#(ANYWAY THAT ASIDE ME YELLING OVER REFERENCES HERE AGAIN TOO)

[elliespassagerprincess]

Pls my wife may we get some desperate lesbian content about friend (wife) reader ignoring abby after what she did to joel because she was scared, so abby just gets all teary eyed and just starts to try to please her sexually

What We Bury in Silence - abby anderson x reader

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

requests are open again! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: MDNI 18+ Explicit sexual content (fingering r receiving), themes of trauma and grief, emotional and psychological tension, references to violence and loss (Joel’s death), guilt, anger, and forgiveness struggles, raw emotional vulnerability and confession

summary: You and Abby were close—more than friends, though no one dared to say it aloud. But after Joel's death, you went quiet. Abby thought you'd never forgive her. That silence breaks one night when guilt, rage, and buried desire finally ignite.

masterlist

This story contains sexual content—please read with care. You are responsible for what you consume online.

You hadn’t said a word to her in weeks. Not since Jackson. Not since the blood. Not since you found out what she did.

Abby thought she'd be ready for the aftermath—Joel’s face haunting her dreams, her name spat like venom in town. But your silence? That hit deeper than any wound she’d ever taken.

You avoided her at base. Eyes down. Steps sharp. Not a glance. Not even hatred—just absence. It made her sick.

She knocked tonight anyway.

“Just talk to me,” Abby said through your door, voice low and wrecked. “Please.”

Nothing.

Abby stood there for minutes. She turned to leave—then froze when the door clicked open behind her.

Your eyes met. And it was like the air shattered. You were still wearing his jacket.

“Why are you here?” you asked, voice even but barely holding together.

Abby swallowed hard. “I didn’t come for a fight. I just…” Her voice cracked. “I miss you.”

You didn’t speak. Just stepped aside. Let her in like a storm you were too tired to fight.

She lingered by the table, arms stiff by her sides. “You won’t look at me,” she said. “You won’t yell. Won’t curse me out. Just… nothing.”

You sat on the couch. “What do you want from me, Abby?”

The name was a blade on your tongue.

She moved closer—slow, uncertain. “I want to explain.”

You let her. And she told you everything. Her dad. The Fireflies. Joel’s choice. Her own rage. When she finished, the silence was worse than before.

You stood. Crossed the room. She flinched when your hand brushed her cheek.

“I hate what you did,” you whispered. “I hate that I still want you.”

And something in her shattered.

The first kiss was desperate—salted with tears, teeth, regret. You shoved her back against the wall, hands tangling in her hair, lips fierce and unforgiving.

Abby groaned, fingers digging into your waist like she was scared you’d disappear. You bit her lip hard. She moaned.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you hissed.

“I know,” she breathed, eyes dark. “But let me try anyway.”

You didn’t stop her when she sank to her knees. She tugged your pants down slowly, reverently, like she was asking for permission with every touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said against your inner thigh. “I’d take it back if I could. I’d undo all of it.”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t push her away either. Her mouth was soft. Skilled. Every flick of her tongue was a plea for forgiveness.

You gasped, fisting her hair, thighs trembling.

“Fuck—Abby—”

She moaned at the sound of her name. You could feel her trembling too. She didn’t stop until you were wrecked—legs shaking, breath gone, body arched against the guilt and the heat between you.

And when you pulled her up and kissed her again, she cried into your mouth. You dragged her to bed. Tore her clothes off. Took your time making her fall apart—over and over again.

The air was thick with sweat, shame, and the unspoken truth that this might never be enough.

But it was something. It was real.

You woke tangled in her arms, her face buried in your neck like she couldn’t bear to let you go. You watched the sunrise in silence.

Then finally, softly: “I still don’t forgive you.”

Abby nodded against your skin. “I know.”

You turned to face her, touched her jaw.

“But I think I want to try.”

Nora told you exactly what she did. The brutality. The violence. You were disgusted despite knowing why she did it.

You don’t want to let her in. Not really. But the moment the door clicks shut behind you, every sharp edge of your silence softens—just a little.

She stands there, all tension and regret, like she’s trying to hold herself together for both of you. Maybe she’s the only one doing any holding right now.

“I didn’t come to make it worse,” Abby says, voice low, raw. “I just need you to hear me.”

You look away. “You don’t get to ask that. Not after everything.”

Her eyes flick down. “I know. I’m sorry. More than you can imagine.”

"You killed a girl's father Infront of her. You made her watch"

"He killed my dad"

Something twists inside you. You want to yell, to tell her to leave. But you just swallow and keep looking at the floor.

“I hate what you did,” you finally say, voice steady but cold. “And I hate that I still want you. It makes me sick.”

Abby’s breath catches. She takes a step closer, but you don’t flinch.

“why are you still here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

She swallows, eyes searching yours like she’s trying to find a place to land. “Because I’m not ready to lose you.”

You don’t move. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing you crack. But inside, the walls are trembling.

“Why should I believe you?” you whisper, voice rough like gravel. “After everything you did, everything you took from her? Violence doesn't solve anything”

She steps closer, and you feel the heat of her breath. “Because I’m drowning in the same guilt. I carry it every second. Joel’s face, your silence... I don’t deserve you.”

You close your eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat. The truth is, you’ve missed her—the way she looked at you, fierce and broken all at once. But that only makes the ache worse.

“Maybe I want to hate you,” you admit, voice barely audible. “Maybe I want you to hurt like I do.”

Abby’s hands reach out slowly, trembling. “Then let me in. Let me be the reason you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Your heart is pounding, a wild, desperate rhythm that betrays your cold words. You push her hand away, but your body betrays you—your fingers twitch, wanting to touch her.

Her lips brush your neck, soft and tentative, and the ache spirals into something darker, something desperate.

You catch her mouth with yours, rough and urgent, like you’re trying to reclaim the pieces of yourself she holds hostage. Your hands thread through her hair, pulling her closer as your lips clash.

The taste of her—salt and something bittersweet—makes your knees weak. You break the kiss, gasping. “This doesn’t fix anything,” you choke out.

Abby’s voice is a whisper against your skin. “No. But maybe it’s a start.”

Her hands explore, tentative but hungry, trailing under your shirt like she’s memorizing every inch. You let go of some of the bitterness, the anger. Let the heat flood in and drown the cold for just a moment.

And when she sinks to her knees, the guilt and desire twist into a single, fierce need that can’t be denied.

Your breath hitches as she lowers herself, hands trembling but steady, like she’s asking for forgiveness with every touch. You don’t stop her—not because you forgive her yet, but because a part of you aches for this connection, this dangerous comfort.

Her mouth finds your skin, soft and worshipful, tracing a path that burns and soothes at the same time. You close your eyes, biting your lip to hold back a shudder.

“I don’t deserve this,” you whisper, voice rough.

Her hands clutch your hips tighter. “Maybe not. But I need this. Need you.”

You grip the back of her head, pulling her closer, desperate for something real in the chaos of guilt and rage. Her tongue flicks against your skin, and it’s like a spark igniting a wildfire beneath your ribs. You’re trembling, torn between pushing her away and pulling her deeper.

When she finally parts your clothing, her fingers brush over your skin like a promise — fragile but fierce. You gasp, caught between shame and want.

“Please,” she breathes, voice thick with need and regret.

You tremble but don’t say no.

Her mouth moves with reverence, worshipping every inch, every scar, every broken piece. You’re lost in the sensation, in the desperate heat that roars through you.

Your hands clutch her hair, pulling her up into a harsh, ragged kiss.

“I’m scared,” you confess, voice breaking. “Scared that I’ll never be okay. That I’ll never forgive.”

She kisses you harder. “Then I’ll keep fighting. For you. For us.”

The room hums with tension, desire, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way through the wreckage — together.

Your breath is ragged, heart pounding like it wants to break free from your chest. Every touch from Abby feels like fire and ice all at once—burning away the walls you built, but freezing the parts of you that still ache with pain. You pull back slightly, eyes searching hers, desperate for something to hold onto.

“I’ve been so angry,” you whisper, voice raw and cracked. “Angry at you, at him, at myself. Angry because I thought if I stayed furious, I could protect what’s left of me.”

Her hands tremble as they cup your face. “I never wanted to take that from you. I wanted to be the one you could lean on, even if you didn’t believe it.”

Tears sting your eyes. You don’t wipe them away. Letting them fall feels like admitting you’re human—broken, hurting, but still here.

“I hate what you did,” you confess, voice breaking, “but I hate carrying this anger even more. It’s like poison, and I’m tired of being sick.”

Abby leans in, her lips brushing yours with such gentleness it makes your chest ache. “Then let me help you heal. Let me be the cure, even if it takes forever.”

You close your eyes and let yourself believe it—for just a moment, you let the weight of the past fall away.

When you open them again, you’re quiet but sure.

“I forgive you,” you say, barely above a whisper. “Not because it’s easy. Not because I forget. But because I don’t want this anger to own me anymore.”

Abby’s breath catches. She pulls you close, arms wrapping around you like she’s never letting go.

In that moment, broken and whole all at once, you realize forgiveness isn’t a clean slate. It’s a choice. A hard, painful, beautiful choice to let go and try again.

And you’re ready to take it.

The morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room where you lie tangled in Abby’s arms. It’s quiet, but it’s not empty anymore.

You trace lazy circles on her back, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath. The weight of yesterday’s confessions still lingers, but it’s lighter now—less a burden, more a fragile thread holding you both together.

You don’t pretend the past is gone. You know the scars remain, invisible to others but etched deep inside. But for the first time, those scars don’t feel like walls. They feel like part of the map—proof of how far you’ve come.

Abby shifts, resting her forehead against yours. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

You smile softly, heart swelling with something you thought was lost—hope.

“Thank you for not giving up.”

You don’t know what the future holds. Maybe there will be more pain, more fights, more moments where forgiveness feels impossible.

But right now, wrapped in this fragile peace, you decide it’s enough.

It’s enough to try. To live. To heal.

Together.

[pricesgirl]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

4

Y/N

Parties don’t tend to be my forte. The music’s always a beat too fast, the air’s sticky with perfume and sweat, and someone, more often than not, intoxicated beyond belief, is screaming something utterly incomprehensible.

But, despite my distaste for these kinds of events, I’m a supportive friend. Cait’s always had a certain aversion to her parents’ rules, and tonight, her defiance has manifested in a party at their lakehouse.

The lakehouse, like the rest of the Kiramman estates, is, simply put, stunning. There's these massive arches open out onto the lake, which is dotted with groups of teenagers, all holding some kind of beer like it’s a rite of passage. The bar has been commandeered by a group of four boys, all laughing so hard they can barely catch their breath, completely lost in their own world.

Ultimately, my dislike for the event has me curled up on the deck, my heels tossed aside, and my feet dangling in the lake. The noise from inside feels like it belongs to another world now. I crack open Wuthering Heights—my escape for the night—and lose myself in the pages. It’s just me, the quiet night, and my book, away from all the noise and chaos that I’m definitely not in the mood for.

The soft ripples of the lake reflect the moonlight, shimmering like liquid silver. I let my toes skim the surface, the cool water a soothing balm against the buzz of the evening I left behind. The book rests open on my lap, but my eyes linger on the lake, lost in its quiet rhythm.

Out here, away from the noise and the people, the world feels gentler��like it’s finally giving me room to breathe. Wuthering Heights is only half my escape; the other half is the stillness, the way the night wraps around me like a comforting cloak.

But even in the solitude, there’s an itch in the back of my mind, a weight I can’t quite shake. Maybe it’s guilt—leaving the others behind when they’d begged me to come in the first place. Maybe it’s something else. Either way, the lake offers no answers, only silence.

My mind can't help drifting to her. Jinx.

Class was so peculiar the other day, i haven't heard from her about the assignment since, no surprise there, but it was bizzare. She made me smile, laugh even and - oh my gosh! Was that flirting?

I slam my book shut, full attention now on the lake.

Her laugh echoes in my mind, the way it did in class. It wasn’t loud or unhinged, like she often is—it was softer, more personal, like we were ten again and she’d let me in on some secret.

I pull my knees tightly to my chest, my gaze fixed on the shimmering lake. The motion tugs at my tights, tiny runs spidering through the fabric, but I don’t care. My heart flutters unevenly, like it’s stumbling over something fragile—something it doesn’t know how to hold.

Something I don’t know how to hold.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

It’s not like I usually grace these exclusive parties thrown by Caitlyn Kiramman, the classist bitch, with my loving presence.

But of course, Y/N was guaranteed to be there—because, you know, her Piltie friend, sorry, fiend, was throwing the thing.

And I just had to drop by after our absolutely delightful chat in class.

Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

And had to swing by to check in on dear old sis too.

Can’t believe TWO people I know are somehow tangled up with the Kirammans. Ugh, seriously? Bleh.

Last time I talked to Vi, she actually referred to Caitlyn as cupcake. Are you kidding me?

A cupcake full of cyanide, maybe.

Anyway, now I’m crouched behind Y/N, like a total creep.

She’s got her feet in the lake, all zen and shit, but I can see her back. It’s all stiff, like she’s trying not to break or something.

I must've made some kind of noise because suddenly—boom—Miss Perfect jumps, spins around, all quick like she’s been caught.

And there it is on her face—annoyance? Shock?

It’s cute.

She probably wants to say something, but I can tell she’s not sure if she should yell at me or pretend like she didn’t just nearly lose her shit.

Instead, her voice goes all soft. Like in class. Like she thinks I’ll bolt.

“Jinx?” she breathes.

And it’s so weird. Like, what? Why? Soft? With me? Is this a joke? Did I miss the punchline?

I just stare at her, head tilted like, What the hell are you doing, Y/N? Say something else, scream, anything.

This soft crap? It’s messing with me.

Her eyes are wide, and she’s got this look, like she’s staring at a wild animal that might bite.

“Why are you here?” she whispers, still in that soft, careful voice.

I laugh—short, sharp, more like a bark.

“Why am I here? Hell, why are you here? What, did your Piltie conscience drag you to this classy dumpster fire?” I grin, sharp and mocking.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Just stares at me with those big, stupid doe eyes, like I’m some puzzle she can solve.

Fucking whatever.

I drop down, two feet away, cross-legged like a little kid at story-time, and pull a pre-rolled joint from my bra.

Because, yeah, I’m classy like that.

“Don’t mind me,” I say, holding it up like it’s the Holy Grail. “Just here to elevate the vibe.”

But she doesn’t give me that usual Y/N reaction.

No scolding look, no narrowing of her eyes, no I can't believe you're doing this.

Instead, she looks… almost curious. Like she’s actually thinking about it.

I catch that look. The way her gaze flickers to the joint in my hand, then back to me.

Huh.

I know she’s wondering. Should I? Should she just try it? One little drag, that’s all.

I hold it out to her, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“What? Never had one?” I say, dragging it out like it’s some big reveal.

“It’s not that bad.”

She doesn’t say anything. She’s just staring at the joint like it might bite her.

But I see it. I see the hesitation, the way her fingers twitch like she wants to take it, just to see what it feels like.

I blow out a puff of smoke, letting it hang between us. “You’re curious, aren’t you?” I almost dare her to say no.

And for a second? She almost does. But she doesn’t.

And then, she does it. She takes the joint.

It’s like everything slows down for a second.

Her fingers brush mine, and I almost can’t believe it.

She just took it.

I can’t help it. I laugh, soft, like I won. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Y/N.”

That fucking small smile.

It appears again, just like it did yesterday in class.

It’s barely there.

Just a little twitch of her lips, but I see it.

"Shut up Jinx,"

The joint hovers in her hand, her fingers gripping it a little tighter now.

She breathes in, and I swear the air feels different.

She’s never looked so fucking real before.

She hesitates.

Just a second.

Her fingers twitch, like she doesn't really know what to do with the damn thing.

I watch her, leaning in a little, waiting for the moment—and then, she does it.

She takes a hit.

But it's messy, wrong.

Her hand’s too stiff, her grip awkward.

She’s never done this before.

I can see it.

It’s in the way she doesn't know how to pull it in, like she’s holding her breath, waiting for something bad to happen.

She sucks in. Her face scrunches up. She holds it.

Then there's the typical first timer reaction, coughing, hacking, eyes watering, and I can’t hold back the laugh that bursts out.

"Real smooth toots,"

And fuck the weed must've hit her hard and fast because she giggles.

Fucking giggles at me.

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Y/N

I don’t know what makes me take it. Curiosity, maybe? Or the lingering weight of our encounter in class. The joint feels strange in my hand, almost alien. I’ve held pens, pencils, and books a thousand times, but this—this is unfamiliar. I don't feel myself with it in-between my fingers, i feel freer?

The first inhale is awful. I cough so hard I think I might throw up, my eyes watering as smoke claws its way out of my lungs. Jinx, of course, laughs.

“Real smooth, toots,” she says, her grin practically dripping with amusement.

The sound catches me off guard—light, breathy, like it’s coming from someone else entirely. Jinx’s grin widens, like she’s just won some unspoken bet.

“See? Told you it’s not all bad,” she says, leaning back on her elbows, watching me like I’m her personal entertainment for the night. I glance at the joint again, still smoldering between my fingers. The smoke curls upward in delicate tendrils, twisting into shapes that disappear before I can name them.

Curiosity wins out, or maybe it’s the lingering haze already softening the edges of my thoughts. I bring it to my lips again, slower this time, trying to mimic what I’ve read. The second inhale isn’t as harsh. The burn in my throat is still there, but it’s manageable now, almost... warm. And then it hits me.

It’s like a switch flips in my brain. My limbs feel heavy, like they’re sinking into the earth, but my mind feels lighter than air. Thoughts drift in and out, unbound by the usual rules.

“You’re the worst influence,” I giggle, holding the joint like it’s a fragile artifact. “What even is this?”

“Magic,” she says, wiggling her fingers dramatically. “Welcome to the dark side, toots.”

I snort, the sound louder and less composed than I’d ever let slip normally. The lake ripples in front of us, and I swear it looks like it’s shimmering just for me.

“This feels... weird,” I say, biting my lip to keep from laughing again. “Like… everything’s in slow motion, but also, like, my brain is bouncing.”

“Congrats, nerd. You’re high,” Jinx says, taking the joint from me like she’s proud of her work. She takes a drag and exhales, the smoke curling around her like a halo. “And you’re, like, giggle high. This is great.”

“I am not!” I protest, even as another laugh escapes me. “I’m... perfectly composed. Completely in control.”

“Yeah, sure, and I’m a model citizen,” she fires back, smirking.

The stars above us seem closer, like I could reach out and grab one. I tilt my head back, giggling again at the thought of catching a star and keeping it in my pocket.

“Why are the stars so… shiny?” I ask, my voice dreamy and distracted.

“Because they’re stars, genius,” Jinx says, but her tone is lighter, almost fond.

It’s quiet between us for a moment, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, like the air is waiting for something to fill it. The stars above blur slightly, soft pinpricks of light swimming in the haze of my vision. Everything feels loose and strange, my thoughts slipping out before I can catch them.

“I’m sorry,” I say, the words surprising even me as they tumble out, unfiltered and raw. “For abandoning you. After… everything.”

The silence that follows feels like a held breath, like the universe is leaning in to hear what comes next. I focus on the rippling surface of the lake instead of looking at her. My chest tightens, that familiar pang of guilt twisting sharply.

“You’re high,” she says finally, her voice cutting through the stillness like a blade, though it’s not as sharp as it could be.

A giggle escapes me—high-pitched and ridiculous—and I immediately want to take it back. “I am. But I mean it,” I say, my words spilling out in a rush, like I need her to believe me before the moment dissolves. “I really do.”

Her knee bounces slightly, and I can feel her gaze flicking toward me and then away again, restless.

“You didn’t abandon me,” she mutters, her tone light, but there’s something heavy beneath it, something that doesn’t quite fit. “You just… did what you thought you had to.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” I counter, my voice wobbling. “I should have stayed. Tried harder. Done… something.”

Her laugh is sharp, almost bitter, but not entirely unkind. “What were you gonna do, Y/N? Save me? Fix me?” She waves the joint vaguely in the air, the ember glowing faintly. “That’s not how it works.”

“I could’ve tried,” I whisper, and the words feel small, fragile, as if they might shatter the moment.

She exhales a long plume of smoke, her shoulders slumping slightly. “You would’ve drowned,” she says, her tone even, like she’s stating a fact instead of something that makes my stomach twist.

I look at her then, her face bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. There’s no mocking grin, no sharp retort. Just something tired, something that looks far too old for her.

“But I didn’t even jump in,” I say softly, almost to myself.

Her lips twitch into a wry smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?”

The words settle between us, not exactly forgiveness, but not rejection either. Something tentative, a thread stretched thin but not yet breaking.

The lake ripples, the stars shimmer, and for the first time in years, it feels like we’re both sitting still.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: hope you enjoyed the slight reconciliation:) but theres more heartbreak coming!

please like and reblog!

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/27/2025

no lesbian novel this week! didn’t get to read much at work bc i had to do my actual job :( did manage to do some sewing

listening

ive been bumping this since the end of the season tbqh. the way in-universe this has been a chart-topping party song for over a year??? with its own little dance??? how Niamos is the name of a beach planet so this is functionally a Pitbull song where he yells MIAMI!!!! which is all of them???? show of all time. show of all fucking time.

it’s not on streaming platforms but THE IN UNIVERSE ELEVATOR REMIX!!!! FUCK!!! WHAT IF STAR WARS WAS GOOD!!!

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reading

did not manage to read a lesbian novel. did manage to read half a book ive had in hold since january 2 of this year and i did not like it :(

this is playing in the same space as Canticle for Leibowitz and anything else that treats software programming as a magical mystical art with priests and such. love this space! you can probably name three more off the top of your head!

while it does have a fascinating 1920s level of technology world (aside from the big magical barrier), it really flounders about in the middle. the twist was pretty clearly telegraphed (fine) but after the twist i had zero desire to continue onward. i had no real interest in how or why this huge overarching societal problem could be solved, and think i could have liked it more if it were either novella or short story length. would be perfect as a classic episode of the twilight zone.

it also strikes a little too close to home for me with its depiction of a far-right religious cult running everything and a depressingly accurate depiction of what it’s like to be a woman in hard stem, down to the sexual assault from a person in the same research group. the two-thirds of the book i read was really just real life as a woman postgrad without many scifi elements. the promise of scifi elements were why i picked up the book, bc i was interested in a hard sci take on dark academia. further annoyances: i also did not love the “they’re trying to keep you PLACID and QUIET and WOMANLY!!!” scene with a doctor. there is an additional second-wave feminist stink around the “original” flavor of magic, stolen from the original women of the land. i hesitate to call it terfy. if i met someone with these views in the real world I would certainly ask more questions before scheduling a second hang. yanno?

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watching

john wick the fourth bc i unexpectedly have peacock access. video game cutscene lookin ass movie (lovingly). the visual style, lighting, and nods to other movies (genuinely gasped out loud at a specific match cut bc the reference made sense within the plot and wasn’t just a fun visual) are all off the chain. slightly longer than i wanted it to be— the last chase/gun battle through paris dragged a bit despite having some of the coolest set pieces.

