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[ukelicious]

Kamen Rider X Finished February 14th, 2023

Here's your warning now: this one also got away from me. I BROKE 4k...

Kamen Rider X is… a show!

Look. I don’t know how to start this. I don’t know how many of you have seen this show. I don’t know how many of you saw me lose my fucking mind when I watched the first two episodes of this one. I had to kick myself out of the house and go get a breath of fresh air and went to H Mart and bought a shitton of side dishes. Just to cope, you know? Sometimes you need some fish cakes, for the soul. I ate great that whole week but that’s besides the point. X does have what I myself would describe as “a beginning” so let’s just recap that first, I guess, because it sure kicks the show off.

Pictured: welcome to Wet Boy Wonderland.

PART ONE: SETUP!

Before we begin fully: I think I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that there are… a couple issues with and themes in this show that I appreciated having a heads up on before I got to them. I think that what I might have to say might come off as far too complimentary without this disclaimer and to spoil my final conclusion, my actual feelings are a little mixed. We’ll be touching on this later with how it ties into what my thesis ends up being, but there’s a switch in the theme of the monsters part way through the show from Greek Mythology to Various Bad Guys In History and the thing about various bad guys in history and also shows that are made in, let I remind you, the 70s, is that sometimes things can be… well, I’ll be blunt. There’s a pretty racist caricature in there and some of the picks can be a little off color and also there’s Starfish Hitler which does feature swastikas and was a decision that the boys and I dubbed “sure a choice.” I mean yeah, he gets killed like all the other bad guys do, but still. Do you know the experience of watching Aristocats for the first time as an adult and being like “Hmm, I really do not remember this weird racist scene in the middle of this film, what the fuck? I mean I guess it was a different time, but still…” That’s kind of what this feels like in spots. Jin Keisuke also has maybe the world’s worst dad. This is a guy who seems to have decided that a “signs of parental abuse” checklist is a game of bingo and that somehow it can be won. This is most apparent during the first couple episodes for reasons you’ll see in like, a minute or so if you read at the same speed I do or faster, but it flavors the entire show in a way I’ll hopefully convince you of by the end. Trust me on this one. Those are the two big disclaimers I have out of the way; if either of those are non-negotiable issues for you, I recommend not finishing this and watching something that isn’t Kamen Rider X. For the rest of you? Buckle up. 

Here’s (roughly) what happens in the first two episodes of X. Jin Keisuke comes back home for a visit. He gets jumped by some goons at the boat docks who want to kidnap him because of his dad and gets shot at and falls into the water. He gets out of the water and reconnects with his… fiancee? I think? Keisuke goes to visit his father at his lab in a seaside cave, says that again, dad, he has no interest in going into science, and gets promptly judo thrown in response. His dad then tells him to put on a vest, which he does. Keisuke and his fiancee (?) go out to eat dinner and she tries to guilt him into sticking around because his dad is lonely. Keisuke gets a message saying that GOD is coming to fuck his shit up. Oh, right, GOD is the name of the bad guy organization in this one. Just roll with it... Neptune and the goons (great band name, the more that I think about it) overthrow a ship. Keisuke’s fiancee comes to visit them at the cave-lab; Keisuke’s dad shoots his son. This is okay because it turns out that the vest was bulletproof. Everyone laughs at this. Keisuke presumably goes to sleep at some point after this but gets woken up in the middle of the night and attacked by some goons and oh look, one of them happens to be his fiancee! What a surprise! Keisuke rushes to his dad’s side to find the guy bleeding out on the rocks in front of his cave-lab. Goons pop up and shoot him too, killing him. Keisuke’s dad has enough fight left in him to drag his son into his cave-lab and borg him and somehow get him onto a boat, where Keisuke wakes up after an indeterminate amount of time, surprised to be alive. Keisuke’s dad left a message for him telling that he built a supercomputer that is also an island (the Jin Station) to house his consciousness on a computer now that he’s dead. He gives Keisuke a bike and a quick rundown on how to become the X Rider and then asks Keisuke to explode his corpse for him. He does this. There’s a flashback of Keisuke as a kid running to his dad and his dad grabbing him and just fucking slamming the kid down. Keisuke goes off and defeats Neptune and the goons and gets helped by a woman who looks exactly like his fiancee but isn’t actually her, who gives no explanation as to why this is the case. 

…So that’s episode one. 

Pictured: father-son bonding at its finest!

I’ll make episode two shorter: Keisuke has another run in with his fiancee and her doppelganger which doesn’t explain anything either. Our monster of the week plotline is about a kid whose dad was just killed in a car accident a couple weeks ago and who apparently fought with his dad a lot and doesn’t know how to deal with the guilt that comes from that. Keisuke tries to protect this kid from misinformed townspeople who think that he’s hypnotizing people and the fact that he’s a borg starts to sink in. Keisuke goes back to the Jin Station to experience his first bout of borg angst with some support from his computer-father, whose response to his son wanting comfort is to call him a weak bitch and tell him that he can’t rely on anyone, he has to fight alone, and insist that Keisuke blow up the Jin Station, killing him again. This happens. Keisuke manages to convince the public that the boy was being slandered by GOD and that he wasn’t actually hypnotizing people. He then beats up the guy actually responsible. Keisuke comforts the kid by straightening out his flute, which got bent in the fight, and contemplates that maybe there are some good things about being a borg after all. 

Pictured: I might have understated exactly how the stages of grief impacted him on this one here.

If you think I'm exaggerating anything here you're more than welcome to fact check me. These first two episodes are available for free on the Toei Youtube channel, go ham! Good luck.

In any case, you might be seeing a theme emerging here. Don’t worry, we’ll get to that in just a minute. There’s a little bit of contrasting that I want to do first with the previous riders. Jin Keisuke is pretty different than the guys that we’ve had before and is especially jarring coming off of a dude like Kazami Shiro. Keisuke’s wet. He doesn’t have a support network like even Hongo did with at least knowing Tachibana from the start. Hell, it’s debatable that the guy even knows Kamen Riders are like, a thing, and not just some random shit his dad made up. He certainly doesn’t know them personally like Hongo was able to make sure both Hayato and Kazami did from the start. There’s a vague kind of uncertainty undercutting everything that Jin Keisuke does as a borg because he wasn’t borged in the same way that the other previous riders were. It was by someone who he ostensibly should be able to trust (unlike Hongo and Hayato) and for a fight that wasn’t at all his (unlike Kazami) and in a way that, because of these facts, comes off as more malicious and personal than Shocker’s sterile, random cruelty and while yes, his dad was technically saving his life, it doesn’t really seem to come from a place of kindness. It really comes off like his dad wanted to have just another way to control him after he was gone and when he realized that his son was still something that he viewed as “weak,” died to save himself the embarrassment. He explicitly requested that Keisuke not lean on anyone and instead take on the fight himself, despite doing exactly the opposite of that in giving the fight over to his son in the first place. What a hypocritical ass. 

It’s not just that – there’s the way that he fights with a weapon, kind of like Riderman, but essentially fences, which is so unlike any of the boys previously. He just kind of coincidentally falls into fighting GODborgs for the first part of the show with no real rhyme or reason, not with any plan, not necessarily being targeted by them even, really not seeming like he has any stake in the fight at all. He kind of doesn’t. Everyone else had some kind of personal vendetta and sure, GOD killed his dad the first time around, but Keisuke also got asked by his computer-dad to kill him, and he did. So. I mean, he could have just kept his dad alive that way. This is explicitly not his fight. He just kind of ended up here. Once the show gets going and Jin Keisuke gets into the swing of things and we start getting back into something that feels… a bit more like the previous Rider seasons, there’s still this odd disbelief in his abilities that all the characters, including Tachibana and the rest of his allies, approach Keisuke with. With Kazami, he’d do completely off the wall shit and everyone would be like “haha, that’s our guy!” Keisuke will play dead to try and throw someone off his tracks and go a little overboard with the fake blood or something and it’ll work, but in the same breath Tachibana will just look at him all confused and question why on earth he decided to go that way in the first place. I feel like I’m going full Pepe Syliva; is this not meant to mirror his father’s disbelief in his son’s abilities/path in life and the subsequent control that he tried to push onto him? In fact, there’s really only one character who I can think of who doesn’t underestimate him near constantly: Apollo Geist, baby.

Pictured: the creature in question

PART TWO: Fuck it, call me a Jin Keisuke apollogeist

Sorry, I had to fit that joke in here somewhere. I’ve been trying for weeks to make it work. Apollo Geist is the leader of GOD’s secret police, a position that is basically analogous to any of the other commanders that we’ve seen before. Weekly monster gets sent out, he’s the one above them in the ranks so he oversees their progress, critiques them, ends up 1v1ing the rider at some point, gets their shit kicked in. We’ve seen this before, we’ve loved this before, it works so well and I think it’s definitely something that the beginning episodes were lacking. We have to get some structure in these evil organizations in order to be able to even start to think about tearing them down. Though – because of the aforementioned constant and relentless underestimating of Jin Keisuke, when Apollo Geist appears and becomes obsessed with taking him down and claims that he’s the only one who can actually defeat the rider and stands on cliffsides watching him fight it really comes off as way more personal than anyone else we’ve had before. He can transform, not really into a monster, but into something way closer to X or any of the riders than we’ve had with anyone else previously. Apollo Geist feels like he’s set up to be Jin Keisuke’s equal, and it’s mad yaoi. 

Oh yeah, and totally forgot about this until I was looking back through my caps to write this, but Keisuke’s fiancee? Yeah, she was trying to do like whole double agent thing with her twin (who was the other one who looked like her) and it didn’t work out and she exploded mere minutes before Apollo Geist was introduced for the first time. She never really gets mentioned again. But that does leave the spot for a romantic interest open…

Pictured: special friends...

So. What the hell else am I supposed to think. Like, sorry, the man butts into pretty much every fight because he doesn’t trust his lackeys with this man. He wants to take X down in a way that’s satisfying to him. He checks in with Tachibana when Jin Keisuke fakes his death without telling him that he’s with GOD, leading Tachibana to think he must be one of Keisuke’s friends. He does the same thing when visiting the coffee shop later. He’s fucking obsessed with this guy. The two of them bike joust. Apollo Geist will jump onto his bike from 20 floors up, tenderizing his nuts into oblivion when he hits the saddle, just to show off. He’s obsessive and wild and wears a suit that’s all one color and man, I cannot imagine who else this might be reminding me of right now, but my word… and, both times he dies, he does so trying to take X down with him. 

“Both times he dies?” Both times he dies. The man fails to hold down X the first time around when he tried to explode him with his arm bomb and following that gets rebuilt and upgraded in the process. Long story short, after donning his little cowboy fit and realizing that he has shit aim suddenly during his daily shooting practice to kill Jin Keisuke, he learns that he only has a day or two left to live and that the literal only way to reverse this is to take a piece of the X suit and have it attached to his heart. 

Pictured: heterosexual behavior

Yes, you heard me correctly there: the only way for Apollo Geist to live here is for him to quite literally accept Jin Keisuke into his heart. Fucking incredible, isn’t it? He doesn’t do this, obviously, because he did die a second time, but look. The metaphor. It’s right there!! Maybe if Apollo Geist and Jin Keisuke had met under different circumstances, or maybe if they had a common enemy, or maybe if Apollo Geist wanted to admit his newfound weakness to Jin Keisuke or accept Jin Keisuke’s weaknesses as well (like the part where Keisuke didn’t want to transform because he was hurt, right, and Apollo Geist wanted to force him into changing so they could fight) and get into something that isn’t just this back and forth will they won’t they tension, the “what if we were two boys?” complex, the fucking starcrossed lovers of it all. 

Pictured: he likes to be tall

Sorry, wait a fucking second, wasn’t there someone else who died a horrible explosive death because they didn’t want to accept Keisuke into his heart? Who also saw Jin Keisuke as someone who should be able to put up a good, satisfying fight, regardless of what his wishes might be? Does Apollo Geist… also tie back to the whole dad thing? 

PART 3: The whole dad thing. 

Pictured: not a compliment

So. The whole dad thing. There are so, so many examples I could pull from, but lemme just run through what I specifically took notes on while watching the show as being repeated quite a distracting amount: 

Human experimentation. My fucking god, X has a lot of it randomly peppered in throughout the show. Not even really things that GOD is doing – the one that comes to mind is in one episode when the GODborg was influencing a bunch of kids to commit suicide and the tie between all of them was that they were all taking an experimental drug because they’re all honors students or something and they wanted to boost their brains even further. Honestly sounds like some shit that would happen in the suburb I used to live in, which is why I remember this one so well. The person who developed this thing gets nervous because like, I believe that the last kid alive on this drug is their kid. Jin Keisuke does save them, but you know who fucking else experimented on their kid? Jin Keisuke’s dad. 

Vampires. What the fuck, this show has I think at least 5 separate instances of vampires in it. In a 35 episode show. There are so many vampires. You know, the monster that’s notorious for infecting other people and sucking their life from them and changing them irreversibly in the process, making them stronger physically but also condemning them to living a hellish life. Wow, you know what that sounds like to me? Kind of like turning your son into a cyborg to save him and forcing him into a fight with a bunch of guys that were trying to kill you. 

The switch in monster themes in the middle of the show. There’s a point post Apollo Geist where the monsters swap over from being themed after figures in Greek mythology to historical figures. Yes, like I stated in the warning at the beginning of this post. Almost as if Jin Keisuke spent the time up to Apollo Geist fighting the mythos of his father, his ideals and the impact that left on him, and then when Apollo Geist died because he refused to let Keisuke into his heart, swapped over to fighting the actual sins of his father’s past. As if Apollo Geist dying for a similar reason that his father did when he asked Keisuke to blow him up so that he could “build character” or whatever, make Keisuke then realize that his father’s beliefs were… kinda fucked. That maybe the way he treated him wasn’t right. That maybe after that realization, he can move on slightly and begin the actual work of taking GOD down. 

