volleyball. There was no half-effort with him, even in something like this. That was just who he was—committed, no matter what he did.

As the shoot went on, I found myself watching him more closely than ever. Not just as a model for my clothes, but as a person. The way he moved, the way he carried himself—it was all so precise, so intentional. And as much as I admired his physical presence, I had come to admire his quiet strength even more. His dedication, his drive—it all made me fall for him a little more each day.

When the shoot finally wrapped up, Yuki changed back into his regular clothes and quietly approached me as I was reviewing the photos with the photographer.

"It’s done," he said, his voice as cool as always.

I turned to him, grinning ear to ear. "You were amazing! Seriously, these shots are going to be iconic. Thank you so much, Yuki. I know this wasn’t really your thing, but you totally rocked it."

He just nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting mine. "You kept your word."

I tilted my head, a little confused. "What do you mean?"

"You didn’t ask me to do more," he said, his voice a little quieter than usual. "You respected what I said."

For a moment, I was caught off guard. I hadn’t expected him to acknowledge that, let alone appreciate it. I had been so focused on getting him to model that I hadn’t realized how much it might have meant to him that I backed off after our earlier conversations.

"Of course," I said softly, my voice losing some of its usual bubbly energy. "I just… I didn’t want to push you too hard. I respect what you’re doing with volleyball, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that."

He studied me for a moment, his dark eyes searching mine as if he were trying to understand something. There was a weight to his gaze, something deeper than his usual cold detachment, and it made my heart race in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

"You’re persistent," he said, almost as if he were thinking aloud. "But not selfish."

I blinked, taken aback by his words. It was the closest thing to a compliment I had ever gotten from him.

"Well…thanks?" I said, a little unsure of how to respond. Then I added with a grin, "I guess that’s just who I am."

He didn’t say anything, but there was a subtle shift in his expression, something softer, more thoughtful. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but in that moment, I felt like we had finally moved past the walls he had built up. Just a little.

"Hey," I said, my voice light again. "I know volleyball’s your main thing, but…if you ever want to do this again, I wouldn’t say no. Just throwing it out there."

Yuki glanced away, and for a second, I thought he was going to brush me off like always. But then, to my surprise, he said, "Maybe."

My eyes widened, and I tried not to let my excitement show too much. "Maybe? I’ll take it!"

With that, he turned and started to walk toward the door. But before he left, he paused, just for a second.

"Good luck with your line," he said, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

I smiled softly. "Thanks, Yuki."

And then he was gone, disappearing into the streets of Milan like he always did. But this time, something felt different. There was a connection between us now, one that hadn’t been there before.

I didn’t just want Yuki Ishikawa to be the face of my fashion line anymore. I wanted to know the man behind the cold, stoic facade. And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to get closer to that.

[plushieclan]

Grangeclan’s tale: Ash rises, fire falls

<< Return to Moon 13 interlude

TW: Cat death, Kit death

“Got you!”

Stagpaw’s wild cries of joy echoed across camp.

Flyheart whirled around, snow dripping off her face. She laughs with reckless abandon.

“You’re on, pint-size!”

Firefall and Havenclaw, who were watching from the sidelines, laughed.

“It’s good to see camp in such good spirits!” Havenclaw remarked.

Firefall agreed. With everything Grangeclan had been dealing with, it was nice to see everyone goofing off. Several of the other apprentices and warriors had joined in on the snowball fight.

Firefall and Havenclaw were helping with the new net project. To protect from hawks, Finchstar had tasked many of the warriors to create a large net to be fastened over the camp. They had traded with the Wanderers to get more of the thick Stiffnet that surrounded the camp. Currently, they were weaving rope to prepare for attachment

“I almost want to join!” Firefall laughed. Havenclaw shook his head.

“We’ve got work to do, Fire. Don’t forget that.”

“Yeah, I know…”

Suddenly, Firefall noticed a black cat slink out of the Mediator’s den. She hid herself behind Havenclaw.

Havenclaw tensed up. “Ashrise?” he asked.

Firefall nodded.

“Well, you better not hide behind me… you know I’m smaller than you.”

She wanted to retort, but the proof of his statement came when the black tom noticed her immediately.

“I need to run.” her fluff rounded out in fear.

You need to confront him eventually, her mind said to her.

Well, today was not that day.

She abandoned her post, jumping down and into the warrior’s den below. She weaved between sleeping cats until she found herself at the darkest corner. There, she sighed in relief.

“Firefall…”

She jumped at the noise. It was Dovelight.

“Oh, s-sorry Dovelight! I uh…”

She looked disappointed. “What reason could you possibly have for leaving your work? You volunteered to help out.”

“Oh, uh…” she wracked her brain for an excuse. “I was uh, cold. Just taking a brief break.”

Dovelight shook her head. “No, that won’t do. This is the sixth incident this moon. Come with me.”

—

The den she found herself in was small and unfamiliar. In front of her sat Finchstar, who had an unamused look on his face. To his sides were Dovelight and Ashrise. Firefall made a conscious effort not to look at him.

“So, my deputy tells me this is the sixth time this moon you’ve abandoned this project.” Finchstar sighed.

“Yes, I know—“ she started.

“No, I don’t think you do.” he interrupted. “This project might be what finally ends hawk attacks in camp and it’s been delayed multiple times because of you!”

“Look— ugh, why is he here?!” she pointed to Ashrise. “He’s got nothing to do with this!”

“That tom is your advocate, you mousebrain!” Finchstar slammed his paw on the ground. “He’s here to make sure my frustration at your actions doesn’t make my judgement more severe than it should be.” He looked over at Ashrise.

“Finch… I know why she’s been doing it. It’s to avoid me.” Ashrise spoke. “I don’t think she should have any punishment. It wouldn’t fix the core issue.”

“Perhaps we should just keep the two of you in a room together as punishment and finally resolve this then.” Dovelight said, an annoyed expression on her face.

Finchstar nodded. “I agree. Firefall, as punishment for skipping your duties, you must stay here with Ashrise to talk out whatever your issue with him is.”

Firefall was flabbergasted. “Wait—but— this is a personal matter between us! It has nothing to do with either of you!”

“Ashrise, do you have any objections?”

He thought for a moment.

“While I would have rather spoken to her on her own terms… I will accept this punishment for this warrior.”

Finchstar nodded. “Alright. This meeting is adjourned. You two must stay and talk. Dovelight, guard the den entrance.”

With that, the two cats padded out of the room.

Ashrise stood across the room from her. She pointedly turned away from him.

“Firefall… I’m sorry for being so distant, and not telling you about our familial connection earlier.” he started.

“This… whole thing has turned my life upside down.” she spat. “Every single older clanmates has taken to treating me like a disease for something I know nothing about. So unless you plan on telling me whatever this thing was, I don’t want to talk.”

“I… you’re putting me in a very difficult position.” his voice shook. “Even after so many tens of moons, it’s still raw. I still suffer from the guilt and grief of that situation…”

“Then what are we even doing here?!” She snapped, turning to face him. “I tried to have a relationship with you, but you keep pushing me away. And when I try to understand why, you just spout that horse dung about how you’re still too hurt about whatever it is! I’m a lake-damned victim of it too, you know! So if you’re not going to finally tell me what the depths killed me, you might as well just leave for Swampclan! At least I would be more comfortable in my own clan if you did that!”

She panted, spit dribbling from her lips. She hadn’t expected it all to come out like that… but it needed to. Ashrise looked like someone had just trodden all over his flowers.

“Say something.” she hissed.

“I’m… sorry, Firefall.” he said, his voice as faint as a summer’s breeze. “I’ve been a bad father. I… should tell you about it. You… deserve to know that much.”

Her eyes widen. “Finally. Yes, tell me! What happened to me?!”

He took a breath. “Her name… was Rosethorn. I met her after I almost died from a bad bout of whitecough.”

—

“You’re not actually sick.” the cleric stated with her familiar no-nonsense tone.

“I wanted to see you again.” Ashrise stated. “I mean, you’ve captured my world!”

She looked at him for a while, before looking away. “Alright. We can… try something.”

—

He chuckled. “I used to visit her every day. Eventually, we went from just trying it out to full mates, and then…”

—

“What should we name them?” Ashrise asked.

Rosethorn looked at the three bundles with the most expression he’d ever seen on her face.

She pointed to the tortoiseshell molly, with a white blotch that looked like a moth’s wings. “What about Mothkit?”

“I like that one.” Ashrise smiled, then looked at the black tom with his spiky fur. “How about Stemkit for this one?”

She nodded. “He looks a lot like you, Ashy. Only fair you get to name him.”

Ashrise cupped the little red one, the smallest and last of the kits.

“Then you should name this one.”

She thought for a moment.

“How about… Emeraldkit?”

—

“I was… so happy when you and your littermates were born.” Ashrise smiled sadly, looking at Firefall. “But… I only got a few short moons with you.”

—

“Daddy!” Mothkit tackled Ashrise where he sat in the cleric den, while the other two ran after her.

“Kits, leave this den.” Rosethorn shooed them away. “Your father is sick. He needs to heal.”

“I’ll get them out of here, Rose.” Ashrise said, before coughing.

She paused, before turning away. “Please, Ashy. That would be great. I couldn’t bear if they caught your sickness.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, he whispered to the kits.

“Here, have some of my mouse.”

The three kits excitedly took a few bites, eager to have some of the food their mother wouldn’t let them have. Then, they scampered off, not wanting to be chastised by Rosethorn.

—

Ashrise could barely move. He saw Rosethorn, just out of reach. He attempted to reach out.

“Rose… h-help me…”

She looked at him, and spoke with her usual sweet voice. “You know I can’t, Ashy. I’ll get Flypaw.”

“Rose…!” he croaked.

“Rosethorn!” Flypaw yelled. “The kits! There’s… they’ve gotten sick as well!”

Rosethorn looked horrified. “That’s not… No!” She ran to out of the den.

Ashrise could only watch.

—

Rosethorn sat next to Ashrise’s sick body, her face hollow. “This is your fault. You’ve killed them with your negligence, Ashy.”

“Rose…” he pulled himself up, though he was still tired. He reached an arm out to her.

She turned away.

“I’m going to bring Dovekit and Pearlkit here. Keep them in the den, alright Ashy? Don’t make any more mistakes.”

—

Ashrise stopped with his story, overwhelmed with emotion.

“I should have realized what she was about to do… why she would bring our adopted kits into the den with me. I should have stopped her!”

He took a breath, and continued.

—

Ashrise had waited for Rosethorn long enough. He walked out of the cleric den. In the clearing, most of the warriors were gathered around the nursery.

“What’s going on?” he asked one of his clanmates.

“It’s… I… I can’t even describe it!” she responded.

He pushed his way through the crowd, coughing. Was Rosethorn in trouble?

He saw her standing at the front of the crowd.

“It’s a tragedy.” she mewed, her voice filled with mock sadness. “To think… one bad mouse…!”

Ashrise looked at her, and realized.

“Rosethorn… what did you do?!”

—

Finchstar looked at Rosethorn in anger.

“For the crime of poisoning five kits… and one nursing queen… you will be executed and buried in the Depths. May you never harm anyone else again.”

Rosethorn screamed. “You can’t! My kits… I have to join them in Starclan!”

“You should have thought of that before taking everyone else’s kits away.” Finchstar spat.

“I… I won’t die like this!”

Ashrise watched from the cleric den. Dovekit and Pearlkit were in his arms. He could feel both of them crying.

—

Firefall looked at him in horror.

“That’s why… Rose is a frowned upon prefix.” he explained. “Why every older cat seems to be uncomfortable around you. It… brings back bad memories.”

“I… can’t believe anyone would do that…”

He looked away. “I still can’t… understand what happened. And it’s hard to think about.”

He turned back to his daughter. “I still see parts of her when I look at you. And it scares me. I shouldn’t… no, I can’t be afraid when I’m around you. But… it’s a reflex I can’t control.”

Firefall didn’t know what to say. “Well… I assure you… I’m not her. I’m not even close to her. But… I can keep avoiding you if that’s what you want.”

“No!” Ashrise said. “That’s the opposite of what I want! I do want to have a relationship with you. It’s just… going to be difficult for me. I want your patience.”

Firefall took a moment, before considering.

“Alright. But if I feel uncomfortable, I want to be able to leave.”