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playing

nothing fun to report in genshin this week. still don’t have enough to guarantee the pink fox lady so i think i will bide my time and wait for skirk to drop at some point the next patch (yet another patch with no map update :( curious)

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making

trying to clean my house or finish some projects whenever i want to leave my house or spend money. has led to a much cleaner house but a much more housebound me. anyway here’s a scrub cap with fabric a friend bought and asked “hey can you make me a scrub cap” When I Moved To Houston Nearly Two Years Ago. plus the lining galaxy fabric, bought at the joanns closest to umass in mmm 2017?

came home from work friday morning to discover catnip strewn about the living room bc da gorls managed to rip holes in BOTH mr cactus kickers. a somewhat slapdash mend but reinforced with fraychek so the next time they bite and tear the fabric Next to the patch will tear

[makotoismyson]

Alright this is the last time I’ll talk about Jax for a while I swear.

So if we’re speculating on what Jax used to do before he arrived at the circus, I’m personally subscribed to the theory that he might’ve been a young actor for television. I’m too tired and lazy to go through everything in detail but I’ll summarize it with a list of all possible hints (put it under a read more because it’s longer than I thought):

-He’s the only one who breaks the fourth wall and addresses the nonexistent audience, to which the other players question why he does this. It almost seems like he’s been trained to look at a camera even though there isn’t one. This could just be a recurring gag though where he’s aware that Caine is watching them at all times and he just wants to mess with him, but I wanted to add it anyway.

Adding onto that though, literally in this episode Jax has two fourth wall breaks that kind of feel like he’s performing lines from a tv script. The first time it happens is in the first adventure, where he looks at the “camera” and says “in today’s episode of…” and then in the second adventure he looks at the “camera” again and has a very stereotypical sitcom moment (“did I come in at a bad time?”). He always looks directly into the “camera” and delivers his lines without any prompting, almost like he’s done this many times before and rehearsed it.

Another thing to note about the second fourth wall break, is that it literally zooms out and reveals Caine and Bubble watching him through a tv, to which Caine makes the following comment about Jax specifically: “his acting is phenomenal.” Now, this could just be a one-off surrealist gag because that’s the show’s style of humor, but I’m adding this onto my theory too just in case it ends up meaning something deeper.

I’ll toss in a little skepticism on this, as Jax breaking the fourth wall could just be a reference to one of his character inspirations, Bugs Bunny, who does the same thing.

-This next one is a little silly, but stick with me. So Goose stated in a post that Jax has an unusual fear of corn because it “reminds him of the farm.” If “the farm” isn’t the place of the inciting incident where he lost his friend Ribbit due to abstraction, then “the farm” could have possibly been the set of a show he used to perform in.

I know he could have also just been raised on a farm like Ragatha, but I think it would be kind of strange for the show to have two characters who both came from a farm. I don’t have much to go off of with this one, because Goose also said that Jax “got lost in a corn maze once.” and I can’t really tell if that was a joke or not. It would be funny if he just ended up getting lost on a field trip or something one time and I was wrong.

-In the pilot, Jax states that they’ve “been stuck here for years.” Given that he’s only 22 years old (as confirmed by Goose), this means he must’ve arrived at the circus when he was a little younger, so whatever he used to do in the real world before then had to have happened when he was still pretty young.

-Also in the pilot after Pomni messes up their little intro, Jax asks Caine if they’re “going to have to start the whole routine over again”, you know, like when a director yells “cut!” and the actors have to start the scene all over again for another take.

-This isn’t another hint, but I think this theory might also explain why Jax gave that sad, contemplative look after hearing Ragatha say she was “just an ordinary farm girl”, aside from him not wanting to be the next person to open up and talk about his past. Either way, he seemed to display some kind of (very subtle) empathy for her when she said that.

-Speaking of Ragatha, the biggest reason that made me come up with this theory was Jax’s outlook on Ragatha’s toxic positivity (her way of coping). He says that she’s being annoyingly nice, too nice to the point where it feels fake and performative. Maybe he’s just been around her long enough to know that she’s not being her real self, but he also would have had to have seen this exact kind of behavior before in order to recognize and catch onto it.

He feels like she’s putting on an act, pretending like everything is fine and showering others with pleasantries because he suspects she’s going to do something malicious (take advantage of them). If he was in a show, one where there were other actors who were the same age as him, then they might have also been “fake nice” to him or were his “friends” on the show but not behind the scenes, and like he described, he might have felt like he was taken advantage of.

-This would also explain why he has so much resentment towards Ragatha (Ribbit incident aside), her behavior reminds him of that (like how Jax’s behavior reminds Ragatha of her mother). Also what’s really sad is the idea that Ribbit may have been one of Jax’s first and only “real” friends until he lost them, which definitely would explain why he doesn’t try to make friends anymore and pushes people away, he’s afraid they’re either going to take advantage of him, or he’s going to inevitably lose them.

Or maybe he doesn’t trust overly nice people not because the other actors were “faking” being his friend, but because the person who got him into tv acting in the first place displayed the exact same behavior in order to manipulate him, perhaps a parent or guardian (think of how pageant moms are if you know what that is).

-Just the whole concept of putting on an act. He’s still a jerk, no doubt about that, but as we see demonstrated in this episode, his uncaring, jokester nature is an act that he puts on not only in order to cope with his situation, but also to avoid being vulnerable and getting close to people. And, aside from losing his friend, if this distrust stems from him being manipulated in his past, then it makes sense why he’s the way he is. He opens up to someone he potentially trusts, realizes he’s said too much, then puts on the act again like nothing happened (“also she’s dumb and she looks weird!”)

-Also in episode four, the instant he leaves the fast food restaurant his smile drops into an exhausted frown, and it’s probably not the first time he’s done exactly that before if he ever was in the acting business. Another interesting thing about episode four, during the “re-evaluation” scene, Jax literally has no control over his own body as he’s forced to watch something on a tv screen, and this genuinely frightens him. I know that the whole episode’s theme was about the masks people put on but I just wanted to throw this in there too.

-Lastly, I said in a previous post that Jax mainly copes by needing to be in control, and once that control is taken from him, he lashes out. And it’s not just him becoming annoyed or frustrated like usual, he completely loses it. The best example is obviously him being forced to wear the maid outfit, and being turned vegan. If he was a young actor at one point, then he probably had little to no input on his own livelihood.

He probably had a lot of aspects of his life influenced and controlled by someone else, both on and off the show. He might have even been put into situations where he didn’t want to act something out, or wear a specific costume because it made him uncomfortable, but he was forced to do it anyway because “that’s show business.”

-Also note how, despite the softball stadium being filled with nothing but NPCs, and despite seemingly not caring what the other players think of him, Jax still feels embarrassed and humiliated as he walks out onto the field in the maid outfit, probably because he’s in front of an “audience”, even if it’s not a real one (and the control thing too). He might also be scared of people judging him deep down because what’s television/acting if not being judged for your performance.

-If all this is the case, then we can also assume Jax literally doesn’t know what it’s like to have real friends or how to actually treat them. His “friends” from his past were probably just pretending to be his friend for the sake of the show and couldn’t care less about him off screen, and before he entered the circus he still might not have made any meaningful connections by then because he assumes any sort of friendship he forms might just be fake, or that this “friend” is secretly out to get him for some reason.

-One more tiny little thing, in this episode when Jax makes up his joke backstory he’s directly referencing from a tv show.

-I also want to say that for this theory to work, he definitely wasn’t a famous actor either, he had very small and insignificant roles from shows nobody would even bother remembering.

-I have no clue how this theory would lead into him getting involved with C&A, or finding the headset, but that’s not really what was focused on, I mainly picked apart the little things about Jax’s character and the narrative surrounding it in order to form this theory. I also don’t know what his connection with the number 1 is, as we’ve seen this a couple times with him.

-I’m just guessing, but if the show he was on wasn’t one of those educational morning shows, then it might’ve been a game show where he was a contestant, and they had to do a lot of mean pranks and challenges to one another. And maybe he “won” or something, and the prize was the headset, or an exclusive look at an “upcoming game” or something. I don’t know, it’s not really relevant to my theory anyways.

-One last thing, I don’t know if I’m the only one who’s come up with this exact theory, this is just the conclusion I came to on my own after rewatching episode 5 and looking back on the previous episodes. If I’m wrong then that’s okay, I just wanted to throw my hat into the mix of theories about Jax’s past lol.

TLDR: Bojax Horseman /j

[corvuscorona]

"You Never Forget Your First Love."

The other day, a mutual (hi! you know who you are I think probably hello hi! thank you for the Posting Impetus!) said something that made me curious (for, like, the 80th time, actually; lol. I Have Thoughts) about something: what's the split on people who subscribe to the "Stranger of Paradise probably intended for us to believe that Jack & Sarah were in love" mindset, vs. not? In general, but ESPECIALLY around these parts.

I genuinely didn't read it that way myself (& I do NOT normally give media (general) this much credit, but the writing in this game is sublime; I had no choice but to fully engage Scholar Mode on it), + I think it's interesting that SPECIFICALLY any of my fellow tumblr people / AO3-heads / Gay People Online / etc. seem to have. (I expect nothing from people who haven't been basting themselves in the same online sub-subcultures as me for over a decade. They're allowed to write wrong things on wikis, and have done so already; it's whatever.)

I wanna metapost badly again, so let's go. Join me. No poll. If you have an opinion on this, I'm looking directly into your eyes and beckoning you towards your own keyboard + also the reblog button / comment section, like a weird ghost. What did you think when you first played the game?? What do you think right now? What are you about to think after you have read a bunch of my words. Tell Me. I Need To Know This.

Spoilers for, idk, everything? Today we will use everything we've got to talk about Princess Sarah.

1. As a Narrative Element

This game makes a point of referring to Sarah as things like "a symbol of hope and peace" as often as possible, & when it isn't doing that she's usually in the role of An Object Or Device Of Some Kind, anyway. She's important because she's capable of holding light and dark in balance & SOMEONE'S gotta hold onto this dark crystal for safekeeping, and also we're gonna need to upset that balance on purpose later. There's that conversation in the Wicked Arbor about whether the Strangers would "choose" her (as opposed to "treasure") as the "reward" for succeeding in their mission[1], & there's the one in the Sunken Shrine where Jed asks Jack what he thinks of her and Jack says that he doesn't care about her as a person[2] BUT that protecting her is mission-critical (lol), too.

Sarah's death is metaphorically charged. It's the point of no return: the dark crystal breaks, the balance of light & dark gets extremely ruined, & Literally All The Darkness In Cornelia converges in one place (Fool's Missive XXVII). That's the payoff for the "symbol of hope and peace" motif, and communicating this idea that "the metaphorical light of hope just For Real Died, Like Catastrophically Imploded, No Take-Backs" feels to me like it was the highest priority here. Second-highest goes to "Jack had way more humanity before, but he set it aside on purpose and is actively in the middle of losing the rest of it." "Sort of." "I'm not getting into what counts as humanity or doesn't because if I did we would be here forever."

Basically, I'm saying that the tidiest read on the situation is "Jack despairs because Sarah dying means in a very literary and final way that everything is ruined forever, which doesn't necessarily have anything to do with, like, Love (romantic)." I don't think the text of the game is particularly signaling that Love (romantic) is involved, and I think that if it meant to, it would be more obvious about it. You could bundle "an romance" into the "humanity" thing if you wanted to, but I'm not inclined to, based on some additional list items that you can read below this one.

[1] The fact that Neon ALSO says she feels bad for her for being thought of in this way only reinforces my conviction that the game is pointing at Sarah & yelling "REMEMBER THAT SHE IS MOSTLY A SYMBOL!", tbh. Who wants to go point out how freaky the mechanics of Being An Royalty are w/ me and the boys??

[2] I will give the Wiki WrongPosters this: I can totally see this as some kind of irony thing, given that he's still missing like a fucktillion of his memories when he says it. However! As mentioned above, I have other reasons not to read it as evidence that he was ever, like, romantically interested in her.

2. As a Sheltered Youth™

We don't have a TON of information to work with RE: Sarah as, like, a person, but here are a couple of hard facts to start with: she's 19 (per the data book, but she'd have to be somewhere in the 18-to-early-20's age range regardless or her whole deal wouldn't really make much sense, imo. She's a baby...!), and she's royalty. I think this ties into her utility as a walking metaphor, among other things; she's archetypically young, fresh, & idealistic. I'd call her naïve but the game obviously isn't interested in portraying it as a weakness, so positive words only; why not.

You could argue that people look to her as a symbol of hope because she hasn't directly experienced enough strife to exhibit hopelessness or fear in response to bad news in the abstract. I find it interesting that before Jack, like, knocks the wind out of her & tells Sophia to take her outside so she can see for herself how bad things have gotten at the end of the game, she says that her duty is to die with her people if she has to, & it doesn't even seem to occur to her that she could lead at least some of them away to safety...? When she changes her mind, she still talks about herself as a symbol before she ever uses the word "leader". She sees HERSELF in terms of symbols and metaphors, and takes action based on her designated role As One Of Those. Not very practical.

There's also the dialogue you can have with the queen the first time you're allowed to run around in the throne room at the beginning of the game, where she asks Jack to smile in front of her daughters (NOT just Mia; daughters, plural). Even if she only means "dude can you be polite please," the fact that this is The thing she has to say to Jack is telling. Is it going to upset your 19-year-old daughter to see that the Guy Whose Job It Is To Kill Monsters looks serious? Why do you think this? Does your 19-year-old daughter understand how serious the situation is, generally speaking? Do you not WANT her to for some reason? Boats don't work anymore unless a weird elf messes with them first. Not thinking very hard about the implications of this is something a sheltered person does.

Residual time loop un-memories aside, a young woman in this situation is so obviously going to have a huge crush on Jack Garland no matter what. He Is So Cool, first of all, & he's also Different from the adult men she gets to see on an everyday basis (family, guards, rando townspeople[3]...). It's not like the political social scene could POSSIBLY be thriving in this world, either; it all seems to be one kingdom we're dealing with and they're kind of busy with the external threat of being Under Fucking Attack By Monsters. Does she even get fun treats like "handsome visiting dignitaries" & what-have-you? The game doesn't present us with any potential options, here. Jack is mysterious, he has special-boy Warrior of Light status, his one job & apparent life's purpose is protecting the kingdom she loves, he's pretty nice to her (even in later cycles he at least goes out of his way to be polite!), & additionally, he's shredded. THIS makes sense to me.

There's a Q&A in the data book that has something to say about JACK as a symbol & what that has to do with this whole thing but we'll get there. We'll get there.

[3] Tangent: what's up with how Cornelia's entire adult male population appears to consist of aging queens. Why did they only make models that look Like That for the NPCs? It's awesome but I have 1 quastion

3. JACK JUMPSCARE !

I'm not about to say that he's just humoring her, or anything, but please humor ME for one second & put yourself in Jack's shoes. Not the default shoes; we can have more fun than that. Maybe the Banded Boots. Blurple ones? Shaped like a cartoon would wear them? Big spikes on the back for no reason? I love those things. Anyway, you're Jack. You're working for literally the king, & the work means Everything to you for reasons you can't even necessarily explain except to say that it JUST does. The king's eldest daughter (very young adult; Never Been Outdoors; a little overly-sociable but nice enough & what do you expect from a princess, anyway) has imprinted on you like a duckling for whatever reason. You would be nice to this person, yes? You'd be patient with her while you're in town. You have Brutal Murders to be doing, but not until, like, 2 days from now, or whatever; you're sharing space with her in some capacity in the meantime & it's in your best interests to keep her happy. (You probably even enjoy doing this, if you're Jack of a Way Earlier Cycle; I'm in no way ruling that out. Sharing your music collection with an enthusiastic Baby Adult? That's fun. I think he was probably having fun. Okay, you can step out of the fun purple shoes if you want; the Humoring Me Minute has concluded; thanks.)

Also, @2000sanimeop and I think that if Jack felt that way about her Astos would have been a little More Something about how much it was gonna suck for him when she died. In Fool's Missive XXVII he uses the word "painful," but that's about it. He doesn't even bring it up in XXV, which is the one where he says he's curious about whether she'd survive being turned into a fiend (side note: Astos fucking rocks. Why did he write that down?? I love him). & Hey SPEAKING OF ASTOS,

4. I wouldn't put Jackstos on a wiki, either.

The writing in Stranger of Paradise, SERIOUSLY, WITHOUT EXAGGERATION, is some of the best I've seen in literally anything ever. It suits not just its medium but also its sort of Place in History Relative to Other Video Games & the things it chose to DO with that medium & that niche INSANELY well. It is CUSTOMIZED. It's SO INTENTIONAL. I can't get too far into this or we'll be here all day, but the essence of what I want to say here is: there are relatively few facts presented to us by this game, compared to the implications we can go about drawing from those facts & other, external sources of context.

Sarah calls Jack her first love; that's a fact. No facts are presented to us that REALLY say much one way or the other[4] about what Jack thinks of this, himself; "fucktillion memories missing" Jack says he doesn't care, but he's missing a fucktillion of his memories, and DLC2 Jack has a set of dialogue options (hi Anne the Malboro I love you Anne the Malboro) that can point either way depending on what the player chooses, which is kind of nothing, on balance. As the audience, we can (should!) draw whatever conclusion we want about it, but none of those conclusions are text.

[4] I WILL GET TO THE DATA BOOK IN ONE SECOND. HOLD ON.

And, okay, please let me level with you. Let's be on the same page. Jack & Astos had some kind of thing going on, imo, OBVIOUSLY, but I want to be CLEAR and I want to get CREDIT for the things I'M bringing to the table to help generate this conviction. I drew that conclusion & I read that reading based on subtext, context, personal history, personal preference, & sheer gay zest for life. It is also, emphatically, NOT TEXT.

Astos refers to Jack with the ol' "...friend" in Fool's Missive XXI. He calls him "my Jack" in Fool's Missive XXXI. Canonically, textually, he has some big fucking COMPLICATED fucking feelings about this man. These are facts. If you're playing this game as Some Guy, I can see how you could potentially absorb these facts & still pay them much less regard[5] than I did & continue to. My argument here is that god I wish I lived in a world where Some Guy could extend the same courtesy to me and not treat Sarah's textual affection for Jack as something that necessarily indicates Some Kind Of Reciprocal Romantic Whatever, Definitely, Obviously, Of Course.

[5] Longer Tangent: I have been informed that the Some Guys of the world are currently pretty good at Recognizing a character that behaves in a way that's Pretty Gay, but tend to stop there, possibly for the combined reasons that A. they're not very familiar with a lot of the the ways gay relationships often work (you know, soul resonance. mutual recognition. sharing a brain etc.) and B. the Object Of Affection is usually the player character and they subconsciously shy away from thinking of a Guy They're Supposed To Identify With as gay. This is practically a lead-in to an entire separate post I could make, so I'll leave it at that, lol.

The writing is too good for that kind of assumption! I'M SERIOUS!! It's mind-blowingly subtle & endlessly fascinating to hold up to the light & view from every possible angle, and "Jack & Sarah were in love" + "Jack & Astos were in love" are BOTH ANGLES. I'm personally very very interested in giving the text credit for that. I think it's impressive. I think it's really, really cool, and I think it was on purpose. Speaking of which,

5. Word of God agrees with me, btw

This is from the Q&A section on page 156 of the Confidential File. The translations below are my own (I think they're straightforward enough, but lmk if you know more than me & I'm actually being stupid in there somewhere. Alt text has the JPN, if you want to copypaste it or something). Someone asked:

Why is it that you established Garland as someone Sarah has a romantic interest in?

The answer is from Daisuke Inoue (director, one of 3; the other 2 are from Team Ninja; he's from Square Enix):

That was because, from a narrative standpoint, we wanted Sarah to be the kind of person who holds onto hope. You can imagine that she saw the "hope" to save the world in Jack, a potential Warrior of Light. Sarah is seen by her people as a symbol of a bright future, but if there were nobody to give her hope, that might destabilize her emotionally. As for whether she felt genuine love for Jack, or just mistook her feelings of admiration towards him for "first love," we'll leave that to your interpretation.

The first time I read this, I thought the question was implying the aforementioned Reciprocal Something, but on closer inspection that doesn't even seem to be true! "思い人" seems to indicate a directional relationship; as in, the question assumes that Jack is an object of affection to Sarah, but assumes nothing about what Jack thinks.

Also, the answer uses the word "初恋" (hatsukoi), which is a very established Concept as far as "first love" goes, but in that one cutscene, Sarah says "初めての恋" (hajimete no koi), which is. Different, but I couldn't tell you how, lol. It's Not The Exact Same Phrase, but I'm not sure whether it's meaningfully different in this context. If I had to guess, I'd say that IF ANYTHING it could be a way of saying "first love" without invoking the cultural CONSTRUCT of First Love (as much)? But it's whatever. The localization holds up. All sources show that Sarah had Feelings about Jack, and all sources CONSPICUOUSLY neglect to mention Jack's feelings about her.

It was on purpose. This is my license to be as annoying as I want for one second here. I am right. All the other writing in this game is notably subtle, efficient, intentional, and skilled, AND ALSO, WHEN do you ever see anyone write such a richly beautiful, mostly-subtextual relationship between two men, which can easily be read as a romantic thing, and NOT explicitly canonize a very possible romantic relationship between at least one of those men and a woman, like not even in an interview or anything. What the fuck, man.

I'm putting away the Respectable Scholar Hat now. This is so funny. The person asking this question didn't EVEN go as far as assuming Jack & Sarah had any kind of Actual Romance going on, & the answer STILL dials it back to "she might have been conflating her feelings about Jack AS A SYMBOL with actual affection, also. We'll let you decide : ) ". This game is everything ever.

[hollow--sun]

🕒 When: Today 📍 Where: The Beach 👥 With Whom: Eve Farran @technowarden and Henri O’Dea @hollow--sun🔹 Summary: While exploring a shipwreck, Eve and Henri accidentally get high on spores from smug, oversized lolluscs—and end up fighting for their lives while cracking terrible puns.

Content warning for :  gooey, gore-y mollusc deaths

Late spring has never been a particularly special prospect in Maine, but today it was putting  in the effort. Gently sunshine dipped in and out of the clouds, with a warm breeze  that only demanded a light windbreaker over her blue blouse.  Her hiking trousers were cut above the knee over her prosthetic leg, which had a floral plastic cover over it today (which, incidentally, was the easiest one to clean sand out of). And today, or at least for a few hours, most of her weapons and her cleaning products were staying in the van. Take that, Rosemary and Jade, Eve Farran was unwinding. Even while, yes, Eve did have her throwing knives strapped to her ribcage, and yes, her handgun was in her coat pocket, today was a rare day that she left most of her weapons and cleaning supplies in the van. For a few hours, anyway. Take that, Jade and Rosemary, Eve was having an ordinary, low stakes adventure. For fun! 

She climbed out of her van, quickly spotting Henri near the trailhead they'd agreed to meet at and striding over to him. Eve was, perhaps, a touch self conscious about the healing vampire bite scar poking out from under her coat collar, looking just a few months old (which gave away how recent it truly was). Why the hell did she know so many slayers?

“Hey handsome, how's it going?" She called out with an easy smile, tucking her hands into her pocket as she bounced on her toes."This is a sea-nic location, isn't it. Which way is the wreck?”

—

Needless to be said that Henri heard her before he saw her — there was something about her voice that carried the sound with ease, as though it belonged yelling at the pub band at a shit concert, a bad driver who almost ran into them but not kids stepping onto her lawn. Definitely not that. His brow raised at the chosen words, a faint huff of breath escaping him. It was not a laugh. It was not not a laugh.

He’d been standing near the edge of the trailhead with his hands in the pockets of a weatherproof field jacket, the kind with too many compartments and not enough reason. His boots were already dusted with sand and salt, and the collar of his jacket was half-raised against the breeze. He’d come straight from the library archives—hair still slightly mussed, smelling faintly of old paper and coffee.