[[Important to note but not a section in the dad saga – after Apollo Geist and the monster switch happens, the new guy leading the GODborgs is one big robolad named King Dark. Yeah, this thing has already gone on for too long and I didn’t want to recap even more of the show so I’m just giving you the context. Couldn’t figure out how else to do it and make it coherent and again, don’t know how many of you have actually watched this show. Okay back to the essay:]]

Kazami Shiro shows up and upgrades Jin Keisuke towards the end. After this point, Keisuke gets a perm (irrelevant) and his fighting style completely changes (very relevant) to be much more traditional Rider. The Ridol stick that his father gave him that he used to fight all the time with? Not used anymore. He has a new henshin pose and a new finisher. It’s just like, oh, I don’t know, being able to meet people he relates to and find a new family with the other riders is maybe helping him find his identity separate from his dad? While he is still obviously impacted by the trauma his father imposed upon him (in being a rider in the first place) he’s taking it and changing it into something his own? Quite literally, textually, physically changed by the people he’s met? Who would have thought!

The GOD leader? The one who we’ve been working towards fighting all this time? The person controlling King Dark? Yeah. That’s Keisuke’s dad’s friend, who was the one behind getting him dragged into GOD business, which of course is then in turn the reason that Keisuke got dragged into this mess in the first place. Remember above when I mentioned how the monsterswap lead to Keisuke fighting the actual sins of his father and his past actions? Yeah. That’s the final boss. Just to cement and drive home really how much of this could have been avoided. How much the entire thing was his dad’s fault. Keisuke gets stabbed all the way through his chest while in King Dark but still manages to come out on top. Yeah, it hurt him, but the man was finally cut off. 

The ending scene of the show, where Keisuke rides off into the distance and Tachibana reads the note that he left for him explaining his plans going forward, is so much different than the end of V3. V3 ends with Kazami Shiro experiencing loss once more and going to go off to deal with that. X, on the other hand, ends on one of the most hopeful notes I’ve seen yet. Keisuke seems… really happy. He’s excited to head out on his own, like the other riders before him. He’s excited to experience what they’ve experienced. He’s finally shed the weight of his father and his expectations for him and he can figure out what being a Kamen Rider means to him, specifically. It’s really, really sweet. It’s the ending I want in a story about parental abuse. It didn’t make me cry, because I was too happy for him, but it really stuck with me something vicious.

Do I sound like I’m going off the rails? I feel like I am! 

The thing is… most if not all of these things can totally be explained away in ways that don’t have a damn thing to do with Jin Keisuke’s dad. The change of the monster themes from mythology to reality? I know that one’s because the person who handled the monster designs for the first part of the show left and they had to bring someone new in. The vampires? I’m convinced they got a great deal on the fangs and just wanted to use them where they could. The human experimentation themes? Sure, that’s always been a theme in Rider, not really to this degree of lethality, but maybe they’re just trying to bring in a somewhat older audience or something. V3 upgrading him? Kazami Shiro fucking rules, of course they’d want to bring him back into the show, and why not have him give Keisuke something cool so they’d have an excuse to do just that. The contrast between the endings of V3 and X are super apparent to me because I’m watching them as an adult less than a month apart, but so many other characters also ride off into the sunset, it could just as easily mean nothing. 

I don’t care, I guess; I can’t see it any other way. It’s about defeating his dad and learning to deal with the trauma that your shit parents gave you. It’s Saturn Devouring His Son. Jin Keisuke is battling GOD but really, he’s just fighting all the demons that his father passed down to him. He’s fighting his ideals and his past and his old friend. He was fighting his father’s fight, and he’s done now. He’s found people that are like him, who have similar ideals and can support him in a way that his father couldn’t, and so when he rides off into the sunset at the end of the show, it’s maybe the lightest that I think the show has ever felt. He’ll have to deal with the consequences of his father’s actions for the rest of his life, there’s no question about that, but at least now he’s shed most of the baggage he was saddled with and is all the stronger for it. And I really, really don’t think that their intentions going into the show matter, because I think being able to read it that way can be enough for me. It feels like the story itself wanted to be told. It might have been messy, but hell, what weird relationships with your parents aren’t, right? 

Pictured: sure that was probably just a throwaway line but damn, I get why you would associate those things...

TL;DR:

Kamen Rider X is a show where I think that the curtains were blue because that’s what was on sale at the store; maybe yellow curtains were more in season so they got a good deal on the blue ones, and that’s why they used them. Still, whether or not they meant anything by them or not and again, let’s be real, I don’t really think that they did, sometimes they can blow in the breeze and catch the wind just right and ripple like the surface of the ocean, and maybe if you squint your eyes and think about it in just the right way, you can see the debris from the Jin Station floating by. 

Would I recommend Kamen Rider X?

FUCKING UHHHHHHHHHHH look okay. Yes if you’re nuts like me and think that this sounds like at least an interesting ride to watch. I can’t say that it really ever got boring and the fact that it’s only 35 episodes? It goes by fast. I was entertained throughout… that entertainment however did range a little bit from feeling like I was watching a fun little toku show to sometimes maybe watching a car wreck. I might have been rubbernecking down the freeway. I wouldn’t recommend that you start with X. Please, for the love of god, start with something that isn’t X. Heed the warning I wrote at the start. Maybe skip this one if you aren’t interested in thinking about some dude’s dad issues for a few weeks! But… it’s still compelling. I still keep thinking about it. It did a lot accidentally and I like it for that. Jin Keisuke, I wish you all the best! 

ONE MORE THING! I COULDN’T FIND A PLACE TO MENTION THIS BECAUSE THIS IS LIKE THE ONLY THING THAT DOESN’T TIE INTO KEISUKE’S DAD ISSUES BUT ALSO I STILL WANTED TO MENTION IT: THERE ARE LESBIANS!

LET’S GOOOOO CHIKO AND MAKO YEAAAAAHHH!!! 

One last Apollo Geist for the road:

[sunshine-on-my-mind]

The Mobster’s Wife

pairing: Mob!Lloyd Hansen x Plus size reader

a/n: hey cuties, this is my first time writing a Mob AU so I really hope you all like it. Please read the warnings before moving forward.

warnings: 18+ Minors Dni Mob AU, mentions of being a mobster and implied themes, no graphic details, angst, arranged marriage, crying, reader has body insecurities, implied body shaming (not from Lloyd), cooking and eating mentioned, doubts of infidelity (but nothing really), overthinking, fluff, soft moments, kissing, mention of sex but nothing happens, flirting. Let me know if I missed anything.

words: 5.3k

Comments and Reblogs are appreciated

-> Next Chapter ; Drabbles ; Asks

Some say you are happiest on the day you become a bride.

In your case, you didn’t even know what to feel. A cloud of confusion wrapped you up when you walked down the aisle. All eyes on you, judging, measuring and probably calculating the outcome of this wedding.

Your eyes landed on the man you were destined to call your husband. His jaw sharp, beautiful blue eyes that had a sense of dominance in them, plump pink lips making a straight line, making it hard to read what might be going in his mind. But the feature that stood out most on his conventionally beautiful face, was a neatly trimmed moustache.

Everything was mechanical after that, the vows, the rings, the kiss, everything. Cheers and claps brought you out of the trance and it hit you suddenly that you were indeed married at that point. You were Mrs. Hansen.

Dinner involved loud toasts and speeches, mainly with the intention of impressing your husband. Everyone wanted to be in his good books, and why wouldn’t they? Lloyd Hansen was one of the most powerful and influential mobsters of the city. And the man lived up to his image.

Even though everything was so loud around you, you didn’t miss the absolute silence that surrounded your husband and you. And that silence continued when you found yourself in front of your new house, a massive one.

Being the daughter of a mobster, you were not unfamiliar with luxury and riches, sure you tried to stay away from all of it as much as possible because you didn’t want to be a part of the mobster life, in fact you wanted to get out of the city, the country if it was possible and live an independent life, away from it all.

But life had other plans, or rather your family. You hardly knew the man you got married to. His house spoke a lot about him, you realised as you walked inside his grand home. Dark hues all around, had a gorgeous glow, minimalistic and fashionable, a lot like the man who was walking beside you. The silence still there.

It was only broken when his men entered, they exchanged a few words, your focus on taking in the interiors of your new home.

When they left, your husband turned towards you, as if finally seeing you. The more his sharp gaze took you in, the more insecure you felt about yourself. You wrapped your hands around your upper body and looked down, but his gaze didn’t leave you yet. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks. The heat was gone in a moment as a cold voice reached your ears.

“Your room is upstairs, you can decorate it however you want to.” Lloyd spoke, his first words to you “My room is downstairs and I like my privacy. I don’t expect much from you but there are certain rules you must follow. There are areas in this house which are off limits. The rest you are free to explore unless I tell you not to, in case I have some important meeting here. Don’t go out of the house without informing me. I’ll arrange a car for you.”

There was complete lack of emotions behind his voice as he went on with the rules.

“I expect you the follow the rules, another thing I expect from you, but won’t demand, is for you to cook for me.” And with that Lloyd left you behind making his way upstairs. When he saw you weren’t following him, he stood in his place and sighed.

“Do I have to invite you? I’m showing you your room, hurry up I don’t have all the time in the world.” Lloyd didn’t try to hide his irritation.

So that was how your married life was supposed to be. Sure it was an arranged marriage, you weren’t expecting love. And you knew from what you had heard about Lloyd that he wasn’t exactly a soft man. You wondered what this marriage had in store for you, as you went up the stairs.

With a huff, Lloyd opened the door of your room. You both went inside. A big but dull room, not like the rest of the house you saw. Perhaps a guest room?

“This will be your room from now on. No one will disturb you here. If you want to buy something for your room, or something for yourself go ahead. here keep this card.” Lloyd gave you a credit card. You were still in a haze about everything. Was this how mob marriages were supposed to be?

Before the wedding one of your main concerns was to share a room and a bed with a stranger. At least that won’t be a problem. But you didn’t feel relieved at all, a pit of doubt formed in your stomach. Was this all happening because of your appearance? He must had known how you looked before agreeing to the marriage right? Or maybe you were overthinking and this was just how most of these marriages were. Mobsters had the image of being with many women. Perhaps Lloyd was one of them.

All you could do was nod to let your husband know you had understood everything. With that Lloyd left your room. As the door shut, a little harshly maybe, all the negative thoughts came rushing to you, and it didn’t help when you ventured in front of the mirror and saw yourself in your wedding dress. Alone, on your wedding night.

You used to have some insecurities about your body but you had tried your best to overcome them and you were definitely in a much better place. That was before you were left alone in that big room, on your wedding night.

It was difficult to explain, because not that you were eager to be sleeping with a stranger, a mobster, the worst ideas about what he might do to you and your body had already flashed in front of your eyes many times before the wedding. Mob families were full of misogyny, hence there was an unspoken, actually sometimes directly spoken rule of pleasing the husbands, and always doing what they said. You were nervous and scared about your wedding night, but even with those multiple thoughts, being left alone somehow didn’t cross your mind. Did Lloyd leave because he didn’t like the way you looked? Did he leave because he wasn’t at all attracted to you?

Lloyd didn’t even talk to you properly, or ask anything about you. Just informed you what he wanted to and left. You hardly knew him but you sure wanted to learn more about the man you were supposed to spend your life with, unfortunately or fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case with Lloyd.

Your luggage was already there in your room and you changed into something comfortable. The bed was big, and soft. You lied down and covered up yourself with a blanket. Sleep sleep sleep sleep. Tried your best to fall in slumber. And you did, eventually after some turning and tossing.

The next morning you woke up and got ready for the day. You made your way down towards the kitchen. All it took was a little exploring, and you found some ingredients and utensils to make a simple breakfast. You didn’t know what Lloyd liked so you decided to stick to classics. Toast, eggs, bacon and a fresh pot of coffee.

Soon you could hear footsteps towards the kitchen, and the confidence the footsteps had, made it clear, it was none other than the owner of the house. You looked at him, even in the morning he was well dressed, hair neatly gelled back.

“Morning” you wished Lloyd and in return got a nod. “I’ve made breakfast, didn’t know what you like-” you couldn’t finish before Lloyd made his way towards the dining table, and started reading a newspaper. Clearly not interested in listening to whatever you had to say.

You took a deep breath, and tried to deny the little pang you felt in your chest. Serving the breakfast on a plate, and pouring coffee in a cup, you took it to the table and placed it in front of your husband. His face was still behind the newspaper.

“I hope you like the food.” And finally the newspaper was out of the way and Lloyd looked straight into your eyes. His piercing gaze had quite an effect on you. No further words were exchanged.

Lloyd started eating and you joined him on the table with your food and coffee. You wanted to start a conversation but didn’t know how. Lloyd’s focus was on the food, his phone chimed and his focus shifted towards his phone. You gave up and started eating.

He was soon done eating and with a quick ‘thank you’ he left you alone. Again.

And that became your routine for the next few days. You were alone most of the time, explored the house, the parts you were allowed to see of course, got acquainted with it. There was a Television in your room and you decided to binge watch something, to keep yourself distracted from other things.

The only time you weren’t alone was during breakfast and sometimes dinner, Lloyd generally accompanied you. He had informed you he was usually out during the day so no need to prepare lunch for him and that sometimes he would come home late so not to wait for him. You always prepared dinner for him though, when he was late you kept it in the fridge. Left a note there, to let him know.

One night, when Lloyd was late again, you decided to wait up. When he arrived it was quite late. You were sitting at the dining table, reading a book to stay up.

“What are you doing?” Lloyd’s deep voice made his presence known. You were quite invested in the book so you didn’t hear his footsteps.

“I’m- I was waiting for you to come home” Lloyd sighed and ran his fingers through his now slightly disheveled hair. “How was your day?” You asked bravely, hoping to get some response from him. Anything.

“I told you, you don’t have to stay up for me. You should have gone to bed.”

“I wanted to. I wanted to check on you.”

“You don’t have to.” Lloyd sighed again. “And to answer your question, I’m alive aren’t I? So you can get from that how my day was.” You gulped and looked down.

“I’ve made dinner.” You almost whispered.

“Yeah I can heat it and have it on my own, you don’t have to stay. You can go sleep.” Only if he understood that you wanted to stay.