He nodded. “I will respect that. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to stop the older cats from judging you. If you chose so, I promise I’ll join Swampclan and leave you to be.”

She laughed. “Thanks… dad.”

He smiled back at her. “Of course, Firefall.”

[archiveikemen]

Morganatic Idol Prologue: Chapter 10

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Rina: I understand… please hire me!

Sakura-san responded to the members of exe Creed, who wore sullen expressions on their faces.

Sakura: I’ll properly teach her about the work at the office.

Sakura: The housekeeping part of her duties shouldn’t be too big of a concern.

Sakura: I mentioned earlier that she’s very sincere in her work, right?

Sakura: With her level of understanding of each member’s tastes, I think she’ll definitely do a perfect job.

Rina: I’ll do my best!

The members of Gem Cuddle who were listening from the sidelines joined in the discussion.

Nagi: We’re just adding on one more housekeeper. I don’t have any problems with that.

Hitaki: I’m very interested in your observation skills that can even see through exe Creed’s weakness. You can approach me if you have anything.

Miu: Oh~kay~, I approve too. Good luck! 

Miu: … With this girl around, things will get much more convenient.

(There’s something chilling about this person’s smile. … Or am I just overthinking?)

Ivy: *sigh*... I guess there’s no other way. Sorry, it’s impossible to talk Eito out of something once he’s set his mind on it. Feel free to let me know if you run into any troubles. 

Ivy-san sighed with a wry smile.

Finn: Are you serious… you’re such a busybody. There’s nothing else I can do since it’s already come to this, but just make sure you’re not a hindrance to me.

Finn-san said in an exasperated tone.

Jace: The presentation aside, I’m very welcome to girls. Let’s get along well, Aegis-chan.

Jace-san was smiling, but he had a flippant attitude. 

Hugh: … I’m not good at talking to people… ignore me…

Hugh-san said in a low voice with his head down. Also…

Xeno: … Whatever. Do as you wish.

Xeno-san spat out.

(Being unwelcomed is unavoidable, but I feel like I’m already losing heart even before starting work here…)

Xeno-san continued while keeping his eyes fixed onto me.

Xeno: However, the moment it’s decided that she’s not doing a good job, have her resign immediately. … Got it?

His voice and gaze were cold enough to make a person shiver. I clenched my fists tightly, not wanting to chicken out.

Rina: I’ll definitely make sure that my work and housekeeping will meet everyone’s standards!

(Besides, I have to successfully talk them into accepting my project plan. This whole thing concerns my dreams....!)

Sakura: Then it’s settled! I look forward to working with you starting tomorrow.

Rina: Got it! 

(I’ll be juggling work as an office assistant and housekeeper, and there’s also my job at the company. I need to pull myself together and give it my all.)

Rina: By the way, I was told earlier that I can take it easy on weekdays, but… will it be alright if I only come over after work at the advertising company?

That didn’t seem to make my situation any easier, but just as I was thinking about it… Sakura-san said something that sounded outrageous.

Sakura: Oh, that won’t be a problem. We’ll be living together.

Rina: … What did you just say?

Sakura: I’m letting you live here in this condominium.

Sakura: After all, it’ll only be for a month. I’ll prepare the furniture and luggage, so all you’ll have to bring is yourself. 

Rina: EEEEEEH!?

(You’re saying that I’m going to live with these people!?)

Sakura: That way, you’ll have more interactions with them. I think it’s better like that.

Rina: W-wha…!

I looked at everyone else to see them staring at Sakura-san in utter disbelief.

(This person is awfully eccentric.) 

Sakura: You can resign if you don’t like it.

Rina: N-no. Since I’ve already accepted the job, I’ll do it! I’ll definitely succeed!

Sakura: Mm, that’s the spirit.

Sakura: I have good expectations of you. Actually, I’m excited to see how you’ll do.

…

That was how I ended up living under the same roof as super idols.

(I’m so anxious, but this is all I can do…!)

The idols were brimming with charm and personality, and yet they lacked human touch.

I wonder what the days I spend with them starting from now will be like?

What kind of changes will happen to these cold and robotic idols…?

… Right now, no one knows the answer yet.

[destiny-smasher]

NemoPen Week Day 5: School Dance

As Penny's graduation draws super close, she finally allows herself the experience of attending a school dance, now that she has Nemona to make her feel comfortable enough to do so.

Excerpt:

As the first song of the night ended, the crowd of partygoers cheered and clapped, catching their breath. Penny, who was still hanging at the sidelines, offered a few half-hearted claps, wondering where her date was. It wasn't like Nemona to be late, especially to an event like this... Even Scarlet had shown up already, and them arriving before Nemona was... just plain backwards. The familiar voice of Penny's friend echoed through the courtyard from the many speakers lined around the place. [ “Hey-hey-heyohhh, your buddy DJ Vice checkin' in on all you party people. We are just getting started here at the Naranja Spring Formal, so if you have requests or messages for the Applin of your eye, send 'em my way, and I will see what I can do. Comin' at you next, we've got some mellow beats to let ya'll catch your breath and mingle...” ] The volume of the next song was mixed up as he ended his speech, playing some lofi chill beats as those attending the dance were given the 'vibes' to cool off from all the excitement of that first number. A vibration startled Penny, who was already jumpy as it was. From out of a pocket sewn onto her dress, she produced her RotomPhone, which seemed to be more relaxed than usual, given the silky material it was getting to lounge in. Penny was garbed in a dress – a kind of fancy dress, at that. She'd initially wanted to go for a Sylveon-themed one, but... She didn't want to come across as too flashy, draw too much attention to herself... so she'd talked herself down into something black and gray, more subdued and simple, but also let Nemona have some sway in the decision-making, as she herself wasn't really that fussed. Part of her had wanted to wear a suit, honestly. But the other part of her had been waiting for a few years now to wear a fancy dress. And that part of her had won out, in the end. It was a dress that only really revealed a bit of her neck – room enough to wear a studded choker she'd received as a gift from her Team Star friends over the holidays – as well as her arms, which were pale in the outdoor lighting of that spring evening. Her hair, slightly grown out, was at an awkward length where she couldn't really style it too much, and so she'd let Mela fluff it out a bit with a combination of brushing, hair product, and heat. Beneath the black dress, she wore gray leggings, which slipped into goth platform shoes, which she'd gotten for herself for this exact occasion using her birthday money from her parents. This wasn't her first time wearing them – probably the third or fourth? She was still getting used to the added height they provided. Not a regular thing, but it still felt nice. She hoped this increase in height would make dancing with Nemona more interesting, if she didn't trip over herself first... Checking her phone, Penny read a text from Nemona. Rather than a series of shorter texts, it was sent as one single paragraph. ( Sorry I'm late! My hair took longer than expected and I had a wardrobe malfunction, but don't worry, I'm all set! On my way! Almost there! I am literally walking up the Mesagoza steps as I'm typing this! Wow, I hate this! My feet hurt! Remind me to never do this in dress shoes again! Woof...Gonna tire myself out before I even reach you at this rate...But I am literally so close! Sorry again! Just about there. ARC we've got to consider installing like a lift or something, this is...so totally not handicap friendly, right? These stairs, I mean. You'd better be ready to catch me when we dance because, oh wow, my legs are so tired already...Maybe you should get some punch or something ready for me? Please? Aw, man, some punch sounds really good right now. Seriously, why do we have the longest stairway ever at this place?! ) Penny had started smirking while reading it, and her face just continued to widen more and more as she read further into Nemona's off-the-cuff single text ramble. “What're you smilin' about?”

[rleonard9]

Grumpy calming Ryan down after a fight even though she hates fighting

“Hey.” You say as ryan comes out with his head down from the locker room, he goes straight into your arms, “I know Ry.” He buries his face in your neck as you hold onto him tightly

“You aren’t mad.” Ryan mumbles

“Oh i’m mad but i don’t want to make you more angry as you are so i won’t project that onto you.” You say truthfully, “Let’s go home and you can just lay it on all me.” He nods his head taking your hand leaving the arena.

As soon as you guys got back to your apartment he heads straight into the bathroom taking a shower, you got undressed hopping onto bed waiting. He comes out 20 Min later putting on his pants and just lays on top of you

“He’s a fuck dick, coming at me for no reason. i didn’t even touch him or poked him the entire game but as soon as i had the puck he slammed me i to the boards hard and started fighting me, i still don’t know why, and he didn’t let a suspension, how is that possible but i got one.” Ryan Blurts out angry, You just nod and run your fingers through his hair

“It’s not fair at all, you don’t deserve a suspension bubs and i’m sorry.” You say to him calmly

“Ruins everything.” Ryan says

“No it doesn’t, yes it sucks that you have to watch from the sidelines but you will be back soon and gonna play amazing.”

“Thanks baby girl,” Ryan kisses your lips, “I don’t know what i would do without you.”

“Break a wall maybe,” You giggle

[mossfordays]

I have this whole story for Nobleflower and I really want to post it but I can’t write so I can’t actually write it. So instead you get the barebones version of it.

Alice never meant to fall for Narcissa. She never wanted to fall for Narcissa. She was the most unattainable girl in the school. But then they had a school project together, and she was done for.

Narcissa on the other hand, wouldn’t let herself fall for Alice. She knew where her life was leading her, and it wouldn’t involve Alice. She had to protect her from the inevitable heartbreak. Yeah, protect Alice, only her. After all, Narcissa was pretty used to getting left behind, she would’ve been fine.

Not too long after, there was a dance. Both of them stood on the sidelines. Narcissa looked around at the people who liked that she didn’t want to talk to, and the people that didn’t like her that she wanted to talk to. Alice was standing, anxiously looking around, not knowing where to go or what to do.

Narcissa looked at her, standing there, not knowing what to do. She couldn’t take it. Cissy walked over. She asked Alice to follow as she walked out of the room. Hesitantly, the Gryffindoor followed her out of the room. They ended up in a secluded room and danced and talked and laughed.

The following days they would say hi in the halls. Slip little conversation between classes, hang out whenever they could. Whenever they weren’t with their own friend groups that hated the others.

It was just a coincidence, the first night. When Alice was coming back from a late night quidditch practice. When Narcissa was wandering the halls, trying to get some peace from her dormitory. When they stumbled upon each other, they only meant to talk for a little bit. They really didn’t mean to stay out that long. Wandering around Hogwarts hand in hand.

Then… it kept happening. It started out like once or twice a week, then it was every night. Each time the two girls found themselves talking for longer and longer. Alice was able to tell everything to Narcissa. Began to talk to her without “I’m sorry” caveats, or the “this is really dumb” disclaimers. Narcissa, became able to talk to Alice in a way that she hadn’t been able to since Andy left. She began talking about things she was never supposed to mention.

This kept going. Night after night they saw each other. They thought it was safe. It was a secret, to Narcissa. Alice thought otherwise. She thought they could make this last longer, forever. “Just like Andy an Ted” she said to Cissy one night. Narcissa didn’t like that much. She was convinced she could never have anything like that.

Then, it all crumbled. Whispered started spreading around school. This person saw this and that Paterson heard this. Everyone was finding out. They two girls found this out in very different ways. “Your dating my cousin!” Sirius had yelled as he swung open Alice’s door. Regulus ushered Cissy up to her room as every Slytherin tried to crowd around her. Alice ran out the Gryffindoor common room. Narcissa went through a backdoor of the Slytherin common room. They both collapsed, next to each other, right where they had danced oh so long ago.

They sat, and they talk, and they cried, and they comforted, and they had one last dance.

[rwbyremnants]

Get ready - this is the penultimate chapter! Next one will be the big finale! I know it's been a long time coming, and I really am sorry about that - but I'm about to get back to business in a big way. Stay tuned!

=Chapter 59

Not that they played a lot. The parking lot was too conspicuous a location, so Nebula enjoyed another little kiss with Weiss – amidst a chorus of cheers from the other Dragons – and then the blushing girl was released and asked what she thought. Her positive review earned her an invitation to hang out with the Dragons another time. Any fool could see Nebula was happy.

And she tagged along to watch Weiss and Yang play tennis. Weiss thought that was a smart plan; it was a great excuse to show her that a big, buff Dragon like her girlfriend was also capable of playing a simple sport, doing something less brutish. Of course, their limited transportation meant Blake also had to join them so Nebula could have a ride, but she seemed content to hang out by the prospective Dragon and alternately cheer and jeer for the players.