His gaze dropped, briefly but unmistakably, to the floral-patterned prosthetic, then flicked back up to meet her eyes."Florals? In Spring? Groundbreaking."Aoife would be so proud. 

“Sea-nic."He echoed, flat, with once again a flicker of amusement."This is why I beat you at Wordle."Only twice for now, but he was fairly sure there would be more instances. 

He stepped aside so she could fall into stride with him, the rocky coastal path narrowing ahead as it twisted toward the shore. The sea beyond was grey-blue, and the wind carried with it the scent of salt, varech and wet rock. Somewhere down the slope, the skeletal remains of the wreck slouched against the shore like a drowned god."You’re gonna be okay ? The trail is a bit steep but hey, the rocks are dry."

He glanced to the side, looking at her, and there was something crooked about the tilt of his mouth. She seemed in a much different mood today, as though she was expecting relaxation from this outing. And frankly? So did he. 

“You’re not going to make me give a whole tour-guide speech, are you? Because I refuse to say ‘Ahoy.’”

—-

Eve snorted, startled by his pop culture references. Somehow, she hadn't expected him, a serious hunter and an archeologist, to have seen the Devil Wears Prada too. It delighted her, discovering this tiny new facet to him."Wow, I came out here to have a good time, and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

His voice stayed flat, just a twinkle of amusement in his face. Oh, this was definitely going to be her side quest for the day: earning a proper laugh or a groan out of him. "You've been lucky so far, I'll catch up,"Eve disagreed, not going to admit defeat on the wordle front on any day of the week. (Even if he would probably win long term.)"I can't believe you're knot a fan of my nautical puns.”

“Yeah, I'll be fine, just a little slow."Eve replied, without any apology in her tone, confident that she was worth waiting for. Not that Eve had ever had the supernatural grace that so many wardens were born with, but not being able to feel the ground beneath her feet didn't help. She kept her eyes on the ground as they descended, occasionally looking up at him as they chatted and flashing a grin. 

“Are you gonna deprive me of my Ahoys? Shit, your pirate impression is the only reason I'm here."She laughed, elbowing him lightly."You might have to explain a little. Human history is not my forte. The great Troll migration of 1857 is really where my expertise lies."High school had been something they had each been encouraged to pass, so that they could have the precious hours of normal human socialization (something more hunters would have benefited from), but it had never been a priority. Not when there were hours of warden texts to become familiar with every night. By the time College had become an option, Eve hadn't been able to stomach the thought of looking at more books. In another life, maybe, but not in this one. Which was exactly why it was impressive that Henri could stand the rigours of post grad on top of his slaying.

—

Her elbow to his side earned a half-step and a dry sideways glance, as though she had nudged an insanely valuable statue that might tip over if pushed too hard. Still, his lips twitched — barely — and he exhaled through his nose once again in that almost-but-not-quite-a-laugh way he realized she could now begin to recognize easily. 

“I’m not going to say Ahoy. Not until Halloween, that is,"he added with a half smile, because he was glad that she was in such a good mood. When were most hunters ever in a good mood without a half-dozen pints running through their system ? He said most, because his parents had done a remarkable job of avoiding that cliché., and he liked to believe he and his sister did just the same.

The descent curved along a ridge of jagged stone and low-lying scrub, pale grasses hissing as the wind pulled at them. He adjusted his pace to match hers—subtly, deliberately not making a point of it. Henri had too many slayer instincts built in to treat weakness as a curiosity. She said she was fine, so she was. End of story.

“Well,"he went on after a moment, voice lowering slightly in tone as the sea grew louder, below."Well, I suppose I could go back to the university and steal a pirate costume from the arts department because the wreck was used to smuggle rum. Late 18th century. It’s a lugger out of Massachusetts."He paused on a ledge and gestured toward the beach."Most of the hull’s buried under silt, but the ribs jut out now that the tide’s low."

As described, the skeleton of a boat, made with salt-eaten timber, stood in the sand like the spine of some long gone sea creature. A few cormorants had claimed the wooden bones as their perch, indifferent to history. 

Henri pointed toward the curve of the bay with a gloved hand."There’s a ledger in the archives with her manifest. She was registered under the name Marigold, but that’s probably a fake. Most of the crew went unnamed. Just initials and payments. Rumors say they were privateers out of Halifax who went freelance."

He usually would have kept talking about history. Instead, Henri slanted a look at her with quiet assessment. She was grinning. Chatty. Present in a way he hadn’t quite seen yet. And maybe it was the wind or the wide-open space or just the absence of urgency, but he found himself saying, casually:

“You seem… different. In a good way.”

—--

Eve followed his gesture, eyes lighting up at spotting the wreck. She had been about to ask what the ribs of the ship were, but now she could see, it was obvious. Like a giant carcass, belonging to a troll or something even more impressive. If she had been asked what it was before, Eve might not have guessed that this had once been a rum smuggling ship at all, but as Henri explained, it was like she was being let into a secret way of seeing the world. Something that had never been prioritised in her learning. Education had been a tool to hone against the supernatural, not for simple enjoyment of the world. Well, perhaps not simple, if one could specialise in it as thoroughly as Henri did."It’s amazing. Do you know why they sank? Or do you have any cool theories?”

“Different than when we met committing crimes in the woods and you accused me of stalking you?" Eve chuckled, shaking her head as she looked over the ship."I've just come back from clearing up the town-ending event. This is like, the most normal interaction I've had in literally weeks."It was true, wasn’t it? Even after she’d come back, between Rosemary’s vampire bite and Eve’s own vampire bite, it hadn’t exactly been a relaxing homecoming. Even her plans to relax with Jade were rather hampered by the fact that Regan would also be there, meaning that they could neither talk about hunter things, nor the fact that Jade was probably dating a fae. (Nor about any of the other secrets dangling in the air between them, like an undead slayer or a…murderous slayer. The slayers as a whole needed to chill out, Eve was realising.) 

“Good company helps! Which… now that I’ve called it normal, that does mean that I've totally jinxed it and we're about to see Bird Demon Junior."

__

Henri gave a low chuckle at that, the sound quiet but genuine. “You definitely jinxed it. If something with wings and teeth shows up, I’m blaming you.”

He glanced back at the wreck, arms folded loosely, the breeze teasing at the hem of his jacket. “As for the sinking... the official story’s just storm damage, maybe a shallow reef. But the ship’s too close to shore for that to make much sense. Most smuggling routes didn’t cut that tight unless they were running from something. Coast Guard, maybe. Or…” His gaze flicked to Eve, something sharper sparking in his eye. “Maybe something attacked the boat, from inside or from outside.” 

A pause. “Of course it would be near impossible to tell given how long it stayed underwater, but sometimes you get lucky.”

His tone shifted again when he added, “Anyhow, I’m more than happy to bring archeological escapism to you. You deserve a break from the casual horrors of life.” His eyebrows furrowed. Setting his foot down in the sand, he turned and looked up at her climbing down the last bits of path leading to the beach. “You do look well, for someone who had to deal with a town-ending event and then something that totally didn’t happen.” 

—--

Eve listened to his enthusiasm with an easy smile, shifting her gait as she stepped onto the sand. It was sweet, listening to him light up as he talked about the history of this ship, clearly enjoying the audience. For a split second, she could picture a world where this was the biggest thing for him to think about it, rather than dead necromancers and vampire bites. The image was gone just as quickly as it had appeared; neither of them could be extracted from their fates. 

“I hope I look better than well,” Eve teased back, an edge of flirting in her tone. She shook her head, offering a more serious answer as well.

“It wasn’t the first mass casualty event I’ve seen. Not my first injury either. The horrors are infinite, our lives are not, we deserve to enjoy them. Becoming a bit desensitised is kinda necessary.” It always had been, for every single one of them. Eve remembered keenly the first time she’d killed a faun, only to come home to her 16th birthday party and hide in her bedroom, crying. She’d been even younger when she’d seen her first dead body. Now it was no different that spotting the carcass of a fly trapped in an abandoned spider’s web. It was the same for all of them, in one way or another. You either learned how to shield yourself, or you became emotionally compromised, or whatever other bullshit scribes had listed in their dusty old tomes as to what constituted a “weakness” in hunters. Eve had learned how to cut out the parts of her that flinched at suffering a long time ago. 

It was this town, where she was slowly integrating herself with people who killed humans, that demanded a new degree of separation Eve didn’t know if she had fully mastered. Where hunters killed humans, apparently, and vampires saved her life, and her friend was turned into a horror she had no way of understanding. It would become easier with time, Eve knew from experience. Maybe that was another reason she was hanging out with Henri. 

They got closer to the ribs of the shipwreck, as Eve instinctively reached for her latex gloves in her pocket. “So, is this one of the ships you got lucky on?” Eve heard the double entendre the moment she said it, and a surprised laugh burst out of her, so enthused that the laugh itself was surprising. Giggles shook her shoulder for seconds too long. “I meant- I meant if you have evidence as to what supernatural thing sunk this ship!” She chuckled again, even thought it definitely wasn’t that funny. “But, you know, you do you.” 

___

Henri gave her a sharp look, but that did not hold long. In an instant, his postured faltered, just a bit. “You—,” he started, only to stop and brush off imaginary sand from his sleeve.

“You do,” he cl arified, his voice careful. “You look a lot better than well.”

He bent quickly, officially to look at the wreckage, very much not looking at her. The corner of his mouth twitched at the next comment she made, the double entendre that made his ears go red, and the laughter that came along. “I’ll try not to take that as an insult to my research methods.”

Before Eve could reply, a wet slurp echoed across the beach.

Henri paused.

“What the hell was—”

Shlorp.

Henri turned on his heels this time, as a shape rose from the sand—like some horrid beach ball peeling itself open. A large shell tilted up, its fleshy underbelly bristling with translucent tendrils. It looked almost comical. Almost.

PFFFFFTTTT. A hiss of gas expelled toward them in a cloud Henri couldn’t see, but felt—a strange tingle in his sinuses, like breathing in whipped cream and ozone.

Eve was already laughing, and he was fairly certain she didn’t find her joke that funny.

“We need to—” He stopped mid-sentence, blinking.

He frowned again. Not because of the creature, exactly, but because suddenly he wasn’t sure what he had been about to say. The corners of his mouth twitched, involuntarily. He felt a laugh, rising like carbonation.

No. Nope.

And then he wheezed, even as he tried to put a name on the danger ahead of them. The more he tried to remember, the more he giggled about it. “We—need—to—” He grabbed her wrist a second too late. “Move.”

That would be when a second lollusc flopped out from behind the wreck.

—--

If the giggles hadn’t kept rumbling in her chest, Eve would have followed up with more innuendo, trying to get more of that delightful red flush in his ears. (She enjoyed this too much, she thought - weaseling her way through the crack’s of people’s masks. All the more so when it earned her compliments.) Unfortunately for both of them, the lolluscs were determined to poop this party. 

Eve eyes the translucent tendrils squirming around their feet, stepping towards Henri as he grabbed her wrist. The air hissed around them, carrying the echo of gentle laughter on the wind. It was too late to avoid inhalation, and a quick exit on the sand was out of the question. As the lolluscs lifted themselves onto their tranlucent tendrils to creep closer to them, they looked– “Oh my god, it’s like a jellyfish wearing a hat!” Eve cackled, even as she drew her gun. 

At fifteen, Eve’s dad had pulled her into a training session one morning, and set a small liquid in front of her. Eve’s eyes had widened in hope and excitement as he explained the plan for the day. They would spar, and then she’d drink the potion, and then they would spar again. It would be harder the second time, he explained, not because he was putting more effort in, but because she would be impaired. The potion would allow her to feel a fraction of a Faun’s prowess. They didn't know whether she would be immune to a faun, or a wulbren, a muse, or any of the menagerie of fae that could influence your heart to destroy your life. 

Eve had said that it couldn’t be that hard, that she already enjoyed training, so it wouldn’t be that much of a boost. 

By the end of the day, her body had been sore and stiff and her ribs ached from all the times she’d wanted to dance rather than to fight. Her dad had offered the antidote, and explained that they would be doing this regularly, with every feeling that a fae could inspire you to possess. That to hunt was to be able to feel like you loved the person at the other end of the knife, and run them through with it anyway. It was a skill that few wardens ever mastered. No matter how many hunters tried, they could not cut away their humanity. Not even Emilio in his undeath had managed that. 

It was that training that Eve leaned on now to orientate herself, stepping further from the tendrils, pulling Henri along with her as he began to laugh too. She aimed her handgun right at the meaty flesh inside the shell, and fired four shots. The first three hit home, bursting the squishy flesh where they hit the tendrils and the squishy core, but the lollusc snapped shut its shell, and the final bullet made a cracking sound as it bounced off the shell and caused a small explosion in the sand nearby.

“Oh!! I bet I could figure out such a cool trick shot that would bounce off each of them like ping ping ping pew right back to me. It’d be so cool! Wait, that would be bad.” Eve laughed, leaning into Henri to support her giggles, but put her gun away, exchanging it for one of her knives instead. Not as effective as a gun, but also far less likely to ricochet back at them if Eve was careless with her aim. 

Right now she didn’t have a care in the whole wide world. Knives would have to do. 

The mollusc she’d shot dripped blue-clear liquid as it peaked a couple tendrils out of its shell, clearly moving more slowly and more weakly, while the other two progressed.  “Good news! Definitely hurtable. Prooooobably killable. Let’s not get touched by the tendrils. If you see an out, just run. Put on your own air mask first and all that… metaphorically, obviously! We’re not on a plane!” 

Eve laughed again, as she stepped between the ribs of the shipwreck, giving her cover that the giant slams wouldn’t easily be able to squeeze through. Unless they could climb. Wouldn’t that be funny?

___

Henri stumbled after her, boots crunching against damp sand and bone-white driftwood, the sting of the gas still fizzing pleasantly in his brain. Memories he had not yet made, of this feeling, her laughter, and these creatures settled in.

Henri budged slightly as Eve leaned into him, her laughter bubbling up like it had its own gravity. He hadn’t expected the contact. Or the heat behind his ears. “Alright, now might not be the best time for being disarming,” he scoffed, realized what he was saying, tried not to laugh, and laughed again. 

This already felt like one of those dreadful moments that came to haunt you at 1 am while you were trying to fall asleep. Luckily for Henri, he already was being kept awake by concerns regarding whether or not he should have let a creature live or not, and most likely would only return to this specific moment if he was having a very bad case of insomnia. 

He turned his attention back to the lolluscs to stop himself from saying something worse. One of them was leaking (gross), the other two undeterred. The air was sweet and sharp and getting funnier every second that passed. 

He tagged alongside her and hid behind a fallen timber rib of the shipwreck, ducking under a slick arch of wood and barnacle. “They’re ridiculous. Like—why are they wearing hats? Why do they look smug?” This most likely would be the first and last time he referred to the upper part of the bivalve as a hat, but for now that would suffice to make him laugh. He bit the inside of his cheek, again. No help.

He peeked out from behind the rib. The leaking one was retreating—slow and oozing, like a busted water balloon trying to maintain dignity. The other two were slithering through the wreckage in slow, purposeful zigzags, their translucent tendrils sweeping the sand with gross intention. One of them let out a gurgling sound that absolutely felt like laughter.

“Oh, you think you’re funny,” Henri muttered.

He reached back, unhooking the heavier of the two knives from his belt—a broad, practical blade. Shame he left his oyster knife home, he thought as he darted out from behind the rib.

He moved quickly—form mostly intact, though the buzz made everything feel slightly too fluid. Like he was slipping on the sand. Still, he zeroed in on the healthier lollusc, weaving between broken planks and scattered debris. When he got close enough, he crouched low, pivoted on his heel, and hurled the knife at the narrow, slightly parted seam of the shell. The lollusc emitted a schlorp in protest and flared its tendrils, a few of them reaching in his direction, allowing Henri to dig in deeper. “A little help perhaps?”

—-

“Mmm, but being disarming is my best trait,” Eve hummed, and would have enjoyed seeing the red spreading further down his ears even sober, but buzzing with the helium-balloon air in her lungs, she outright grinned in delight. Focus, focus. Guns were only as good as you were careful with them, so the knife made a better weapon of choice. She giggled as she heard him trying to suppress his laughter too. Once again, she pictured winding up a music box, each turn of the key steadying her, and imagined watching the ballerina spin as the metallic music pinged along. The music slowed to a stop, and the music box closed with part of her inside it, letting the rest of her focus on the task at hand. The intoxicating rush of laughter and cosyness could steer her laughter and her words, but the rest of her had to be focused on the fight. Otherwise it would be a losing battle on both fronts. “They’re so fucking smug. Mocking us with their perceived invertebrate superiority!”

“I bet if we pull off the hat, they lose the smugness,” Eve declared confidently, watching one of the healthy lolluscs try to squeeze its way between the ship ribs, and dipped under a decaying beam and out onto the exposed sand because just as it managed to enter the ship, buying them both time to focus on this one. 

 Eve didn’t care about her hands in the same way she didn’t care about the bullet ricocheting back to her. But another version of her would have, so she pulled off her coat and wrapped it around her hands. The creatures walked on their tendrils, so it couldn't move while it reached for Henri’s arms. It gave Eve the space to step around it, grip the sharp edge of the shell, and pull. 

“There should be a word for removing a hat to embarrass someone, you know? Like how defenestrate is a word. To unhatify. Scalpexposition.”

At first, the tissue resisted. Then, slowly, the lollusc’s innards tore, starting from where Henri’s knife sank into it, letting him sink his knife even, severing more of the vital structures holding the bivalve together. The tendrils wrapping around Henri’s arm pulled him in, not smart enough to realise that its feeding instinct was helping kill it. Eve yanked one last time, and the shell cracked and snapped open, ripping the lollusc apart. Eve laughed as its innard spilled onto the sand between them, and drove the sharpened end of the shell through the tendril holding Henri, just for good measure. With a wet shlurp, they fell to the ground, twitching. 

“Oh my god, I’m such an idiot!” Eve exclaimed, cackled at herself, “De-cap-itation! It was right there! You good?” 

She began to turn to the last, but lost her balance immediately, hand sinking into the gloppy remains of the one they’d just killed together to catch herself. Eve hadn’t even feel the tendrils of the other healthy lollusc wrap around the prosthesis of her leg until it began to pull. 

__

Henri hit the sand with a groan, catching himself with his elbow and not completely landing in lollusc guts. His knife fell onto the sand. The slayer’s forearm throbbed where the tendril had gripped him, stinging faintly, and he blinked up at Eve through the mucus mist. 

“I—yeah. I’m fine. That was deeply disgusting,” he said, voice flat and sat up. “Thank you for de-cap-itating it.” The young man scrubbed a hand over his face and reached for his knife— And then he saw those tendrils securing their hold on her prosthetic leg. 

“Shit.” He was already moving, half on instinct, the other half all too aware of what was at stake here. The third lollusc was already dragging her back toward the wooden ribs of the ship, inch by gloopy inch. But, this time, Henri knew precisely how to see the end of one of these smug assholes, and he took the time to shrug off his flannel and wrap it around one of his hands before he pried the overgrown clam open. This would call for a phone call to his grand-mother, and an apology for having whined whenever she had him and Aoife help (adult code for doing all the work, he soon found out) cleaning and preparing clams for dinner. 

He drove his knife into the seam of the shell and twisted, teeth gritted. 

It was equal parts technique and frustration that had Henri manage to force the edge open just enough for Henri to take a chance at sinking his blade deep into the soft, squishy tissue pulsing within. The lollusc let out a wheezing, agonizing sound of protest and spasmed, its tendrils tightening around Eve’s leg before going slack once and for all, letting go.

If a part of him expected there to be a fourth one of these shelled pricks waiting to pop out of the sand, that didn’t stop him from reaching for her hand to help her up and away from those twitching remains. 

When he let go, he sat down into clear-of-guts sand and for a long second, just looked at the ocean in the distance, trying to piece his brain back together.

Then, slowly: “De-cap-itation,” he echoed, like the words had only just reached him. He turned his head to look at her, hair half-stuck to his face, one side of him damp with something he refused to identify. “That was so fucking terrible,” and the laugh he gave then, was, at last, a genuine one, and not one induced by clams from hell.

“You good?” A pause. “Cause I think I can taste colors.”

—--

The second Eve fully hit the ground, she started trying to kick it away, even if she couldn’t remember why that was important in the moment. Being dragged to her death didn’t seem so bad right now. And wouldn’t it be nice to be held? But she fought it all the same, but as it became obvious the tendrils weren’t letting go, Eve started to focus on the tendrils on her thigh. Underneath them was the valve that controlled the vacuum that held her leg on. Losing the prosthetic would be a pain, but the rest of her was more expensive to replace. 

She had just hacked off enough tentacle to reveal the valve, when the tentacles stopped pulling and went slack. Eve relaxed, laying her head back down in the sand, and caught her breath, when Henri’s shadow fell over her, extinguishing the sun. Eve blinked, and took his offered hand (as slimy as both their hands were) to get herself of the floor. Sand cascaded to the ground as she stepped over the remaining tendrils.

The buzz of sugar sweet air was already starting to fade. She dropped down next to Henri, and pulled a water bottle from her back pack, and used it to get the worst of lollusc innards off her. She looked over at Henri as he laughed, her face bearing a shit-eating grin. “I’m better at punning when I’m not high,” she admitted with a chuckle. “I’m fine. Oh, yeah? What’s the tastiest colour here?”

Her gaze drifted back to the lolluscs, cracked open, and the trail of innard fluid that had come from the third, leading back to the water. There was a small pang of guilt that she hadn’t verified the kill, that that thing might come back. More likely, it had crept away to die. 

The guilt was the first bad feeling she’d had since arriving here, which really mant the laughing gas was wearing off. “Have you ever seen those before?” Eve asked, before looking back at him, eyes searching his. “Guess I’ll have to take you out to buy you a drink, to make up for jinxing us. Although, hey, shipwreck’s still there, once we’ve caught our breath.” It would outlast both of them, she thought. In a little, it would occur to her to kick both corpses into the sea, and in a few hours, the tide would hide the footprints of their struggle. In a couple decades, it would be unlikely neither her nor Henri would be here. But these old ribs would still protrude from the sands at low tide. 

All the more reason to enjoy it while they were here. 

____

Henri leaned back on one arm, looking at the water in her hand before he accepted it and scrubbed away a blob of translucent mucus from his jaw. “Beige.” He frowned. “Tastes like sand.” Maybe he had gotten some in his mouth while they fought those things, but he had no recollection of that, for now. “Thanks,” he said as he handed the bottle back and followed her gaze. 

The damage, the trail of leaking lollucs, the footprints in the sand. “If they dare get up…” He began, and trailed off immediately. No thank you. He was not manifesting this. 

“No,” he admitted, rubbing at his shoulder. His encounter with the wight was still quite fresh, and he could have gone without another monster run in today. “I’ve never seen anything like them. Or anything that fucks with your brain like that. Do you…” He paused. “Maybe they came with the ship.” His tone had started out flat, observational, but then something shifted. His gaze drifted back to the ribcage of the wreck, barely poking from the sand like the fossilized remains of something half-swallowed by time.

“I mean—what if it did?” he went on, slower now, more to himself than her. “What if that’s why it went down? Not weather or pirates or rocks, what if it sank because someone brought those things aboard?” It occurred to him, a little late, how deeply he’d just spiraled in front of someone who’d almost been dragged to her death by one. His expression blanked back to neutral and he cleared his throat. “...Anyway. That’s probably not what happened.” There it was again, that red heat in his cheeks. 