Or maybe he did understand that, and that was why he wanted you to leave. Maybe he didn’t want to spend time with you. Not like Lloyd had not done or said anything to make you fee otherwise. The time you spent together felt obligatory or just to maintain decency. You wished him a good night and went back to your room.

There wasn’t much change in the following few weeks, except you stopped trying to make conversation with your husband. You did what you were supposed to and kept to yourself.

“I have a party to attend today” Lloyd spoke while you two were having breakfast. Why was he informing you suddenly? He hardly ever told you his plans for the day. Was he- was he inviting you to go with him? You got lost in your thoughts and Lloyd tried to figure what you might be thinking.

“You’re invited as well but you don’t have to go, I’m don’t think you’ll like the company.” Oh, it wasn’t an invitation. You nodded. Of course Lloyd didn’t want you there. Why would he? He would probably be embarrassed if he was seen with you. The man was quite attractive, gorgeous beautiful ladies were desperate for him. God they’d probably lick his wounds if he just spared them a glance. There was no way he would want to be seen with you.

You let out an ‘okay’ and focused on eating. Lloyd could sense something going on in your head but he didn’t know you enough and shouldn’t assume anything. As usual he was finished eating before you and he left the table with his usual ‘thank you’.

Sleep felt like a distant thought that night. Your mind filled with thoughts of Lloyd and what he might be doing in the party. Did he have a mistress, or many? Was that another reason he didn’t want you at the party, would she be there?

You desperately tried to remove those thoughts from your mind and think about positive things, but you didn’t find any. Eventually your mind got tired of thinking and let you sleep.

The next morning you had breakfast alone. No sign of Lloyd. Later you got a call from him.

“I’ll come home early today, I have a meeting in the evening. I’ll have some people over. And I don’t want you to come down tonight when the meeting takes place, understood? Stay in your room.” And as soon as he was done speaking he hung up the phone.

The rest of the day went by quickly and soon it was evening. You had already prepared dinner so that you won’t have to go down later. Unfortunately you didn’t bring up any of that food to your room.

It was getting late and you were getting hungry. Maybe if you quickly grabbed some food it won’t be a problem. Besides, the meeting was taking place in the office, which was far away from the kitchen.

You silently went down and opened the door of the fridge, but before you could do anything, an angry, very angry Lloyd appeared behind you.

“Do you not know how to follow simple instructions?”

You kept quiet, looked away.

“Answer me. I don’t like repeating myself.”

“I’m sorry I just-“

“You’re sorry? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? I told you not to come down. It was a simple and clear instruction. Are you that dumb?”

And the angrier his tone got, the more you lost control of your emotions.

“I-“ You looked at him with teary eyes.

“Are you fucking crying right now? Is that supposed make me feel bad when you’re the one who didn’t follow instructions? You know what, I’m done talking to you. Go up to your room and cry all you want there. Just not in front of me. I have a meeting to get back to. I don’t have time-“ The tables turned, and it was Lloyd who couldn’t finish his sentence this time. You ran past him. Went up to your room as quickly you could and shut the door.

Lloyd sighed and went back to his meeting. You on the other hand cried your heart out. Everything piled up together and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. In that moment you truly realised how alone you were. You had no one, and your husband hated you.

When Lloyd’s meeting got over, he went to the kitchen. As soon as he opened the door of the fridge to get his dinner, he realised there was another container of food, resembling the one kept for him.

Oh fuck. You must had come down to get your dinner. Lloyd closed the fridge and made his way up to your bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he would do or say, but his feet were moving on their own towards your room, before his mind could process much.

As he stood outside your room, he could hear your cries. Lloyd didn’t feel much for people, but something about you was breaking all his walls and he was nervous about it. He barely knew you. Lloyd didn’t trust people easily. That didn’t mean it didn’t affect him at all to see you cry. To hurt you unintentionally. He was just trying to protect you from any kind of possible danger.

Lloyd realised that damage was already done and it would be better to give you space. That was how your husband always tried to make you feel comfortable, by giving you space. If he only knew it was having the exact opposite effect.

The next day you didn’t show up for breakfast. Lloyd found the kitchen empty as well as the dining table. He realised he had royally fucked up. Or maybe you were simply late? But you were never late.

Lloyd decided to wait for you. His day was comparatively less packed. An hour turned into two. Still there was no sign of you. With a deep sigh. Lloyd made his way up to your bedroom. He knocked on your door.

You woke up early in the morning after crying yourself to sleep last night. But you didn’t feel like leaving your room. You were still wrapped up in your blanket when you heard the knock on the door. Maybe Lloyd was angry because you didn’t make breakfast, but to be fair you didn’t really care about it at that moment. Dragging your feet towards the door, you opened it.

Your eyes were puffy due to crying. But you made sure not to drop a single drop of tear in front of your husband. No words came out of you, you didn’t have anything to say to be fair.

“You should get something to eat.” Lloyd managed to speak out, his voice had no anger. A little concern maybe but you were too upset to notice.

“I don’t feel like eating”

“But you-“ Lloyd cleared his throat “you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday” A humourless chuckle left your mouth.

“That doesn’t concern you does it? It’s not like you care.”

“Doesn’t matter if I care or not” Lloyd replied.

“You don’t care, just admit you don’t. Admit that you are embarrassed by me and that’s why you didn’t want anyone to see me. That’s why you were so adamant about me not going down wasn’t it? You are ashamed of me.” Your voice was slowly getting louder.

“You think I asked you to stay in your room because I’m ashamed of you? The people who were attending the meeting were dangerous people, bad people, I wanted you to stay here so that you were safe. I was trying to protect you.”

“Really? Everyone is afraid of you, what possibly could those people have done?”

“Well I’m not going to justify my decisions. It’s my responsibility to protect you and that’s what I was doing.”

“Fine, even if that was the case yesterday, what about the day before, when you didn’t want me to go to that party, huh? You even said I was invited, still didn’t take me with you, why? I’ll tell you, it’s because you are ashamed of me.”

“The only reason I didn’t take you with me is because I have heard you don’t like the mob world. I thought this marriage is already a burden for you and that I shouldn’t trouble you more by making you attend these parties.” Lloyd spoke loudly but only to make his point. But he wasn’t angry at you, he was angry at himself for making you feel that he might be ashamed of you. That wasn’t the case at all. Lloyd knew this marriage was just a deal, between two Mob families. Of course it wasn’t an ideal marriage, and whatever he had heard about you, from his different sources, was that you didn’t want to belong in this world of violence, but unfortunately you got married into it. So giving you space felt like he was doing you a favour.

Lloyd wasn’t always proud of everything he did but he knew it was necessary. That made him believe the less you knew about him, the less you would dislike him. He didn’t want his wife to dislike him, or worse, be scared of him. Hence pushing you away seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.

But in that moment, Lloyd realised keeping you at distance had a reverse effect than what he had intended.

“I’m not ashamed of you. I didn’t realise you felt like that.” You kept quiet, still looking away “Hey look at me.” And you did.

“There is actually another party tonight, I wasn’t gonna go anyway, but if you want to, we can both go together.” You weren’t really in the mood to attend a party, but if it was just crumbs you were gonna get as hopes of spending time with your husband, then you were gonna take them.

“Alright. We can go together.” Came your reply, and Lloyd gave you a nod.

“Let’s have breakfast now come on.”

“You haven’t had breakfast yet?” You asked and he shook his head.

“What do you wanna eat?“ You asked.

“I was thinking about cooking today. Do you like pesto eggs?”

For the first time in your married life, you didn’t feel that distant to your husband. It wasn’t like you both talked a lot, hardly in fact, still it felt like the air around you was a little more relaxed than usual.

The pesto eggs Lloyd made were truly very delicious.

“This is so good.” You commented without looking up from your plate. Lloyd smiled.

Your husband had some work to do, he went to complete them in his home office, while you decided to do something about your current cried out appearance. You were nervous about what to wear for the party.

Finally settled on a long black dress that wasn’t too tight, or too loose, just the perfect fit, most importantly one that looked pretty good, and made you feel comfortable.

When Lloyd saw you in that dress it was very hard for him to not keep staring at you. You always looked so cute but tonight, wow.

“You look nice.” You weren’t used to many compliments. And thus you didn’t really know how to respond to them and decided to stick with the classic response, ‘thank you’

“You look nice too.” It was true, actually Lloyd always looked so handsome. You would be lying if you said you haven’t stared at him from time to time when he wasn’t looking.

The car ride to the party was mostly silent. Both of you stole glances when you thought the other wasn’t looking. One time you caught Lloyd looking at you and you couldn’t help but feel shy under his gaze. Before getting out of the car Lloyd finally broke the silence.

“As I had said earlier, these people might not be the best company for you, but since we are here, let’s try to have a good time. But if something happens, if you feel uncomfortable or even boring, just let me know and we’ll leave. Alright?” You nodded as a smile appeared on your face. Maybe he did care about you.

The party was truly nothing you had ever seen or experienced. Mobsters, rich businessmen, influential people everywhere, not to forget the gorgeous women adding to the grandeur of the party. And the air carried a distinct smell of alcohol mixed with hints of danger.

It was all kind of overwhelming, and something about the party wasn’t sitting right with you, maybe simply because it was all new to you, and also because Lloyd rightly said those people weren’t definitely your ideal company.

Lloyd introduced you to some people before excusing himself when he was called by others. You tried roaming around but the way most people looked you up and down, scanning, wondering how you were chosen as the lucky one to be Lloyd Hansen’s wife made you feel uneasy.

You tried to ignore the whispers and poorly covered laughs, you even heard things like ‘her father must be very influential and rich if Lloyd married someone like her’ and ‘of course this marriage is nothing but a deal, look at them, they don’t fit together’

Their words finally got to you when your eyes began to moisten. You made your way towards the bar, but there were too many people present. Who were you kidding when you thought you can belong in this world? Most of those people were either too heartless, too misogynistic or too full of themselves. Definitely not your type of crowd. Those people only understood money and power.

Your eyes automatically started scanning for Lloyd. You didn’t have to look much, as the man appeared right beside you.

“What’s wrong?” His question made you look away to wipe off any sign of tears, his words still fresh in your mind which had made you decide never to cry in front of him.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. Did someone say anything to you?” His voice a mixture of concern and anger, anger which you could feel wasn’t directed towards you.

You shook your head. Technically it wasn’t a lie, no one said anything directly to you. Lloyd didn’t push you more on that topic. The way you avoided his eyes and fidgeted with your hands made it quite evident that no matter what happened, you didn’t feel comfortable in that atmosphere.

“We’re leaving, come on. This party is too boring anyway.”

The ride back home was almost nerve wracking. Would Lloyd be angry at you? He did say you probably won’t like the party but you still wanted to go. And now you’re leaving quite early. Although Lloyd hadn’t shown any signs of anger towards you, the slight tick in his jaw made you feel worried.

As soon as you were home, you decided it’s best to get to the point and apologise before things could go wrong any further.

“I’m sorry.” Your random apology caught Lloyd off guard.

“Huh? What are you apologising for?” His question made you question yourself. Exactly, why were you? Except the part that you didn’t take Lloyd’s suggestion and still went to the party, you didn’t exactly do anything wrong, did you?

“I- I don’t know. I’m sorry to disappoint you I guess.”

“You didn’t disappoint me.” Lloyd took a deep breath. “Can I ask you something, answer me honestly, why did you want to go to that party? It was clear you didn’t feel comfortable there, and that those assholes aren’t exactly your ideal type of people. You have grown up in a mob family, I’m sure you know how those people can get, and I’m also sure you are not like them. So why?” You gulped. Lloyd definitely knew more about you than you expected, or he very quickly had understood a lot about you.

“I get so alone in the house. I didn’t want to feel so lonely, I wanted to spend time with you.” You answered without beating around the bush. Not that it didn’t make you extremely nervous to say those words. A smile, no a smirk appeared on Lloyd’s face.

“Hmm so my pretty wife wanted attention from me? If that was the case you could have just asked for it” Lloyd came closer to you with each word. But then the playfulness of his tone shifted to something more caring “Did I actually make you feel so alone?” You nodded

“Truth be told, I felt giving you space was what you needed. I know it’s not easy giving up your life and start living with a stranger, that to with a mobster. It felt like the less you know about me the better it would be. But now, I guess it wasn’t such a good idea.” Lloyd confessed and gently held your hand. “I’ll try to do better from now on.”

“Lloyd, you know, I thought you kept your distance from me because of the way I look, many people have implied I’m not beautiful before, so I got used to it. And when you didn’t interact much with me, even though I tried, I thought that was the case.“

“Who told you you’re not beautiful? Did someone insult you? Give me names, you know I can-“ Your chuckle stopped him mid-speech. You couldn’t help it, you liked the way he suddenly got all protective over you.

“Listen, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and you have the most beautiful heart. Far too beautiful for an asshole like me.”

In that moment, he didn’t feel like Mobster Lloyd, but just your husband.

“Now coming back to the part where you wanted my attention,” Lloyd teased and you couldn’t help they way you felt warm. Your husband had a smirk on his face as he took in your form.

“How about you go get changed and come to my room?” A soft gasp escaped your lips on hearing that. Lloyd chuckled.

“Don’t worry I’m just inviting you to my room, not asking to have sex with you,” he paused and leaned closer to your ear “Unless you want to.” Shivers ran down your body, because of the proximity and his words. Involuntarily you bit your lip and tried to form a reply.

“No, um- not yet. I don’t even know you properly.”

“Well you don’t need to know someone to have sex with them wifey, hope you know that, hm?” Did the man know what he was doing to you? He definitely did, his cocky attitude and smirk made it clear.

“I know that, but you’re not just someone are you? You’re my husband, and I want to know you first.”

“You’re a smart girl, wifey. I like that.” A genuine smile graced Lloyd’s face “Alright then, freshen up and come to my room.” You nodded and quickly went to your room to get changed.

As you stood in front of Lloyd’s bedroom, you felt excited but also nervous, but before you could ponder much, Lloyd came out.