Glances at the sidelines showed her that Blake did kiss Nebula’s cheek a few times, and her lips very briefly once. But this was mostly experimentation and flirting; nothing serious. It almost alarmed Weiss more that she was beginning to be able to tell the difference. How had she so seamlessly made the transition from hapless victim, to journeyman Dragon, to experienced hunter of women?

Yang. That's how.

Once their prospective recruit was on her way home, the others made their way to the diner to hang out and chat for a little while. Cinder, Emerald, and Ilia were already waiting for them with plenty of dimes for the jukebox and half-empty malted glasses. Coco had apparently taken Velvet home because she was inconsolable.

“That's right,” Weiss sighed as she slumped lower in the booth. “I was going to do something about that. But my father turned into a-”

“We know,” Blake reassured her. “Too much going on. Nobody's blaming you.”

After a few seconds, Cinder spoke up, carefully looking out the window instead of at her companions. “Perhaps it's not too late.”

“What?”

“Well, Schnee and her mother could probably persuade the interim chairman to take on a new hire. I know they have a lot on their plates right now, but it is still possible.”

“You’re right. We should at least try.” With a decisive nod, Weiss pulled her malted closer and took a sip as she thought that over. “I’ll ask her tonight and we’ll see if she can take care of it tomorrow morning.”

However, once they got back to Salem’s abode, they found something that certainly waylaid those plans.

“Oh… we’re moving back.”

“We are,” Willow grunted as she and Kali heaved the last of the bags into the latter’s Ford. “I… have left Whitley alone to his own devices for far too long as it is. Besides, there is so much to do at the house; we need to-”

“Take it slow,” Kali said, and her tone definitely suggested this was not the first time she had said as much. Her mother gave her a watery smile.

“Yes, of course. I will. But taking it slow is not the same as doing nothing, and I can’t sit around here doing nothing any longer.”

Clearing her throat, Yang spoke up. “Um… I’ll help, if you want. With anything I can.”

“Awww, thank you, dear,” she breathed with a small smile as she gripped her shoulder. The Dragon smiled back at her, a little shy but mostly just pleased. “It would be appreciated. Your mother and Kali are already doing so much, though…”

Kali was already shaking her head as they closed the trunk. “No more than I’m happy to do.”

“I’m sure Raven will be by for similar reasons,” Weiss said with a tiny smirk. Willow cleared her throat and said nothing on that topic.

And someone else cleared her throat. The women turned to see little Neo Politan, out of everyone it could have been, holding out a small makeup mirror.

“Oh?” Weiss’s mother dug in her purse for a moment, then sighed and flashed her a grateful smile as she accepted it. “Why, thank you! Must have fallen out when we dropped the larger suitcase.”

When Neo only smiled a little, and her mother seemed to be waiting, Weiss stepped closer to whisper, “Neo is a deaf-mute. She won’t be able to say ‘you’re welcome’.”

“Ah, I see. Then thank you all the same.” She said the latter part much louder and clearer, as if that would make up for the girl being hard of hearing. Neo smiled wider and touched her on the arm, then turned to head back inside.

“She’s doing better,” Blake told Weiss before she could ask. “Salem’s been keeping her on a short leash after the betrayal, but… I think that Torchwick guy dying took all the fight out of her. So she just accepted it.”

“As well she should,” her mother put in next, holding the passenger door open for Willow. “The High Dragon was well within her rights to execute her for the level of betrayal she dealt us.” Weiss saw her own mother blink in sheer alarm, but she did not interrupt. “Though I admire her mercy in simply punishing Neo and giving her the chance to redeem herself.”

Once they were back at Atlas Heights, Weiss did finally inform her mother of Velvet’s plight. She said she would be happy to help, stealing a page of official Schnee memo paper from Jacques’s study – which definitely did not thrill her – and jotting down all Weiss, Blake, and Yang could tell her about their friend’s father and what his most useful skills were, assuring them she would look into it as soon as humanly possible.

“So now the big question,” Blake said as the younger girls unpacked Weiss’s bags.

“What’s that?” Yang asked.

“Is Mrs. Schnee going to invite my mother or yours to live with her?”

Weiss dropped her hair curler all the way to the floor as she stared at the smirking brunette. “Blake! Don’t be silly, she’s not- that is- you be quiet!”

“Hey, don’t be so hasty to dismiss the idea,” Blake said with a smirk while Yang giggled. “The three of them are like us, pretty much. Snug as bugs in a rug.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Your mother told me that she didn’t see my mother that way. She thinks she is attractive, but beyond that she has no such intentions with her.”

“And you don’t want them to end up together?” Blake pressed Weiss with a slight raising of her eyebrow.

“Well… I want them to end up as good friends. Or more, if that's what they want! But I think I made a mistake in pushing them too much; Raven and Kali both think I was being silly, and who on earth could blame them?”

Given that Weiss had turned more serious in her ruminations, Yang slung an arm around her neck and nuzzled the side of her head. “Hey, Princess, don’t fret. Your queen deserves friends, too. If my mom or Blake’s decide to make a move, and Willow decides she’s cruisin’ for a bruisin’, then… then that’s that. But I’m not gonna try to push them together, either.”

“Then we are agreed; we keep our meddling to our own weird three-way relationship.”

“Yep.” She kissed Weiss’s cheek, and Blake kissed the other. Then Yang kissed Blake’s nose just to make her laugh – which she did, despite the full blush in her cheeks. “Sorry.”

But the brunette just shrugged. “It’s fine. I like it, even if you’re just playing around.”

“Heh…” But Yang looked more guilty than amused.

“And I know you are. So don’t look so down in the mouth, or I’ll have Weiss kiss it.”

“Hey!” Weiss burst out. “You say that as if I’m your personal servant! I am the princess, remember?”

They were still giggling when a knock echoed from the door. A very disheveled Whitley stood there, dark bags under his eyes and hair in disarray, clothes wrinkled for the first time in his life.

“May we help you?”

“Weiss… I have something for you.”

Their curiosity prompted all three Dragons to follow him all the way out to the enormous garage in the rear of their house, muttering to each other. What could this be about? As far as Weiss knew, she and Whitley didn’t have two words to say to each other; a difference in opinion about whether or not their father deserved his untimely demise kept them from seeing eye to eye on anything else.

“Okay, yes,” she finally sighed when the lights came on, revealing the long row of autos. “Father had a lot of money to spare on cars. I know this.”

“Patience, dear sister.” He motioned for her to follow, leading to the very end of the row. And there…

“OH!” Yang burst out.

It was a lovely example of a European motorcycle. Mostly black and chrome, polished and looking as good as new. In the middle of the cherry red of the tank lay the word “Panther”, proudly displayed.

“Well… okay.” Blake walked around it quickly, nodding with her thumb and forefinger on her chin. “Not a bad little bike, especially for a foreign model. Pre-war or post-war?”

“Ah,” Whitley laughed with a slight edge of nervousness. Obviously he was not terribly happy that Weiss’s friends had tagged along, but was determined to press on. “Model 100, 1954. 598cc, four-gallon tank. Can make it up to seventy with a good tailwind.”

A somewhat bitter smile came to Weiss’s lips. “You were listening when he gave all those lectures about his automobiles, huh?”

“I was. Well… the last few years. Before that, I was disinterested.”

“Four-speed?” Blake asked. When Whitley nodded, she poked and prodded at the engine and the shocks a little, pressed into the seat. “It’s been fairly well maintained. Probably only took it out for a joyride once a month.”

“That sounds accurate,” Whitley sighed with a curt nod.

“Nice bike. Want to see ours? Show-and-tell?”

“Harleys,” he sighed with a dismissive wave. “They are wonderful machines, make no mistake, but if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

“Wow,” Yang muttered as she checked it out as well. “Alright, are we… taking this out for a test drive? Or what?”

Swallowing hard, he said, “Actually… I thought Weiss may want to.”

“Me?” his sister squeaked. “Oh, no, no. I’ve barely even tried – I almost toppled the last motorcycle I tried to drive down the road at a snail’s pace!”

“But if you’re going to be its new owner, you may want to try a little harder, right?”

“That would only matter if…” The words finally sank in, and Weiss turned to blink at her brother – who had his hands in the small of his back, looking off into the corner of the garage. “Wait…”

Blake stood upright and folded her arms over her chest. “What’s your game? I thought you hated all of us, especially because we ride.”

“That is… well…” Sighing, he looked back at the motorcycle. “I don’t pretend to fully understand this whole situation. I don’t believe you that Father was as bad as you say… but I can’t deny it is not impossible. Either way, there is no way I can drive every one of these vehicles. Mother may have a more sensible sedan, and you may have this because it suits your… current interests.”

“So you’re giving me this motorcycle?” she asked, still not quite able to believe it. Because it was so… un-Whitley-like. “Just like that?”

Shrugging tightly, he went on, “You seem to have acquired the least of us. And this motorcycle will bring you more joy and… it will also be practical, since all of your friends ride them.”

“It kinda suits you,” Yang observed, running her hand over a handlebar. “British bike, since you’re my royal highness.”

Even while Whitley was raising his brows and Blake rolling her eyes, Weiss felt her cheeks warm very slightly at the sudden praise. “W-well, when you put it that way, I… suppose… well, I would be a fool to have a bike handed to me freely and turn my nose up. Thank you, Brother.”

“Of course, Sister. We may be a broken family, but we are still a family, and…” After a moment of quiet, he simply shrugged, and gestured toward the house. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I don’t understand… anything, or know what to believe. Father was a strong, intelligent, amazing man, but I cannot forget your injured faces, or his anger with you, or… with me, sometimes. If a motorcycle will make you happy, and I have one that I am not using, then-”

He didn’t get any further before Weiss caught him up in a crushing hug. Several seconds passed before he raised his own hands up to pat her on the back, clearly anything but comfortable with the display of affection.

“Thank you,” she repeated when she stepped back, eyes only slightly damp now. “I hope… well, as hard as all of this is… I hope we can all live together again. Like a family.”

“As do I. Now if you will excuse me, I think… I would like to be alone for a while.” And with no more words than that, he turned to make his way back to the house.

“Warm, fuzzy guy,” Yang muttered.

“He's doing his best,” Weiss sighed as they turned back to look over the vintage bike again. “To be honest, I expected him to hate us forever once he heard about Father, but…”

Both Yang and Blake slid comforting hands onto their girlfriend's shoulders. “We know,” the latter whispered when Weiss never finished her sentence. “A death in the family is… strange. Affects everyone differently. I was too young to remember Dad at all, but I still feel sad when I see Mom misses him.”

“I miss Summer every day,” Yang put in, looking very uncomfortable with the topic but doing her best to soldier through. “Weird how I think… Ruby bounced back a little easier than I did. Even though she was her real mom. We both miss her a lot, but Ruby seems fine now, right?”

“Better now that her big sister is talking to her again,” Weiss whispered, patting the reassuring hands. Yang rolled her eyes but made no further comment.

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

    Soon after, they did take the little European bike out for a spin. Everyone took a turn, and Blake and Yang were able to help give Weiss some pointers. She started to get the hang of it by the time it got close to time for a somewhat late dinner.

But when they got home, there was a surprise guest waiting for them. Raven had stopped by… and miracle of miracles, she was wearing a dress. It was very old-fashioned and an olive green that didn't particularly flatter her, but still far beyond what any of them were expecting.

“Mom?!” Yang burst out, eyes nearly bugging out of her head. “Did you lose a bet or something?”

“Shut up, runt.” But it was clear to anyone paying the slightest shred of attention that she was nervous.

“You girls be kind,” Kali said with a knowing smile as she edged into the room from the kitchen. Her hands were buried in a towel; clearly she had been doing most of the cooking. “Raven, you look lovely.”

“Nobody asked you.”

“It wasn't asked, it was offered freely. Do you have to bite the hand that feeds?”

“Oh, you know how hard I can bite.” A look passed between them so intense the younger Dragons all shivered. But eventually, she rolled her shoulders and backed off. “How's the move going?”

“Go ask her yourself, Branwen. I'm not your messenger girl.”

So she did just that. Kali pursed her lips but wasted no more breath on her old friend’s retreating back before she stepped forward to hug her daughter. “How did you girls enjoy your afternoon?”