He sighed. “Anyway, I think you’re supposed to buy a drink before you drag someone into a psychedelic ambush,” he said, deadpan. “But… sure. I’ll take you up on it.” He met her eyes, just briefly. “We’ll visit another digging site. One without clams. Maybe after we find a place to rinse off, and maybe a place to burn our clothes.” He pushed himself to his feet with a soft grunt and offered her a hand again. “C’mon. We should kick the corpses into the sea before they attract company.”

And maybe, if he was lucky, the taste of beige would fade too. 

[fuckyeahkagepro]

Kagerou Project ~ Times / Dates References + Comparisons Kagerou Daze I (Novels Route) [ Hibiya Amamiya’s point of view ] (bolding mine for emphasis/reference notes!): The sun set, it was late.

Although it’s cool at evenings, the heat remaining from the day still twines in the air and my skin could feel the breath of the upcoming summer.

“What shall I do this summer? Last year I spent the whole time helping in the field, I guess this year will be the same again, huh…..”

I’ve been stuck in this tiny village for over ten years. My impression of summer was just hot weather and memories of working in the paddy field full of mud.

“…..Travelling….. That’s not possible at all. I’m lacking money. However, I’m sure……”

I’m sure that Asahina Hiyori will make a trip to somewhere and enjoy a perfect summer. I’m just guessing, but I’m pretty sure she will.

No matter the world or standpoint we are in, everything is different between me and her, so I guess the scenery she sees every day is something a normal boy couldn’t imagine at all.

I understand that, that’s why I have expectations, and that’s why I’m so in love with her.

Being showered by the sunset, I was having those thoughts while looking at the broad farmlands being dyed orange, looking at my tiny house that was a stone’s throw away from the village. Right at the end of the spacious open land, thin smoke was coming out from the tiny chimney.

When was the last time I went out of this village? I couldn’t remember, maybe because it was already that long ago.

And my short, 10+ [“over ten”] years of life will be a lackluster thing that I won’t be able to remember, too. 

When will be the next time I get out of this village?

I started to imagine a future scene where Hiyori and I are in a monorail, thinking about our destination, laughing together.

^ “Konoha’s State of the World” music video [2012] (near ending)

(“Konoha no Sekai Jijou”) [+ the translations of the television screens]

^ “Days”, Mekakucity Actors ending theme A warning came from somewhere around my chest. “IMPOSSIBLE”, I subconsciously understood the message.

“So that’s what I’m saying, should I really give up that easily……”

Shallowly sighed, I speeded up my pace to finish the journey back home.

Me, who bluffed a lot, could hear a voice, teasing me from somewhere.

“[Are you anxious]?” credit for translations/editing: here !

also re: “over 10 years” [old]:

(from the translations of the television screens at the end of  Konoha’s State of the World music video):

“11 years old” (B U T): [1] ” a truck attempting to avoid an oncoming vehicle swerved onto the sidewalk, hitting an 11-year-old boy ” [2] ”  ?? truck rolled over ?? cat. An 11-year-old girl who happened to be there was found ” [3] ” a girl was found unconscious and in serious condition after falling from a pedestrian bridge ” [4] “ ?? ?? the 11-year-old ?? ?? who was walking on the sidewalk underneath the apartment construction site ” [5] ” a girl was found unconscious and in serious condition after falling from a pedestrian bridge ” “ ?? playing with her friend when she ran up the stairs, whereupon her foot slipped and she fell. The boy who she had been playing withis now in a severely unstable state of mind as a result, and so police… [^ more in the linked translation post!]

[fushiguroll]

HAIKYUU BOYS TEACHING YOU TO DRIVE

⇢ bokuto kotaro, miya atsumu, yaku morisuke, aone takanobu, nishinoya yu, oikawa toru

a/n: am I y/n oikawa’s? yes, absolutely. can I not tell my left from my right? yes, sometimes but I don’t want to hear about it.

ʚɞ BOKUTO Kotaro | bokuto was so excited when you asked him to teach you to drive. “really? you’re asking me and not akaashi?” “yes, bokuto, you.” immediately was ready for lessons. tried his best to explain things to you but ends up confusing you more with the weird terms he has. doesn’t call the “gearshift” gearshift, referred to it as  “PRNDL”. was so nervous when you guys finally go on the road. he was very encouraging but but you see his knuckles turn white from gripping unto his seatbelt too tightly. you appreciate it but its honestly more distracting than helpful. “GOOD JOB BABY! NOW TURN LEFT!” “YES FANTASTIC! NOW TURN RIGHT!” “ko, could you please stop yelling?” “I’M NOT YELLING! YOU’RE DOING GREAT!” gave you the biggest hug afterwards. aside from the yelling, he’s a pretty good instructor. 8/10. 

ʚɞ MIYA Atsumu | also very excited to teach you to drive, but unlike bokuto who genuinely excited to teach you, atsumu was using the lesson as a chance to show off his driving skills. you’ll probably drive very little because he’s too busy “demonstrating” for you. “okay, let’s switch places. I’ll show ya how to reverse.” “tsumu, you can just teach me, you don’t have to show me.” “nah, nah, princess, ya gotta see for yerself.” not that you’re complaining though because he definitely does that hand on the back of your headseat thing as he reverses and you know that’s hot. swoon. but if you want a chance at passing your driver’s test, osamu as your teacher would be a better bet. 6/10. 

ʚɞ YAKU Morisuke | immediately goes into instructor mode the moment you asked him to teach you to drive. sat you down and gave you a presentation on the in and outs of traffic rules before you’re even allowed to sit in the driver’s seat. very strict and expected you to follow his directions to the t, after all, you came to him to learn right? “alright, now use the turn signal right here. make sure to check your side mirrors, once, then twice. now turn your head to check the blindspot. I SAID TURN YOUR HEAD TO SEE THE BLIND SPOTS!” “STOP YELLING AT ME!” “TURN YOUR HEAD!” apologized to you for the yelling, but it’s the same story all over again at your next lesson. however, it was all wroth it because you scored a perfect 100 on both your writing and driving test. 9.5/10 (minus .5 for the yelling). 

ʚɞ AONE Takanobu | aone’s lessons were pretty nerve-wrecking not because he yelled at you, but the opposite, its the fact that he barely commented on anything. you’re not sure if you’re doing things right because he’s not saying anything but you saw the wince in his face when you accidentally sped past a speed bump. “sorry, I’m supposed to go slow right?” he nodded, slowly bringing a hand up to the handlebar. when you brake too slow and almost hit the car in front of you, aone again doesn’t say anything except, “brake faster.” a lot of uncomfortable silence because you’re both nervous about your driving. he gave you a little head pat afterwards and muttered, “good job.” he tried to avoid you the next few days so you don’t ask him to teach you again but it wasn’t like you were planning to anyways. 4/10. 

ʚɞ NISHINOYA Yu | asking nishinoya to teach you to drive was both entertaining and lowkey a life hazard to everyone else on the road. he gave you a very very brief overview of the car, pointed to things and just went, “that’s the brake, that’s the gas pedal, the D is drive, the N is neutral, the R is reverse. got it? kay, let’s go!” once you’re on the road, he urged you to go faster, probably forced you to go on the highway on the first day. crazy man will even roll down the window and scream at passing cars, “FIRST TIME DRIVER WHOOP WHOOP!” when you’re more comfortable, he tried to convince you to reenact some fast and furious scene. by the end of it, you thanked God for guiding both of you back safely and in one piece. y Instructor Nishinoya is a fun time guaranteed and you will learn how to drive with the small risk of potentially losing your life. 6/10 (minus 4 points for being an irresponsible instructor). 

ʚɞ OIKAWA Toru | was so pleased you came to him for driving lessons, he’s always thought himself a superior driver. If only he knew the sole reason you came to him was because Iwaizumi, Mattsun and Makki were all busy. Anyhow, in the beginning, Oikawa was very patient and kind, full of encouragements and praises for you. but the longer you drive and the more times you couldn’t distinguish between your left from your right, the more he wanted to tear his hair out. tried his best to stay patient but you could tell he’s losing his mind the higher pitched his voice got. “Okay,  that’s it. now go left. no y/n, that’s your right signal. I said left. That’s the side you don’t write with. LEFT! GO LEFT!” he cut the lesson short with some lame excuse about needing to use the restroom. texted Iwaizumi afterwards, “I’m never taking y/n out to drive again. It’s your turn.” hey, at least you tried your best. 5/10. 

reblogs are wildly appreciated <3

main masterlist | haikyū masterlist

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ for suggesting the backstory thing! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

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Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer. 

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already. 

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message! 

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you. 

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you. 

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact. 

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo. 

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh. 

“Okay, what now?” 

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge. 

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing. 

It never comes. 

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards. 

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack. 

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement. 

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?” 

He stares at you. 

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that. 

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long. 

Fuck, he really had only one option. 

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him. 

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference. 

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath. 

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition. 

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation. 

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

 “I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?” 

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated. 

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it. 

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it. 

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.” 

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips. 

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by. 

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?” 

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion. 

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects. 

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.” 

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead. 

Fucking finally. 

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place. 

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight. 

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam. 

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming. 

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him. 

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly. 

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you. 

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious. 

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment. 

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.” 

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying. 

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles. 

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.” 

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles. 

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm. 

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.” 

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified. 

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground. 

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below. 

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient. 

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes. 

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.” 

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand. 

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally. 

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly. 

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.” 

“See you there.” Sam nods. 

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure. 

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business. 

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that? 

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all. 

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

 He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry. 

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available. 

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly. 

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?” 

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued. 

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour. 

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.” 

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb. 

Tony has an idea. 

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

[bbysamu]

#HAIKYUU BOYS TEACHING YOU TO DRIVE

featuring:: BOKUTO Kotaro, MIYA Atsumu, YAKU Morisuke, AONE Takanobu, NISHINOYA Yu, OIKAWA Toru 

genre:: slice of life / fluff 

warning:: none 

a/n:: am I Y/N in Oikawa’s? yes, absolutely. Can I not tell my left from my right? yes, sometimes but I don’t want to hear about it. 

⤷BOKUTO Kotaro babyboy is so excited when you ask him to teach you to drive. Tries his best to explain things to you but ends up confusing you more with the weird terms he has. Doesn’t call the “gearshift” a gearshift, refers to it as the “PRNDL”. Is so nervous when you guys finally go on the road, yells encouragements but you see his knuckles turn white from holding onto his seatbelt too tightly. You appreciate it but its honestly more distracting than helpful. “GOOD JOB BABY! NOW TURN LEFT!” “YES FANTASTIC! NOW TURN RIGHT!” “Bo could you please stop yelling?” “I’M NOT YELLING! YOU’RE DOING GREAT!” Gives you the biggest hug afterwards. Aside from the yelling, he’s surprisngly a pretty good instructor. 

⤷MIYA Atsumu also very excited to teach you to drive, but unlike Bokuto who genuinely excited to teach you, Atsumu is using the lesson as a chance to show off his driving skills. You’ll probably drive very little because he’s too busy “demonstrating” for you. “let’s switch places, babe. I’ll show ya how to reverse.” “Tsumu, you can just verbally say it.” “nah, nah, princess, ya gotta see for yerself.” Not that you’re complaining though because he definitely does that hand on the back of your headseat thing as he reverses and you know that’s hot. swoon

⤷YAKU Morisuke will go into full-on instructor mode the moment you ask him to teach you to drive. Sits you down and gives you a presentation of the entire makeup of the car before you’re even allowed to sit in the driver’s seat. Very strict and expects you to follow his directions to the t. “alright, now use the turn signal right here. Make sure to check your side mirrors, once, then twice. Now turn your head to check the blindspot. I SAID TURN YOUR HEAD TO SEE THE BLIND SPOTS!” “STOP YELLING AT ME YAKU!” “TURN YOUR HEAD!” Will apologize to you for the shouting, but the next day you guys go out to drive, it’s the same story all over again. 

⤷AONE Takanobu Aone teaching you to drive is probably pretty nerve-wrecking because man doesn’t speak much. You’re not sure if you’re doing things right because he’s not saying anything but you see the wince in his face when you accidentally sped past a speed bump. “sorry babe, I'm supposed to go slow right?” He nods, slowly bringing a hand up to the handlebar. When you brake too slow and almost hits the car in front of you, Aone again doesn’t say anything except, “brake faster next time.” A lot of uncomfortable silence because you’re both nervous about your driving. He will give you a little head pat afterwards and mutter, “good job.” Not gonna lie, he probably will try to avoid you the next few days so you don’t ask him to teach you again. Not that you were planning to anyways. 

⤷NISHINOYA Yu now this one teaching you to drive is certainly entertaining and lowkey a life hazard. Will give you a very very brief overview of the car, points to things and just go, “that's the brake, that’s the gas pedal, the D is drive, the N is neutral, the R is reverse. Okay go.” Once you’re on the road he’ll urge you to go faster, probably force you to go on the highway on the first day. Crazy man will even open the window and scream at passing cars, “FIRST TIME DRIVER WHOOP WHOOP!” When you’re more comfortable, he’ll try to convince you to reenact some fast and furious scene. By the end of it, you’ll thank God you both made it back alive. Instructor Nishinoya is a fun time guaranteed and you will learn how to drive just at the risk of potentially losing your life. 

⤷OIKAWA Toru is so pleased you came to him for driving lessons, he’s always thought himself a superior driver. If only he knew the sole reason you came to him was because Iwaizumi, Mattsun and Makki were all busy. Anyhow, in the beginning, Oikawa is very patient and kind, full of encouragements and praises for you. But the longer you drive and the more times you couldn’t distinguish your left from your right, the more he wants to tear his hair out. Tries his best to stay patient but you can tell he’s losing his mind the higher pitched his voice gets. “Okay, good job. Now go left. No Y/N, that’s your right signal. I said left. That’s the side you don’t write with. LEFT! GO LEFT!” Will cut the lesson short with some lame excuse about needing to use the restroom. Texts Iwaizumi afterwards, “I’m never taking Y/N out to drive again. It’s your turn next.” Hey, at least you tried your best. 

stay fetch, xoxo! 

[bigskydreaming]

Hi, I was reading your post about Jason punching Dick in the face when Dick revealed he fake his death was bullshit ( which it was) and it reminded me of an issue/question that has bothered me for sometime.

Why did people believe Dick was actually dead?

I’m not the most avid comic reader so maybe I missed something but it was always weird to me that everyone just accepted this especially given how Bruce was acting or should I say wasn’t acting.

This is a man when his child died another child had to come along and told him sir you are being too violent and emotional you need supervision. When his other child died he went all over the universe to bring him back to life because he knew it was possible ( which was happening at the same time), so why didn’t anyone think it was weird he wasn’t doing that for Dick. Can you imagine Dick really dying that soon after Damian it would be injustice Batman Version. You are telling me that Tim, Jason or Barbara didn’t think it was weird that Bruce didn’t also bring Dick’s corpse to the bring Damian back to life mission or mention it to themselves. Like what more likely Dick dead and Bruce is handling it well or that he fake his death to do something stupid and Dangerous after his partner/brother/ little bit my son the feelings are complicated died after he was knocked out and woke up to his corpse.

Oh man, this is like, the entire nature of my beef?

(Slight derail just to emphasize the fact real quick that Dick DID actually die, he was just revived quickly, but like, the trauma of his death was very real and its not like anyone was clued into Luthor having a resurrection backdoor built into his literal murder of Dick in the actual moment of it happening. So Dick’s death wasn’t fake, and additionally, he didn’t have anything to do with like, telling people about it, because he was literally comatose in the cave and recovering while Bruce was telling people....by the time Dick woke up in the cave, we already know that Alfred at least had already been convinced by Bruce that Dick was dead, so I have a kneejerk need to pushback against the Dick faked his death narrative by reminding people wherever possible that Dick had no agency in the spreading of that narrative. 

It happened without him being involved, and the only actual contribution he ever made to it was just not revealing he was alive before Grayson #12, after Bruce like.....emotionally, mentally and physically badgered him into accepting that doing so would be directly harmful to his family and he didn’t want to be the reason more people died when like, people had just died because he ‘let’ himself be captured and interrogated by Power Woman’s Lasso of Submission, did he?

SORRY TO BE PEDANTIC, just wanted to start this off on a clarification, even though I know the aim of your ask was very much in tune with the rest of my response. A lot of people don’t read the actual comics, so like, I’m never gonna skip over an opportunity to emphasize that the shorthand people use to refer to Dick’s death and the year he was with Spyral, is like, literally just shorthand for describing it. Its not actually an accurate description of how all that went down and who had the most hand in it).

BUT ANYWAY. BACK TO THE MEAT OF THE BEEF.

Okay so like, not only was the entire family and Bruce himself giving Dick shit for his death and Spyral, like, PAINFULLY egregious because it was literal victim blaming in every possible sense of the word....

None of it made a LICK of sense with ANY of their characterizations, and they ONLY all accepted it on face value because the Plot Demanded It, and when you're like, no, as a reader I say The Plot Demanded It is not a good enough reason for me to be like well sure, that makes sense......looking at the characters ACTUAL actions at face value pretty much just makes them all look like assholes?

Like, Tim has never gracefully accepted anyone's death. Ever. This is core characterization for him. He will go to the ends of the earth for his loved ones and to bring them back, prove they're not dead, refuse to let death be the final verdict for them. He was tempted to use the Lazarus Pit to bring his parents back to life. He refused to accept Bruce was dead long before he had any proof whatsoever of that theory. He tried to clone his BFF/future-husband Kon in his fucking basement like, dude was two whole inches away from going Full Dark Side in his quest to bring back a lost loved one no matter WHAT the cost.....and then you've got Dick unmasked onscreen, killed offscreen, and Bruce then reporting to the rest of them with zero inflection 'oh Dick's dead now. Its very sad' and Tim's just like, sure. Sounds legit.

I mean?!?!

And you're SO RIGHT ABOUT THE DAMIAN THING! Bruce LITERALLY LITERALLY LITERALLY went BEYOND the ends of the Earth, like, he full on chartered a fucking space ship to fly his whole family out to APOKOLIPS to bring Damian back from the dead by going to EXTREME lengths.....WHILE everyone else thought Dick was dead....

And not a single person looked at Bruce and was like, okay, not that we're not down to do this for Damian because we miss Stabby Smurf something fierce ourselves, but.....what the fuck is UP with you dude? Why aren't you displaying ANY hint of this same kind of energy in regards to your eldest son that you said you watched die right in front of you?

Like....I don't know that we were actually ever told that Dick's coffin was empty or had a fake in it, but like....this family of detectives who refuse to accept death, defy death, COME BACK FROM THE DEAD....not a single one of them said like, okay, if I'm gonna like, ACCEPT accept that Dick is dead and gone for good, I need to at least just see him one last time? That's literally all it would have taken for someone to realize hey something's a little wonky here. Where's the dead body, Pops?

Since when has Jason ever missed an opportunity to prove Bruce is a) full of shit, b) acting like an emotionless robot and all his kids deserve better especially when they've just like....died, c) just factually incorrect and wrong and jumped to a conclusion before it was conclusively proved, d) lying like a liar or e) all of the above?

Nobody even ASKED if Dick's body could be put in a Lazarus Pit? Yeah, Jason wouldn't necessarily recommend it himself, given what it put him through, but actually fuck that, I take that back, because I'm NOT actually of the opinion that Jason full on hates his life and actively spends every second of every day wishing he hadn't been resurrected, even if it had come with a huge buffet of additional trauma and pain.

And that's kinda what's implied when people just take it for granted that he would never be on board with any scenario involving using a Lazarus Pit to bring Dick back, because it suggests that based even just on his own experiences and feelings, he honestly believes Dick would prefer being dead and not have ANY further opportunities to be with his loved ones, his friends, help save the damn world again at some future point.....that Jason, projecting based just off himself, legit feels Dick would rather be dead than have another shot at life even WITH the downsides of Lazarus Pit usage? Nope. Sorry, I don't buy it.

Speaking of not buying it.....you know what was missing from all those soliloquies the others monologued at Dick about how they felt and were hurt and just devastated by his death, to such a point they can't seem to muster a single shred of happiness that he's NOT dead still -

(seriously, Damian was the ONLY person in ALL THE LANDS OF EMOTION-HAVING who expressed ANY kind of positive reaction to having Dick back. We were so fucking cheated of like.....ANY opportunity to have the characters show just how much they valued him by just being fucking HAPPY he was alive, no matter what else was involved....and then most of fandom compounded that by for years being like mmmm, no, Dick didn't get yelled at enough by his family for what HE put THEM through. Needs more yelling. More punching too. Bad Dick. Bad. This is the only way you'll learn not to die and get shipped off on a mission that you don't want but at least is to protect your family after being beaten into it by your dad whilst victim blaming you for dying in the first place. WHEN WILL YOU LEARN TO THINK ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE AND THEIR FEELINGS FOR A CHANGE, DICK?!?)

- But like, BUT I DIGRESS aside....you know what was missing from all those monologues about how hard DICK'S death and ensuing year of basically exile from his loved ones was for EVERYONE BUT HIM?

We never got a single line of explanation as to what everyone else officially thinks even happened to him in the first place?

Like, did Bruce straight up just say oh bad news kids, your brother umm. Expired. Spontaneously. There's no one to blame, he just keeled over, its all very sad.

Is that how that went down?

You're telling me that the explanation of Dick's death didn't come with a single pointed finger at someone for this family of blame-happy vigilantes to like, BLAME for the loss of this brother they all mourned oh so much, they just couldn't help but blame him for all the hurt it caused them?

The family that in every other fic is like OBSESSED with avenging and being avenged and all things vengeful and even tangentially vengeance-y....like didn't ask for a single detail on whomst the fuck deprived us of our brother-having?

Where were the attempts on Luthor's life by Jason (who I mean, yeah I know it was in a previous continuity, but erasing that timeline doesn't erase my awareness of the time Dick killed Jason's murderer so like.....mmm, just saying, woulda been nice)....where was the rage directed at the Crime Syndicate and references to how seriously and personally the Batfam took making sure that they were PUNISHED for all this and would never be free to wreak havoc on their world or their family again? What did they tell Damian when he came back to life, and how are you going to tell me that this fraternal little ball of fury didn't aim himself like a cannonball at whomever the fuck had DARED take HIS Batman from him when Damian wasn't around to have his back?

Not only does everyone else's desire to be avenged start falling really flat the second you factor in hey maybe Dick feels "mmm what about MY avenging" sometimes, and why doesn't anyone ever care about doing that for him.....but also, y'know what REALLY sucks about the ONLY person we actually SEE being blamed for Dick's death and ensuing absence being like....Dick himself?

Not only were his family all super keen on making all of this HIS fault and HIM the bad guy because of how it made them all feeeeeeel (and meanwhile fuck his feelings, am I right Batfam hfaklshfklahfkla).....

They somehow found a way to justify prioritizing this OVER ever even getting around to blaming some villain for his death in the FIRST place, in the entire year or so they thought he was still dead!

Like, you couldn't come up with a single target in all that time, but Dick's back two seconds, and you don't even give him a chance to EXPLAIN before you're punching him, shutting him down with 'I expected better from you' and turning away with 'I don't want to hear it, why am I surprised Dick Grayson disappointed me again'?

afshklfhalfhalfhla

Make it make sense!

And like, it won't, cuz it doesn't, and it never will, and like I said at the top, the ONLY reason it all played out this way is because DC doesn't give a fuck about character development and deemed it necessary to go down this way for the sake of the plot (which was totes worth it, I mean, glad we sacrificed characters for this A+ plot which was clearly the greatest plot of all time and definitely justified every story choice made or not made around it loooool).