“Come on in” your husband held the door open for you. Lloyd’s room was not only big but matched his personality perfectly. “You look cute.” You weren’t sure what to wear so you decided to go with some comfy shorts and T-shirt.

“Thank you.” Lloyd motioned at the bed for you to get in.

“Make yourself comfortable.” You sat down on the bed while Lloyd lied down beside you.

“Are you planning to sleep like that?” he asked you with a chuckle. Well he had a point, so eventually you lied down beside him.

It all felt so foreign, and so weird to be sharing a bed with your husband more than a month later after getting married. You were feeling overwhelmed, happy and sad at the same time.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? Don’t think too much okay? Let’s focus on this moment.” Lloyd tried to be as sweet as he could. “I’m happy you are here. I don’t really know how to apologise because I haven’t had to till now, but I apologise for being rude, and hurting you.” You gave him a smile.

“Can we try to be there for each other from now on?” The sincerity in your tone and the soft expression on your face made Lloyd feel things he didn’t realise he could.

“Yeah, let’s try that.” His answer was good enough for you.

After taking your permission, your husband softly wrapped his arm around you. You felt protected. And not alone.

Lloyd leaned in and waited till you gave him a nod, then attached his lips to yours. This was different than the first kiss you shared together, on your wedding day. It was full of care and compassion and didn’t feel obligatory.

In that moment you were hopeful about the future and what it brought for the two of you. Maybe married life won’t be so bad.

“Hey, let’s get some sleep now okay? You’ve had a long day.” It was true, you could feel the exhaustion in your body. You gave him a nod.

“Although before we sleep, I have a very important question to ask” Lloyd asked seriously and it made you look at him curiously.

“What do you think about my Moustache?”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Beast Mode {One Shot}***

Florian Munteanu x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warning: Cursing, NSFW AT ALL, SMUTTTTTY, DO NOT READ AT WORK 

Summary: You’re in a relationship with Florian who has come to the end of his training period in prep for his long-anticipated and publicized match with “Elias “Cutthroat” Morales. The two of you haven’t seen each other in three months because of his trainer’s brutal training practices. You fly in a few hours before the match to wish him luck.

Note: I’ve said this before, I am terrified of this man but here we are. I don't know what that/this says about me but oh well.  This was not asked for at all. SMH

**I have never written Florian, I have no idea about his mannerisms, body language or personality. I am writing this because I cannot stop thinking about it and it is driving me nuts. So, excuse me if this does not fit him exactly. I hope you enjoy the terrifying ride. As always, thank you for reading!!!!

**Image not my own

 ***Not Edited/proofread***

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What training would restrict visits from his girlfriend for three months? His trainer. No matter how much he’d protested, begged and bargained he was not budging.

 “No visits until fight night. You need to stay objective and vicious.”

 It was logical but he missed the hell out of you. FaceTime calls were not cutting it anymore, especially when he saw your posts on social media. As an influencer, it was your job to play everything up but from what you posted it looked like he was out of sight and out of mind. It didn’t help matters the comments he’d read under your pictures. They were all from thirsty dudes who loved using their internet fingers to make it seem like they were big and bad. Little did they know he was big and nasty. He’d easily break every bone in their body over you. There was no limit to his possessiveness.

 “Focus!”

 The drill Sergeant like sound of his trainer’s voice snapped him right back to reality. He zeroed in on his sparring partner and bobbed and weaved around the ring evading punches and firing them right back. He’d trained like a beast for the last six months. The last three he’d been pushed past the brink of sanity. He was now so ready for this match that all he saw was him standing victorious covered in his opponent’s blood. Was it vicious? Yeah. Did he care? Nope.

 “Good. Yes! Don’t give him a chance to recover. Yes! Always in kill mode.”

He did one of his fancy moves spun behind his opponent then hammered his sides with everything he had. As they turned to him, he then delivered the final blow, a jaw crushing right hook. Everyone around him cheered and clapped. He ripped the gloves off his hands and checked on the guy he’d just knocked out. The doctors gave him a reassuring look to tell him he’d be fine. Taking their word for it he slipped out the ring and made it over to his trainer who had a pleased look on his face.

 “Morales has no idea what’s in store for him. You’ve shaved off eighteen seconds off of your recovery time, added a full twelve minutes to your stamina, you’re faster than I’ve ever seen you and not to mention that mean in you is at the right level to blow. This match is yours.”

 He felt it too. He felt like he was in the best physical shape of his life. He was focused and had his eye on the prize. The only thing missing was you.

 “Hit the showers, get back to the hotel and I’ll send over the massage therapist to loosen up those muscles and have a good meal. Tomorrow you go from sixty-eight and ten to sixty-nine and ten!”

 As he packed up his bag he nodded he liked the sound of that. Deciding to just grab a shower at the hotel he ducked into his waiting car and stretched out in the backseat. He was ready for a little break. At the thought of that, he thought of you. he took out his phone and found your contact to see your recent message from last night, a picture of yourself cuddled in the bed of the house you shared together. He could tell you weren’t wearing anything and every muscle in his body flexed aggressively.

 “Push it away, focus,” he chanted to himself. It was a chant whenever he felt biology taking over. He was but a man.

 MSG: I’m sorry I missed this last night. I had to be up for my last practice. Don’t be mad.

 A few minutes passed before a response came in.

 MSG Y/N: It’s okay. I get it, Big Nasty has to be aggressive, be be aggressive.

 He snorted.

 MSG: Really?

MSG Y/N: I’m your biggest cheerleader babe. I miss you.

 Your words felt good to know. Usually, when he went into disappear training mode your relationship struggled. You wanted him around to share everyday things with, to be with but he wasn’t anywhere there. You said sometimes you felt like you were single and hated it but maybe you should go act like it too. It was the root of many arguments between the two of you, but neither of you ever let go.

 MSG: I miss you so fucking much it’s insane.

MSG Y/N: How much?

MSG: I can’t even use words.

MSG Y/N: Then what would you use to show me?

 Again, his muscles tensed and all he could think about was showing you how much he missed you. In seconds he was hard.

  “Fuck!”

 He resisted the urge to palm his length and tried to focus on his breathing.

 MSG: Chill, babe. I’m already hard.

MSG Y/N: Really? Show me. Please. I haven’t seen a dick in months.

 He could hear the whine in your words. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he did it anyway. Slipping his sweats a few inches lower he allowed his hardness to flop out. He was getting harder. He took a picture of himself and sent it to you.

 MSG Y/N: Damn baby. It’s beautiful. I miss it so much.

MSG: He misses you.

 A groan escaped him and showed him how close he was to losing himself. Slipping his meat back inside his sweats he sat up and worked to shrug off the arousal you’d brought on him.

 MSG: When this is done let’s take a trip. Anywhere you wanna go.

MSG Y/N: Okay. Let’s do it.

 You were always down to indulge his love of traveling. He worked hard and took a lot for the job and liked to unwind just as hard. As he approached the hotel he let you know his intentions for the night before ending your conversation.

 When he made it up to his room he wasted no time getting in the shower and letting the hot water work magic on his muscles. You were still on his mind and made it even more difficult to get through without touching himself. He caught himself three times. The first he didn’t even realize it until he grunted out your name. He looked down to find his cock in his hand. The second time he caught himself before he gripped his length and the third he stopped the thought.

 He didn’t know what the hell had come over him, but he had better find a way to get a grip especially this close to the match. His coach and trainer were both unanimously against any sort of pleasure while training and before a match. They didn’t care about the toll it took on his relationship, they cared about the end goal. He’d done this before and each time you were a trooper with accepting it, but this felt different. This time was harder for you, harder for him too.

 When he got out of the shower his meal was waiting. He settled in front of the tv and watched videos of Elias Morales fight. This was his pre-match routine the biggest plate of pasta and studying his opponent. You didn’t have a record like his by just floating through matches. He was meticulous if nothing else, he trained, plotted, and prepared then executed.

 An hour later he got a message letting him know his massage therapist would be there soon. Pausing the latest video, he stripped down and went over to the massage table and laid there waiting. As he waited he continued the video. He was so focused on it he didn’t hear when the masseuse entered. It was only when he saw her feet it registered.

 “I think deep Swedish should work tonight,” he suggested. She didn’t answer. He was about to turn around when he felt the hot oil drip across his back. The next thing he felt were small hands begin their work of rubbing him down and kneading out knots.

 Every night this week there had been a different masseuse, a different one he had to tell just what he liked. As he was about to open his mouth to let her know he liked some pressure along his spine but not at the tail of his spine she beat him to it by doing just that. A long moan slipped from him, it felt good. The masseuse continued her work and expertly kneaded his back muscles with the right amount of pressure and the right alternating techniques. It was like they knew just what he liked. Small hands went lower to his waist and gently massaged him there. The next place he felt her hands were his calves, she squeezed as her hands slid down to his ankles.

 “God yes!” His body was quickly relaxing.

 Thirty minutes more found him completely relaxed with muscles that didn’t hold an ounce of tension in them.

 “Turn.” Not paying attention he flipped over to find a hot towel drop across his face.

 “Breathe it in, eucalyptus, rose, lavender, coconut oil, and lemon. The right recipe for relaxation and optimal pore health.” He laid there and inhaled the aromas coming from the towel and found himself relaxing even more. This was almost just what he needed. It would have to do.

 The same small hands began rubbing his chest down spending focus on his pec muscles before slowly gliding over his abs. This is where the hands slowed even more. There was no massage patterns to her movements now. When he began to move to take the towel off she moved her hands to his thighs and forcefully massages into them. It was enough to throw him off. Another twenty minutes passed before he heard a feminine moan in the air, a moan that did not belong to him. Quickly he ripped the towel off his face and sat up to see you standing beside him.

 “Y/N?”

 “Surprise!” Seconds passed before he pulled you into his arms and hugged you.

 “Oh my god, what’re you doing here?”

 “I missed you like really missed you. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow night. I needed to see you, baby.” He smiled and pulled her back into his arms. He felt the same way.

 “I missed you too. Shit, this one was worse than all the others before,” he expressed as you pressed your forehead to his.

 “It was. I hate this, but I love you so much.” Your lips met for a sweet peck, but one peck turned to two and three and before either of you knew it you were full-on making out. You moaned on his mouth and his hardness instantly returned with a vengeance. You bit his bottom lip and softly raked your nails up and down his back.

 “Don’t do that babe, please.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “If Hugo found you here he’d be so pissed.”

 “I don’t care. I’ve followed every rule for two years. I’ve never protested. I’m protesting now. I want to see my man.” He smiled, he loved hearing you call him that. When you introduced him he always felt cocky when you called him your man. He didn’t know why.

 “You’ve been a good girl,” he said as he stroked your hair down your back.

 “I’ve been such a good girl, baby. What do I get as a reward?”

 A smile spread across his face and every nasty thing flashed through his head.

 “What do you want, love?”

 You tipped your tongue out and licked across his lips then softly nibbled his bottom lip all while staring in his eyes.

 “You. I want you, baby. I always want you—just you.”

 He didn’t need to hear anything else. He crashed his lips to yours and took control of the kiss. He only intended for it to be a kiss, only intended for it to go so far. After a few minutes, he stood and lifted you into his arms. When you wrapped your legs around his waist his body made the decisions from then on. He turned and dropped you onto the massage table and quickly pulled off the dress you wore. He lost it when he realized you had on his favorite colored lace.

 “Fuck!”

 You spread your legs wider and bit your bottom lip. You were giving him access and permission. He couldn’t think, any possibility for logical thought was gone. He kissed you briefly then dropped his lips to your neck and sucked and teased the skin there. He knew you liked when he did it. You smelled incredible, a scent he hadn’t smelled in months, a scent that was making it impossible to control himself. His lips moved lower over your skin and latched onto your lace-clad breast. He sucked and bit your nipple through the material and enjoyed every mewl that fell from you.

 When your hands hugged his head to you he sucked more forcefully.

 “Yes baby. Oh god yes.”

 He wrestled with the hooks of your bra and normally this would have been an easy task, but right now he didn’t have the patience it required. Gripping the material, he pulled it apart popping the clasps but freeing your breasts. He cupped them in his hands and feasted on each pert nipple for several long minutes. When he crouched between your legs he pulled your ass to the edge and stared at you.

 “Don’t stop baby, please. Put your name on it.”

 He growled out and grabbed a fistful of your underwear and ripped it clear off of you. Your moan of approval sent him over the edge of control. His lips connected with your sex and sucked. His intention was not to go slow, not to tease and not to waste any time. He needed this and he knew you did too. He slurped and devoured your flesh and relished in the unique taste of you. He’d missed your taste, missed the sounds you made when he did just what he knew would drive you crazy, missed how you reacted to him like a flame. At the root of it, he missed you. Your screamed signaled your orgasm. He was pleased you’d found your first release, but he had plans for many more.

 He stood but before he could sheath himself you slipped off the massage table and to your knees. You pulled the towel from around his waist and came eye to eye with what you wanted. The look on your face spoke of how ravenous you were. You lowered your mouth over his length and took him fully into your mouth as far as he could go. He growled out again and held your head in place. His hips moved thrusting in and out of your mouth slowly at first but when goosebumps broke out across his skin he sped up. soon you were gagging and slurping with every snap of his hips. You were always good at swallowing every inch of him. Before he lost it he pulled you up and threw you over the table with your ass poking out to him.

 They say the first touch is the sweetest but for him, the first feel of you around him was almost too much for him. He hovered over your back and letting the shake go through him. With each inch he slipped inside of you, you clenched around him. With a few more inches to go, he slammed into you making you scream out.

 “Fuck Flo!” Your body shook through its second release. He was just getting started.

 From the start he set the only pace he could, the only pace his body could tolerate—fast. He slammed into you with bruising thrusts that had purpose. He had to remind you who was daddy, and who truly owned this pussy.

 “Fuck Y/N, you’re so fucking tight. Yes! This pussy missed daddy?” You nodded but he wanted to hear the words.

 “Tell me. Did my pussy miss me?”