“Was fine,” she answered while her mother moved on to hug Weiss, then Yang. Weiss noticed Blake’s cheeks had pinked at the brief embrace, but decided to pretend she hadn’t. “How are things looking around here?”

“I'm not really sure. I helped with a few things but then decided my efforts were better spent getting dinner started. One less thing for Willow to have to worry about.”

Weiss went in for another hug. “She's really lucky to have you around.”

“Tell that to Raven,” she chuckled, even as she hugged right back very warmly. Again, Weiss had to marvel at how she had gone from no mothers to two in such a short period of time.

But their reverie was interrupted. Just then, they heard a startled “Oh!” from the kitchen. Glancing at each other, they all went to investigate.

Willow's hands were resting on Raven's shoulders as they stood frozen in time by the sink. That alone could have been pretty damning, but on top of that, Raven had her own mitts latched very firmly onto the other woman's waist, gazing in mingling surprise and concern into the startled Schnee's eyes. The sink was still running in the background, unnoticed.

“Whoa,” was all Yang breathed – and it had been very quiet. But whether it was from that or a mere coincidence, the two suddenly broke apart, Raven clearing her throat and one of Willow’s hands falling to the center of her own chest.

“Sorry,” Raven said immediately, voice attempting an approximation of her normal indifference and failing. “I'm… I didn't mean to- I was just trying to hand you the towel. Swear to God.”

Hastily, Willow shook her head, cheeks a rosy tint as she took a half step forward. “No, no. It's quite alright. My fault for turning so suddenly without watching where I was going.”

The room remained silent for a moment. Just as Blake began to back toward the door, motioning for the others to follow her, Raven stirred to life and tried to push past first.

“Nope,” Kali said immediately, throwing out both arms to bar her exit.

“Relax, Belladonna. I just… need to use the powder room.”

Yang's eyebrows shot up. “Since when do you call it that instead of ‘the latrine’?”

“Since forever, you ornery little brat! Now let me through, will ya?”

“If I hear that old rust bucket of yours start up, I'm going to chase you down. You had better know that.” When Raven gave her a curt nod, Kali stepped aside and let her old friend pass.

“Wow, that was ridiculous,” Blake muttered under her breath. But when her mother nudged her hard with her elbow, she yelped and hissed, “What?”

“Look,” Kali breathed as she nodded toward the center of the kitchen.

Never in her life had Weiss seen her mother look quite so lost and confused – and there were a great many other times she had seen her in similar states. Willow backed up to clutch at the counter behind her as the water continued to pour from the faucet, eyebrows furrowing as she stared down at the linoleum. And it wasn’t just the confusion, either; she also seemed very vaguely hurt.

“Mom, it's okay,” she whispered. But somehow that seemed to be the wrong thing to do. The woman started, eyes wide and wild as she looked around as if she had no idea anyone else was in that kitchen. Which might have been true.

“Oh! I'm sorry, Weiss, did you need something? Dinner is almost ready…”

“That's good! I'm sure it will be wonderful. But... are you sure you're alright?”

“Of course! Why wouldn't I be all right? Simply… simply marvelous. We're back in our own house, and Whitley even said hello to me… I think everything is looking up.”

Having heard enough of that back-and-forth, Kali moved over to lean against the counter next to her. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know. Not a thing.”

“Really?” she laughed softly, eyes still full of pain. “Then why do I feel like every step I make is the wrong one? This is just… the latest one. And you’re still upset with me…”

“I am not. You know that.”

“Yes, you are,” she said more firmly. “And why shouldn’t you be? What I let happen w-” Suddenly, she cut off, casting a fearful glance at the other girls.

“You said you wouldn’t do it again. Everyone makes mistakes.” She lowered her voice a little, but Weiss still caught the next words: “Weiss isn’t upset with you, and she’s the other person whose feelings matter, anyway. So… you really ought to quit flogging yourself.”

Once the meaning caught up to her, Weiss said, “Oh. Mom, if this is about what happened in the bath, I already told them. You don’t have to worry; nobody’s mad at you.”

The Schnee matriarch’s entire face and neck flushed scarlet. “I wish you hadn’t done that… but… oh, Weiss, I really have made so many mistakes…”

“I’m sorry,” Kali persisted, frowning hard. “I was very shocked, and… I overreacted. You probably already felt mixed up enough about it as it was.”

Yang and Blake drifted over to Mrs. Schnee’s other side. “Hey,” the latter said softly. “If it helps, I can tell you Weiss really enjoyed herself. But you’re still her mom; she isn’t disappointed in you, didn’t lose respect for you, or anything like that.”

“Yeah,” Yang added. “And I just think it’s kinda kinky.” When Kali scowled at her, she shrugged. “What? Am I supposed to lie?”

“You’d want a mouthful of Raven’s breast?” Kali demanded.

“Don’t think she’d give it to me if I asked,” Yang chuckled easily enough. “I hear what you’re saying, Mrs. B. - I know it’s different when it’s your own mom. But… nobody got hurt. They both had a good time. The only part that’s a real drag is that they both think the other person hated it, and hate each other. But everybody’s fine.”

Amazingly enough, it turned out to be Yang’s sentiment that helped the most. Maybe it was more due to seeing four of them all being unwaveringly supportive of her, but either way, that was when Willow started nodding. “Well… if you all are sure, then I guess I should stop punishing myself. For that.”

“For everything,” Kali persisted, hugging her from behind. “All that is in the past; just learn from it, don’t dwell. And as for Raven…”

“As for Raven?” she prompted in a nervous tone.

“She’s yours for the taking. No one is going to call you a lesbian,” she spoke over the budding protest. “It doesn’t mean you’re betraying Jacques’s memory or anything. You’re still Willow, and still a wonderful mother and a dear friend.”

Her head shook very gently as she whispered, “How can I… with a woman? You all do it, a-and that’s fine, but I’ve birthed children, Kali. I’m not like you are!”

“Wow,” Blake muttered, clearly offended by the accidental implication that she didn’t exist.

“Besides, what in heaven would a dynamo like Raven want with my old, used-up body anyway?”

“You forget, her body’s just as used-up,” Yang put in with a shrug. “Well… only from me, but still, she’s been through the same thing. Pretty sure she’s not expecting you to look like some teenager when she gets you in the sack.”

“Yang!” Kali hissed at her – but Willow was chuckling.

“It’s alright. She’s blunt but makes a very good point; I’m… getting so far ahead of myself, and being silly. But I don’t have anything else to offer, either; an old drunk who couldn’t even protect her children, and has no useful skills.”

However, Yang was already shaking her head even before she finished. “Pretty sure that’s not how she sees you. More like… a princess stuck in an ivory tower who’s been really lonely for a really long time.”

“Kind of like herself,” Kali commented with sad eyes. “Though she did lock herself in her own dungeon, it’s… still awful.”

At that moment, there came a vague sound from the doorway. When they all saw Raven standing there, hands clenched at her sides, they thought she was either going to shout at them for talking behind her back. Or turn right back around and storm out. Her jaw was set, eyes piercing, chest heaving. Willow stood forward from the sink with a gulp, hands clutching at the chest of her dress.

“Willow… I’m sorry.”

“For what? You haven’t done anyth-”

“No, hang on.” She glanced at the others. “Can you maybe scram? I got somethin’ to say to Willow and I don’t need an audience.”

Kali smirked. “Is it going to be that damning?”

“FINE!” she growled, and Willow flinched – making her hastily hold up both hands. “Wait. Don’t… just… I’m sorry about that, too. I got a temper. Real tired of people taking advantage of me, or… making fun, or… and I ain’t good with words.”

“Not everyone is meant to be a bard,” Willow told her as she started to breathe normally again.

“Sure. But you deserve… Kali. Somebody who’s gonna be able to be all ‘high society’ with you. Just not that kinda woman and never have been, and I don’t think I could be if I tried.”

Stunned, Kali glanced between the other two mothers, and briefly at their daughters – who had backed all the way to the refrigerator, trying to seem unobtrusive now. Then she began delicately, “Willow and I are only friends. I promise you.”

“Please, both of you,” Willow urged them as she swallowed. “I’m only friends with the both of you, and I’d like to continue to be. Besides, I… I’ve never been a very, um… sexual person.” While Weiss was squirming in her shoes, her mother cleared her throat and continued, “But the both of you have made me feel so safe, and cared for, and… I don’t… I very much dislike this notion you trying to decide who ‘gets’ me when I just w-want-”

Raven and Kali were clinging to either side of her before she could finish. Weiss couldn’t help feeling the tiniest flicker of amusement as she slid both of her arms around Blake and Yang’s backs; it was like a mirror through time. Like mother, like daughter, times three.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Raven told her very firmly. “Never again.”

“And Raven is moving in with you.” When the woman in question opened her mouth angrily, Kali held up a hand. “Permanently. Her house is a hovel, and yours will be emptier now. I think it’s safer. I would offer to do the same if mine didn’t have so much history – plus uprooting Blake.”

“Hey, don’t do me any favours,” Blake muttered.

“What about Yang?” Raven snapped. “She can get uprooted? She doesn’t matter like your girl matters?”

Even while Yang was smiling a little, overloaded with the very rare show of parental protection from the woman who seemed so indifferent, she said, “I don’t care about that house, Mom. And I know you don’t, either; you say all the time that we could burn it down and the ashes would be cleaner.”

“What?” Blinking a few times, she looked away. “It’s… pretty rotten, huh?”

“Yeah. But it’s not your fault; you tried to make it a home.” The older woman tensed as her girl approached, hugging her around the middle. “And we could make this home, if it’s what you want. Really. As long as I’ve got you and my bike and stuff, the rest is… well, it doesn’t matter that much to me. People make a home.”

Chuckling harshly, Raven finally let an arm fall around her daughter’s shoulders. “Guess I can understand that mindset. Home is where you hang your hat – or jacket in your case.” Then she considered for a long few seconds, looking down at the floor. “I’m… well, it won’t kill me. And I do like Willow… and even her daughter, a little. Maybe.”

After a few seconds of watching the extremely rare bonding moment between Yang and her mother, Weiss couldn’t resist a happy little wiggle as she hopped closer. “So we’re serious about this? Really?”

“I suppose we are,” Willow laughed as she hugged her two new friends. Who both hugged back very warmly. “Let the Schnee-Branwen integration begin!”

[mysticaltora8276]

1. Wait I have to explain? You really don’t understand media literacy do you?

2. oh no, he kissed her without her consent twice. And she’s kissed him multiple times without his consent. Doesn’t that make her awful? Or does it only count when Aang does it?

3. Favoritism towards Tenzin. He just took him on trips and it comes off less of blatant favoritism and more of him trying to impart the last of his culture to someone who can truly empathize with the fact that he’s an Airbender. Bumi and Kya even admit that he was a great dad, even if he was flawed.

4. Oh no, he doesn’t eat any of the meat provided. It’s almost like they are equally respecting the fact that Aang doesn’t eat meat and find alternatives for him to eat that are still linked to their culture. Does that mean that if you don’t eat piece of food that is integral to the culture that you’re disrespecting them? Well then don’t ever eat any foreign food whatsoever. Because you’re disrespecting your culture then…. Your logic makes no sense and fun fact there are vegetarians in northern Native American tribes. For whatever reasons. Epic fail with understanding, cultures or character building.

5. Oh no, showing that thing true to your beliefs and morality is somehow bad? It was made of abundantly clear that Aang wasn’t going to kill the FireLord. Roku said, beating the fire Lord everyone else assumed that meant killing him. And sticking to your guns is a very mature and selfless and brave thing to do. I don’t know if you follow with faith but sticking into your faith and following it regardless of the fact that everyone’s tells you that you shouldn’t be doing this is an incredibly difficult and hard thing to do and I applaud anyone who does it. Clearly you don’t understand what truly means and I feel sorry for you.

6. The comics are written by a variety of authors who interpret the source material. The actual creators have maybe like a slight handed it. In the nation, it seems as they get the characterization and the cultures down much better. Probably because they learn from their mistakes and trusting people who have a, interesting viewpoint about certain relationships.

7. Trophy wife? Being the healer of the southern water tribe is somehow bad? Look, I wasn’t thrilled about the older guard being sidelines so that way they are kids could make stupid mistakes, but it made sense for Katara to settle down to be a healer. She wanted to end the war and she made her mark on the world and she taught the next generation of water benders. That is what she wanted to do preserve her culture. And I’m not sure why getting married to the man she loved and helping him through struggles and help raising children is somehow bad. So so let me get this straight if she were doing that with Zuko it’s OK but Aang somehow it’s not?