BUT.

BUT BUT BUT.

The problem isn't JUST that DC is stupid, even though that is an eternal mood and quite the problem.

Its that the SECOND large parts of fandom decided to play along with DC and just accept the story at face value, only add to it and play into it exactly as it happened in canon with no significant deviations, and like, heaping on the LITERAL abuse from Dick's siblings while ignoring the LITERAL abuse from his father....

THAT....is when all of this becomes relevant.

Because the second people decided TO engage with the reasoning DC gave for what Bruce did and how and what Dick did and how and just not mess with any of that and have it all play out exactly like that...

The second people are like, okay we're FINE with not just dismissing this story as OOC writing that doesn't make any sense, and actually VALIDATING it to various degrees by engaging with it as is....

That's when 'OOC writing' stops being an excuse or explanation for alllll of the above gaps in character logic and actions.

Because its like, when you had abundant chance to REJECT this story and say nope, this was bullshit from start to finish and I'm not here for it, when you were just as capable of transforming literally ANY aspect of this story you didn't like into something that made more sense to you....

And you chose not to.

That's.....accepting it as valid writing. You were like, okay, I'm game to just treat this as a thing that happened, just like they said that happened.

For the chance to give Dick shit for it, see. For the angst, see.

And that's when I'm like okay cool, so when engaging with this story as is and accepting it on face value and just delving into the characters as they were SHOWN interacting with and around these events......for the angst or whatever....

You guys just all decided en masse to just hop, skip and jump over allllllllll the opportunities for angst inherent in examining even ANY SINGLE ONE of the above lapses in judgment or hypocrisy on the parts of the characters (who don't get to be excused by OOC writing if you're not going to call the story an example of OOC writing, whoops).

And its just like, uh, what's up with that?

[mypoisonedvine]

The Kind of Girl You Take Home to Mom (part 3 - FINALE) | Andy Barber x reader

(part 1) (part 2)

summary: andy knows how to take what he wants, and he wants you.

word count: 5.6k 

warnings: SMUT, subtle dubcon elements, loss of virginity, infidelity (obviously), wedding ring kink (shocking!!! jk), 

a/n: wow, after all this time I FINALLY finished this series.  sorry it took so long.  I still have an alternate ending that I want to write... but I wanted to go ahead and get this out first.  thank you everyone for your patience!  I kind of expect this to flop despite being the most requested thing ever, but idgaf.

“Honestly?  I always had this weird fear that he was going to try to seduce one of my girlfriends.”

For the second time that day, you choked.

“Wh— are you okay?” Jacob gasped, running over to you as you coughed up water.

Your attempt to respond was useless as you could only sputter and cough, trying to communicate that you were fine with a casual wave, but only managing to flail your arm wildly.

“Was it something I said?” he pressed.

“No, I just—” you wheezed, but interrupted yourself with another coughing fit as your eyes watered from the lack of air.

He slapped your back to try to help you along but it wasn’t very effective, just adding one new source of pain to your predicament.  I always had this weird fear that he was going to try to seduce one of my girlfriends, that was what he’d said.  What does that even mean?  Did he mean it like “I always had this fear, for no good reason,” or did he mean it like “I was always afraid of this, and now it’s come true”?

The way Jacob was looking at you— kind, concerned, patient— it didn’t seem like he suspected you of anything.  He probably would’ve led with that if he knew something, right?

When your airways finally cleared and you were able to start catching your breath, you finished getting ready for bed quickly and hopped into bed.  You couldn’t handle any long conversations with Jacob, though you tolerated some cuddling before you fell asleep.

You dreamt that night that you were drowning.  Andy was holding you, his arms wrapped around you from behind as he pulled you to shore.  Or was he pulling you under?  Either way, you figured you’d had enough water in your lungs for one day.

~

You probably should’ve let them win at Scrabble… you just couldn’t help yourself.

“I have…” Jacob trailed off as he counted in his head, “177 points.”

“209,” Laurie announced, reaching over to rub Jacob on the shoulder sympathetically.  “Sorry, honey.”

“384,” Andy grinned, setting down his pen and pad triumphantly and looking to you for your score.

“Um,” you stalled, almost embarrassed to say now.  “I got, uh, 559.”

Laurie and Jacob erupted into sputters of confusion, demanding that you recount your points as if they hadn’t all seen you play ‘quixotic’ on a triple word space.

“Good game,” Andy murmured with a soft smirk as he stood up and left the table.  You smiled back at him quickly, the other two too busy recounting the numbers on your pad to even notice.

So, that was the end of board games for the night.  Jacob suggested a movie but you just knew that would just be you and him cuddling under one blanket… while Laurie and Andy cuddled under another.  You weren’t sure you could take that.  Instead, you decided to read your book outside— even though you figured Laurie was disappointed you didn’t want to do anything more social.  Complimenting her beautifully landscaped backyard eased the blow, though.

It was hard to get comfortable on the patio couch, not because of the couch itself but because you knew it wouldn’t be long until somebody bothered you.  When you heard the door open, you were a little disappointed to see Jacob approaching you.

“Hey,” he smiled, sliding in next to you on the couch and wrapping an arm around you.  

“Hey,” you greeted in reply, slightly flat in your affect as you immediately dove back into your book.

“You’re feeling okay, right?  We could go for a drive if you need some space,” he offered, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“No, I’m alright,” you mumbled.  “You know me, I like my peace and quiet when I can get it.”

“You… like them, don’t you?”  He must’ve sensed that you didn’t understand what he was referring to at first.  “My family, I mean.”

“Oh!  Yeah, that’s not the issue, really.  I know we’re going back home tomorrow but I still need to decompress a little bit.  I’ll be more social tonight, promise.”

When you looked up at him, his face was closer than you’d anticipated.  It reminded you of when you two met, at a party where the music was so loud that you’d had to stand about this close to be able to carry a conversation.  Well, technically that wasn’t the first time you met, because you had him in one of your classes that semester, but it was the first time you’d talked.  He was fun, he was new, he was friendly.  I can’t stay long, I’ve got a test in the morning, you’d yelled your explanation.  You’re gonna ace it anyway, he had dismissed at the time, so you should stay and have fun!  You deserve to have fun.

Maybe that was what had made you attracted to him: you couldn’t think of anyone else who had been so worried about what you deserved.  But now, Andy was added to that list.  You hated to imagine that Jacob had inherited that nature from his father.  Is he treating you right? Andy has asked you that night, and you really weren’t sure even now what the answer was.  He certainly wasn’t treating you poorly, but was that enough?  

Back in reality (and not in your whizzing, anxiety-ridden thoughts), Jacob leaned in and kissed you softly.  The kiss was just like him: patient, gentle, but also somehow energetic.  It was… nice.  Comfortable.  Feeling a surge of boldness, you set your book aside and leaned into him, pushing the kiss a little deeper.

He let out a tiny little noise, nearly a moan, as your tongues began to slide together.  His hand reached up to cradle the back of your head— you remembered that he did that a lot when you were making out, but all those times felt so foreign now.  Your hands reached up to rub against his chest through his t-shirt; that dark maroon one he wore all the time, so much that it was forming a few holes at the hem.  His hand slid down to your back and—

“Am I interrupting something?” Andy’s voice tore you both from the moment and from each other’s arms.

“Dad!” Jacob protested, sounding particularly immature with the way his voice rose to a shrill yelp of shock.

“I was just coming out here to let you know that your mother wants your help with dinner,” Andy explained, “but I wasn’t going to let an opportunity to embarrass you like that go by.”

“You never do,” Jacob sighed, giving you a quick kiss to the cheek as a goodbye as he stood up and walked inside.  You felt Andy’s eyes on you as you looked to the ground awkwardly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.  A few seconds after the door was shut, he spoke again.

“I couldn’t let you two get too hot and heavy, and besmirch this innocent patio couch.”

“You’d better not be mad at me for kissing my boyfriend,” you frowned as you stood up.  “That’s the most normal thing that’s happened all weekend.”

“I’m not,” he assured, beginning to step closer to you.  “Jealous?  Slightly.  Not that I see him as competition or anything.”

“Uh, you probably should,” you disagreed, raising your eyebrow in a mix of confusion and challenge.  

“Honey, I saw you kissing.  It was nothing to write home about,” he laughed.  “He doesn’t seem to realize that, since he brought you here.  Can’t blame him—-” he stepped closer to you and ever-so-delicately brushed his fingers against your arm— “but you know you can do better.  You know nobody can make you feel like I do.”

“Andy,” you murmured, trying to step back as you glanced to the window by the backdoor, through which the both of you were clearly visible to anyone who sat in the living room.  It was empty now, but it was too close for comfort.  “Someone could see…”

“They’re in the kitchen, don’t worry,” he soothed, leaning down to ghost his lips over your cheek and neck, “nobody’s gonna see us, angel, s’just you and me…”

You didn’t want to, but you melted into his touch anyway.  Just those little circles that his fingers drew on your back made your entire body erupt in shivers.  “Andy,” you found yourself whispering as if you needed to remember who was doing this to you.

“I’m gonna fuck you tonight,” he whispered against your ear.  

Your breath caught in your throat.  

“Are you scared?” he teased.  “Afraid my cock’ll split you in half?”

Embarrassed, you nodded.

He grinned, pulling back from your neck to force you into a deep, dominating kiss.  You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to his shoulders, eagerly allowing his tongue access as it pressed into yours.  A little moan escaped you, causing him to pull your body even closer.  You had worried that kissing the two of them in a row like this would lead to an inevitable comparison, which would be beyond disgusting.  But nope, this kiss made you forget that you’d kissed Jacob at all.  Not that that exactly stopped it from being disgusting.

You knew if you didn’t stop yourself now, you wouldn’t be able to soon… and you really needed this kiss to end before you two got caught.  Pushing on his chest, you pulled back with a sigh.

“We shouldn’t—” you began.

“No, you’re right,” he agreed with a reluctant nod.  Still, you missed his touch now that it was gone.  “We’ll have plenty of time for that later.  It’s just hard to keep putting on a happy face when all I want is to grab you and bend you over the table and—”

“Oh god, you can’t talk like that,” you laughed nervously.  “You’re gonna drive me crazy, I swear.”

“Haven’t I already?” he smirked.

You nodded, because he was completely right.  With a quick wave, you opened the door to step into the house.  He called your name, getting your attention as you turned around.  In his hand, arm outstretched, was your book.  “Almost forgot this,” he smiled.

“Right, thanks,” you nodded, taking it and going back inside.

~

You spent the rest of the day reaching new heights of anxiousness.  Shaking your leg, chewing your lip, scratching your wrist— how could you relax after what Andy had said, how could you act casual?  You were just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the obvious opportunity to arise and for Andy to be inevitable like he always was.

You weren’t sure how he did it, but he did.  He got Laurie and Jacob to leave you two alone in the house.  With his influential career, he was probably used to getting what he wanted, but you hadn’t anticipated that he was so good at the hard work it took to get those things.

He got you, though.  Not that that took all too much hard work.

“Enjoy the movie you guys!” you told them as they were making their way out the door.  Jacob leaned in for a goodbye kiss, and softly asked one last time if you wanted to come.  

He pulled your shirt up over your head, and you hadn’t even gotten it all the way off before he undid your bra with a quick motion.  You hated to think about Jacob in that moment, but those few times you’d fooled around with him to this extreme, that part of the process had taken quite a bit longer.

When your breasts were free his hands latched onto them instantly; the rough pads of his fingers felt good against the sensitive skin, and his hands were so damn big.  You felt your back arching into his touch.

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on these,” he purred, “but I need to see all of you first.”

You yelped as he picked you up and tossed you back onto the bed.  He took off your socks first, which made you feel a little hot for some reason, and then reached down to pull at your shorts.  You lifted your hips to make it easier, looking up at him and gnawing on your bottom lip nervously.

As he tossed your shorts and underwear aside, you suddenly felt very naked compared to his clothedness.  Probably because you were completely naked and he was completely clothed.  He smiled down at you before grabbing your ankles and resting them on his shoulders, starting to kiss up your leg slowly while never breaking eye contact.

You whined impatiently.  “Andy, please, need you…”

“Shh,” he soothed, “we’ve got time baby, I finally got you all to myself and I’m gonna savor it.”

His lips moved up your calf and thigh, but irritatingly skipped anywhere salacious to get straight to your hips and belly.  “Hnng, Andy—” 

You choked on your words when he licked over your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.  It instantly hardened between his lips and he smiled.  “Baby, you’re so sensitive,” he cooed against your skin as he kissed his way to the other and did the same.

Your hips bucked up and made contact with his clothed thigh; you let out a high-pitched moan and did it again, rubbing yourself against his suit pants.  The rough material sent shocks of pleasure through you as Andy smiled and left little love bites along your neck.

"Look at you, such a needy little girl," he tsked.  "Rubbing your cunt on me like a whore.  You're gonna make a mess, baby."

"'m sorry I just— oh, fuck," you sighed, your head falling back onto the pillow with a soft thud.

"It's only fair," he shrugged.  "I don't mind spending the rest of the night with your come on my slacks.  So long as you spend it with my come still in your cunt."

You gasped, trying to imagine how you would hide that from Laurie and Jacob…

But you couldn’t keep on that train of thought for very long as he started to kiss down your stomach again.

“Please, Andy, need— fuck, I need you to— um, taste me, please,” you whimpered.

“Hmm, beg a little more,” he smirked.

It was a long line of nonsense after that; some barely-intelligible string of ‘please’ and ‘Andy’ with a little flair of embarrassing whining.  He laughed a little before he finally did what you’d asked, latching his lips onto your swollen clit.  Your back arched instantly as your hands clenched at the comforter beneath you.

It wasn’t at all like you’d imagined it would be— it was so warm, and he alternated between surrounding you with his mouth and teasing you with the tip of his tongue.  You let out a long, deep moan when his tongue slipped inside you, twisting and massaging your walls so perfectly.  Your hands carded through his hair, accidentally tightening and pulling when he licked right over your clit.  He didn’t seem to mind, though, just moaning against you and doing it again and again and again until your legs were quivering. 

Just as you were about to tell him that you were close, he instantly pulled away to speak.  “I can tell you’re close,” he purred as if he’d read your mind.  

“Please, don’t stop,” you begged, but he continued to sit up and started to open his belt.

“It’s not time to come yet, honey.  It’s gonna feel so much better when you come while I’m inside you— for both of us,” he grinned.

As his sweater was discarded and his trousers were pushed down, you bit your lip.  You weren’t sure you would ever get used to seeing his cock, especially when it had leaked enough pre-cum to leave a wet patch on his boxer briefs.

He was on you the second he’d finished stripping, caging in your body with his, growling as he started to kiss your neck.  You whined and arched your back, your heart racing as you tried to cope with the fact that this was happening, this was really happening.  It was surreal, or maybe it was more than real— you were going to lose your virginity.  To Andy fucking Barber.

“I think you’re ready for me, don’t you?” he asked teasingly, his hips moving forward to press his cock against your inner thigh.  You nodded as you swallowed thickly, gasping as he reached down and started to rub his swollen head through your folds.

“Please…” you sighed, even as your chest tightened with distant fear.

You had wondered if what he'd said about his marriage to Laurie being sexless was true.  It certainly would be a convenient lie to garner your sympathy and make him look better.  But you had no doubts it was the truth when he pushed his cock into you; he moaned like a man who had dreamed of this moment for years, who had been so deprived of affection for so long.  

It hurt less than you’d expected, although it was certainly overwhelming.

“Oh fuck, Andy,” you moaned,

“Say my name again, baby,” he demanded with a groan.

“Andy!” you repeated, a little louder right as the tip of his cock hit so deep inside you that it hurt— and for some reason, you wanted him to do it again.

“Fuck, you need to be quiet, or the neighbors’ll hear you,” he hissed as he pumped into you deeper and faster.  “Can you do that or do I need to choke you to shut you up?”

You whimpered from fear at that idea and he laughed a little.  

“Don’t act so innocent, baby, I know who you really are: you’re my dirty little slut.”

“No I’m—” you began to disagree.  A quick slap to the face, not too hard but stinging nonetheless, shut you up.

“You know you are,” he hissed, “so say it.”

You could barely carry this conversation, his cock filling you so completely that you couldn’t think about anything else.  “Andy, I—”

“Say it.”

You gulped but managed to pant between heavy breaths, “I’m…  I’m your dirty little slut, Andy…”

He grinned and began to move faster, deeper, somehow.  You clutched at his shoulders, kissing him and groaning into his mouth.  When his hips slammed into yours, you moaned louder than maybe you ever had before.  "You want it rough, honey?” he taunted.  “Want me to fuck you hard?"

"Yes, please!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and desperate now.

He grabbed your hips and made good on his offer of brutality, and then some, making you nearly scream.  He kissed you again, perhaps in an attempt to keep you quiet, although it didn’t work that well, as you mouth fell open with every cry.  His teeth captured your lip as he growled above you, holding your hips up so the angle was perfect to send his cock right into the end of you, so deep— too deep, in the most perfect way.

His cock stroking against your walls was indescribable; each thrust made your entire body erupt in shivers.  The stretch was difficult but you loved it, you loved the way his body pushed yours to its limits.  

"Gonna come inside you, honey," he moaned, "gonna fill you up so good, gonna mark your body with my come and make you mine."

"Oh god, Andy, please," you sobbed.

"You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he encouraged.

“Yes, so close—” you cut yourself off as you choked on nothing, you entire body beginning to tighten and seize up as pleasure spiralled higher and higher.

“Just like that, come on my cock,” he demanded, but you couldn’t do anything else even if you tried— the coil snapped as your vision went spotty.  Just as you started to close your eyes, he held your neck and stared down at you.  “Look at me when I make you come.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open with the intensity of sensation washing over you, but you didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed.  Those blue eyes pierced through you as you shivered underneath him, and with your walls constricting his cock just felt even thicker inside you.  “Andy,” you whimpered, your fingers and toes erupting into pins and needles as you felt him flexing inside you— and he must have been coming in you in that moment, with the way he sighed and his thrusts pumped deeper yet more erratically.

Warmth spilled inside you as numbness decorated your extremities and fogginess clouded your mind.  You lost focus as he collapsed beside you— even when he pulled out, you still felt full, due in part to his come inside you and in part to being ruined so thoroughly by him.  Maybe you’d feel normal again tomorrow, or next week, but right now it was impossible to forget that you were fucked, in every sense of the word, by Andy Barber.

He pulled you into his arms and kissed your neck slowly, his breathing slowly returning to a stable pace as his chest pressed against your back.  He was mumbling something about how you were his girl, how you did so good for him, but you were already drifting into sleep even though it was barely nine o’clock.

You woke up the next morning in the guest room with Jacob beside you, who informed you that he’d found you already asleep when he got back from the movie he’d gone to see with his mom.

You left just a few hours later, waving goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Barber as Jacob pulled the car out of the driveway.

three months later...

The sun was just starting to set as you made your way home after your last class of the night.  Campus was gorgeous at this time of day, but you weren’t really taking the time to notice it as you focused instead on how wonderful it would feel to kick your shoes off, slip off your bra and slide into bed.  What you didn’t anticipate when you unlocked your dorm room’s door was to find Andy sitting on your bed as he waited for you.  You shut the door quickly so none of the girls mulling about the hall would see him.

He looked so out of place in your dorm.  He was so… adult, and yes, everyone there was an adult, but he was a whole new level of adulthood compared to the other residents of the honors dorm.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reminded him.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” he questioned casually.

“Because your son is on the other side of the hall,” you explained, unamused.  “What if he sees you here?  What if he sees your car in the garage?”

“You worry too much.  I don’t give a fuck if my son lives nearby, if I wanna visit my girlfriend then I’m gonna do it.”

He’d never used that word for you before— or at least, not in front of you.  It made you feel nervous, glancing to the floor as he stepped closer towards you.  "I think I'm too young to be your girlfriend,” you decided.

"Perfect age for a mistress, though."

You stammered as you tried to balance the way that word made you feel sick with the way it made you feel aroused.  He lifted your chin with a finger, his other hand pulling you closer at the waist.  "Are you trying to act innocent, honey?” he smirked.  “Do you think I didn't realize that it turns you on?"

"Wh-what turns me on?"

"The sneaking around.  The secrets, the lies; the fact that it's wrong, forbidden, taboo.  It's why you haven't broken up with my son yet and it's why you stare at my ring all the time— yes, I noticed."

You frowned, crossing your arms impatiently.  “I haven’t broken up with Jacob because my relationship with him makes a great cover for my relationship with you… I’m doing that for us.  And do you think I like the ring?  I hate that stupid chunk of silver, seeing it on your hand makes me so livid because it just reminds me that I don’t have you all to myself and—”

“Baby, you know I’m all yours,” he purred, kissing down your neck as your back began to arch.  “Meanwhile, I have to share you with him.”

You were amazed that he could refer to his own son with such disdain, but then again, you knew how jealous he could get.  

“If you’re mine then take the ring off,” you suggested between panting breaths.

“If you’re mine then take it off for me,” he countered.  His left hand was travelling up your neck and you grabbed it by the wrist.  He pulled back to look at you as you brought his fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of them before sucking on his ring finger, deeper and deeper, until it was poking down your throat and the ring was at your lips.  Lubricating it with your spit and spinning it with your tongue, you used your teeth to pull the ring slowly off of his finger.  He gasped a little as you opened your mouth and displayed it for him on your tongue, before spitting it out and across the room; it made a tiny little clinking noise as it hit your floor.

“Fuck,” he growled, the sound deep in his throat and dripping with desperation.

It felt like his hand never left your neck that night, like he was trying to claim you in every way he could all at once.  He was so possessive over you, ironically.  It was hard not to feel like your whole life was waiting.  Waiting for the semester to end so the next one could begin.  Waiting to graduate and get a job and finally begin your real adult life.  Waiting for the marks Andy left on your skin to fade so you didn’t have to wear a turtleneck in June.

Waiting for Jacob to find out, like he inevitably would.

Waiting for Andy to leave Laurie, or at least do something to make it seem like this was going somewhere.  

The thing about Andy was that he had this magical ability to make you stop worrying, in a way nobody and nothing else could.  When you were apart, reality would set in again and you’d decide you needed to confront him the next time you saw him.  It wasn’t even that you needed him to commit to you, specifically, you just needed to know what was going on— because how could he stay married through all this?  He needed to leave her, not for you but for himself.  You would get yourself all worked up and then he’d show up and soothe you until you forgot what you wanted to say in the first place.  When you were together, the future didn’t matter anymore, and neither did everything that was wrong about what you were doing.

It was like living in a dream, a really strange dream.  You were drowning in him, just like you’d known you would, but you didn’t want to stop.  You didn’t want to stop the secret dates when you gave your friends and boyfriend some excuse about having to study, the rendezvous in the back of his car, the midnight phone calls where he was whispering so his wife wouldn’t hear.

You figured that after all this time of being a good girl— the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect girlfriend, the kind of girl you’d take home to mom— you deserved to let go.  You deserved to have fun.

[rodr1cks]

Heather Hills | 1.3k

part one

neighbor trope where you’re in love with Rodrick but he can’t stop pining after Heather Hills, takes place during Dog Days

“Rodrick, she ran over your fucking foot for christ’s sake!” He rolled his eyes at you from his position on his bed. “She’s into me, I know it. How could she resist?” Rodrick wasn’t wrong, he was pretty irresistible, to you at least.