 “Fuck, yes, it missed you, daddy. It missed you so much.” He pushed your head lower with one hand and gripped your hip with the other then jackhammered into you. your screams were loud, but soon they turned raspy and desperate. You were always the only one that could take all of him. The only one who came close to crippling him with pleasure.

 He grabbed your thighs and twisted you around, so you laid on your back with your thighs spread wide. God, he loved this view. He pulled out and sucked on your clit for a few moments before he tasted you as you came right in his mouth. You wrapped your thighs around his head and rode the wave of your third orgasm. When he tried to untangle himself, you weren’t having it. He almost laughed, you wanted to get rough. Forcefully he obliged, pulling your legs open, pressing them back to the table. He lined up his throbbing cock with your core and locked eyes with you. From the look in your eyes, he knew you knew what he intended to do.

 “Whose pussy is this Y/N?”

 “Yours baby.”

 “Whose?”

 “Yours daddy. Fuck this pussy—own this pussy.”

He snapped his hips forward and connected your bodies to the hilt. He could feel every inch of you inside and the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head you loved it. From the pace and force of his thrusts, the massage table shook as if it were on its last legs. He didn’t care. He was voracious.

 “This pussy is mine, mine, mine, mine!” his only focus was finding that release, he knew he’d taken care of you. Changing the angle, he held you, he turned you to your side and held your leg in the air but continued plowing into you.

 He wanted to come so bad, but he couldn’t. It was something he’d experienced before. He was so backed up that physically and psychologically he wasn’t in sync. It was normal for training and competing and normal for the first few weeks after. He held tightly to you and held you in the air and continued pumping into you.

 “Shit, shit!”

 “How does this dick feel baby?”

 “So fucking good.”

 You kissed him and began bouncing on him using his body as the anchor. He groaned and leaned against whatever he found close by and allowed you to fuck him. His moans and grunts fell from him one after the other and he didn’t care if you knew just what you were doing to him. It was never a secret. After a few minutes, he rose his hips up meeting you halfway.

 “Oh my god! I’m gonna come, baby, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming!” He loved hearing those words. Using both hands he held you still and plowed into you and chased the release he’d denied himself for six months. The closer he got the louder he was, the louder he was the harder he fucked you. It was all a chain reaction that fueled and fed you both.

 In a matter of minutes, he was having tunnel vision and knew he was close. He turned and pressed you against what he thought was a wall but was really one of the floor to ceiling windows. He didn’t care enough to stop. You helped him and rode onto him as he thrusted. It didn’t take long before you came again and pulled his long overdue orgasm from him. He shouted loudly as he came and filled you up with every last drop of the love he’d been saving for you.

 A few minutes later when you both had come down a little from your release, he realized though he’d come he was still rock hard. He needed more. When you realized it, your eyes filled with excitement and a hint of tease.

 “Can you take what you’ve unleashed?”

 “I can take this dick anytime, anywhere, for however long daddy.” His smile was wide. He didn’t expect anything less from you.

 “You’re daddy’s nasty girl. Let’s see if you remember how nasty daddy likes it.”

 “Beast mode daddy?”

 “Make sure you can take it.” You didn’t answer, instead, you kissed him and clenched around him giving the only answer he needed. It was going to be a long night.

TagList:

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[yespolkadotkitty]

Pero Tovar x mixed race OFC, Isla Han

Thank you @heatherbel for the beta!

Welcome to my next crazy adventure, a Romancing the Stone/Kate and Leopold mash-up. Big love to the really excellent @fleetwoodmactshirts for the original idea and planting the seed for the romanting the stone twist.

There might be quite a lot of British humour in this? Just know that Manuel is a character from the cult classic Fawlty Towers.

Chapter One

Present Day

ISLA: C’mon Lau. Put me out of my misery. Just tell me he won’t be at my office this year.

LAURA: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

ISLA: Don’t pick now to start being modest. At least get someone actually Spanish this time. Last year’s effort was way more Manuel than Antonio Banderas. Just saying. 

LAURA: And yet you insist that you weren’t into that…?

ISLA: He was dedicated, I’ll give you that much. My editor wasn’t impressed when he started to strip in full view of the conference room, though.

LAURA: He was worth the money, all right. Should’ve got someone to record it for Youtube.

I snorted and tossed my phone on the sofa. My birthday was tomorrow. Which meant, just like every year since I’d started my bestselling series of novels, I’d get a visit from a guy all trussed up like my swarthy Spanish mercenary, Alejandro.

It had been five years and my friends - Laura was the ringleader - never failed to embarrass me. All the guys they hired were complete bollocks. Dressed in cheap party-shop chainmail and leathers. 

Some of them tried a Spanish accent (always terrible). 

Others stripped (even worse). 

Last year, poor Manuel had done both, exceeding my expectations, and tripped over the chainmail around his legs on his way out, yelping loudly as he fell face first into a waste paper basket.

At least everyone else had been entertained.

I closed my eyes and leaned back on the sofa. It hadn’t escaped my notice that I’d managed to write the man of my dreams into books that had sold well all over the world, and yet I couldn’t find an actual man who held my interest much longer than the time it took for them to say “what you drinking tonight, love?”

It was probably just as well. I’d rather live in my delicious fictional world of Alejandro and his warrior Princess bride as they traversed the globe, saving others in need and having sex on any surface that stayed still for longer than five minutes.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and opened my eyes. My gaze caught on the poster of the cover of my first novel, The Spaniard. I’d had the image blown up to A1 and framed after it had sold a million copies and the artist’s rendition of Alejandro had stolen my breath. He looked the perfect combination of menacing and beautiful, his full lower lip creased in the centre, like the angel who made him had pressed a thumb there to mark a job well done. His inky hair curled, tousled, over his forehead and his chestnut eyes, one marked with a long, wicked scar, blazed out from the page. Little wonder people had been compelled by him and his broad-shouldered form in the layers of chainmail and leathers.

The footsteps came closer and my brother Paul poked his head around the door. “I’m off out. Want anything from Tesco’s?”

“No, thanks.” I did in fact, want some milk, but when Paul said he was going out he could be gone for ten minutes or five hours. God knew what he did when he went on these little sojourns.

“Okay, text me if you change your mind. See you later.”

“See you.”

I listened to him clatter back down the stairs of our shared townhouse and a minute later, the front door slammed shut.

My parents would be appalled if they knew I essentially let Paul sponge off me. But I was lucky; I could afford it. And Paul had been my rock in our early years, when our Dad had several nervous breakdowns and was sectioned. I’d have been lost without him.

Besides, I didn’t like rattling around this big house by myself. There was only so much TV I could watch, and the bright lights of London held limited appeal after a few years.

LAURA: So... will you record the next guy? I mean, not that I’ve hired anyone.

LAURA: Yet.

LAURA: Please?

I laughed, decided not to reply, and instead got up off the sofa and climbed the stairs to my office to continue work on my edits.

*****

London, 1269

“I should have known bringing her here was a mistake,” William Garin groused as he and a fellow mercenary, Pero Tovar, crouched outside their somewhat ramshackle lodgings, waiting for a man to exit.

Pero snorted. “Bringing a woman into any situation is playing with fire, no? Someone always gets burned.”

William sighed, shifting position behind the large hay bales. “Not my sister. I brought her here to protect her from the kind of gobshites we have in Ireland. Not to have her catch the eye of another.”

Pero drew out a strip of dried meat from his belt pouch, offered it to William. The Irishman shook his head.

“Suit yourself, amigo.”

“He’ll be coming out any minute, and you’re eating?”

Pero scoffed. “I can eat and fight at the same time, cabrón.” He finished the dried meat, and took out another strip.

William shook his head, but he was smiling. “Do all Spaniards eat this much?”

“They do when their Irish comrades starve them, and make them sit for hours behind stinking bales of hay to protect their virgin sister, si?” 

William clapped him over the head. “I - look alive, Tovar.”

The door to the small, two-storey thatched house opened. Catriona, William’s sister, a comely redhead, peeked outside, then ducked back in.

A tall man, pale-skinned, thick dark hair with a closely trimmed beard, exited, then briefly doubled back to kiss a smiling Catriona.

“Bastard,” William gritted out.

“Patience, amigo,” Pero cautioned. “We see where he goes, and then we plan.” He shoved William’s head down behind the hay bale, letting him up when it was safe. “And now we follow.”

“Eejit.” But William followed Pero’s steady lead.

They tracked the man through the dirty London streets, narrowly avoiding a fishwife emptying a chamber pot out of a high window. Two girls half Pero’s height wheeled a cart of freshly baked pies down the narrow alley opposite, the scents mingling with the more unpleasant stink of everyday life.

The stranger turned, and Pero yanked William behind a rickety butcher’s cart, crouching and ignoring the stocky man’s “oi!”

“He’s stopped looking,” William confirmed, and they tracked him down nearer the big river that snaked through the dogpile of the city. 

Pero’s attention was briefly snagged by an enterprising young pickpocket, currently targeting a well to do merchant admiring trinkets with what was likely his mistress. The boy caught his eye, hesitated. Pero winked. Who was he to cut the boy off in his prime?

The stranger disappeared into the mouth of what looked to be an abandoned hovel, and William and Pero darted after him on feet made silent by years of training.

The hovel was dark inside, dank. A light blinked on in the gloom; like no light Pero had ever seen the like of.

“What is this witchcraft?” He muttered.

“Don’t dally, man!” William tugged Pero after him, rushing to grab their quarry.

The Irishman tripped, caught the surprised stranger by the collar - and then everything went black.

******

“Tovar! Tovar!”

Pero opened his eyes, groggy. He lay on a smooth, flat surface. Not unlike the floors of the fine throne rooms of kings he’d served during his years as a sellsword. He smoothed a hand over the unblemished ground, blinked.

“Snap out of it, man!” William grabbed him, shaking roughly. “Follow the bastard!”

A terrible banging, drums perhaps, assaulted Pero’s ears from somewhere outside their strange, smooth grey prison. A pile of rubble was stacked in one corner. Crude art littered the walls; also the same luxurious smoothness there.

“William - where are we, amigo?”

But the Irishman was preoccupied. “Do you not see he’s getting away?”

Pero climbed to his feet, his head aching. Mierda, it was so bright here.

William was already giving chase, so Pero followed his friend as best he could with his head spinning from wherever they’d followed the stranger to - the stranger woo-ing Catriona. Sweet Catriona, who he’d seen grow from a child.

William shoved a rickety door open, and all at once a pillar of light hit them. William stumbled, falling back on to Tovar, who hit the ground with a grunt.

“Ay, cabrón!”

“What in Heaven’s name-?”

They gaped through the doorway. A huge metal pole grew from the earth, a bright light at its apex, streaming down on the ground. Some feet away sat what looked to be a small fort on wheels. But wheels unlike any Pero had ever seen before. The unholy, piercingly bright light shone into the wheeled fort, illuminating a chair inside. 

Used for torture, perhaps.

“Where are we, amigo?” he whispered again, to William.

“We’ll make enquiries later. For now, the bastard’s getting away. Come on!”

“Of course, amigo, where you go, I follow,” Pero muttered. 

But what other choice did he have?

They ran out of the door, towards the wheeled fort of torture, and into the unknown.

Tagging the Pedro pals: @thirstworldproblemss @jaime1110 @chews-erotically @songsformonkeys @alwaysbethewest @beccaplaying @nelba @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @gamingaquarius @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @soldade @agirllovespasta @pajamasecrets @thegreenkid @cryptkeepersoul @kindablackenedsuperhero @littlemissthistle @alienprincesspoop @keeper0fthestars @f0rever15elf @mrsparknuts @abuttoncalledsmalls @mrschiltoncat @thempiregroovy @dornish-queen  @mourningbirds1 @a-seeker-of-imagination​ @knittingqueen13​ @ mstgsmy​  @roxypeanut​ @poenariuniverse​

[canumoveurseatup-no]

Puffballs (Bucky x Black!Stark!Reader)

A/N: This was inspired by my little sister because I had to do her hair while my mom and step dad were out and she said “I wish my hair was thinner” and it honestly made me a little sad because in a world where black girls have a hard time accepting parts of themselves that society judges, it’s important to instill the value that beauty isn’t just pin straight hair or light skin. So enjoy.

Summary: You and Bucky’s daughter starts to have some self identity and self-image issues at a young age. Bucky lets his daughter know there is nothing wrong with what she was given.

Pairings: Bucky x Black!Stark!Reader, Bucky x Black!Daughter (parental of course)

WC: 4.6K

Warnings: Uh, a little angsty, self image issues, I think that’s it. Then fluff!

REQUESTS AND TAGS ARE OPEN!!!!

Please leave feedback! Comments, reblogs and likes mean so much <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky sat in the common area of the compound with you guys’ daughter, Annalise, with the rest of the team. You were away on a solo mission and Annalise had begged Bucky to see her aunts and uncles at the compound, he couldn’t deny the six year old’s puppy eyes.

They all sat there watching Paw Patrol as she, Tony, Sam, Steve and Natasha sang the theme song. She had everyone wrapped around her finger, but those four the most. Especially Tony, he loved his granddaughter to death.

“Papa, can I play with your hair while I watch Paw Patrol, please?,” she sung sweetly.

Bucky slid in the floor in front of her and leaned himself back on the couch, “Of course, honeybee”

“Yay!,” she squealed.

She took out her barrettes, hair scrunchies, brushes and combs ready to play hairdresser. She reveled in the way she could comb and brush straight through her papa’s without having to add some stuff to it like mama does to hers. She loved the way he could sleep on it without needing a headscarf and bonnet.

“Can I give you puffballs like mine?” she asked. She got her scrunchies ready to place them in his hair along with butterfly clips.

“You sure can,” he smiled up at her. She giggled back at him and went back to multi-tasking between watching Paw Patrol and doing her papa’s hair.

“Uncle Sammy reminds me of Skye,” she blurts out. 

On the screen she watched as the puppy named Skye spread out her wings and started flying around to help the community of Adventure Bay.

“Why is that, Anna?,” Sam asks.

“Uh, ‘cause she flies around like you, duh. Her gimmick is just cuter,” she stuck her tongue out at him.