7. Well, yeah, he feels guilty about it because he’s a decent person. Also, it makes sense. He lost his entire culture in his family. Katara and Sokka are the only ones he has left so of course he wants to hold onto them. But when he realizes that he was wrong, he makes amends for it, even if it has a negative consequence on him. You know people say that he had lacks empathy, but I’m getting the impression that it’s projecting your own lack of empathy for a genocide survivor. Fun fact, emotions make people act irrationally and sometimes people get hurt. That’s human not something to demonize someone else for. But yes, that’s right. It’s OK with Zuko gets emotional, but Aang never get emotional.

8. We’re getting on the subject of relationships did neither of you people notice that Zuko literally is possessive over Mai so much so that he picks a fight with her that pisses her off that she breaks up with him? Why is it OK when Zuko messes up, but when Aang messes up his flaws are magnified and exaggerated to the point of parody?

What I adore about the idea of Katara ending up with Zuko instead of Aang is that in Zuko she would have someone who would support her in her righteous anger. Had he been there when Katara challenged Pakku for her right to learn how fight, he would've backed her up. He would never have tried to tell Pakku that she didn't mean it. And he would've offered to help her dispose of his body if it came to that.

That's the energy that Katara needs. Someone who understands that she's not jumping into a fight for nothing. If she kills someone, she had a darned good reason.

[bluetooththereptile]

Oh my gosh first of all sorry Blue I think I did go a bit overboard on that ask especially considering it was for a yandere one shot 😂 Ok you don't have to write it thanks for your honesty to be honest I wasn't sure what to give you for yandere batfam. B/c in your original work like with the unwanted reader you went above and beyond with emotions , and in each part it got really suspensful and good. And I wasn't sure if the typical girl meets yandere would cut it I was afraid if I made it to simple you'd be bored with my request. Anyway in hindsight I probably should have read over my ask and made it shorter. Ok so I know its kinda the same ask but it can be more vague and unsaid if you are ok with it could you do a one - shot of a day in the life of growing up from birth with a yandere batfam? But with a male character maybe mid teens and things can be implied but mostly it could be about how his life has turned out from staying so long with them how he is just barely seeing the signs of how strange his life is and his struggle for independence and self discovery and wanting to be his own man and having so many strong male role models in his life yet never seeming to make progress on his own and he is frustrated . Anyway if thats ok with you maybe something like that also I hope you know you never have to feel pressured to write for me I will always appreciate the work you put out and the sensations I felt and remember when encountering your work I like you to and I kinda get it I'm not much of a writer with an online presence but when I do write sometimes for prompts or projects it can be a lot the burnout or just not feeling the scenario or words to fill it out and finish it so take care ok after all you are giving us your time and work and I and others appreciate it so just do whatever feels natural in the mean time I'll be cheering on from the sidelines !☺

Alright now we are talking!

I can do that don't worry! Thanks for asking!

Being a Wayne

Male reader x yandere bat family

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Just saying I may write a chapter two for this~

Tw: violence, injuries

"Master Y/N!" You rolled your eyes as you turned to meet Alfred with your lunch bag in his hands. "You were going to forget your lunch master Y/N..." you gave the old man a half-smile "You know I'm not 12 anymore right? Plus in school, they give us lunch, right Tim?" You turned to your brother who was trying to find a way to get rid of the lunch bag in his hands by putting it behind a plant or a statue "Timmy?" You tried to grab his attention "W-what huh?" He jolted his head up "Oh sorry...did you say something Y/N?" At this point whatever you were going to say was forgotten and Alfred had walked away, leaving you with the lunch bag.

You sighed in frustration, you were not a child anymore! You could take care of yourself! You'd be an adult in just a year and Alfred still treated you like you didn't know what to eat or not! Alright, maybe you and Tim, who was nearly your age, had made some questionable habits over drinking coffee or eating snacks but that didn't mean that everything you ate had to be monitored by someone else! The only time you got to eat something, not home-cooked was when you were on a mission, for sure home-cooked meals were great but you didn't need to be supervised about it!

"Good morning guys!" Dick's voice echoed in the hallway, you smiled at him as he waved to you before turning his head toward Tim "My batring is broken you care to fix it up for me?" He nearly yelled from the other end of the hallway, his phone in his hand "Why don't you do it yourself? Too busy talking to your "baby"?" Tim nagged "Oh hey stop right there young man! I'm an adult with so much stuff to do! As your older brother, I am asking you to fix my stuff because I can!" Tim rolled his eyes "Fine, I'll fix it when we get home!" "That's a good boy! But make sure to fix it before the sun goes down I need it tonight!" "I thought you didn't patrol tonight?" You asked in surprise "No it's Jay's turn tonight, I need it for the mission-..."

Dick trailed off as Tim mouthed him to stop, but it was too late and the secret already had spilled "What mission?" You asked, confused. As a member of the justice league you had expected to be informed about missions happening, so when dick, as the supervisor, knew about the missions concerning the league, you had to know it too! Unless they had "forgotten" to inform you. You turned to Tim with your eyes narrowed, shushing him before he could even open his mouth you sighed deeply. Today's ride to school was going to be a long one.

......

"I thought we were close enough, Timothy!" Tim winced at his full being used, your sarcastic tone adding to The bitterness of your argument "Didn't we agree on not hiding anything from each other Tim?" "Yes but-" "No buts and no more excuses! How could you? It's the third time this month!" You looked out of the window in frustration, trying to calm yourself down, Tim remained silent, knowing that if he continued to make excuses, you'd get angrier.

It was not fair, you thought to yourself. You trained so hard that some training sessions had ended up in you and your father arguing about you pushing your limits too far. You tried to analyze every mission as best as you could so you had better performance in your missions, you tried to be the best but your family left you out of what you enjoyed the most, being a hero.

You had joined the league for six months now, but you had gone on two missions so far when Tim and your siblings were too busy dealing with their duties. It was not fair! Not at all! You bit down on your fist to stop yourself from groaning in frustration. How could they leave you out like this? You were tired of their stupid excuses, they had used all of their tactics to make you believe that something was wrong when it wasn't!

Your physical test for the joining application to the league had gotten rejected several times while you were in perfect condition! Your equipment had broken down without being used, you were left out of the mission calls and your batring were always offline, no matter how many times you had tried to fix it. You knew it was your family's fault, but you couldn't find any evidence. And it frustrated you to no end.

All you wanted to do was to help people around you, just like what your mother had taught you during the first decade of your life, she had told you to become a good member of society, and help the people who are in need of it, just like your father. Bless her soul, you hadn't seen her again since you were ten years old, how could she come out of her grave to meet you again? You thought, your heart clenching in your chest at the memory of her.

......

The ride to school went silently, and you didn't bother to utter a word to your brother for the rest of your time at school. Fortunately, you had Bart and M'gan To fill up your time with. "Wow boy! If my ma were going to put these in my bag I wouldn't have eaten junk food away again!" Bart said as he buried his head into your lunch back, making you smack the back of his head lightly as you chuckled "You look down today...what's the matter?" M'gan asked as she tilted her head to the side, you sighed and looked up at her, she had put on such a good disguise that even you couldn't recognize her easily if you didn't know her new look already, "It's my family..." She knowingly patted your shoulder, you had talked about this before, and no matter how many solutions you had thought of, none of them had worked out.

"I just...ugh! Look at Bart! Look at him!" You said as you pointed at Bart, making the poor guy stare at you with wide eyes "What?" He asked with his mouth full "Am I not as good as Bart?" You asked, making M'gan rub the back of her neck "Well..." She trailed off, making you groan "I may not have any super powers but I bet on anything you say that I train my ass off nearly every day! I try to learn from others, but I'm never good enough!" You made an impression of your father as you deepened your voice "You are not qualified for this position!" You couldn't help but slam your fist on the table, making your plate fall off the lunch table.

"I'm sick of it! Look at me! It's my 18th birthday next month and I'm still treated like a baby! I'm sent off to a school that has cameras everywhere, I don't care if it's nice or not! I'm constantly watched by some strangers! I find trackers sewed in my clothes and bags, even right now I know that someone is listening through my damn phone because it's hacked!" You seeth the last part in your phone's speaker, scoffing as your Jayson's number showed up on the screen.

You turned your phone off as you continued "I'm never good enough! At home, I'm treated like I'm something fragile and outside of it I'm like a failure that needs to stay at home all the time! Haven't you seen Bruce when he's all of the gear and armor? He terrifies the shit out of everyone including me, and I feel madder every day passes because I am not good enough for him!" You called your father by name when you were too angry to help yourself. "I just don't know what to do!" "Let it go, dude...you can start tomorrow, just don't push yourself now..." Bart said, sounding more sensible than ever "Alright..."

It was your last class of the day, and you were impatient to leave, your empty stomach grumbled, making you tap your pen on your notes harder, so you could let out the frustration in a way. You couldn't understand whatever the teacher was saying, your mind was in another world. You were pulled out of your thoughts as a note found its way on your desk. "You okay?" Tim had asked making you scoff again, you turned to your brother, who had his desk next to you "Do I look okay?" You mouthed, making him wince again, a storm was going to hit the Wayne mansion and it was going to end in something good, Tim thought to himself.

......

"Y/N! I don't have time for this!" Your father shouted at you, making your Jae close in an instant, he hadn't shouted at you like this before, He was tired and angry, not on you of course, how could he, but the last weeks had been frustrating to him, and your continuous nagging didn't help him ease it down much. You stood there as your father put his armor gear on, you sighed and looked away, it was not the time to talk to him, you knew it well, that was why you gave given up. You watched Damian pick his weapons up, making your fists clench harder. You understood what your family was going through, but the anger did not subside, it just crawled into your every bone, waiting for the right for you to snap.

Damian gave you a knowing look, reminding you of the conversion you two had effort your father had gotten home, you had offered him help in his patrolling, and even though the boy loved to have quality time with you, he refused. You asked for the reason and he withheld the answers from you, for no damn reason!

So naturally, you had tried to open up the conversation with your father, who surprisingly "didn't have time" for you. And here you were, standing there like a moron. "Dad...can we have a talk when you are back?" You asked, "For what?" He said as turned to you, you looked at him the scowl on his face reminding you of the danger your words could bring. But you swallowed your saliva that had suddenly thickened for no reason "About my missions..."

Your father sighed before glaring at you "Look Y/N, right now the whole world is crumbling down" he hissed as he walked toward you, "Millions of people are in danger!" When he reached you he did something that you couldn't imagine him doing, he grabbed your jaw and slammed your back to the nearest wall "I don't have the time to worry about what is mine! And you, a spoiled brat, can be a virus in my perfect system!" His fingers clenched your jaws hardly as you stared at your father in fear, Bruce was in one of his most dark days and you were unlucky enough to be a victim of the Batman inside him.

Damian was terrified to do anything but watch as your father let go of you and left, leaving you to sink onto the floor, your body frozen in fear and disbelief, your face covered in bruises made by his strong grip, later you'll find out that your jaw had cracked under that pressure but for now you were too busy processing what had happened. Damian rushed to help you, but you stopped him by holding your hand to his small chest, he had duties to do in your father's perfect system, and you didn't want to have that deadly look set upon you ever again, so you pushed him away gently, pointing at his batring that was buzzing.

Damian left you alone despite being worried, but he didn't forget to call for Alfred who would come to help you. Being a Wayne no matter how loved you were, was hard. You had to be the perfect gear in your father's machine, just doing what you were asked to do while your father pulled the strings, and he could hurt you if you were disobedient. Alfred tried to talk to you, but you stared at him like you had met him for the first time, your eyes had opened to the reality you had lived in all your life. All of those lost friends and relatives, those little accidents and destroyed your relationship with many, your life choice being affected by unexpected circumstances, all of that...now you were seeing things in a different light, now you knew.

You were going to get out of your father's sight as soon as you could.

[buckyownsmylife]

friendzone - chapter 1

The one where director!reader is forced to work alongside her new work crush and the idiot who broke her heart

For general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

“C’mon, just give me a chance…” I was not having a good day, to say the least. Oh, no, not at all. Not a good year, perhaps - let’s go there, yes, why not? I deserved it, after all. This was all my own doing, and I never allowed myself a single second to forget it.