The way his dark hair fell messily over his forehead, the adorable moles on his face, and oh god, his hands. Everything about him captivated you but he could never know. Rodrick liked girls like Heather Hills.

“Y/n? You there?” He said, waving a hand in your face. “Yeah- uh- sorry.” You had zoned out thinking about everything you wish you could do with Rodrick. “I uhm- gotta go. Keep your foot elevated, I mean it.” You gave him your most serious glare and got up from his bed. Rodrick winced at the movement.

You made the trek down the two flights of stairs to the main level where Mrs. Heffley was making dinner. “Hey, dear, is Rodrick doing alright? Did he tell you what happened?” You smiled faintly at her. “Oh he’s just fine. He said he tripped over a rock chasing Greg around.” Mrs. Heffley sighed, “Sounds about right. Well, would you like to stay for supper? We’re having your favorite!”

Mrs. Heffley was always so kind to you, she probably realized you’re the only girl who is actually nice to her oldest son. “Thank you for the offer but I have some work to catch up on.” Truthfully, you just wanted to go home and cry in your bed.

You immediately crawled into your bed as soon as you got home and started going down the list of things Heather Hills had that you didn’t. Blonde hair, tits, friends, popularity, the list continues. You fell asleep mulling over all of your shortcomings.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Rodrick smiled at you slyly. Oh god he has a plan. It always turned out bad when he gave you that look. “So, do you wanna hit the country club with me today?” Your brow furrowed in confusion, “You, Rodrick Heffley, are asking me to go to a country club?” “Yeah, Greg’s chubby friend can get us in.”

He was referring to Rowley Jefferson and he was completely serious. You shrugged in agreement. A smile broke out on his face and he smirked, “Wear something… skimpy.”

You walked back to your house to put on a skimpy bathing suit, per Rodrick's Instructions . What did that mean? Did he want to see you in something revealing? Thoughts aside, you rummaged through your drawers until you found it.

The smallest bikini you owned. It was black and the bottoms were nearly a thong. You put on the top, the minuscule triangles only covering the bare minimum. You threw on a Löded Diper t-shirt that was two sizes too big, courtesy of Rodrick.

You ran outside to meet Rodrick at his van, “Ready?” You nod at him. You had never felt so anxious before in your life. Rodrick reached over to turn the music up and you flinched. “Woah, woah, you okay over there, y/n?” Your face flushed, “Oh yeah, I-I’m fine,” you stammered.

After a short but bumpy ride, you guys arrived. “Follow me,” Rodrick said in a hushed voice. Apprehensively, you did as he asked.

“Rodrick, it reeks back here, when did you say Greg will get here?” Rodrick was obviously just as frustrated as you were but he assured you it would be any moment. Just then, the locked gate rattled. “Finally! Greg, my man!” Rodrick gave his younger brother a couple slaps on his back and you giggled. It was rare to witness them getting along, it was sweet.

The country club was nice. Rodrick led you over to a couple of chairs, “Make yourself at home, señorita.” Rodrick plopped down and stretched his arms behind his head. God, his muscles. You removed your shirt before you sat, and hovered for a moment. You were holding your arms around your stomach and looking around, discomfort evident on your face. So many beautiful girls there made you feel lesser. “Hey, y/n, you look great. Relax.” You instantly felt more at ease. For a while, you and Rodrick just sat and enjoyed the day.

Then you saw her. It was her. Heather Hills in a lifeguard suit strutting past both of you. You sat up and so did Rodrick.

“H-hey Heather!” Rodrick called after her. She made a noise of disgust, “As if, loser!” Rodrick huffed, “Damn it, you weren’t enough? I need to get to her somehow.”

Your heart dropped, you were there to make Heather Hills… jealous? “Rodrick? Did you bring me here just to-“ He cut you off, “Yeah yeah, one minute y/n.” He completely dismissed you and ran off.

You were livid. Absolutely enraged. You could be sad later but right now you needed Rodrick to know how furious he’d made you. The splash he made when he jumped into the pool caught your attention.

What the fuck was he trying to do?

Rodrick began flailing his arms around, splashing and gasping, “Help! Help me I’m drowning!” He cried out similar exclamations for the next minute or so. You’d seen enough. You grabbed your things and left, you’d walk home. Greg stopped you on your way out, “I’m sorry y/n, maybe he’ll realize soon.” You sighed, ruffing up Greg’s hair. How was Greg already smarter than Rodrick?

Jesus your house was further than you thought, did you even know where you were? Whatever, you’d figure it out. You were kicking pebbles along the sidewalk when you heard his van pull up beside you. “Y/n, get in the van,” he called out. You ignored him. “C’mon,” he yelled, “let me make sure you get home safely, please.” You gave in, you were tired of walking anyways. “Thank you,” he said when you plopped down in the passenger seat.

The van stopped abruptly in front of your houses. You broke the awkward silence and started going off on him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?. You used me to try and get to Heather Hills? Y’know how shitty that made me feel? For a second I thought- I really thought-” You paused, “Forget it.” You flung open your door and stormed into your front door. Rodrick was still absolutely oblivious.

He decided to give you some space and go to his own home. Greg was sitting on the floor playing twisted wizard when Rodrick walked in. “You still don’t get it do you?” Greg asked. Rodrick, visibly annoyed, quipped back, “Nothing to get, little bro,” and bounded up the stairs.

You woke up, groggy. You had fallen asleep at some point after getting home. What time is it? It was only 4pm. You heard knocking on your back door, Great. Dramatically, you flung the door open, already knowing who it was. You gestured, reluctantly inviting him in. Remembering what you were wearing, you blushed. You were still in a large t-shirt and bikini bottoms.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I talked to Greg about it and I understand how stupid I am.” He seemed genuinely embarrassed. You took pity on him, how could you not? “It’s okay, Rodrick. I overreacted.” He smiled, “Great! Because I have great news!” You returned the smile, half-heartedly. “What’s your news?” “Okay, so after you left, Greg scored me a gig at Heather Hills’ sweet 16! Can you believe it?”

There was that feeling again, your heart shriveling and dropping to the depths of hell. Greg didn’t get through to him, after all. “Oh that’s- that’s great, Rodrick.” You really tried to seem enthused. “When is it?” you asked. “It’s in a week and you’re totally coming with, I need my favorite roadie there!” Rodrick was sweet sometimes, just not in the way you wanted. At least he wanted you there.

+hi hi this was my first fic in a long long time!! hope you enjoyed:) stick around for part 2

read part two here

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 13: An Understatement

Warnings: blaster fire and descriptions of battle, mentions of injuries, Mando gets pretty hurt and the reader is a wreck (as usual)

Author’s Note: Enjoy Chapter 13!

Mando’s POV

All Mando could think about was you.

Did you protect the child? There’s no way you leaked their info to the Empire and betrayed them, right? Were you dead?

Somehow, the third option scared him the most.

As if this could not get any worse, Moff Gideon opened his mouth yet again.

“I have just received word that you seem to have a very valuable asset on your side,” he said, and Mando knew exactly what he was getting at.

He was referring to you.

Mando’s mind raced a million miles a minute. The Empire were after you, and they had to know you had the child with them. You could hold your own, he knew that, but against an entire regime of soldiers?

Mando knew you would rather die than get the child caught, he would do the same thing, but he wanted you alive. That’s all he wanted.

“It’s ironic, really,” Moff continued. “You put your trust in the Empire to get away from the Empire.”

Moff Gideon could insult Mando all he wanted. He could insult his religion, his creed, his past, but something about him referring to you as “the Empire” when you had worked so hard to get away from it rubbed him in all the wrong ways.

You had helped Mando start to put his violent ways aside, but you weren’t here now, and Mando wanted to kill the Moff where he stood.

“It’s time you face the fact that she will return to where she belongs. My side. I hope her betrayal does not hurt your feelings too bad,” Moff said, and Cara scoffed.

Mando’s last button had been pushed.

“She didn’t betray us, Cara,” he said sternly, and Cara rolled her eyes.

“Oh, so you’re on her side? The Empire’s side?,” she responded, and Mando tried to keep his cool.

It wasn’t really working.

“We are on the same side,” Mando snapped back. “It’s time you realized that.”

You would not betray him. If you were any other person in the galaxy, Mando would start to give up now. But you showed him, in the very brief time you were together, that even people with the worst pasts can still have good hearts.

You made him feel like an idiot. Like a joke. He hadn’t genuinely cared for a person since his parents, but then the kid came along, and then you came along. It’s like the galaxy was showing him perfect prizes, but the game was impossible to win.

But the very worst part of it all, was that Mando was willing to try.

What had you done to him?

Your POV

To say this day did not go as planned was an understatement.

One second you are running for your life, the next you are being scooped up by a metal hand. It happened so fast you barely even had time to register you were lifted off the ground and placed onto a speeder bike.

Once you finally did register what had happened, you immediately thought it was the Empire’s doing, so you turned around and aimed your longspear at the driver.

“Please don’t,” the droid responded. “Me being dead would make this much worse for you.”

The nurse droid, you thought to yourself. From Kuiil’s house!

You were in such a haze of mourning and sadness those couple of days, you barely remembered meeting the droid. You even forgot it rode on the ship to this planet!

You relaxed a bit and lowered your longspear, smiling internally at the thought that a piece of Kuiil was still alive, but you didn’t put your guard down.

You hadn’t put your guard down in days, so it’s not like your overall body language changed that much.

You made sure the child was ok, and once your head finally cleared, you realized Mando was trying to reach you again.

“Kuiil, Y/N, somebody come in.”

The droid picked up the comm device before you could get it, and responded in a very monotoned voice.

“Kuiil has been terminated.”

That ought to make Mando feel better, won’t it, you thought to yourself.

You were going to take the comm device out of the droid’s hand, but you froze when you heard Mando’s tone of voice speaking through the comms again.

“What did you do?” he asked, and you swore you could hear the venom dripping from his mouth.

It always surprised you how scary Mando could really be when he tried.

“I am fulfilling my basic function,” the droid responded.

“Which is?” Mando asked.

“To nourish and protect.”

With that statement, the droid sped up the bike, and you held the child in your lap. He looked up at you with confused eyes, and you could tell he was asking why you weren’t going home.

“We are going to save him little guy,” you said with a stroke to his ear. “We will be home before you know it.”

You smiled lightly to yourself, and before you knew it, the speeder bike was roaring through the town and taking out every trooper in sight.

Blaster fire surrounded you and you tried to focus on what was ahead.

Mando was trapped…. But where?

Finally, you squinted your eyes and saw a regiment of soldiers ahead, and you knew Mando and the rest of the team were trapped inside the building.

“There!” you yelled, pointing to Mando’s cage, and the droid turned you and the child around for protection while he continued to fire.

It was slightly disorienting at first, because you honestly didn’t expect that to happen, but you felt better about the child’s safety.

This droid is no dummy, you thought to yourself. Kuiil did a good job.

Your heart pulled slightly at the thought of Kuiil, still laying out in the desert, but he would get his proper burial.

You just had to make sure Mando didn’t get one of those first.

The droid finally slowed down, and you took the opportunity to jump off the speeder bike and dive behind a pillar.

You got the child situated in your arms well enough so he could be protected, and started making your way out of your hiding spot.

You knew you couldn’t fight with the child in your arms, that’s just stupid, but you did reflect blaster shots from the troopers and took as many out as you could.

You had to start making your way to Mando somehow, but out of the corner of your eye, it seemed Mando was coming to you.

Mando charged out into the open with Karga on his tail, and he fired at will. He kicked and punched the troopers who were close enough to him, and you couldn’t help the smile that graced over your face at the sight of him.

You couldn’t see it, but Mando was smiling too.

You stuck close to the buildings surrounding you, slowly making your way around to where Karga was, but the chaos was insane. You could barely see where the shots were coming from, let alone where you were sending them.

You looked around to find some other way, but what you did see was way better.

Mando was running to a huge cannon, and you watched him rip it off the tripod and start firing it at the stormtroopers.

Your hopes were on the rise.

You saw a dark black death trooper place a detonator on the wall of Mando’s former cage, and you panicked when you realized Cara was still in there.

You started to make your way over there when the explosion hit, but you were far enough away so that you didn’t feel any wave from it.

You continued to make your way over to her.

Your senses were going so crazy, that you didn’t even feel Moff Gideon enter the scene.

What you did feel, however, was the pain Mando felt when the Moff fired a shot directly into his helmet.

It hurt like hell, and you heard Mando cry out in pain.

You turned back to where Mando was, and you saw him take aim at Moff with his canon.

This is it, you thought. Moff Gideon is dead.

You wish you hadn’t been trained in the force so well, because the very next thing you felt was the pride in Moff’s chest when he realized how to take Mando out.

Your eyes widened and panic struck you like lighting.

Moff is gonna kill him.

“Mando,” you screamed, but it was too late.

Moff Gideon had already fired at the generator next to Mando, and you had no choice but to dive for cover. You shielded the child with your body, and you were lucky enough to not feel the effects of the explosion.

But Mando felt it all.

When the dust cleared, you saw Cara dragging, his body back inside while Karga and IG-11 followed her in.

You didn’t care about anything in that moment. And if you would have known merely weeks ago that you would run across a battle field with no armour and a child in your arms, you would have smacked yourself silly.

But you did it anyways.

You made it to the door right before it closed, and you stopped in your tracks when you almost ran right into Cara’s gun.

It was pointed right at you.

“Get out,” she said, and you raised the hand not holding the child in surrender.

“Cara please,” you plead. You could see Mando laying on the floor behind her, and your heart was breaking.

He was badly injured. You could feel it.

“You can kick me out as soon as you’d like. I promise. Just let me see him,” you ask.

The tears were starting to cloud your vision and you tried not to let your voice crack. You didn’t want Cara to think you were trying to manipulate her.

But your Mandalorian was dying behind her.

“I promise,” you say, and she finally lowers your blaster.

“Thank you,” you respond, letting a breath out of your mouth as you do it, and you run to kneel beside Mando.

Of all the pain you’ve experienced in your life, you had learned a lot about it. You had learned that you personally deal better with pain when you have something to squeeze in your hand, like a pillow or the arm of a chair. You’ve learned that there are people in the world who enjoy making others feel pain, and no matter how many times you try, you just can’t understand why. You’ve learned that bacta shots work wonders for physical pain, but mental pain is almost impossible to numb.

But worse of all, you’ve learned that watching people you care for in pain is the worst pain in the world.

And this one hurt.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic

[thejudgingtrash]

11. “...did you just sniff me?” for percabeth pretty please 🙏🤍🤍🤍

Heya! I’m finally here to come back to this request 😄😄 It took me only a little bit in comparison to other requests, but I'm here!

Also since @percyheartsannabeth, @skaterannabeth and @not-optimistic-petrol-biscuit had asked about fluff. Here you go... Kinda? 😬 Anyway. Here's a monster sneak peek into may I introduce you to my beloved wife? 😋

It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to pump out 11k words. That's a record for a single session in one day (with like two breaks). And yes, that is still not the entire chapter. Here are roughly 9,2k for you to consume!

TW: alcohol, overbearing relatives not minding their own business, a tiny section talking about domestic abuse and Athena and Frederick Chase ain't shit but that's nothing new. Poseidon too, for once. Enjoy!

may I introduce you to my beloved wife?

(*absolutely not proof-read, my bad)

Annabeth sighed. You can do this. You can do this. You’ve already finished the week. Think about the money. Think about the move to California. Push through this day and next week, think about the money and the minute you���ll hand your termination in. She wanted to splash some water up her face, but the makeup that tinted her lips in a luscious rose and added some bronze to her high cheekbones was too expensive to be washed off and hastily reapplied.

It was pre-Dionysus Day, which meant it was merely the calm before the storm. The first sparkling sip of an impending disaster waiting to rollover the roomy Greek villa Percy forced her to stay in. Well not really forced. Forced and bribed her to stay in. That made it sound slightly better. Just think of the one-hundred seventy-five dollars he’s going to transfer into your bank account for your new start in California. I should renegotiate. California is also expensive. Make it two-hundred fifty thousand.

The tall blonde looked at her reflection in the mirror. A young woman full of life was the first thing she had seen in the morning but now she looked tired and annoyed, just how she felt. Something crashed in one of the dozens of rooms next to her and people laughed. Annabeth sighed again. It was the only thing she could do, otherwise she would scream like a banshee, making sure that at least Hermes and Prometheus would check her, if it wasn’t for Percy stuffing socks into her mouth to make her shut up before they got to her. The majority of his Greek relatives had been lovely if not terribly nosy and overbearing. It was the opposite of her family. His was warm and chaotic and for the most part welcoming. Hers? Cold, apathetic, disapproving of everything she did. She had no family in comparison, and neither would she want to compare this wholesome messy bunch to the cold-hearted Athena Pallas and the monster that was Friedrich Chase.

Annabeth respected Hera and Hestia, she definitely side-eyed Aphrodite who was cheating on her husband and she would definitely stay away from Zeus. Crossing paths with him occasionally in the New York office of Atlantic INC. was terrible, seeing him openly be flirty and loosen up during a forced trip was way worse.

This was a bad idea and I have a terrible feeling about this. The burgundy wrap dress that hugged her skin was soft and light but in the Thessalian heat it felt like a sticky cocoon caging her. She wasn’t a beautiful butterfly, ready to burst out and wow everyone. Neither was she a moth drawn to a flame. She was a bug that had been sprayed by Percy with a pesticide, wrapped in toxic chemicals which were slowly dissolving her body, piece by piece.

A knock shoved the horrendous image inside of her head aside. “Yes?” she asked with a firm voice. Too firm with a hint of annoyance, but she was not a professional actress and could not switch her emotions off as she pleased. She was a junior marketing manager for Christ’s sake. Not for much longer. Only two more months…

Percy opened the door. “Are you ready?“ he asked with his usual pleasant baritone reaching her ear.

He wore light linen pants that hugged his legs loosely and a light blue shirt with the first buttons opened up. She could see his defined chest and the swirls of black hair peeking through. The hair was styled into a disheveled curly mess which suited him way better than the gelled back corporate look and he forgot to trim his beard like the day before. Annabeth couldn’t deny what she saw – her tormentor was a very attractive man.

“Do you want to bail?” His sea-green eyes darkened a shade. Worry flashed through them.

Annabeth exhaled sharply for the last time. “I wish I could but then I’d leave you without a fiancé,” she smiled through the pain.

Her glance found her reflection again. The topknot was still intact, and a few strands carefully framed her heart-shaped face. She looked perfect on the outside and she wanted to commit manslaughter in the inside.

“Let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and stretched his hand out. It seemed like Percy was the one that would rather bail.

Annabeth took it without any complaint. She was the happy girlfriend soon-to-be-wife and holding hands was way better than being forced into kissing him during Sports Day. The Theodoropoulos family truly had planned activity after activity during those two weeks in winter.

“Oh!” Sally peeked into the bathroom and saw her son holding Annabeth’s hand.

“There you are! Is everything okay, mija?” she asked with her sweet Dominican accent and looked at Annabeth.

Annabeth automatically smiled back. Sally was the mother she never had, and it broke her heart crumble by crumble by the sheer charade Percy and she were forced to display for the next six days. Sally Jackson deserved the best. She certainly didn’t deserve being deceived and lied to by her terrible son and his tag-a-long coworker.

“Yes, Percy was just making sure we’re arriving on time.” Annabeth got on her toes and placed a soft kiss on Percy’s stubbled cheek. It tickled but by now she had gotten used to it.

He rolled his eyes, smiled at his mother, nonetheless. Sally’s eyes sparkled and she clapped, clutching her hands tightly. “You don’t know how proud you’re making me, mijo,” she then said teary-eyed.

“You finally found a great girl and she is standing next to you.” Sally wiped a tear away and the awful feeling that sat on Annabeth’s chest and made everything heavier, amplified by a thousand times.

This was way worse than being referred to as the woman that would bear him three to five children presuming with the first one sired on this current vacation by Ares. Yes, Annabeth wanted two children at max, but not definitely now. She was twenty-eight and in the prime of her life! Note: Percy would certainly not be the father of said two children. Unruly blond waves and a mischievous grin blitzed through her head. Pale blue eyes came back from the deepest pit of her memory. Luke. Fuck no, that was even worse than Percy. His betrayal… Annabeth tried to shake the memory off and focused on the ongoing situation in front of her.

Sally truly hoped her son found love and not a quick fling. Oh shit, Annabeth thought and looked up to Percy whose face expressed similar thoughts. His conscience nibbled and guilt flooded his body.

“Mamá,” Percy began and released Annabeth’s hand in order to grasp the older woman’s shoulder.

Sally brushed his large hands off. “No, no! Off you go! You younglings should be downstairs celebrating your reunion with the entire side of Poseidon’s family.”

Annabeth appreciated the fact that Sally was invited and flown out each winter holiday by the Theodoropoulos’. Despite having been divorced from Poseidon for over twenty years, she was still a popular and welcomed guest, not just because of her son’s attachment to the Greek side and his tied division of the Greek family company.

Sally gave each of them a last smile before entering the women’s bathroom. Percy exhaled and pinched his nose. After ten seconds he released the nose and looked back at Annabeth. “Ready?” he asked a final time. Annabeth nodded.

The loud singing, yelling and talking that had been muffled by the bathroom hit her by a tenfold. The place had all the Mamma Mia vibes without the fun singing four days ago. Not anymore, as drunk relatives hit up the shore with loud music and talked loudly in their Pontic Greek dialect.

As the couple descended the stairs and walked through the parlor, a new wave of guests arrived at the same time. Three people that have just entered early adulthood looked up to them. Two men, one blond with a stoic face and bronzed skin, the other was shorter with spiky black hair and a beautiful grin on his lips. The woman next to him was the tallest out of the trio and possessed a high ponytail that would leave Ariana Grande dying out of envy. The dyed lilac hair swung around and nearly reached the middle of her thighs, meaning the hair was even longer without its tight prison on top.

“Thanatos, Zagreus, Megaera!” greeted Percy and gave each one of them a rib crushing bear hug. They looked pleasantly surprised at seeing Percy being accompanied by a pretty woman his age. It seems like the proposal didn’t reach all of the ends of the Greek world.

They fell into a short conversation in Greek and Annabeth smiled politely next to Percy as she fell entirely out of place. The evil Duolingo owl didn’t prepare her for this experience. Neither did her mother bother teaching her at least their Athenian dialect properly. She could introduce herself in Greek, order a beer, say goodbye and that was it. Thank you, Athena. For nothing again.

“Oh, you must be Annabeth,” Megaera eyed her carefully and Annabeth had the feeling that she could split her open with her hands. Weirdly enough, Annabeth was kind of into it. Megaera wasn’t only as tall as Percy but she was clearly the one with the toughest workout regimen as she displayed her muscular legs and defined arms with a short cocktail dress only a few shades darker than her hair.

“Yes,” Annabeth squeaked. She nearly added a ma’am towards the end. Megaera cocked her dark eyebrow. She had an aura that demanded respect.

“Interesting to see the woman who captured Perseus’ heart. It seems that he did develop a good taste after all. Calypso was as pretty as the crescent moon flower but sadly as dull as his corny jokes are.” Megaera’s deep smirk was a stamp of approval as her eyes roamed all over Annabeth.

“Hey!” Percy interrupted and placed a firm hand on Annabeth’s waist, as if he was trying to mark his territory.

“You have your own toys right to your right,” he then added with a playful tone.

Megaera actually laughed and waved dismissively. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for more.” A clear offer which left Annabeth’s face turn into a fiery tomato red.