“How do you even know what ‘gimmick’ means?,” Sam laughed at the little you.

“Poppop Tony says it a lot. He says, “everyone has a damn gimmick nowadays and I’m sick of it’“ she mocked Tony perfectly.

Tony widened his eyes, he was not expecting the child to repeat him.

“Language,” Bucky glared at her and she pouted.

“You sound like uncle Stevie” she rolled her eyes.

“Watch it,” Steve warned playfully.

She gigged and turned back to her client to finish.

She put his hair in two identical pigtails and did her best to make it puff up like hers. She brushed it up as much as she could but it just wouldn’t stay. She did her best to keep from getting frustrated with herself. She did what her mama always told her in cases of her fast impending frustration, take a few minutes and breathe before finishing.

Once Annalise felt like she had calmed down enough, she went back and tried again but nothing was working! She felt tears well up in her eyes and just sat there staring at the back of her dad’s head not knowing what to do.

She looked around the room and saw everyone was really engrossed into Paw Patrol. She eyed everyone to see whose hair would work better to make look like hers, but everyone in the room had hair like her papa. Uncle Sammy and Rhodey wouldn’t even work, they had no hair.

She reached up to touch her hair and then reached out with her other hand to touch Bucky’s. The textures far from each other, everyone had hair like him, she wanted hair like him. It was easy to work with, all the little cartoon characters on TV even seemed to have hair like his too. Why not her?

She sighed and put her hair stuff away. Annalise felt her face growing hot and her face scrunching up as she started to cry. She removed herself from the couch and rushed out of the common area.

“Anna?,” Bucky called out but that just sped up her pace.

Everyone looked around in confusion as Annalise never stormed off like that.

He went after her and found her in her playhouse in her playroom. She had her back to the door but he could still see her little form through the window.

“Honeybee, what happened?,” 

“Go away!,” she called out, “You and mama said when I’m in a mood to step away and take some time and space for myself. You’re keeping that from happening.” 

Bucky was at a loss for words. He hated seeing his daughter upset like this. This normally only happened when her mama wouldn’t take her to the park then to get ice cream, or the time Y/N wouldn’t get Anna a dog, or the time she found out she could only lift heavy stuff like him but not turn into a snake like her Uncle Loki. All the other times this happened, you were there to calm him down and keep him away until she came to you guys ready to talk.

But you weren’t here and Bucky felt the heat and tingles of anxiousness run down his body as he didn’t know what to do. Without you there to pull him away, he didn’t know what to do, he wanted to comfort his little honeybee.

“Baby-,”

“Papa, go!!,” she hit the fake window and he saw the sadness in her big brown eyes, “Just go,” she whimpered.

Bucky didn’t want to go, he wanted to sit right here and wait until Anna came out the door and crawled into his arms. But he heard your voice in his head, give her time.

He huffed and reluctantly got up to leave, he stood in the doorway and heard her sniffle and hiccup. He closed his eyes and shook his head as he left. He knew she would come to him, she always does but he hated waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She okay?,” Wanda asked.

“She’s bawling her eyes out and won’t tell me why,” He hung his head, the pigtails swinging with his head. The image would have been funny if he wasn’t so bothered.

“Crying?” everyone says in unison.

”Why would she be crying?,” Tony stood up quickly, ready to comfort his granddaughter.

“If I knew I wouldn’t be here freaking out,” Bucky’s tone was clipped and he didn’t mean for it to be, he just took his daughter and her feelings seriously.

“Y/N has this rule where if Annalise gets frustrated or upset then she needs to take some time to herself to calm down so she doesn’t lash out on anyone. To come to us when she’s ready,” Bucky shook his head and sat back in the chair staring at his hands in his lap

“Usually Y/N is here to keep me from hovering over Anna while she’s calming down but she’s not and my daughter is bawling and I’ve never been alone with her breaking down like this and I feel like I’m failing her. I know she’s just doing what she was taught and will come to me later like she always does but I want to be comforting my daughter now. I want to know what’s wrong now, so I can fix it. I’ve never been alone when this happens, I feel lost,”  He huffs as he finishes his rant and Tony claps a hand on his shoulder before sitting down beside him.

“You’re not alone, Bucky. We’re here to help you. Y/N did the same thing when she was younger, it helped her harness and channel her emotions. That’s all she wants for Anna,” Tony reassured him.

“Everything is going to be okay, Buck” Steve smiled at his bestfriend.

“I just don't understand why she’d run off crying. We were having a good time,”

“That is weird. She never gets upset unless provoked.” Bruce points out.

“Which one of you did it?” Nat and Thor said at the same time, eyeing everyone around the room ready to sock it to whoever dare hurt their dear Anna.

“Here’s the little one of the hour,” Vision’s voice catches everyone’s attention.

Annalise comes in with her stuffed bee and crawls on the chair and watches the TV as if nothing happened.

She felt her family staring at her before turning and questioning them, “Why are y’all staring at me?,” 

“Why were you so upset, honey? You lashed out on me for a second and I was worried,”

“Hormones,” she shrugged.

Everyone looked at the six year old with scrunched up faces. Hormones?

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you can use that excuse yet,” Wanda arched a brow at the smart little girl.

“Why not? I hear you, mama, aunt Nat and nana Pepper use it all the time,” She looks at Wanda with furrowed brows.

“That’s because we’re different. We’re a lot bigger,” Natasha explains.

“Well...,” Annalise thinks of another excuse to make, “I’m just a kid. We cry all the time.” her words were hurried yet unsure.

“I know that’s not what’s wrong. Can you please talk to me.” Bucky felt like he was gonna explode. He hated the idea of not being there for his daughter. He felt like she didn’t trust him enough to tell him.

“Papa... I will tell you when I’m ready. Please let it go,” she huffed and played with her stuffed bee’s antennas.

Bucky looked at Tony sorrowfully. Tony just told Bucky not to think about it too much, that she will come to him when she’s ready, but now is not that time.

He hated waiting, he wanted to fix the problem now. He wanted to help his honeybee. He would call Y/N, but her talking time was limited due to the mission.

“Okay, I understand”

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

Bucky was getting Annalise ready for bed. He sat with his back against the headboard with her sitting between his legs, her attention on the TV as she watched a documentary on dinosaurs.

He sat with a spray bottle, curl crème and a wide tooth as he did three strand twists in his daughter’s hair. He adored her curls. The way the perfect spirals were shiny and springy, he just wanted to play with it all day like she did with his. He loved doing her hair, something she obviously got from you and he could not get enough of it. You and Bucky always took turns styling your daughter’s hair and most times he argued with you because he saw this cute kid’s hair style while shopping in the beauty store and wanted to do it.

With you being away, he had free reign and wouldn’t have to worry about trying to argue with you about it.

While detangling a section of her hair, he caught a knot that had Anna whimpering in pain, “Ow, papa!,”

“Sorry, honeybee,” He sprayed more of his water and leave in conditioner mixture in her and worked the knot out.

“I wish my hair was thinner,” she mumbled quckly.

For Bucky’s senses to be enhanced, he actually didn’t quite catch what she said but he could hear her distasteful tone.

“What was that?,” He leaned to the side to see her face better.

“Nothing, papa. Just tired. How much more do we have to go?,” 

Her question caught Bucky off guard. Anna never questions how long until her hair is finished. She sits there as calm as the night sea, just letting her parents do her hair.

“Uh, not too much. Then we’ll get you in bed, okay?,”

“Okay,” she answered. her shoulders sagged as he finished his current twist. Ten more and he’s done. With his daughter all washed up and ready for bed, he puts her bonnet on and switches the light off.

“Goodnight, honeybee,” He kissed her forehead and held her tight against him as she hummed a goodnight. It took him a while to get to sleep, he was worried about his daughter. But your voice of reason was always there in the back of his mind to calm him down.

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

When Annalise made sure her papa was good and well asleep, she slipped out of his arms and found herself treading to the common area. It was quiet throughout the compound, except for the TVs heard from the others’ rooms.

She sat on the couch and looked around the area and sighed.

“FRIDAY?,” She called out. 

“Hi little Stark,” the woman’s voice low since it was night time.

“It’s Stark-Barnes, FRIDAY,” the six year old giggled.

“I know. But your grandpa wanted me to address you as the little Stark. He said little Stark-Barnes didn’t have the right ring to it,”

“Anything can have the right ring to it if you don't overthink it,”

“Try telling him that,” the AI laughed, “What can I do for you, Annalise?,”

“I have a question,” She whispered.

“Go ahead,”

“Is papa really my papa?,” the little girl finally asked.

FRIDAY took a minute to answer. Why would she ask such a thing?

“Of course he is. Records prove it. Why that question?,” 

“If he’s really my papa then why don’t I have his hair? And if pop pop is really my pop pop why doesn’t mama have hair like him?,” such a curious little bean, but there was nothing wrong with it.

“Because your mommy’s mom’s, your other nana’s, genes were more dominant than your pop pop’s. Same thing with you. Your mommy’s genes were more dominant than your daddy’s. Everyone has certain characteristics that come from one parent and other characteristics that come from the other. That’s what makes you who you are. That’s what makes you unique, Anna,”

“Papa’s hair is better than mine,” she cried.

“Don’t cry, Anna. Not it’s not,” 

“Yes it is. It doesn’t get tangles in it like mine. It doesn’t take forever to do like mine, it doesn’t get poufy when it gets wet like mine. I wish I had his hair. Everyone else here has hair like him,” she tried to reason.

“Annalise, listen to me,” FRIDAY gently spoke, “Just because everyone else has a certain hair type doesn’t make them better than you. Your hair fits you. It’s beautiful on you. There’s nothing wrong with your hair. Look at your mommy for example,” 

Annalise took in FRIDAY’s words and nodded her head, 

“Thank you for talking to me FRIDAY. I would have talked to papa but I feel like he’d be mad at me,” she got a blanket and curled up on the couch.

“He could never be mad at you,” 

“Can you read me a story, please?,” she wrapped the blanket around self ad pulled a pillow under her little head.

“I sure can,” FRIDAY replied lightly

Annalise went to sleep that night hearing a beautiful story about a young black girl who fell in love with her hair. She knows this story, her mama has read it to her before.

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

Bucky woke up the next morning and his arms were empty, Annalise rarely ever wakes up before him and when she does she stays cuddled up to him until he wakes up.

“Honeybee?,” he called out, but got no response back.

“He checked the bathroom and found nothing there. He ran down the hallway calling out for his honeybee but she was nowhere to be found.

“Annalise?!,” He ran into the kitchen, No one was there and he started to freak out. He checked the playroom, it was left the same as yesterday, all tidy and empty.

“Fuck,” he swore to himself. He ran into the living room and his heart almost burst out of his chest. He found her lying there sound asleep with her stuffed bee.

“Oh my God,” he cried.

He picked her up as she stirred awake and held her tight. 

“You scared the hell out of me, Anna,” He kissed her face repeatedly and wiped his tears, “What are you doing out here?,” 

“I dunno, I think I sleepwalked,” she muttered into his neck as she hugged him back.

“Anna, you don’t sleep walk,”

“I got thirsty. When I got my water I didn't wanna wake you up so I stayed out here,” she said.

“You don’t have to be afraid to wake me up, honeybee. As long as I know where you are so you don’t give me another heart attack,”

“I’m sorry, papa,”

“It’s okay. Mama comes back today.” he rocked his daughter back and forth.

“Good. She’s been gone for a long time,” Annalise yawned

It’s really only been like four days, but any time without her mother is a long time to her.

“Let’s get you ready for the day and then I’ll make you breakfast, yeah?,” he softly patted her bum and walked with her to the bathroom. He brushed her teeth and gently washed her face with a clean, warm rag. He got her dressed a cute set of yellow overalls with a black long sleeve turtleneck underneath. He called her back in the bathroom and took her bonnet off. He lightly oiled her scalp and decided to leave the twists in for another day before taking them out that way her curls would be more defined. But he did a half up, half down look on her that way the front wouldn’t be in her face.

She smiled at him and went into the kitchen, sitting in her favorite spot, her mama’s spot when she’s not here.

“Want an omelet?,” He walked into the kitchen and got pans ready.

“Yes please. With the egg stuff mommy uses, and the vegan butter.” she smiled sweetly at him and he smiled right back. He adored that little girl, his little family was the best thing to happen to him. He was blessed, he woke up everyday thanking the highest Heavens for you two.

“Anything in it?,” 

“Mushrooms, green peppers, spinach, no onions, I’m allergic,”

“I’m your papa, I know what you’re allergic to, honeybee,”

“And mama’s dairy-free cheese,” she fiddled with her stuffed bee.

“Can hardly call it cheese if it’s dairy-free,” he mumbled to himself and shook his head.

“I heard thaaaat,” Anna sang, “Mama said I can make the decision to not eat animal products like her if I want. When I found out that chicken nuggets are actual chickens I didn’t want to anymore. They’re too cute. My doctor said I’m still healthy without all of it,”

Bucky just smiled as he oiled the pan with your vegan butter and poured the egg substitute into the pans with the stove heat on low.

“Juice or your oat milk?,” Bucky pulled his hair up easily in a bun and Anna was watching him.

“Oat milk, please,” even with what FRIDAY said to her last night, she was still a little sad that she can’t easily wear a style like that in her hair.

She sat quietly as she waited for her breakfast to be cooked. Bucky cooked himself a hearty breakfast in the process. 

He handed Anna her favorite cup with her oat milk and her plate with apple slices, her little omelet and a little bowl of apple cinnamon oatmeal. He sat down with his own plate of bacon, an omelet with real eggs and cheese, tomatoes and green peppers with a side of toast and a cup of black coffee.

Annalise ate carefully and quietly. 

“What do you wanna do when mama comes home?,” He took a bite of his toast.

“Maybe the park?, then we can go roller skating. We haven’t gone in a while. Me and mama think it’s funny that you’re a superhero but can’t skate to save your life,”

Bucky choked laughing at her insult. 