“Not gonna happen, Evans.” I might have closed the door a little harder than necessary if all of the gazes that fell on me upon entering the set were any indication. “I’m sorry, I know, I just- Where’s my coffee?”

I usually wasn’t this bitchy, but having to work with your ex-boyfriend - your cheating, lying ex-boyfriend - usually had this effect on a person, I imagined. Sending a grateful smile to the PA who had the guts to approach with a steaming cup of joe, I set out to put as much distance as possible between me and the man who was still following my every step.

Why did I ever think a slammed door would stop his pursuit, I would never know. Five months, hundreds of ignored calls and texts, and the guy didn’t quit it. Hell, he even managed to force his way into my dream project, just to force me to talk to him.

I was determined not to give up. He couldn’t be rewarded - not for what he did, not for what he was doing to me right now - but his ego stopped him from even seeing the error of his ways.

He just kept pushing, and as the director of the movie he was starring in, I couldn’t completely ignore him. As much as I wanted to.

“Is everything okay?” My body immediately relaxed at the sound of the (now) familiar English accent. “What’s going on?” It was clear that Henry wanted to outwardly ask me if Chris was bothering me, but he refrained from doing so. Like the gentleman he was - or, at the very least, someone able to think about the consequences of his actions before doing something he’d come to regret - he didn’t want to put me in a weird position, or even potentially complicate his work relationship with his co-star when he truly didn’t understand what was going on.

It’s not that I didn’t want to tell him. I did. But we’d only known each other for four weeks - the time since pre-production started, plus the week since we started filming. It didn’t matter how much we’d clicked in that time, he was still a relative stranger to me.

Even if I were to trust him… why would he even care about my past with another man? We weren’t yet friends, and nothing romantic was going on, despite all of the dirty dreams I’d been having since our eyes connected for the first time.

I knew I wasn’t the only one who suffered from his superpower. All of the people attracted to males - even some who swore they weren’t - had the same lustful haze in their eyes after spending seconds in his presence…

… and I’d been there before. The woman standing on the sidelines while their lover enraptured the world. Never again, I’d sworn. Never again, I still reminded myself under my breath every time Chris popped into my brain, life or heart. and yet, there I was: five whole minutes into staring into clear blue eyes and no words left to say like I’d unlearned the entire English alphabet simply because Henry Cavill decided to rest his gaze upon me.

Men really did make women go dumb sometimes.

“Nothing that involves you,” Chris spoke from behind me, two hands coming up to seize my waist and pull me against his chest. “You don’t have any reason to be concerned, I can assure you.”

… or insane.

“Get your hands off of me.” I don’t think I’d ever used this tone on Chris before, so his instinctive reaction to let his hands drop to the side of his body could probably be explained by that. But the truth? I didn’t even know I was able to make such a guttural voice until his actions led me to see the world in shades of red, in a way much similar to the one I used to stare at while we were in love, and yet so drastically different it confused and terrified me.

“Do you even have a scene to film today, Chris?” I asked, deciding to completely ignore Henry while I still had to deal with the manchild that was my ex-boyfriend. It took him a while to answer, but after some hesitation, he nodded.

“Yeah, it’s the-”

“No, you don’t.” I knew I was being silly, but fuck. This was my movie set, and he couldn’t just keep doing this - interrupting my work schedule, my dream job because of a romantic past he screwed up.

“Go back to the hotel. I’ll film Henry's solo scenes today.” His nostrils flared, his temper once again getting the best of him, but when he opened his mouth to argue… “Go.”

I was tired of letting him take the reins of my life.

[seokth]

mother knows best | 5

— drabble 5 ; mafia game —

pairing | ot7 x female reader (platonic), ot7 moms & female reader

summary | being the only woman in a friend group with seven men automatically makes you the love interest in seven mothers’ wistful romantic stories. though your relationship with the guys remains completely platonic, the marriage fantasy their moms frequently project onto you and their sons has them coming up with all sorts of shenanigans to make you their daughter-in-law. mother knows best, you suppose.

warnings | overbearing moms, attempts at humor, platonic, slice of life au

note | the mafia game is already featured in a lot of run bts eps but for those of u who don’t know, the game is played with the mafia who kills citizens while trying to avoid being identified, the doctor/detective who tries to save potential victims, and the innocent citizens who try to find out the mafia’s identity before more them are killed. sorry if that confuses u even more but that’s kinda it :,)

series index | general masterlist

“And so the citizens of Bangtan Village went to sleep…”

Everyone drums their hands against the large table, even those who are already eliminated from the game, save for Jin who’s stuck with the task of narrating. Hoseok and Jungkook watch begrudgingly from the sideline as you, Taehyung, Jimin, Namjoon, Yoongi, and all of the moms put your heads down, eyes closed, silently waiting for the next instructions.

“Mafia, open your eyes,” he says.

You, Taehyung, and Mrs. Jung look up, grinning at each other.

(“I told you I wasn’t the mafia,” Jungkook grumbles as he watches the three of you plot your next kill.

“Sorry, man,” Hoseok apologizes. “Y/N was so convincing. I thought for sure you were the killer.”

The youngest shuts his eyes. “I was wrongly accused.” He shudders, remembering how all their mothers ganged up against him under your influence because they were all too enamored by you to even suspect you of anything bad.)

“Who do you want to kill?

The three of you take a quiet moment to decide before you pucker your lips and gesture at Namjoon who remains none the wiser with his head down. Taehyung’s mouth opens to form an ‘o’ and he nods quietly in agreement. Turning to Mrs. Jung — who probably still doesn’t have an inkling on how to play the game and is content to just follow your leads — he stops drumming on one hand and taps his index finger twice on his temple in explanation.

“He’s too smart,” he mouths at her and you nod. “We have to kill him.”

The three of you turn to Jin and nod at him before putting your heads back down.

“Detective,” he continues, “open your eyes.”

Yoongi yawns soundlessly as he raises his head up, and without wasting any time, points at himself before resuming his earlier position. Jin holds back a laugh before he summons the daytime again.

“And so the citizens wake up the next morning…” he slows his words for suspense, “...to some terrible news.”

“Oh, no!” Mrs. Park pouts.

“Oh, yes,” Seokjin says remorsefully. “Bangtan Village mourns the death of Namjoon-ssi, who was…” he pauses for dramatic effect, “...an innocent villager.”

“No!” Taehyung’s mom exclaims while Namjoon blinks as he’s eliminated from the game.

“Some detective,” Jimin grumbles. “Can’t even save anyone for the past three nights,” he continues, missing Yoongi’s annoyed huff.

“Trying to save face, Jiminie?” You ask, acting innocent much to Jin and Taehyung’s amusement. “You know what they say. The first one to break the silence is usually the guilty one.”

Jimin’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead when seven pairs of eyes widen gullibly.

Oh no.

“Y/N’s right!” Mrs. Jeon exclaims. “Jiminie is trying to fool us!”

“It’s like when you’re asking ‘who farted?’ but it’s really just you in the first place!” Mrs. Jung offers, scratching her chin as she looks at Jimin as if seeing him in a new light.

(“I thought Mrs. Jung is one of the mafia?” Jungkook asks.

“Wait, she is?” Namjoon snorts in disbelief. “She had me killed?”

Hoseok sighs. “Yeah. Seems like she forgot her own role.”

“More like she forgot how to play the whole game,” Seokjin offers between chuckles.)

You and Taehyung could only grin.

“What?!” Jimin sputters in panic. “I’m n-not t-the—”

“You’re stuttering!” Mrs. Park points at him accusingly. “And why are your ears red right now? Your ears only turn red when you’re lying!”

Jimin’s face is one of pure betrayal.

“Eomma!”

“Well, if you’re not the mafia,” Namjoon’s mom says patiently but suspiciously, “then who is?”

“It’s Y/N!”

Seven feminine scoffs echo throughout the room.

“Jimin-ah…” you say, pouting for the full effect. “I thought we were friends. How could you say such a thing?”

“Y/N?” Mrs. Min repeats, not convinced. “You’re saying sweet Y/N is the killer?”

“I’m telling you it’s her!” Jimin is getting desperate, nudging Yoongi and Taehyung to offer him support. “Right, hyung, Taehyung-ah?”

“It’s definitely Y/N,” Yoongi agrees.

Seokjin’s mom doesn’t relent. “Y/N could never be the mafia.”

Jimin turns to Taehyung with desperate eyes.

“I’m sorry, Jiminie,” Taehyung says solemnly, “but I think you’re the mafia.”

His friend’s heart shatters into pieces.

“All in favor of Jimin as the mafia,” Taehyung’s mom calls for votes while raising her own hand up. Nine hands fly to the air, with Jimin and Yoongi staring at you in defeat and disbelief.

(“They’re too biased,” Namjoon observes.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Hoseok responds.

Jungkook just scratches his head. “This game was doomed from the start.”

“Well, I for one, am having fun,” Seokjin says, hands behind his head.)

“Mr. Narrator,” Mrs. Jeon calls out to Jin, beaming, “we would like to kill off Jimin as the mafia.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Jin asks, smirking.

“Positive,” Namjoon’s mom affirms.

“Well, in that case…” He shrugs, smiling cheekily. “Bangtan Village mourns yet another loss. Jimin-ssi was voted out by the citizens but…” he pauses, “...he was just an innocent villager!”

Seven mothers gasp.

“Oh, then…” Mrs. Min mumbles as her finger shakily points across the table at her own son, “it must be Yoongi!”

When the other moms mumble in agreement, the rest of the group groan, save for you and Taehyung.

[ellabxrnes]

The Prank... Pt. 2

Requested: Yes.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x reader

Summary: Part 2 of my prank imagine. Bruce tells the reader he is selling Wayne Enterprises.

Word Count: 705

A/N: Haven't posted or felt like writing in awhile but I wrote this and wanted to post it.

Read part one HERE

"Y/N, can you come into my office, honey?" he called you from his cell phone. 

"Sure, I'm just finishing up a project for work," you replied.

Perfect. Now that the topic of work has been brought up, it'll be easier to pull this prank on you.

--

When Bruce approached Jason after starting a 'prank war' between you two, he didn't understand what that meant. Jason had been happy to help, but Bruce didn't want to pull an unrealistic prank on you. He wanted it to be believable. After all, you were pretty smart, and he knew you'd see right through a bullshit prank.

After many ideas, including a cheating prank (which made Bruce upset just thinking about it), he and Jason finally decided on the perfect trick. It was realistic and would be easy. He had talked with all the boys and got them in on it, just in case. He had briefly mentioned it to Alfred, to which Bruce received a short nod and sigh. 

--

"I'm selling the company," Bruce said in his most stoic and smooth voice, the one he was sure you wouldn't catch onto immediately. 

"Okay, why?" After all these years, you wondered why Bruce would suddenly sell his most valuable asset. 

"It reminds me too much of my parents." That makes sense.

"Alright, and what are you going to do next? Retire? Start another company? Demote yourself to a lower position?" You were genuinely curious.

"I plan on selling and going full-time Batman, but I will also be very active on the board."

You shook your head and quickly replied. "No."

Bruce snapped back. "Yes."

"I won't allow that to happen, Bruce. We have talked, and I am fully supportive of the vigilante stuff, but that work consumes you at night, and for your own health, I won't let you do that."

"I talked to the boys; they are supportive."

"Well, I am not. And have you talked to Alfred? I know he wouldn't allow that."

"I am planning on it."

"Look, I love and support you, but I also want the best for you. You need a healthy work-life-superhero balance."

"Yes, but Gotham is getting more dangerous every day, and it's up to me to stop it from taking over."

You shook your head. "Bruce. You have help. You don't need to throw yourself into it all the time."

"Y/N. I wasn't asking you if I could do this. I am telling you. This is what will be doing."

"Okay, fine, Bruce, but if it becomes too much, I won't sit and watch you continuously keep hurting yourself."

"You're saying you would leave me?" He was scared of that statement. He couldn't imagine life without you. 

"I love you, but I couldn't sit on the sideline and watch you do it ALL THE TIME. I think you have a wonderfully balanced life right now as is. I don't want to argue with you."

"I wasn't trying to argue."

"... Okay. Well then, do you have any potential buyers?"

"Not at the moment."

"Have you confronted the board?"

"Not as a whole, but I have sought advice from a few of them individually."