“Anyway, we have some catching up to do,” Thanatos proposed as Zagreus and he silently watched the conversation blossom. He sounded as reserved as he looked.

“Indeed,” Zagreus agreed, surprising Annabeth with a posh English accent. “Father will murder me if we miss out on his moussaka. It’s to die for you need to try it, Annabeth, at least before Hephaestus gets ahead of himself.”

Annabeth laughed. The Theodoropoulos did have their positives. “I will, Zagreus,” she nodded.

“Oh please, if aunt Sally gave her go for you to stay here, you’re as good as family. We’re Than, Zag and Meg for you,” Zagreus offered.

“Annabeth is already my nickname but thank you for the kind offer!”

The three new guests went on to join relatives and friends at the party which seemed to get more chaotic by each passing minute as the volume seemed to increase.

“My cousin Zagreus from my uncle Hades’ side,” Percy explained as the three went out of his sight.

“Are they friends? Or…”

“Pretty sure they’re polyamorous. You know, I don’t know, and I honestly don’t really care, I see Zag once every twelve months at max. Just don’t stick to Meg’s side for too long otherwise she’ll turn you into her fiancé.” Percy’s tone suggested that he was not joking.

“Oh.” Annabeth didn’t know what to think of it.

Percy closed his eyes as if he was making a silent prayer, before his sea-green met Annabeth’s light gray ones. She smelled like lemon with a hint of lavender, instead of roses like normally. Delicious. If it weren’t for the fact that it was Annabeth.

“So, listen. You know I’ve talked about Dionysus Day and how his birthday brings out the worst side of everyone.”

Annabeth nodded as Percy went on to explain.

“Pre-Dionysus Day is basically same with the only exception that my great-grandmother’s house is filled with the entire family. Yes, we’re expected to eat, drink, laugh, drink, dance, drink, reminisce on our past, drink, make fools out of ourselves in order for them to take blackmail pictures and drink some more, but no matter how much they want you to open up… try to control yourself. Everything you say can and will be used against you.”

Annabeth’s stomach started to churn, and her knees slightly gave in. “Look, I’m truly sorry for the mess that I’ve caused,” Percy looked directly into her eyes and tried to ignore the rosy streaks across her flushed cheeks. “And my relatives can be overbearing. But if we manage to stick through this night and the next one tomorrow, we’re as good as done with playing games.”

“Fine,” Annabeth gritted through her teeth. She had agreed to the terms and condition. She didn’t need a reminder of the stupid decision she made two months ago.

“Let’s go.”

She placed her hand on the doorknob that separated the parlor from the huge living room. Percy followed her as she opened the door. A wave of laughter, wine, ouzo, discovered secrets, cigarettes, sweat and fun hit them.

“Oh wow, someone should open a window.” Percy suggested as he coughed. Luckily cousin Metis had the same idea. No, aunt Metis. Or was it Thetis? Why did Percy need to have so many relatives with similar names again?

“Oh, Annabeth, look at you!” Aphrodite had snuck up behind them and surprised the fake couple by hugging each of them and nearly spilling the expensive Greek vintage in her hand on Percy’s shirt. The red alcoholic liquid carelessly swirled in her glass and more than often seemed to want to escape from her clutch.

“Aphrodite, be careful!” Percy reminded her as she dug her fingers into his arm. Her nails were as fake and bought as was the bond between Annabeth and Percy.

“Oh, please cousin, you should learn how to loosen up!” She laughed, but it sounded more like the shrill sound a bird made when it got nearly hit by a car. The high pitch made Annabeth slightly frown.

“Take your girl upstairs and show her all the Zorbas moves you got!” She wiggled her badly overdrawn eyebrows.

Aphrodite had always been the poster child of perfection. She knew how to dress her curvaceous body the right way, she knew how to apply the perfect touches of makeup on her face and she was the most graceful being Annabeth had ever met. Seeing her so disheveled left the blonde American content. It showed that Aphrodite wasn’t one of the gods, she was a mortal mess like they all were. That, and it was kind of funny seeing the abrupt transition from oozing perfection to looking like a rough mess after a couple of glasses of wine.

“If you know what I mean, you two know what I mean, right?”

“Yes,” Annabeth and Percy answered. Unfortunately, they did.

“That reminds me, this is such a pretty dress that you got!” Aphrodite’s eyes widened and she tugged at Annabeth’s sleeve that went slightly over her elbows. “Percy needs to bring me a couple of those the next time he visits. Oh wait! You’re about to marry, Annabeth can take me shopping. I want to visit New York next summer. When was your wedding again?”

Panic filled Annabeth she tried to stutter a lame excuse like they had done the entirety of the stay. Aphrodite’s brown eyes found something else to focus on in the meantime. Her hand went out to poke the tall blonde’s chest as she went on to pull on the thin fabric.

“You should show the men what you got! Free the girls!” Aphrodite yelled over the loud music, pushing Annabeth’s C cup to its limits. “Let Percy stand in the corner with that stupid frown, all jealous and depressed while you’re out on the hunt!”

Percy did not look amused especially since he tried to pull Annabeth away.

“Yeah, just like that!” Aphrodite’s glass pointed directly at his face as Annabeth tried to shove Aphrodite’s fickle fingers aside. “Oh, if I were just a little bit younger and not tied to your cousin…”

“You mean cousins,” Percy corrected and made a step backwards as Aphrodite’s dreamy and drunk dazed focus shifted from Annabeth to him.

“Aphrodite, leave Percy and his future wife alone,” Hera arrived to save the stressed couple and rolled her eyes. “Go harass Hephaestus and try to be a faithful wife for once in your life.”

She still looked like she had a massive stick shoved up her ass by the way she stood entirely straight next to them, but Annabeth appreciated the gesture. If Hera didn’t like Aphrodite much, Annabeth would rather join Team Hera than stand alone by the bleachers and under Aphrodite’s charmspeak. Aphrodite pouted and stomped with her feet twice as if she were a toddler and not a grown woman marching towards her forties. Then she stormed off and ran into the arms of her lover, nother husband to spite her mother-in-law and embarrass her even further.

“Malàka,” Hera cursed and lost her cool for one second, before clearing her throat and focusing on the already tired fake engaged couple in front of her. Not even Hera seemed to be averse from drinking a glass of wine or two. “You two definitely need a drink.”

Annabeth agreed with her for once.

She pointed at the bar behind her, which was managed by Dionysus and his wife Ariadne. The number of relatives ganging up on them and demanding new drinks was frightening. Surprisingly Dionysus kept his cool and shoved drinks in people’s hands at an impressive speed.

“Yeah, let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and took Annabeth’s hand again.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked him. She knew from Thalia that Percy rarely ever drank and that his family was to blame for most of it. Percy seemed stiffer and graver than usual as well. As much as she disliked his jokey nature and easy-going demeanor he displayed at work, she’d much rather have that Percy by her side right now. Dionysus Day and the day before seemed like it was hell on earth for him and walking through it each year must take a toll on him.

“Yeah, let’s just each grab a glass of wine. Let them be happy about me shoving this disgusting stuff down my throat.” He thanked Ariadne as she prepared two glasses of the same vintage Aphrodite seemed to have inhaled earlier.

“Thank you.” Annabeth took her glass and sniffed. The wine smelled sickly sweet with a hint of the bitterness that the fermentation process had left. The glass in her hand weighed surprisingly heavy, not because of the wine itself but because of the golden swirls decorating it. The glass transitioned from the crystal-clear transparency into a deep black. A lyre surrounded by a bigger laurel wreath decorated the middle section and a golden snake was wrapped around the stem. The golden rim gave it a nice finish.

“Into a fruitful night,” Percy darkly mumbled over the music. He was really not looking forward to it, which confused Annabeth immensely. She didn’t understand why he pushed himself through this if he really didn’t like the drinking activities. He surely had his reasons, hence her not starting a fight with him over it. It was his family and their tradition after all.

“Into a fruitful night,” Annabeth instead repeated.

Issuing a weird toast as well. Percy Jackson was clearly not a drinker. Their glasses clinked and each of them took a sip. Thankfully grandma Rhea made sure they were well-fed before the festivities began.

“Fuck,” Annabeth muttered. A fine vintage as well. Not as sweet as she thought, it left a hint of sweet cumin as the lingering aftertaste. Her lipstick left a mark on the glass, but she didn’t bother to care as she took another gulp. The wine was nearly finished. She slowly started to understand why ancient civilizations went crazy after this stuff.

As she looked at her so-called fiancé, she saw that his glass was already empty. A grimace rested on his face as well.

“Err, Percy?”

“What?” The dark brooding look on his face was no more.

“Shouldn’t you take it easy?” Annabeth carefully asked. His eyes narrowed.

“I am,” he stated and cocked his head towards his cousin who was still busy playing the barkeeper but kept an overall watchful glimpse on the guests that flooded the gates.

“Dionysus saw me drink. Most importantly he saw us have a drink. That should be enough for me, but if you want some more, be my guest.” He shrugged.

Annabeth felt that she should probably drag his mopey ass out of the party, but it was way too early to leave. “Fine,” she said and asked Ariadne for a refill. Annabeth went in for another long sip. She should definitely stock her wine cabinet once she was back at her shitty apartment. Before the glass reached her lips again, Hermes snatched it away and chugged the remaining wine.

“Hermes, what the hell?!” Ariadne grabbed the glass and pushed her husband’s cousin away. The bored postman was back with his shenanigans.

“My bad, dear wifey, but I’m on a mission here to abduct sweet Annabeth,” Hermes winked and placed his hands around Annabeth’s shoulders.

“What are you up to?” Out of all of the relatives she’s met so far, Annabeth was convinced that everything Zeus had ever sired was a mistake. Zeus himself was a mistake.

“Can you stop being German and boring for once?” he joked. Annabeth’s eyes narrowed. She did not like this one bit. She turned her head around and saw that Percy had been pulled into a conversation by Hypnos and Morpheus. He had completely forgotten about her. Great.

Hermes guided her through the crowd, towards the middle of the room. They had to dodge chairs, drunk relatives, a sofa, chatty relatives, the coffee table and dancing relatives before they made it.

“There she is!” greeted Achilles the confused marketing manager.

Paris, Helen, Patroclus, Hermes and Achilles stood in a circle around a table. Dozens of shots of all sorts of colors were displayed. Annabeth had a terrible feeling about this.

“What is this and why are you pulling me into this?” Annabeth asked and did not like the mischievous grin they all shared. She wanted to go back home and cuddle with Daedalus on her sofa and push his cat ass out of the way before the next steamy Outlander scene hit the screen. Yes, Annabeth was that much of a single that seeing some on-screen action was the best she could get. She hoped that the mangy cat didn’t bother Thalia all too much while she was staying in Greece. She owed her so much already.

“Well, I stayed in your country,” Paris started. “And they have a weird tradition with ouzo. They don’t drink it the way we do, watered down and slowly at lunch and what not…”

Annabeth was still American for the most part and had nothing to do with Germany. The last time she stayed there was nearly thirteen years ago. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Germany. Friedrich Chase lived in Germany. And she fucking hated Friedrich Chase. Therefore, she hated Germany. Things that would never change. Okay, Hamburg was a cool city and she was glad her father moved to Cologne. Should she feel the urge to travel back to Germany for a week or less, she’d go to Hamburg, take ten thousand pictures, and post them on Instagram the minute before she was boarding her flight back to New York. Helping her to enrage her stupid father was all Germany had to offer.

“Germans do ouzo shots,” Patroclus cut to the chase. “And since you’re the newest member of our family…”

“And German!” Paris and Hermes added simultaneously.

“We’ve decided to play this little game,” Achilles added.

“What’s the name of the game?” Annabeth asked. She was only slightly curious. Emphasis on slightly.

“Last man standing. Oh sorry, ladies. Last person standing,” Hermes corrected himself as he placed four shots in front of each person. That was way too much hard liquor to handle. But if she did Jägermeister bombs in her sophomore year of college without any issues, this should be fairly easy.

“What are the rules?” They all looked at her in silence. No rules. No prize. Just drink.

“Oh wow.” The urge to roll her eyes and walk off came back with a force.

“I think I’m going to pass,” Annabeth said and already turned to her right.

“Why?” Helen asked innocently. “Need your man to look after you? The one who’s having an amazing time back there with his third glass of wine?”

Foul game. Annabeth’s head shot to the right. Helen was right. Percy was laughing and looked like he was having a great time chatting with Oceanus and his wife Tethys. Tethys refilled his glass as her husband and Percy broke into laughter once again.

If that’s the case…

“Fuck it, I’m in,” Annabeth agreed. She swallowed the bait and she knew it. There was no reason why she should feel upset about Percy opening up all of a sudden. He desperately needed it. Why she wished to be a part of that, Annabeth did not know.

“Great!” Helen threw her brown mane over her shoulders and grabbed the first glass.

“Για μας!” they all yelled and chugged the liquor. Gia mas, the Greek toast, was repeated every time and it seemed to brighten the mood, despite resting heavily on Annabeth’s stomach. Her college days were over, but she was glad she resisted coughing repeatedly.

Patroclus clutched his stomach after the second shot, Helen ran out after the third, Paris and Achilles were laughing maniacally after the fourth and Hermes mysteriously disappeared after the first one. Annabeth was the last person standing. She placed the crystalized shot glass back on the table and examined the messes around her. The only thing that had happened to her, were that more golden locks escaped from her bun and her lipstick needed some reapplying as she left marks on each glass.

Annabeth tried to take a step away from the table and felt how the world slightly shifted around her. The fact that she would curse and hate herself for her behavior in just six hours, was something drunk Annabeth gladly put aside. The headaches that definitely would haunt her for the rest of the trip didn’t matter, she won and that was all she cared about.

“Hell yeah!” she yelled as all inhibition faded away, leaving pure and raw life force behind. Unbeknownst to her, Annabeth had moved right into the circle of dancers.

“Perseus, get your bride before she breaks her legs!” someone laughed. Was it Iapetus? Or was it Hyperion? Who even cared at that point?

The next two hours were a blurred mess. A blackout slowly crept through her mind, leaving foggy memories behind. Annabeth felt how she was dancing with people and how people were laughing. Were they laughing at her or with her? Did it really matter? Why was her hair repeatedly slapping her face, didn’t she tie it up?

She danced with different people, men and women. She really hoped that the guy that looked like a naked Danny DeVito with longer black hair was not Zeus who had lost his shirt and pants. Who was the guy with the sea-green eyes again? Why was he clapping and laughing whenever she was busting a move next to Hermes? Was he important? Why did he remind her of work? The shots might have been a short-sighted idea after one and a half glasses of wine. She probably overestimated the amount of food she had consumed at dinner prior. Wasn’t she supposed to try someone’s moussaka?

“There you are! Ares, stop dancing with her for once. We’re about to leave.”

Ugh. Ares. Not Zeus, but still yucky.

Sea-green eyes. Percy, of course. How could she have forgotten the asshole that brought her into this whole mess? He seemed fairly sober, didn’t he have a glass or three of wine? Annabeth was certain, she’d be able to drink him under the table. His height and his build might put him at an advantage, but if he wasn’t used to drinking, she might have a fair shot.

A rock song was the next song that appeared. Percy wanted to drag Annabeth off the dance floor.

“Oh no!” Aphrodite intervened with a shrill screech. “Give the two lovers some room to show each other affection!”

Hera actually raised her glass for once to show that she actually agreed with one of Aphrodite’s wild ideas. Someone fumbled with the playlist and a Greek slow jam roared through the old speakers.

“Are you guys fucking serious?” Percy muttered under his breath. But roughly eighty pairs of eyes were all but watching the soon-to-be betrothed and waited for a romantic dance which reminded Percy more of the horrors that the eight-grade dance was.

Annabeth drunkenly hiccupped and looked at him in surprise as she felt one of his hands around her waist and the other one taking her hand. They rocked as if it was the final dance at prom. Annabeth barely remembered prom. Oh right. Her mother had forbidden her from going. She never attended prom.

A casual glimpse through the crowd showed her that people were actually filming this nonsense and some women were actually cooing. Did… did they seriously think this back and forth with sweaty clothes on was romantic? Her eyes found Percy’s again.

“So…” he began.

“So…” she repeated.

“Careful!” he warned her before twirling her through the tight circle. People screamed and applauded. A camera flash blitzed through the darkness twice.

“Oof,” Annabeth groaned. Her stomach and equilibrium did not appreciate that sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do that again,” Percy swore. The rocking motion made both of them sleepy. Annabeth suppressed a yawn, rested her head on his shoulder. Percy could make the perfect comfy bed, if he wanted to.

Percy, sensing that people were awaiting some action from either of them, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up. Annabeth’s eyes widened. Is he going to kiss me in front of them? Again? her panicked brain asked. She was turned into stone, not by Percy’s distant cousin Medusa who had eaten most of the truffles, but by the tenderness of his actions. He was one solid actor.

Percy placed a soft kiss on her forehead, before moving on to a temple. Annabeth blushed and buried her heated face in his chest as he released her. Intimate, soft and sweet. The screaming relatives disrupted their comfortable silence yet again. The slow song came to an end and the next upbeat one invited everyone back to the dance floor. Annabeth released herself from Percy’s tight embrace and just bolted. Damned be nausea. A wave of coldness hit her. She felt something she didn’t like the minute Percy had softly kissed and soberness woke her at a start. What was it? Anger? Disappointment? Longing? She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know.

“Annabeth!” Percy shouted, but the amount of people standing in his way made it more difficult for him to keep up with her. His hand brushed over his own lips.

Annabeth opened and closed doors left and right. The kitchen, the dining room, the smoking room. She hasted through the first floor until she found another lost soul in the fireplace room. Why the villa had a fireplace room in the first place, she did not know. It had been super-hot the entire time but what Annabeth understood as heat and what native Greeks deemed as hot temperatures didn’t have to correlate.

Great-grandmother Gaia’s humming faded away. The eldest of the Theodoropoulos looked up from the pair of socks she was knitting. When she came to find out the intruder was Annabeth, joy spread over her face.

“Come, come!” The broken English that she softly spoke reminded Annabeth of her own grandmother. She hadn’t seen Elsbeth Lilienthal-Chase since she had left Germany. And since her mother didn’t give her a chance to say goodbye, she didn’t have a phone number to reach her with. The only way would be through that asshole Friedrich Chase, and the only time she’d willingly let someone contact that man was if she had been six feet under and he would be forced to show up for one important family event for once.

“I was unable to sleep. Parties aren’t something for me. I’m too old and boring for my children and their children,” Gaia sighed as Annabeth took a seat on the green sofa next to the light blue armchair. All of the cushioning seemed to have been made by Gaia as the socks had the same pattern as the pillow that Annabeth leaned against. Balls of wool surrounded the older woman as if she sat on a field of fresh tulips.

“Drink, drink! You need water. I’m pretty sure you danced a lot.”

Annabeth kindly took the offer, grabbed the carafe and poured herself a little bit of water into a small glass. The water was surprisingly cold and refreshing.

“My children deem me crazy,” Gaia continued. “The war with the ottomans. Deportation. Fleeing and seeing death everywhere. Losing my father in the chaos. Then the big world war after that twenty years later. They don’t want to listen to the same stories. They only want to have fun. So, they sent me away.”

Annabeth felt terrible for the old lady. It looked like she had been through hell and back in her youth. She didn’t look like she needed much, only someone to listen to her.

“I won’t bore you much,” promised Gaia.

Gaia’s tanned leathery hands continued working on the little socks. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, dearie. We have plenty of acetaminophen and other hangover remedies. Tomorrow will be even worse, because Dionysus wants to celebrate his birthday with even more wine,” the old woman laughed, and her green eyes twinkled full of life.

“I also was young once…”

The two sat in comfortable silence, only interrupted by Gaia’s humming or Annabeth refilling her glass of water.

“So,” Gaia began.

“So?” repeated Annabeth.

“You are the woman that tamed my little Perseus,” the older woman grinned.

Oh no.

Annabeth had a lump in her throat and drinking water to solve it, didn’t work. She wasn’t just lying to Zeus and his wife. She was lying to an entire clan, from the youngest to the oldest members. What Percy and she were doing wasn’t right, neither was it fair. Sure, Percy’s shitty uncle didn’t help much by forcing him to marry the next person, but did the rest of the family deserve to be deceived as well? No, they didn’t, and that truth rested heavily on Annabeth’s narrow shoulders.

The fact that Gaia looked so much like her great-grandson was crazy. They possessed the exact same shade of sea-green. It was passed onto Rhea, Percy’s grandmother, and then Poseidon, Percy’s fucked up father. Always full of intelligence and calculation. Shifting easily from delighted and full of life to the crashing anger of a storm. Power and knowledge were key features of Gaia’s eyes.

“How did you meet my sweet Perseus again?” Gaia innocently asked but Annabeth knew that there was some sort of ulterior motive behind her question.

“At work,” she honestly answered, and Gaia smiled. The old lady was able to sense the truth.

“He’s not my direct boss, but we run into each other a lot. And we hated each other from the moment we saw each other.” Annabeth remembered how she accidentally spilled her hot coffee all over his shirt. She had been public enemy number one from then on.

“He’s an excellent boss, as much as I hate to admit it. He knows his ways around and is passionate about the ocean and its inhabitants. Definitely more passionate than me, I’m just there for the money. He actually wants to make a difference. And he’s extremely annoying, might I add.”

Gaia burst into laughter and needed a minute to calm down. Annabeth cracked a toothy grin. “Ah yes, I can see how you fell in love with him.”

Doom. Uneasiness. Discomfort. The lump in Annabeth’s throat grew bigger and bigger. Why was her vision so blurry all of a sudden? She looked down at her dress. Dark dots appeared. More sprinkled across her lap as Annabeth realized she was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Annabeth sniffled. “I… Percy… I…”

Gaia put her knitting utensils aside and set herself upright in the armchair. “Oh no, what is going on, Annabeth?”

The calming hand on her back did not help the young professional at all. No, Gaia’s honesty and curiosity made it way worse.

“Percy and I… we’re not engaged. We did it because Zeus-” Annabeth tried to confess, but Gaia brushed her off.

“It’s okay, Annabeth. I know,” the old woman smiled.

The tears that smeared her foundation or rather what was left of it ceased to fall. “You what?!”

Shock widened Annabeth’s light gray eyes.

“I knew from the minute you stepped into my house. I’m pretty sure Rhea knows as well.”

Annabeth’s jaw fell open. “B-but how?!” she stuttered and felt like an utter and complete idiot. The first few days had been rough and difficult, but now she thought that Percy and she conveyed the illusion of being a happy couple.

“You were scared of everything including him the minute you arrived,” Gaia warmly smiled. The infectious warm smile of a grandma looking out for her little chicks. Was Annabeth now one of them?

“I knew something was off with that sudden engagement of yours with the way you two behaved. Either you were pregnant, or it was a ruse. Since you are heavily drinking and paper thin, it was clear that there was no pregnancy. You young people truly don’t eat enough anymore,” Gaia shrugged, patted Annabeth’s knee and went back to knitting the sock.

“But now… it all makes sense. You do feel something for each other. Even if you are blind to it for now.” She continued to hum. “I just hope that my dear Perseus will be the young and carefree boy he was all those years ago one day again. And I do believe that you are the key in finding him hidden underneath all those layers and walls he had put up due to his father.”

Annabeth didn’t even close her mouth during the elder’s monologue. Did Gaia seriously connote that she… that Annabeth Chase… might feel something for her soon-to-be boss? Madness. Absolute madness. She took everything she had thought of the friendly old woman in front of her back. Maybe her relatives did have a point, when they decided to brush Gaia off due to her old age.