“Mama is a superhero and can’t cartwheel correctly!,” he defended

“Cheap blow, Barnes!,” You showed up in the entrance, “I can cartwheel just fine,”

“Hardly,”

“MAMA!!!,” Annalise ran to you and you lifted her up in the air kissing all over her face.

“How’s my honeybee?,” 

“I’m well. I missed you so much. Papa made me a good breakfast, come eat with us!,” 

“I already ate but I’ll still sit with you guys,” 

You walked over to Bucky and gave him a long, much needed kiss, Annalise gagging in your arms.

You sat down in her seat and she continued eating in your lap while you talked to your husband.

“How was the assignment?,” Bucky asked as he cut a piece of his omelet, shoveling it into his mouth.

“Boring. Less fighting than I thought, my shadow traveling has gotten better so no close calls or anything. I could have been home last night but I forgot a piece of data so I had to hurry and retrieve it and delete the software before they realized we got em,” you took a sip of Anna’s oat milk and played with her hair.

“Your hair is cute, baby. Who did it? Pop pop?,”

Anna laughed and shook her head, “Pop pop can’t even put my hair into my puffballs, papa did this,” she shook her head and you watched them swing back and forth.

“Good job, babe,” 

“I should have been a hair dresser,” Bucky boasts

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Anna beat you to it.

“Your papa texted me yesterday saying you were upset. Have you talked it out yet?,” You asked her, massaging her scalp.

Annalise visibly tensed, “Don’t want to talk about it right now, mama,” 

Now you didn’t know what do. She never shut you guys out like this. Bucky sighed and dusted off his hands as he sat back in his chair.

“Why not?,” He asked 

“Because I don’t want to,” she shrugged, “I already talked it out, it’s fine,”

You and Bucky both furrowed your brows.

“Talked it out with who? and I don’t think it’s fine because when I brought it up you immediately tensed up. We’re your parents, baby. Don’t be afraid to come to us,” you rubbed her back but she just kept eating.

“With FRIDAY. When papa went to sleep I came out in the living room to talk to her, I ended up falling asleep on the couch and it is fine, mama,”

“You told me you got thirsty and didn’t want to wake me up when you came back,” Bucky leaned on the table and eyed your daughter suspiciously.

“Well I did. I can do both,” 

“Annalise Lillian Stark-Barnes now is not the time to sass me,” Bucky gave her a stern look.

“He’s right Anna, if something is bothering you, you don’t lie. You come to us. Don’t keep it to yourself,”

“Well it’s a me problem so I’ll work it out on my own,”

“But you don't have to, Annalise. Listen to me,” 

You turned her around in your lap and held her small face in your hands.

“There is nothing that we can’t help you through, do you hear me? Your feelings are valid. Talk to us,” 

With Bucky sitting beside you, you both saw her eyes well up with tears. 

“FRIDAY said papa is really my papa and pop pop is really my pop pop,” she said looking down. 

You and Bucky looked at each other completely lost.

“Of course we are, baby. Is that bad?,” Bucky was scared to hear her answer. Kids were unapologetically blunt.

“I was playing with your hair yesterday. You said I could put your hair in puffballs like mine but you lied to me. I couldn’t get your hair to puff up like mine. I tried to see who else’s hair I could get to do it but everyone had hair like yours so I figured your hair was better. When you did my hair last night I said I wished it was thin like yours. I asked FRIDAY if I’m really yours and if mama is really pop pop’s then how come we don’t have pretty hair like yours,” she sobbed and didn’t look either of you in the eyes.

Your eyes welled at your daughter’s words. You didn’t expect her to have self image problems this early on and you didn’t know what to do. You struggled with this mindset before, but not this young.

Bucky took her from your lap and placed her in his.

“Annalise... Look at me, please,” 

With red eyes she did as he said.

“Your hair is absolutely beautiful okay?,” he held her hands.

“Your hair is your crown and no one has the same crown because we all wear it differently. You don’t need hair like mine for it to be considered pretty. You already have my smile, my laugh, my attitude and my inhuman strength. Your hair is yours. Your beauty is yours and no one can take that from you,”

“But you don’t have tangles and kinks like I do,”

“You without your hair kinks and tangles is like a leopard without spots.” he rebuttals. 

She just stared at him with her lip quivering

“All hair is pretty hair. All hair is good hair. You don’t have to have mine for it to be considered good, honeybee,”

She nodded her head but you weren’t quite sure she understood.

“What your Honeybee Scouts slogan?,” Bucky asks her.

“Remove the kinks from your mind-”

“- Not your hair,” He finishes with her.

You watched this moment. It was good that it wasn't just you instilling these values in her, you took comfort in knowing her father, though who looked different than her, took her self-image problems seriously and didn’t just leave them for you to handle. She had both of you.

“Your hair isn’t strictly who you are, baby. It’s a part of you and it’s one of the many puzzle pieces that help make the bigger, beautiful picture. You,” you booped her nose and smiled at her. She seemed to understand after you guys’ thoughtful words and she wiped her tears.

“I didn’t want you guys to be mad at me for feeling like that,” she admitted.

“Sweetheart,” you took her chin in between your thumb and index finger, “We could never be mad at you for having your own feelings. Like we said, your feelings are valid and you don’t have to hide them from us. We’re your parents for a reason,”

“Uncle Sammy and pop pop said it’s because you guys had coitus like rabbits. Pop pop said papa just had to come to you for a ‘horizontal refreshment’, I’m not sure what that means but they said it,”

You and Bucky’s eyes pop out of your heads at the words that come out of your daughter’s mouth. You were gonna have a few words for those two.

“Anyway,” Bucky coughs, “When we found out we were having you, we knew we would do our best to have a healthy, secure relationship with you. We want you to pull back, take time for yourself then come to us so we can have these talks. So you don’t grow up questioning yourself or your feelings. You understand?,” 

She nodded and squeezed his hands, “I understand,”

You and Bucky both kissed both of her cheeks and you guys sat there in a group hug for a few minutes before the rest family comes in and sees you and you hear a chorus of “Y/N!” and “Awh!,”

You look for the two men of the hour and eye them.

“I will have a talk with you two later about the terms you use around my sweet cherub,”

Sam made a ‘yikes’ face and Tony just rolled his eyes. Nothing he ever says around his granddaughter is correct enough.

“But for now,” you turned to your daughter and smiled at her, “Let’s get you straightened up and me cleaned up and we can go skating to laugh at papa, how’s that sound?,”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed at your comment.

Annalise shook in excitement and smiled wide.

“Yes!!,” she clapped, “Sorry papa but watching you bust your butt is funny,”

“It’s okay because after that we’re gonna go to the park and have a cartwheel competition with mama,”

“Oouuu,” your daughter teased.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Anna!!!” 

Bucky scooped her up and ran away, “Hardly!,” he called over his shoulder.

You shook your head at this family of yours.

Not perfect, but close enough.

*The End*

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

Thinking about making a papa Bucky series. Let me know what you think!

Please leave comments, reblog and like. Y’all’s feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

Up next is Nat! Once this gets to at least 100 notes, I’ll upload it! 

Tags- @sideeffectsofyou @chonisberonica​

[ranxiaolong]

She Shot Me

Summary: How the woman had lived this long and never played laser tag was beyond the humans aboard the TARDIS, but that would change today.

Pairing: The Doctor (13) x fem!reader

Warnings: There’s some very steamy kissing and a bit of suggestive content

A/n: Please tell me your thoughts! I love feedback!

“I can’t believe that you’ve been alive two thousand years and have never played laser tag.”

The Doctor shrugged.

Yaz, Ryan, and (Y/N) exchanged a glance before nodding simultaneously.

“We’re taking you to laser tag,” Ryan gave an authoritative nod.

“I’m not getting a say in this, am I?” the Time Lord stated, half glum and half amused.

“Nope,” (Y/N) chirped cheerfully, “Besides, It’s a crime you haven’t done it at least once.”

The Doctor opened her mouth, ready to dive into one of her long explanations, “Actually—”

“Shut up, Doc.” The Doctor was cut off by an exasperated sigh.

The Doctor landed the TARDIS on a primarily humanoid populated spaceship. Well… gameship. According to the Doctor, the ship primarily held various games that people came from all over the universe to play. The largest arcade in the galaxy, complete with a ball pit that took both (Y/N) and Yaz over ten minutes to pull the Doctor out of.

After Team TARDIS managed to drag the Doctor through the distraction riddled spacecraft, they finally reached a long line that disappeared into a dark entryway, a neon sign blinking above it, giving a very retro look, that read “Laser Tag.”

Graham raised an eyebrow at the winding line, “Do we have to wait in that?” He turned to Yasmin, Ryan, and (Y/N) who looked at each other before grinning.

“Well...” Ryan starts.

“Don’t need to,” Yaz looked at (Y/N).

“See?” (Y/N) dangled the worn leather wallet that held the Doctor’s psychic paper.

Graham looked slightly incredulously at Yasmin, “Aren’t you a police officer? Shouldn’t you be against pickpocketing?”

Yasmin shrugged with a grin still on her lips, “This is a special case.”

“Yeah,” Ryan slung his arm over y/n’s shoulders, “we’re fixing a crime. The crime of the Doctor never playing laser tag.”

(Y/N) and Ryan quickly dabbed before bursting out laughing.

Graham couldn’t help but roll his eyes but a smile tugged on his lips.

(Y/N) clapped a hand on Ryan’s back as she craned her neck to see the employee who was letting people into the laser tag area. “Right, you go drag the Doctor over here,” (Y/N) jerked her thumb in the direction the Doctor was trying to go unnoticed towards, “while I...” (Y/N)’s tongue poked between her teeth as she analysed a frizzy, dark haired girl in a uniformed black t shirt  and pants, “go do some convincing.” (Y/N) winked towards the rest of the group then bounded off towards the unsuspecting woman who was standing somewhat bored at the entryway.

Yasmin starred after her for a moment in confusion before her eyes widened slightly and a snort left her mouth. “Go get the Doctor,” Yaz nodded towards Ryan, “It won’t take long for (Y/N) to flirt with that girl and get us in.”

“Sweet.” Ryan turned around to chase after the Time Lord and drag her back towards the group.

Graham continued to watch (Y/N) as she conversed with the woman, tapping Yaz’s arm and pointing when (Y/N) disappeared behind a black curtain with the employee after showing the woman the psychic paper. Yasmin and Graham were both intently watching the spot where the two had been standing for a few minutes before seeing (Y/N) emerge from the dark curtain, hair slightly mussed and a light pink smear across her mouth and neck.

“We’re good to go,” (Y/N) had a wide grin plastered to her mouth as she fiddled with a few loose buttons on her shirt, “you catch the Doc yet?”

Yasmin rolled her eyes while she fished out a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped at the smears on (Y/N)’s skin.

“Oi! I got her!” Ryan yelled as he dragged the Time Lord behind him.

“Great, let’s go.”

“Okay, so for our first timers here or for anyone that needs a refresher, I’ll be going over the rules of the game.” A boy that looked to be in his late teens or early twenties was buzzing with energy while standing in front of a large screen in the dim room filled with people. “You will be split into two teams, and each team has a base you need to protect. The goal is to both protect your base and infiltrate the other side’s base. Whichever team scores the most points at the enemy base wins.”

Ryan exchanges a subtle fist bump with (Y/N).

”You score points on a base by shooting at the sphere on the ceiling inside until the defense bar reaches zero.” The screen behind the boy lit up with an image of the said sphere, “The amount of damage is displayed next to the sphere, so you will know exactly how much it more it will take to score a point. The room is set up with various mazes and other obstacles that you can use to your advantage in protecting your territory.”

Ryan leaned over towards (Y/N)’s ear, whispering, “A bit techy, but still good old fashioned laser tag.”

“We have a variety of different items you can use in the room that mimic human technology of the time period, ranging from small handguns to larger models like rifles and snipers. The guns do have a limit of up to three shots per second, depending on the model, and they need to be ‘reloaded’ or recharged to fire more ammunition. On the side of the gun will be a bar showing how much ammo you have left before you need to recharge.”

(Y/N) lightly bumps against Ryan’s shoulder, “But definitely good techy, eh?” A grin pulls on both of their lips. “Oh, yeah.”

“Now, would everyone please look at the black wristband we had you put on when you entered the room? Could you all please tap the display screen? The wristband does a full body scan and can detect if you have been hit by a laser by detecting the infrared light and an electromagnetic charge on a localized spot on your body. You will feel a slight zap and hear a small beep to notify you if you are hit, but it is completely harmless. If you do get hit, a timer will appear above your head, counting down from sixty seconds, and you are stuck within a one meter radius of where you were hit until the timer reaches zero, then you will be teleported back to your base’s teleport pad. Are there any questions?”

(Y/N) turned around to see if the Doctor was unclear on any of the rules of the game, when (Y/N) noticed that the Doctor’s gaze was not on the boy who just gave the rules, and her eyebrows drawn together with a frown tugging on her lips. (Y/N) followed the alien’s line of sight to the frizzy haired woman from before. As soon as (Y/N) locked eyes with the woman (who had apparently been looking at her the entire time) the woman sent a flirtatious wink towards (Y/N). (Y/N) gave her a half smile in acknowledgment before turning back to the Doctor, who’s expression had become even more sour.

“Hey Doc, did you get all of the rules? You seem a bit distracted.”

“Protect the base, invade the opposing base, don’t get shot.” The Doctor didn’t look away from the woman and her voice was a bit more tense than usual.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened at the Doctor’s stiff tone. The always bubbly and excitable woman was hardly ever like this. There were times where she was more serious and tense, sure, but that was when they were in situations that were significantly closer to the life or death of an entire planet rather than listening to instructions on how not to get zapped by a blue beam from a toy.

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed, “Is something wrong, Doctor?” Her puckered frown deepened but she shook her head, not taking her eyes off of the frizzy haired woman.

That was odd.

Was the Doctor intrigued by the woman?

No, she looked too grumpy for that to be the case.

Did the Doctor not like the attention the woman was giving (Y/N)?

Well that seemed pretty obvious given the limited information.

Did the Doctor think the woman was attractive?

Well, who knew really? She never expressed who (or what, for that matter) she found attractive.