"Would I have to pick up a job at another company?"

"Y/N. You don't have to work right now."

"I am going to work no matter what. I wonder what finances would look like if you sold your entire company."

"I would be putting the money into all new equipment. I also planned on selling all of our other assets."

"What?"

"Yes, we would no longer need another place besides the manor. All I would need is the Batcave."

"Bruce, are you actually hearing yourself right now?"

"Yes. It makes sense."

"Alright."

"Are you mad? You seem mad."

"I'm fine, Bruce. I am just going to go and talk to Alfred about all this nonsense."

Oh shit.

"Wait!"

"What?"

"I- uh-"

You look at him quizzically.

"It's a prank."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry. That was such a bad idea-"

At that, Jason pops into Bruce's office. "Oh, hey, mom. Did he tell you? He's selling the company."

"Yes, your father told me. He's also terrible at pranking people."

"What? Dad, you already told her it was a joke."

"I- Yes. I couldn't watch your mother be upset."

Damian comes in. "So that must mean that the prank war is over? Thank God. How immature of you both."

"Oh, sweetie" You look Bruce in the eye. "It's far from over." 

[solivagant-muse]

I need more reverse au in my life. Bastard Vinny has to be the greatest thing in my life atm.

THANK YOU!

GLAD TO HEAR THAT!

I love a soft Vince, don't get me wrong but the boy has so much unresolved, inner rage that manifests in the worst ways possible and makes him commit atrocious acts of cruelty <3

I don't have shareable art atm but I can provide you with how I see Vincent being if his face wasn't attached to Bo, and instead was "the pretty face" of the two.

I'll also be sharing stuff that I spoke with @hersweetrevenge about it, because her brain is super wrinkly and big.👀

Anna, please feel free to add stuff if you like!

In this AU, I see Vincent being more confident, snobby and arrogant, he acts "humble" but you know the man is fishing for compliments like a lifeline at every opportunity. Self-entitled as well, being told he was special and talented all the time can make a kid's ego burst to the mountains.

I also see him not being able to handle criticism whatsoever, it's his art and he decides the value. He worked hard to get there, so no one is allowed to dislike his work and put a value on it.

The two songs I would connect with Reverse AU Vincent would be "Love Me Love Me Love Me" by Kikuo and "Being low as dirt, taking what's important to me" by Tuyu. I recommend just reading the lyrics just to have an idea.

Much like OG Bo, Vincent becomes the "face" of Ambrose, he is the one interacting with the victims most of the time. He is still a loner and more on the reserved side, finding more solace being in the basement than anywhere else but much like OG Bo, he has to do the facade of being nice and welcoming to lure future projects.

I also think Vincent can get away with being "weird" because he is an artist after all, and artists are sometimes eccentric.

He has too many knives? Weird but they're really detailed and might be for decoration or material/wax cutting!

He stares too long at someone and is being kind of a creep? Oh, he is just admiring the symmetry of their face! Artists like to people-watch.

His face twists in a bitter scowl if an artstyle he likes gets dunked on? Artists are passionate but sensitive souls.

However, I am of the opinion that the pressure from his mother was much more intense compared to the OG one. He was everything that she wanted; brains, looks, and talent but she still demanded more of him. Vincent had to keep up with what his brothers couldn't do or be. The pressure of being the "perfect son" and "the Sinclair pride" made him snap in a way, but it was more lowkey, less explosive than Bo's but horrible regardless. He was treated better, but their parents' love wasn't unconditional, it never was. Higher praise also meant harsher punishment. Vincent didn't have to experience much to know, Bo was the perfect example of the consequences of misbehaving.

He loves his mother, but he holds a deep resentment towards her. Maybe him making the House of Wax was a direct or indirect way of desecrating the art of his mother. His mother wanted a super talented kid that did everything she asked of him, but she is gone now. Now he is that, and much better.

Vincent feels pity for Bo and treats both him and Lester "nicer" compared to canon Bo but he still has a hold on both of them. He is one of the few who truly loves and cares for them after all. He doesn't mistreat them or yells at them but he can be a little condescending at times in a "I'm so kind to you all and I'm doing what's best for you. Sorry you don't appreciate my worry! 🙄" kind of vibe.

He is the head of the house in this au and has the family ring, he became what Victor and Trudy wanted, it's natural he would be the one to inherit take the ring for himself 👀

Oml, Trudy and Victor having an argument because one wants Vincent to be an artist and the other one wants him to be a doctor!!! Bo and Lester watching from the sidelines, no expectations for the two of them whatsoever.

[kkodzvken]

take the dive - sugawara koushi x milf!reader

tags/warnings: smut, 18+ ONLY! slight dubcon, infidelity, post timeskip (suga teaches reader’s kids). overstimulation and slight dumbification, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public (in an empty classroom)

a/n: this is my piece for @ultimate-astridwriting’s milf fuckers collab, which you can find here!! thank you for hosting this astrid, and thank u to everyone in the server for ur love and support as i worked on this <33. title cred: take the dive by jonghyun

wc: 3.9k

Amidst a faculty full of stuffy old dinosaurs and suits, Sugawara Koushi is a breath of fresh air. He’s a welcome distraction, a pretty face to focus on at dull PTA meetings and assemblies. And you knew that you weren’t the only one making heart eyes at him. Everywhere that he went, heads turned, and moms whispered. At the bus stop, on the sidelines of sports matches, in the waiting rooms outside dance classes.

It was just that, though -- just whispers. Little knowing glances and nudged shoulders, dreamy sighs and brief sinful indulgences. Nothing more than a brief escape from the monotony of your everyday lives. You’d lose yourselves in the fantasy for a few seconds, and then pull your heads down from the clouds and plant your feet on solid ground. You enjoyed your gossip with the other moms, and then you returned home, to your husband and children. To your family.

You love them, of course. Your children are your world, and your husband is a good man. He’s a good man, and that’s what made it so hard. He treats you well, keeps his words soft and never once put his hands on you. 

He may be good, but, God, was he boring. You can’t remember the last time that he’d even kissed you, let alone fucked you. He came home later and later each night, too tired from work to do anything but silently scarf down his dinner and plant himself on the couch in front of the television. He dragged himself into bed hours after you did. He tried to be quiet, he really did, but he woke you up every single night with his stomping and shuffling. When you snuggled closer to him, he pushed you off. My back hurts too bad, he’d say, voice tinged with regret. Remind me to book another appointment with the chiropractor. 

It was always some excuse or another. 

So, really, you couldn’t blame yourself for your wandering eye. You weren’t going to act on it, of course -- you weren’t a cheater -- but the young teacher was something to occupy yourself with. A pretty face to fill your thoughts as you wrangled your horde of screaming kids from swim lessons to dance practice to art classes. A pretty, pretty body to imagine as you fucked yourself with your fingers, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was him, lithe body leaning over yours. No complaints of aching backs and sore muscles, none of the complications that came with age. 

You’d leave your husband catatonic on the couch, put the kids to sleep, and then go dream of their hot teacher. You should’ve been more ashamed, but there was a part of you that loved the thrill of it. You flushed whenever you saw Mr. Sugawara the next morning, memories of your illicit thoughts filling your mind, but it also made your body feel electric. 

Of course there was a part of you that longed to throw caution to the wind and jump the young man, but your conscience was much stronger than your weak, lustful thoughts. You were happy with the way things were now. As dull as your husband was, and as insufferable as the children could sometimes be, you were happy. 

This was all you had ever wanted. A house in the suburbs, a husband with a well-paying job, three kids and a dog. You’re living the fucking dream. You’re happy, you tell yourself.

So why the fuck are you so unsatisfied?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With a deep breath, you stare down the heavy glass doors at the school’s entrance. You want nothing more than to find the idiot architect who designed this building, and strangle him for installing pull doors. Your arms are already sore from carrying the giant tray of brownies from your car to the front of the school, and you worry that if you put the treats down to open the door, you wouldn’t be able to lift them up again. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you have two minutes left to reach the gym where the bake sale is being held. The PTA president is notorious for hating latecomers, and you weren’t in the mood to get your head bit off.

You’re debating doing some gymnastics and using your foot to grab the handle, when you notice footsteps approaching from behind you. You open your mouth to ask for help, but they beat you to it. “Let me get the door,” says their syrupy, melodic voice.

Their familiar voice.

Your body practically freezes as a strong arm reaches over your shoulder. Long fingers – fingers that you’ve fantasized about too many times to count – twist the handle and push it open easily. You don’t know how you didn’t notice him approaching sooner, but now that he’s here, your senses are in overdrive. The sweet scent of his cologne, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his body – it’s all too much, and it makes your knees feel weak.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you say, voice coming out much breathier than you intended. This must be some kind of Pavlovian response from all your fantasizing, because there is no reason for your stomach to be twisting right now. “Thank you.”

He grins sheepishly and steps away, and you hate the way that your body screams at you to lean into him. “It’s no problem. Is that for the bake sale? Here, let me carry it for you.”

You try to protest, but there’s really no point. His long fingers are already pushing yours to the sides, and you swear you’ve been electrified as he pulls the tray out of your hands. It’s a shame, really, that he’s wearing a button-down. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, at least, but you would’ve loved to see his biceps flex as he carried that tray…

What am I doing? You dig your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of your thoughts, but it’s hard to stay lucid when he’s so beautiful. He carries the brownies with ease, using just one arm to support their weight as the other holds the door open for you. It should make you upset, that you’re so weak in comparison to him, but the thought just makes you feel even more breathless. He’s so strong, so young, and so unlike your husband.

“Thank you,” you say again as he steps into the building behind you. You reach for the tray, but he waves you off.

“Nonsense. I’ll walk you to the gym.”

“Oh, really, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Anything for my favorite mom.”

His…favorite? His words leave you too stupefied to protest any further, and he takes your silence as compliance. Your body automatically follows in his footsteps as he paces down the hallways.

He looks over at you and smiles comfortingly. It lights up his entire face, but does little to ease your turbulent thoughts.

Your mind is still fixated on his words as you step onto the squeaky wood flooring of the gymnasium. Sugawara calmly walks over to the PTA president, who looks like she’s about to rip her hair out. She’s surrounded by a gaggle of other moms, all jabbering away with concern painted across their faces.

“Is something wrong, ladies?” he asks. His voice snaps them all out of their conversation, and their eyes widen as they take him in.

“Yes,” says the PTA president scornfully. “We were supposed to have the brownies here already! The sale starts in ten minutes, and if this keeps up, I won’t have enough time to inventory everything and make it presentable, and –”

“I have the brownies,” you cut in, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

She blanches, and looks from you to the tray in Sugawara’s arms. An oh is all she can muster before grabbing the brownies and rushing off.

“Is everything okay?” one of the other moms asks, her voice laced with fake sweetness. “Oh, and you look so tired, dear. If you couldn’t manage your part, you should’ve just said so!”

“It would’ve been no trouble,” another woman says. “I’d have had no trouble whipping up a tray for you! Everyone always does love my baking.”

You grit your teeth and resist the urge to snap at them. It’s always like this – the other moms seem so in tune with their lives of domestic bliss, playing games of politics and constantly competing to be the best. Try as you might, you just can’t satisfy yourself with a life like theirs.

The material of Sugawara’s shirt brushes against you, and you start. He doesn’t pull away as you flinch, instead gently resting his hand on the small of your back. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal her away? Mrs. (L/N), I have your son’s science fair project sitting in my classroom. He keeps forgetting to bring it home. Would you like to go collect it now?”

You nod, relieved at the excuse to escape these women and their sickening artificial sweetness. Sugawara gently guides you with the hand on your back. You can’t help but internally smirk at the thinly-veiled jealousy on the faces of the other mothers.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.  

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Sugawara says, once you’re safely out of earshot. “All these PTA moms are so fake. But you’re not like that, are you?”

You nod, still a bit convinced that this is all a dream. He doesn’t remove his hand from your back as you walk down the hallways, and only pulls away when you reach the door to his classroom. He fishes through his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys, before insert one into the knob and pushing the door open. He gestures for you to enter first, and so you do, blinking at the harsh sudden brightness of the automatic lights.

You awkwardly glance around the room. You’ve been here plenty of times before, but that was all during the daytime, when it was packed full of energetic children. It feels…strange, to be alone in a classroom as an adult. Or, well, alone, except for the stupidly attractive teacher that you’ve been lusting over.