Annabeth? And feeling something for Percy? If that something was hatred and the utmost rage, absolutely yes. But… anything else? She would receive a hefty sum on her bank account and would put in her two weeks the minute she found a better job in California.

“You know… there is a tale I’d like to tell about men.”

And Annabeth would prefer to place the glass back on the table, throw the heels away, storm out and run to the next airport.

“They are stupid vapid creatures,” Gaia carried on.

Annabeth snorted behind her glass. “That is certainly true,” she agreed and earned an honest grin from Gaia.

“My dear husband Ouranos with whom I had all of my dear children decided one day that one woman was not enough. And that twelve children were not enough.”

Twelve children?! Annabeth's womb just twisted and turned in protest. The shocked expression on Annabeth’s face made Gaia chortle loudly.

“Oh yes, back in my day we were all very fruitful,” Gaia affirmed.

“That sounds horrible,” Annabeth interjected.

“Oh, only the birth part and the eighteen years after it,” the older woman dismissed her which made Annabeth in turn laugh again.

“My father was a farmer and he had one piece of advice: never let someone toy with you. You are not a doll; you are a person with morals and dignity, a person with feelings and dignity. Let no one, especially not a man, treat you like a commodity or something to kick around. Well… when dear Ouranos left me and sought our neighbor with bigger breasts… I taught him that lesson. And I did so with my father’s trusted knife that I hung on the wall afterwards.”

There was no knife displayed on the wall. It was a fucking scythe. Large, frightening, brutal. A golden great long sickle with jagged teeth rested on the wall as if it were ready to cut you up into one thousand pieces. Was there really dried blood stuck on the teeth or was Annabeth’s drunken mind making things up?

“The minute our youngest turned eighteen he took off and was never seen again. And now, should a person, in that case my Perseus, not know how to treat you properly, you know what to do,” Gaia advised and took a sip out of her own glass.

“Uh… you mean threaten to cut his genitals off with a large and sharp family heirloom?” Annabeth’s eyes widened again.

“No, dearie…” Gaia gave it some thought. “Well maybe so, dearie,” she then went on. That made Annabeth chuckle again.

“But demand absolute respect from him. Don’t ask him for it. Demand it. I don’t know how but he has dragged you into our family and expects you to play the perfect fiancé. This will eventually blow up in his face and he will drag you along with him. Teach him a lesson, however.”

“You know what? I will!” With Gaia’s official blessing, Annabeth was all smiles and scheming new plots. If the head of the family gave her the approval of kicking Percy’s ass, she definitely would.

Steps echoed in the fireplace room and Annabeth and Gaia’s heads turned to greet the intruder. They didn’t even realize the door opened and closed again.

Gaia’s younger twin who still had some black streaks in the braids marched into the hall, curious about what the two women in front of her were previously talking about. Gaia’s youngest daughter Rhea had joined them. The large blue floral dress made her seem like she never left the late 1960s and the two long braids only added to that sentiment.

“Mamá, what is going on? By the way Percy is looking for you, Annabeth,” Rhea informed her grandson’s alleged fiancé before taking a seat in front of her and grabbing one of the many balls of yarn in front of her mother. Rhea then went on to play with it as if she was a six-year old.

“Oh no, Rhea, Annabeth and I were just chatting about love and life,” Gaia batted her eyelashes.

“You see, I gave Rhea the same advice about her disgraceful husband when he went out to seek another woman.”

Rhea rolled her eyes behind the large pentagonally glasses. “You and your stories about the scythe, mother,” she sighed.

“I have to make sure the younger generation knows!” Gaia huffed. “I won’t be here for much longer and then-”

“We'll regret all the things we’ve said and done to you, I know mamá, you have been telling me this since I was four years old and spilled my apple juice,” Rhea completed her mother’s sentence.

Rhea’s attention shifted to the smiling blonde in front of her. She grew to like Percy’s fiancé. She had a fire within herself and a backbone, all great things to handle a Theodoropoulos man.

“But my mother is right when she says that the scythe is a trusted tool. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades did scare Kronos with it after he tried some foul things with their sisters. Treated them worse. Did overall horrible things. He never wanted daughters, only sons. Didn’t seem to accept the fact that it was out of my hand.” Rhea squished the ball of light blue yarn in her hand.

“My children were always looking out for me and I will be forever grateful for them. I do hope that you will have the same feelings and love for your children.” It was clear who their father was supposed to be.

“Yes, I hope so as well,” Annabeth squeaked. Did it get hotter in here all of a sudden?

The door opened, and a worried Percy stepped into the fireplace room. “Oh, there you are,” he sighed as he immediately sighted Annabeth’s blonde unruly curls. He had been running from the basement all the way to the roof searching for her. Relief washed over his face like some shower gel from a cheap commercial. Only then did he realize that Annabeth had been cornered by both his nosy grandmother and his even nosier great-grandmother.

“Whatever they’ve been telling you, it’s a lie, it’s wrong and it never happened!” he warned her as he took a seat right next to her.

“Oh please, relax,” Rhea rolled her eyes and threw the wool at her grandson. “We have been talking about mamá’s scythe.”

“Hey!” both Percy and Gaia complained. At least they hadn’t dished out embarrassing stories of him taking off in diapers at night.

“This is expensive! You young people show no respect towards others' belongings,” Gaia cursed.

Annabeth took the blue yarn and placed it back on top of the pyramid of other colors.

“Thank you!” Gaia smiled before she focused on finishing the sock.

“You’ve found your fiancé, Perseus. Now go off back to celebrate and let us old people reminisce about the past and talk.” Rhea lazily waved at them whilst Gaia didn’t even look up from her craft.

“We will,” Percy said while getting up and casually dragging Annabeth along. He kissed both Gaia and Rhea on the cheek, Annabeth threw a hasty “See you in the morning!” over her shoulder before the couple left.

“Are you okay?” Percy asked as he pulled Annabeth aside for a small breather.

She nodded. “It’s just a bit overwhelming with the amount of people that either want to take pictures of us, hope I remember when their youngest kid’s birthday is, or they tell me they hope we have our first baby preferably in less than a year.”

Percy blushed. He didn’t think it was that bad, but then again, men are mostly left out of the baby talk until their mother’s saw that their best friend’s children had their first grandbaby. He truly didn’t have any intention of having a child before the age of forty. He had to save a business from his damned uncle, run and manage said business and preferably find a woman he tolerated enough to marry before he could even think of children.

Percy apologized again. “One week,” he promised her.

“One week,” Annabeth repeated and nodded.

“We’re going in, you’ve missed the high of the party with your talk with my yai yai, but that’s perfectly fine. The first have already left, let’s just mingle for ten minutes or so before we can-”

The door flung open. “There they are!” yelled Hermes who was followed by Zephyrus and Hercules.

None of them had any intention of letting the party stop before five in the morning. It was merely two. The minute Hermes had his sights on Annabeth, he knew that he had found his best drinking buddy aside from Dionysus himself. Oh no, Annabeth thought and rightfully so.

The minutes of calmness and rest next to Gaia did their wonders because Percy and she were thrust back into the party at full force. She didn’t exactly remember when the blackout happened, but it was roughly thirty minutes later. She was drinking, she was dancing, she was completely making a fool out of herself. The hair? A mess. Annabeth herself? Don’t even think about it. She had been dancing with Hermes and Patroclus, Aphrodite accidentally stepped on her foot one time when Ares approached her.

Percy broke his own promise and accepted a fourth glass of wine from Dionysus who insisted on it. That glass was his doom. The last droplet touched his tongue and his world turned into a flashy mist, his consciousness was broken into pieces, fragmented and sprinkled across the floor. Where he was, when he was and who he was were things he couldn’t remember. The only thing that popped up in his mind were waves of solid gold. Was it hair? Could hair truly move like that and possess that texture? And a whiff of lemon with a hint of lavender crawled up his nose. It was an odd combination, but it felt safe and like home. He liked this smell. Where did he smell this before?

Percy didn’t care, he had other matters to attend to. The first thing on the docket was finding the bathroom, he had drunk way too much. The house had weird rules in regard to bathrooms. Was it the left side or the right side that the young men could use? Why did his uncle Hades have to break two sinks in a span of a week when he was sixteen again? Why were women and others allowed to do whatever they wanted? His great-grandma and her weird plans were always set to make him fail somehow. Things that she had thought of decades ago still bore fruit today.

Percy stumbled upstairs and turned right and prayed the doors he was opening were empty bathrooms and not relatives making out. That was just what he needed. The first door he opened was of his great-uncle Oceanus and Tethys who had a face mask on her face and pink curlers up her hair. At least the old people still knew how to behave. He hoped his mother had left the party hours ago. He apologized and closed the door. The next one was an empty bedroom, his even maybe. No, his bedroom was on an entirely different floor. Or was it?

The next bedroom was closed off thank god, but from the sounds on the inside it seemed like cousin Eos and her newest catch Orion had some fun. Disgusting, Percy thought before he moved on. The next door was what he was looking for. A bathroom. Lit up, clean and empty. Empty if it wasn’t for this one woman who was clutching the brims of the polished sink. She was tall, the golden hair equaled a rat nest and her red dress seemed to have witnessed a lot.

“Ugh,” she muttered and looked into the mirror. Her eyes found his immediately.

“Percy?” she turned around.

Oh right. He was Percy Jackson, thirty-one, single, hopefully the new CEO of Atlantic INC., he had a fantastic apartment in the Upper East Side with an amazing view and he was in Greece to impress his family with his fake fiancé in order to secure his father’s legacy. His fake fiancé being Annabeth Chase, a woman he loathed, had to pay a little hush money and hoped would leave the company fairly soon after.

“You’re in the men’s restroom,” Percy then stated.

Annabeth looked around. No, it was not the same bathroom she used in the morning. Oh yeah, Gaia’s weird bathroom rules.

“Honestly who cares?” the junior marketing manager complained. “A toilet’s a toilet, no matter who uses it.”

Percy shrugged. Annabeth had a point but it wasn’t their house so they couldn’t dictate the rules.

“I wanted to retouch my makeup, but I didn’t find my makeup bag.” She walked steadily to Percy, but it was clear to both of them that she had her fair amount of shots in her system.

“Yeah, it’s probably in the other bathroom. Wait, let me use the bathroom for a second and then we can head back to our room and you can look for your makeup.”

Annabeth nodded and waited on the outside while Percy was tending his business. After drying his hands, he opened the door and found Annabeth yawning in front of one of his yai yai’s paintings. It showed the scythe from the fireplace.

“In all honesty, your great-grandmother is an amazing woman. I admire her. Showing kindness and strength each day. How old is she?”

“Turning 106 next October,” Percy smiled at her. “She always said she wanted to live long enough to see her favorite descendants find their own happiness, whatever it may be.”

The softness in his voice made Annabeth’s heart ache. She turned her head back to the painting. She was a nobody. She had no family, no traditions she could upkeep. She didn’t even have a steady relationship in the past five years. Fucking Luke Castellan. He also had to take that from her as well. Make her suffer. That’s what Athena, Friedrich and Luke all thought at the same time. And they all had nearly reached their wicked goal if it hadn’t been for her stubbornness and will to eventually blossom into something else. The first step towards that something else resided within her move to California. She wanted to leave everything and everyone behind and start a new life, somewhere where no one knew her.

A thumb brushed over her cheek. Annabeth looked up to Percy. She hadn’t even realized she was sobbing again.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay,” Percy assured her. His hands found her sides, pulling her into a soft hug.

A true fiancé level hug. Annabeth had never felt that comfortable within a man’s reach. Percy might have been an awful and annoying coworker, but he truly cared about his fellow people. The way they slowly rocked and kept hugging each other reminded her of the school dance work they had put on the floor earlier. But this time it was real. This time there was no one taking pictures or yelling into their ears, or the demand to see a kiss.

Annabeth rested her face in his chest and Percy leaned his head on hers. It was like they had been made for each other. A welcoming scent greeted Percy. Lemon and lavender. The person stuck in Percy’s crumbled mind had been Annabeth. She was his anchor in the havoc his relatives had created in such a short time. He took a deeper breath. It felt reassuring.

“Did you just sniff me?” Annabeth laughed as she pulled away from him.

“You do smell good!” he defended himself with a stupid grin on his mouth.

“Oh, wait you’re super drunk,” she giggled again as she saw his widened pupils that had pushed the darkened sea-green iris away.

“Well, look at you,” he retorted.

They looked at each other. Aside from the bumping music and the noises people made downstairs it had been completely silent. He missed her warmth; she missed his comfort. Neither would have guessed that a simple embrace could offer so much. Neither would have thought they would take it to the next step within a split second.

One last look. A last time sea-green and light-gray met before each set of eyes closed and their lips met with a brutal force in the middle. Their teeth clacked but it didn’t matter to them. What mattered now, was the moment. Forgotten was the alcohol, forgotten were the troubles of past, present and future. Forgotten were the friends and relatives in the building and back in New York.

So... what do you think? 😄 Like I said, this is not the entire chapter 🤷🏾‍♀️ I honestly feel bad for cutting the chapter off because it's really getting more interesting from that point on 💁🏾‍♀️ I'll probably continue working on this once I've published the next act of The Fool 🥳

Also Greek people, if something seems off with this (aside from random English at times lol) hit me up, I definitely have to do more research!

[1kook]

skirt chasers - drabble iii

this a skirt chasers drabble in case u couldn't tell uhhh here’s i and ii lol

summary; “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?” warnings; alcohol mention, tit sucking, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, uhh making out??? ratings; mature (18+) misc; educational abolitionist!jungkook, drunk jk, mentions of throwing up lol, jk is an anatomy frEAK, more skirts, more jk has questionable kinks wc; like barely 2k

notes; i wrote this in like 40 mins bc i couldn't stop thinking about STIMBO jk from skirt chasers and how cool he is enjoy xxxx also i barely rmr shit from anatomy bc it was the worst course of my life so pls bear with me

His first mistake is getting drinks with the boys. You like to think you know your boyfriend pretty well, know what he’s good at, where he excels, where he thrives, and well. Drinking doesn’t rank too high on the list.

Jimin calls a little past midnight. “Kook’s on the table,” he slurs into the phone, too loud and too sloppy for a Wednesday night phonecall.

“Ha?” you mumble back, rubbing your eyes until you see stars. The room is dark, practically spinning from how out of it you are. Chaeyoung is dead asleep in her room, so even whispering feels like a crime. “Where are you guys?”

Some bar on the south side of town, that strip where all the newly turned twenty-one year olds go to get wasted. Jungkook’s supposed to be studying for some big exam he has on Friday— at least, that’s what he told you —so it takes a few minutes of convincing on Jimin’s part until you’re shrugging your coat on, blindly navigating through your apartment for your keys and wallet. You briefly consider taking an Uber, but ultimately decide you’d rather get stabbed to death on a public bus so at least your family can sue the city afterwards.

Jungkook is indeed on the table, except the table has long since tipped over. So now he’s just sprawled across some dirty bar floor, puppy-soft head of curls spilling over his forehead. He’s so cute, so adorable. You want to kill him. “Up,” you command, channeling the strength of twelve football players to haul your beefy boyfriend off the ground.

“Baby,” he beams, looking at you but not actually looking at you. “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?”

You don’t even know what that means, can’t even question him, because then Jin is angrily yelling at you to cover his tab. You pay with a stiff middle finger, flail the three dollars in your wallet at him, before sweeping away your poor damsel in distress. “You’re supposed to be studying,” you huff, can’t even be mad when he stops to throw up in a bush outside the bar. You’re so embarrassed, pretend you don’t know him as you pull up the bus times on your phone.

He’s huffy by the time you get on the bus, sniffling against your neck as he cries about his common hepatic portal vein thing— you don’t fucking know.

Chaeyoung isn’t too impressed with you when you bring him home, dump him on the couch while she steals your AirPods from your room. “Explain yourself,” you demand, and his head rolls back.

“I hate school,” he complains, slaps a hand down against his forehead. You’re certain he’s concussed himself this time. Then he’s bending over, head held between his hands. “Wanna cry.”

You sigh, kneeling in front of him. “You’re almost done,” you comfort him, hand on the back of his head. He’s so sweaty, and smells like all his friends colognes at the same time. “You’re smart, baby, you can do this.”

Your words have the opposite effect, because then he’s rocking forward childishly, nearly rams your skulls together and kills you. He’s reached the point of his insobriety where he’s too sad and huffy to think, sadly leaning against your shoulder as if that’ll somehow solve all his problems. You doubt it will, but there’s really nothing much you can when Jungkook reaches this point, so you settle on softly patting the back of his head until the fool is fucking snoring against you.

Chaeyoung blesses you with her divine retribution the next morning by using up the last of your body wash, and then you’re left to deal with a hungover Jungkook on a Thursday morning. You’re pretty sure he had a class that morning, but he wakes up too late for you to even try to convince him to still go, and then he’s moping on your couch in last night’s clothes. You’re getting ready for your internship, blouse half buttoned, pencil skirt wiggled up to your waist.

“Abolish exams,” he mutters, numbly staring at the ceiling as you wipe his face with a cleansing towelette. He doesn’t seem remotely interested in the shower or the pancakes you made, which lets you know this is a much more serious issue than just a drunken episode. “Aren’t they stupid?” You nod. “Sure, test me on every damn thing we’re learning right now as if science isn’t always changing and I’ll have to keep learning anyway.”

He looks over at you, under-eye bags absolutely horrendous. “Tests are stupid,” you agree, and it seems to be exactly what he wants to hear as he sinks into your arms, face buried in your chest. “Too stupid for smarty-pants Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook groans, flops over you on the couch all smelly and gross. “They test you for memorization and not comprehension,” he adds, finally wiggling out of his stinky clothes.

With Jungkook, you can never tell where things are going. One minute he’s cursing the education system and the next he’s kissing along your neck in his rambling fury. “As if I these materials will somehow become nonexistent once I’m working,” he huffs, hands on your thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat, fingers digging into his biceps as he mindlessly kisses down the valley between your breasts. “Shit’s so fucking stupid,” he spits, bunching your skirt around your waist.

“Jeon—“

“I’m just trying to be a fuckin’ pediatrician, for fuck’s sake,” he growls, hastily undoes the front buttons on your blouse. Your black bra comes into view, heart pounding in your chest as Jungkook makes quick work of reaching behind and undoing it, pushing it away, and cupping your breasts in his palms. He guides one of your legs around his waist, tucks it around him as he gets to work raining down kisses on your tits. “So pretty, doll,” he murmurs, pretty pink lips leaving smooches down your chest.

You bite down on your lip, watch through hazy eyes as those big doe eyes flick up at you, tongue swirling around your nipple. “N— Not tired anymore?” you pant, hands in his hair. It’s still dry and knotted from last night’s adventures, but you don’t mind. Not when Jungkook’s hard cock is flush against your thigh.

“Nah,” he confirms, rolling his hips forward against your core. Oh he was horny horny this morning. Or was he angry horny? You don’t care, either way you were winning. “I serenaded you last night, y’know?”

You snort, but it morphs into a whimper when he captures your rock hard nipple between his perfect teeth. “Not a serenade,” you whimper, fingernails running along his scalp, “if I’m not there.”

Jungkook leans back, lets you breathe for a second as he unbuckles the front of his pants, jeans pulled down around his thighs. And of course he’s hard as fuck by now; this was Jeon Jungkook you were dealing with. He could get it up and going in two seconds flat at the mere sight of your collarbones. “You were there,” he insists, capturing your hand in his all romantic like until you’re flustered and shaking him off. He levels you with a cheesy grin, presses your palm against his chest. “Here.”

You gag. “That’s disgusting.”

Jungkook laughs, all squeaky and airy because he’s never given a fuck about looking cool in front of you. His next words only prove your point. “Why? Don’t like being nestled against my left lung and esophagus, all sexy like?”

You roll your eyes, tug your panties aside to give him a full view of what his dorky anatomical talk has done to you. “Dick me down or go away,” you say, pointer finger nudging his chin up when he stares too long

He snaps his teeth at you, almost bites your finger, the fuckin’ weirdo. “Sassy today,” he teases, presses the tip of his cock against you. Both of you groan, watch as he glides himself up and down your folds, angry mushroom head pushing against your clit. “Always so wet for me,” he mumbles shakily, eyes zeroed in on your wet folds and how slick they feel against him. “Didn’t stretch you out again.”

“Yo— You’re mean about that anyway,” you pant, pulling him closer by those firm ass cheeks of his. “I can tell when you’re using me as a reference model.”

Jungkook gasps as if he’s genuinely scandalized by your claim, follows your wordless command and finally lines himself up with your quivering entrance. “I’m a hands-on learner,” he offers, his cheeky smile still on his face until he finally sinks into you and his features twist up all pretty. “Your pussy’s just so pretty, baby,” he grunts, hand on your hip.

Your face feels warm, from the pleasure that rolls over your body and the vulgarity of his words. “Shush now,” you say, try to sound strict and in command, but he’s got his other hand cupping your jaw, looking at you like you’re a goddess and not some dorky college student in their even dorkier internship uniform.

“Temptress,” he mumbles, pushes past your clenching lips until he’s flush against you, your walls spasming around his cock because he just feels so good. “Tried to sneak past me in that tiny skirt.” He draws back, lets his swollen head catch at the entrance before sliding back in, pace slow and sensual, too intimate for some random Thursday morning. “Little doll just needs to be fucked in the morning, doesn’t she?” A pitiful whimper catches in your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head with every glide of his dick back inside of you.

“N- Not my fault you have naughty eyes,” you whimper, hand coming up to bite at your knuckles as Jungkook continues to fuck you so sweetly. “Fuck.”

Jungkook ducks over you, wavy hair tickling your forehead as his hot breath fans across you. Smells like the mouthwash you made him take and hints of last night’s alcohol. “Can’t help it,” he husks, capturing your lips in his. Sloppy and wet, tongue clashing with yours as he guides you along, hips slowing to rhythmic ruts that have you moaning after each roll.

A few drawn-out thrusts later and you’re coming, body so sensitive this early in the morning, and it certainly doesn’t help that Jungkook looks like that (sweaty and worn, dark eyes watching you writhe beneath him). Surprisingly, it takes him a few more rushed thrusts before he follows, barely managing to pull out in time before his sparkling cum is splattering over your tummy and the skirt bunched around it. “No,” you whine, melting into the couch. “Jeon, this is my only one,” you complain, rubbing a hand over your eyes as if that’ll somehow make your legs work again enough to push him off.

Jungkook says nothing as he tucks himself back into his boxers, chest heaving from exertion as he crashes back onto the couch. “Liar,” he responds after a moment, out of breath and half asleep again. He’s still technically hungover. Hand lazily drawing circles on your knee as you sit up, wiggling your skirt back down. He gives you this indecipherable look. “I hid the other one under your dresser.”

You smack his arm. “Why the hell would you—“

He tackles you back into the couch, presses the stain into your skirt. It must feel gross against his naked tummy, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. “Makes me too horny,” he announces, pout pressed against your neck. “I had a teacher fantasy the other day. Did I tell you?” You roll your eyes, resigning yourself to this new life squashed beneath your boyfriend. “You were my high school anatomy teacher and I failed, so you made me stay after school for supplemental lessons—“

“That’s an abuse of power,” you point out, back to carding your hands through his now sweaty and greasy hair. “And you would never fail an anatomy class, that’s literally your comfort area of study.”

“Listen,” he stresses, lifts his head until he’s peering at you with these humongous Bambi eyes. “You spanked me and—“

“Go get my skirt.”

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