“Where’s the project?” you ask, trying to diffuse some of the tension building in your stomach. “I should head home soon.”

Sugawara leans his back against the door and cocks his head. “You know, I know what you say about me.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His eyes rove across your body, lingering on your chest for far longer than they should. “I’m not deaf, you know. I hear all the things you say about me. You’re just like all the other moms.” He pushes off the door, stalking closer to you. You instinctively take a step back. “Only difference is, you might actually have the guts to do something about it.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, so hard that you think your ribs might bruise. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Sugawara. I-”

You take another step back, and another, and suddenly your back collides with concrete. Your body jolts, and you yelp at the sudden pain.

Sugawara leans closer. One of his hands braces against the board behind your head, and the other one comes up to cradle your face. His long fingers hook under your chin and press, forcing you to tilt your head up and meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lip, and you can’t deny how the sensation makes your body feel like jelly.

Every rational thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away from him and go back to your husband, but God, it’s been so long since you’ve felt like this. It’s been so long since someone’s made your heart race and your breaths quicken, since someone’s made you blush like a schoolgirl over a simple touch.

“What was that you said?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

You swallow and bite the inside of your cheek. The pain does nothing to clear the fog inside your mind. “I-I don’t, I-”

“You do,” he interrupts, his thumb still toying with your lip. “You’re so fucking obvious. I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Sugawara!” His lewd words make you gasp, but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s right. Your body has a mind of its own, and it wants nothing more than to wrap your lips around his thumb and pull him closer. It wants to feel his arms wrapped around you, feel his body towering over you.

But you can’t. As much as you want to, you can’t, because you have a husband at home who’s waiting for you. Sure, he isn’t home right now, because he’s putting in extra hours at the office. And sure, he hasn’t touched you or made you feel desired in weeks. Hell, you haven’t had a genuine conversation in weeks. But he’s still your husband! You try and remind yourself of that. You roll the thought around in your head, hoping that it’ll push your thoughts of Sugawara away.

But the young teacher is persistent, and there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes your chest tighten. “Call me Koushi, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess –”

“What, you’re going to pretend that it didn’t make you wetter? Going to pretend that you aren’t clenching your thighs together right now?” He leans in even closer, so that his breath brushes against your ear as he whispers. “Your body doesn’t lie, baby.”

A whine slips past your lips at his words, and then you gasp, mortified with yourself. But the grin that covers his face makes your transgression worth it, because God, he’s handsome. His hand squeezes your chin even tighter, and then trails down to your neck. Your breath catches in your chest. You’re hyperaware of his every movement, of his fingers trailing across your skin, his touch feather-light. It leaves you aching for more.

You instinctively whine again, and he lets out a noise of surprised delight. “Whining like this, and you’re still denying that you want me? What’s got you so embarrassed?”

“I have a husband,” you hiss – or, at least, you try to hiss. It comes out more like a whimper than anything else.

Sugawara looks at you for a beat – and then throws his head back and laughs. It catches you off guard, and you furrow your brow. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

He collects himself, but his eyes are still gleaming when he looks back at you. “Sure, you have a husband. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about me, does it? Tell me, when’s the last time that your husband took care of you? When’s the last time that he touched you, or fucked you, or made you feel good?”

“Mr. Sugawara, this is inappropriate–”

“Stop lying to yourself.” His voice suddenly drops, his stare forceful and deadly serious. “Say the word, and I’ll go. We can pretend this never happened. But anyone with eyes can tell that you’re unsatisfied.”

“I…I don’t…” Your thoughts feel like a wave, building higher and higher. They bounce around your head, reverberating against your skull, so loud that you can’t even think.

“Why are you settling?”

“Mr. Sugawara, please, I–”

“Why are you settling, when you know you want more?”

The wave crests.

You don’t know who moves first, but somehow, your fingers are tangled in his hair, and his lips are slotted against yours. It’s not soft, or sweet – it’s a mess of teeth and tongues and feverish breaths. His hands are everywhere. They trail over your skin, explore the curves of your chest and your stomach, grip tightly at your waist to pull you closer.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you pant against his lips. Your lungs scream for oxygen, but you can’t bear to drag yourself away from him for even a second. He kisses so well. It may be rushed, and messy, but there’s so much hunger behind his actions that it makes your head spin. It’s like his lips are a live wire, and every second that they touch yours, they send a thousand volts of electricity arcing through your body.

“Koushi,” he breathes. “Call me Koushi, please.” You nod, and then hurriedly undo the buttons of his shirt, popping a few off in the process. Neither of you care. His hands finally dip beneath the hem of your dress, and he wastes no time in unceremoniously tugging it off your body.

Your hands instinctively go to cover yourself. Age and childbirth have changed your body, and you know that Mr. Sugawara – no, Koushi – is probably used to beautiful young women. You still don’t understand why his eye landed on you. He surely has dozens of girls his age fawning over him, with flat stomachs and perky tits. Why you?

He grips your wrists and pries your hands away from your body. “Don’t do that,” he says, so gentle in contrast to the fire from just moments ago. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re beautiful.”

Oh.

You can’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful. You can’t remember the last time that you felt beautiful.

But right now, with Koushi staring at you, eyes blown out with lust… you feel it.

He sinks onto his knees, lips already pressing little kisses against your hips and upper thighs. You try and protest – really, Koushi, you don’t have to – but he shushes you instantly. He hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and dives in without hesitation. Even through the fabric of your panties, you’re in fucking heaven. His tongue laves against your clit, focusing so much attention onto the swollen bead that you can’t help but let out a moan.

You slap your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. You’re in an elementary school, for God’s sake. The bake sale is at the other side of the large building, but you’re terrified of someone walking past and catching you. Guilt swirls around your heart, but it’s quick to dissipate when Koushi tugs your panties off and throws them over his shoulder. He buries himself into your cunt again, and it’s even better without the barrier. The coil in your stomach is tightening embarrassingly fast, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care. His tongue laps at your folds, slurping lewdly.

The pleasure is overwhelming. Your body moves of its own accord. Your hips grind against Koushi’s face, and he moans right into your cunt. His lips move up to your clit again, alternating between licking and sucking. You’re so focused on his mouth that you barely notice his fingers, so long and pretty, collecting your wetness.

You do notice when he fucks two of those pretty fingers into you. He immediately starts scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, before hooking them against that spot inside of you that makes your head spin. Your entire body is shaking with euphoria, so much that you can’t handle it.

“Close,” you cry out, trying to keep yourself upright. “Close, close, please, don’t stop!”

He moans into you again when you tug at his hair. It’s the push that you need to finally fall over the edge. You bite into your palm to keep from screaming as you gush all over him, chest heaving and eyes tearing up.

He keeps curling his fingers, keeps lapping at your clit, until you tug on his hair and cry that the overstimulation is too much. As he lets your leg down and stands up, he makes a show of licking your cum off his fingers, slurping on them loudly. It would make you embarrassed, but you’re too focused on his other hand as it dips down to his belt. The muscles of his stomach flex as he undoes the buckle. You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his toned torso. He seems so slender when he’s dressed, but his shoulders are surprisingly broad.

He looks up at you with a little smirk. “Caught you staring,” he teases. You blush as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his cock. It’s already hard, and so pretty, just like him. His tip is red and dripping with precum. You want so badly to get a taste, but Koushi has other plans. He spins you by your shoulders, and then presses at the small of your back to make you lay across his desk.

You groan when you feel him slap his cock against your ass a few times, before running it through your folds to collect your wetness. “Please,” you gasp. “No teasing, please.”

“Just came, and you’re already needy?” he chuckles. “That husband of yours must really not be satisfying you.”

You’re spared from having to think of a retort by him sinking into you. A cry leaves your lips, but it’s too good for you to even care about the sound. He feels like heaven as he sinks into you. His cock stretches you out deliciously.

You’re already feeling delirious as he starts to shallowly thrust and work his way in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. “So – fuck…”

You can’t do anything but moan and scratch at the table as he starts to fuck into you in earnest. His cock is perfectly curved to hit your spot every time, and soon you’re reduced to a mess underneath him. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust. It hurts, it’s all too much, but it’s so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this – mind numbing and all consuming, so powerful that it makes your eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” he groans again, bending down so that he can loom over you and leave little bites all over your back and shoulders. “Not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that, shit!”

“Faster, please,” you beg, and he obliges. He sets an absolutely brutal pace, somehow managing to fuck you hard, fast, and at the perfect angle all at once. Moans and cries spill freely out of your open mouth. When he reaches forward to toy with your clit, it’s all too much, and it sends you over the edge again. Your body practically spasms as he fucks you through your second orgasm. He shows you no mercy, gives you no time to come down. You don’t know if you’re coming again, or if you just never stopped. Your mind is hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

You’re a twitching mess by the time that he pulls out, but you still whine at the loss. You’re far too fucked out to turn around and look at him, but in the corner of your consciousness, you can hear him panting and stroking himself furiously. His moans are so beautiful. Within a few short seconds, he’s coming all over your ass, painting your pretty skin white with his seed.

You don’t know how long you’re laying there before he taps your cheek to get your attention. “C’mon now,” he says, a tired smile on his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We wouldn’t want your husband finding out, would we?”

[criticize-me-betuwont]

Rex and his old friend Anakin

Typically the forest moon of Endor is a peaceful place in the evening. The air calm, the trees standing motionless. The little creature-like inhabitants, Ewoks, are usually in bed or sitting by the fire. Sometimes, if they have cause to celebrate, oh and they love to celebrate, they’ll hold parties in their tree villages. They’ll dance and sing, and tell stories through the night. The fiery torches shine as the only light in the forest. 

Today marks a day to remember, and more importantly, a day to celebrate. Thanks to the Rebellion, the white armor-clad invaders to the Ewoks’ homeworld have finally been driven out. The newfound allies to the Ewoks also have cause to celebrate, and they brought fireworks. The festivities that are taking place this night will be told in Ewok stories for generations to come. Drums are banging louder than ever before, with stormtrooper helmets to back them up. The short little fuzzy people that are the Ewoks are dancing relentlessly, and are encouraging their Rebel friends to join them. Ewoks and soldiers alike are swapping war stories. Some have been fighting The Empire since the beginning, while others had only just joined the fight. 

Commander Rex is quietly leaning against a railing on the sidelines of the party, completely alone. Could this be the end of the war? Rex quietly thinks to himself. He’s been fighting his whole life. He was created for war. The thought of finally having a chance to live out the rest of his life without a galactic conflict, was definitely an unsettling thought for him. Yet it remained the very reason he fought; to bring peace to the galaxy. Is my job over? Do what’s left of my brothers get to finally live in peace now?

“Captain Rex,” a strong and familiar, yet nearly forgotten voice says from behind.

Rex turns around to see none other than Jedi General Anakin Skywalker standing before him. Though in his current form he’s glistening through a faint blue light, as if not actually there. Otherwise he looks exactly as how Rex remembers him. Stammering in surprise and disbelief, Rex is able to get out a meek “General Skywalker?”

“Hello, Rex. My son saved me, he guided me back to the light. Though I am now one with the Force and don’t have long to speak with you.”

“I can’t believe it, sir,” Rex responds. “I thought you died in Order 66.”

“Rex, something far worse than death happened to me. I was Darth Vader.” Anakin in his ghostly body, stands with his arms crossed in the classic Jedi fashion. 

Rex begins to fumble some words before Anakin interrupts him. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I’m sorry that I can’t answer them. Captain Rex, I commend you for never turning your back on Ahsoka and for helping my son and the Rebellion defeat The Empire. You are a good soldier, and an even better man.”

“Tha-Thank you, sir. But I don’t und-”

“No Rex, thank you. This is the last time you’ll see me, and I must leave now,” Anakin says with a slight look of sorrow on his face. 

“Yes General, I understand,” Rex says while standing to attention and giving a crisp salute. “And it’s Commander now, sir.”

“Commander Rex,” Anakin repeats, giving his big well known smile, as he fades away into nothingness.

Rex has heard of Jedi being able to project themselves through the Force, but what just happened seemed utterly unbelievable. General Skywalker was Darth Vader? 

I hope you enjoyed my little made up scene of Anakin talking to Rex on Endor after the Rebellion’s victory. I just always thought it was kinda sad how things were left off between them, and wanted to imagine what a reunion might be like.