Did the Doctor want to take the woman with them to travel?

From what (Y/N) picked up from various things left around the TARDIS and scattered pictures in a few rooms, the Doctor certainly had a history with woman in some form or another, many looking like they had all of ten seconds preparation before hopping aboard the TARDIS.

Did the Doctor like her?

That one tasted particularly bitter in (Y/N)’s mouth.

A small grimace made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips as she leaned her head against Yasmin’s shoulder.

Yasmin rested her cheek on (Y/N)’s head, “what’s wrong?”

A grunt bubbled up (Y/N)’s throat, all intelligible words lost in the process.

Yasmin’s gaze slid over to the Doctor.

“Ah.”

“Mhhh.”

Yasmin wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and rubbed soft circles with her thumb.

The Doctor didn’t notice that Yaz had caught the Doctor’s eyes glancing at her hand.

“So how are we going to do this?”

Ryan placed a hand on Yasmin and (Y/N)’s shoulders.

“We should probably split up onto different teams, especially,” Yasmin pointed at the Doctor, “her.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry Doc, you got all the instructions. Besides, we haven’t won at any games against you yet, and we want to win this one.”

“I’ll team up with the Doc, then,” Graham piped up, “I’m not sure how good I’ll be at this but it should be fun.”

“Great. Yaz, Ryan, and I will go to the Blue Team and you two go to the Red Team.” (Y/N) cracked her knuckles.

“What will the winner get?” Ryan’s  eyebrows furrowed, “If we’re having a competition we need a prize—”

“A kiss from me. We can figure it out later,” (Y/N) interrupted, “we need to get to our sides soon.”

As the words fell out of (Y/N)’ mouth, the rest of the humans comprising Team TARDIS glanced at the Doctor, whose face had flushed momentarily at (Y/N)’s proposal.

“How about dinner on the looser?”

“You want to chance leaving dinner up to her?” (Y/N) jabbed a finger in the Doctor’s direction.

“Oi!”

“Right, bad idea.”

“Hey!”

The boy who explained the rules clapped twice, “We need everyone to split into teams!” The boy held up a hand, lines on his glove and shirt glowing red. “Those on the Red team, gather here so I can take you to your equipment. Those on the Blue Team gather by Mir-Lek.” The boy gestured with his other arm towards the frizzy haired girl who's glove was glowing blue.

“Those on the Blue Team gather here, I’ll be taking you to your base and equipment.”

Yasmin and (Y/N) turned to follow Ryan, who was halfway towards towards Mir-Lek. “I guess we’ll see you guys in the arena.”

The Doctor waved after the group as they walked away. Her eyes followed (Y/N) as Mir-Lek smiled at (Y/N) and the frizzy haired woman’s posture became more flirty.

The Doctor grimaced before trudging off with Graham to the group for the Red Team.

“Don’t you think she’s a bit too good for her first time playing this game?” Ryan’s out of breath voice sounded from behind (Y/N)’s crouched form. “She’s scored more than ten points on our base for this round already. I thought it was beginner's luck in the first few rounds we played, but this is getting ridiculous.”

A grimace graced (Y/N)’s lips, “We really need to step up our game this round or we are going to lose this one too.”

Yasmin raised her hand to her mouth in thought, “Is there a surefire way to distract her?”

Ryan’s face lit up, “That’s it!”

Both Yaz and (Y/N) turned to look at Ryan. “What? You have an idea?” Yasmin’s head tilted slightly.

“We play dirty.”

Yasmin and (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed before understanding passed through their eyes. (Y/N)’s brows furrowed.

“But she’s not interested, that’s only how it work on other people.”

“Come on, (Y/N). Open your eyes and you would see she’s looking at you, not someone else.”

(Y/N) bit her lip.

“Hey. And if it doesn’t work out, rounds on me.” Ryan lightly patted (Y/N)’s back. “I’ll also get you that ice cream from that place you like on the corner next to the bakery.”

(Y/N) let out a sigh and nodded.

“Sooo, can you get the Doctor?”

A smirk edged it’s way onto (Y/N)’s face, “Don’t worry. Leave the Doctor to me.”

(Y/N) was crouched behind a barrier near the edge of a maze, where she found out from the sniper on the top of the tower the Doctor used as a way to pass through most of the main defenses by the front of the base.

(Y/N) closed her eyes, her senses concentrated on any approaching footsteps. She pressed an ear to the ground, soft footfalls reverberating through the floor. The (h/c) girl lifted her head and pressed her fingers to the floor, ready to pounce on the incoming person.

The Doctor rounded the corner, not seeing (Y/N) crouched on the ground, in a half sprint. (Y/N) launched up from her hiding place at the Doctor, who turned around and was raising her gun when (Y/N) slammed into her. The Doctor’s gun slips from her hands, clattering on the floor, and (Y/N) backed her up and pins the Doctor’s hands to the wall behind her.

The Doctor’s breath hitched and her heartbeats quickened. The Time Lord’s teeth grazed her lower lip and her arms tensed, hands clenching. (Y/N) was close. Too close. Not really, but too close for for her sanity to take at the moment. She could feel (Y/N)’s warm breath coming out in quick puffs across her flushed skin. She wasn’t red from running, compared to most of their adventures, the running was light. Very light. But (Y/N)’s scent was flooding her nose and her brain was short circuiting. She had to get away. This was bad. The Doctor’s eyes darted from (Y/N)’s eyes down to her lips for a fraction of a second. This was very bad. She wouldn’t be able to control herself in this position. She needed to—

The Doctor’s eyes went wide as soft lips crashed against her mouth. The Doctor’s limbs went limp, her legs weak and barely supporting her weight. (Y/N)’s hands moved to one resting on the Doctor’s shoulder and the other cupping her cheek as she was raised on her toes. The Doctor’s eyes fluttered closed as (Y/N)’s lips moved against hers.

(Y/N) pulled away and the Doctor stood dazed, her eyes fluttered open. The air was heavy and a buzz dulled the Doctor’s senses. She barely processed as (Y/N)’s eyes flicked between her eyes and lips, bringing (Y/N)’s face to hers again. This time was more desperate, more needy. The Doctor brought (Y/N) as close to her as she could, as if this was the last time she would breath the sweet oxygen that was (Y/N)’s lips. The Time Lord felt (Y/N) moan against her mouth and a spark of heat ignited in the pit of her stomach.

The Doctor lost her hands in (Y/N)’s hair, tangling them in an effort to bring the rambunctious human impossibly closer to her lips. She felt fire where (Y/N)’s hands were trailing down her sides. (Y/N) pressed the Doctor more firmly against the wall with her pelvis, a moan drawn from the Doctor’s lips as her hips automatically jerked towards (Y/N)’s.

(Y/N) teased one of her hands down the Doctor’s hips, and the Time Lord whimpered when the human’s fingers retracted from their trail along her side.

The Doctor felt a small pressure between her breasts, and her heart rates increased. She felt a small electric zing and a faint beep that didn’t fully register in her brain.

(Y/N) pulled away, and the Doctor leaned forward, trying to chase her lips before processing the sound.

The Doctor’s eyes shot open as (Y/N) took a step backwards, a cheeky grin splitting her face, the gun still held up and level with the Doctor’s chest.

The Doctor’s jaw dropped open in disbelief, turning her gaze to above her head. Red numbers flashed above her head. 53.

“That’s not fair!”

(Y/N) bit her tongue while grinning, “All’s fair in love and war,” (Y/N) sang. The Doctor felt her heartbeats quicken. (Y/N) spun around on her heal, a flirty sway in her hips right before she dashed off.

A sway the Doctor very much enjoyed watching.

The Doctor sighed and lightly traced her lips with her fingers, waiting for the timer to finish.

Yasmin, Ryan, and (Y/N) were cheering loudly in their booth in a bar, their victory being celebrated with food and drinks.

Their win was stifling. After (Y/N) had cornered the Doctor, the Blue Team’s look out had been sending (Y/N) in the Doctor’s path, and every time the Doctor caught sight of (Y/N) she would fumble and either (Y/N) or a nearby sniper would hit the Time Lord. The Red Team had been heavily relying on the Doctor for points, and with her being distracted, they had to send more people out to infiltrate the Blue fortress, leaving their defenses weaker to the mass raids made by the Red Team on their base.

The Doctor and Graham sat across from the energetic group. Graham smiled at their enthusiasm. The Doctor was pouting at her loss, but was trying not to let on that she didn’t care as much as she was letting on. She was still having trouble keeping eye contact with (Y/N), but (Y/N)’s lack of gaze in her direction at the moment was a small relief and sting at the same time.

Ryan leaned more on top of (Y/N), “So what is our prize for winning?”

Ryan and Yasmin’s arms around (Y/N)’s shoulders, (Y/N) squished between the two other humans in the booth.

“Yeah, what should we get?” Yasmin popped the foreign snack on the table into her mouth, small deep fried local vegetables of some sort, heavily inspired by Earth’s Asian cuisine.

(Y/N) grinned, “I thought it was decided.” (Y/N) pecked Yasmin’s then Ryan’s cheek. “A kiss from me.”

Yasmin broke out laughing and Ryan lightly hit (Y/n)’s shoulder, a smile on his face. “Well, I suppose it will have to do.”

(Y/N) gasped in mock offence, “Rude.”

“But you know you love us,” Yasmin sang beside (Y/N).

“Unfortunately.”

The Doctor bit her lip at the display, remembering the kiss she received, and a bubble of satisfaction rose in her chest that her kiss was better.

She felt like she was the one who had won.

(Y/N) was walking down one of the many criss-crossing hallways inside of the TARDIS with a bounce in her step, lightly humming to herself, hands crossed behind her head.

As (Y/N) was mid-step, she was pulled down an adjacent hallway. (Y/N) found herself trapped against the wall between the Doctor’s arms.

“I think you owe me for what you pulled in that last round,” the Doctor growled out, voice slightly raspy.

“Oh? I do, do I?” (Y/N)’s eyes flicked down from the Doctor’s eyes to her lips momentarily, and the Doctor felt her breath catch in her throat.

Barely a whisper was breathed out, faces centimeters apart. “Yeah.”

[kanasmusings]

[Translation] VAZZROCK Play of Color Series Vol. 2 Drama Track 2

Here’s track 2 of Play of Color Vol. 2~! Ouka’s manager, Furukawa-san makes an appearance here! Please, TsukiPro, give him a character design T^T

※ Please don’t re-post the romaji and English translations without permission. Instead of reposting, please just like/reblog instead ^^

Under the cut, enjoy~!

Track 02: 「迷える青年×2」 “Hesitating Young Men x2”

  [0:00]

  RUKA: (on the phone) Ah, Manager? It’s Ruka.

RUKA: That thing I talked to you about… Do you think they’ll open auditions for it?

RUKA: Ah, there is! Alright~! I wanna try for it! I really loved the original work!

RUKA: Eh?

RUKA: Wha--!? Ah… There’s a height requirement…

RUKA: Over 175 cm…?

RUKA: I see… Damn it…!

RUKA: AHH!! It’s only 3 cm…! Wanna try even then?

RUKA: That or, please try to advertise me? Like, tell them that I’ll leave an impact on them with my acting despite my lack of height or something?!

RUKA: Please?

RUKA: Yeah… Yup, thank you! Good luck! I’ll be in your care!

RUKA: (laughs) Yes. Yes. Yes~! Alright, see you tomorrow!

RUKA: (sighs)

RUKA: The 3cm wall is… it’s too high…

RUKA: Damn it… Even though I drank all that milk…

                                                  <------------------> 

[01:23]

  YUMA: Hm? Ruka-san?

(Yuma approaches Ruka)

YUMA: Ruka-sa—

RUKA: (shrieks) You shocked me…!

YUMA: I was startled, too…! I’m so sorry for suddenly calling out to you.

RUKA: A-ah, no. (nervous laughter) I was just spacing out, is all. I’m sorry.

YUMA: I wasn’t planning on scaring you but um… Here, please have this.

YUMA: It’s milk tea. You love this place’s milk tea, don’t you?

RUKA: Uwoh~! What’s this all of a sudden? Thank you!

YUMA: It’s my thanks for your help during my course registration problem.

YUMA: After that, I went to visit the office staff with Issa-san and Futaba-san and we safely finished my schedule.

RUKA: Oh my!! An unexpected choice of going with the brothers!

RUKA: That’s extravagant in a way~!

YUMA: (chuckles) Indeed.

YUMA: They just happened to be free around that time.

YUMA: Issa-san acted like it was troublesome at first but, when the actual consultation began, he gave some pretty solid advice.

RUKA: Ah, I can totally picture that~

RUKA: Takaaki-kun and Ouka-kun were busy, too, huh?

YUMA: Yes. It seems like they were taken to promote a new show and a new project.

YUMA: The both of them have been out since this morn— Ah!

RUKA: Huh?

YUMA: Speaking of the devil… There’s Ouka-san right now.

YUMA: Is he in a meeting with someone?

RUKA: That’s…

                                                 <------------------>  

[02:55]

  FURUKAWA: That’s why I think you should do this job, Ouka-san.

OUKA: …

FURUKAWA: VAZZROCK Project’s first year. I know that you had a favourable start.

FURUKAWA: Not as Kira Ouka the model but, as VAZZY’s Kira Ouka.

FURUKAWA: It’s a success for you as a talent.

OUKA: …

FURUKAWA: Even so, getting you solo work like this is my job as Kira Ouka’s manager.

FURUKAWA: But that’s not all there is to it.

FURUKAWA: This is also because I’m Kira Ouka’s fan as well.

FURUKAWA: I want you to show more potential outside that outward appearance of yours.

FURUKAWA: Even now, you continue to prove that you have what it takes. Do you think there’s enough reason for you to turn down a solo activity?

FURUKAWA: It’s not like you don’t like the job, correct?

FURUKAWA: You’ve gained a new power. You can challenge something that’s outside of what you’re used to.

FURUKAWA: That’s how the Kira Ouka I know would think.

OUKA: …

OUKA: As expected from Furukawa-san. You know me more than I know myself.

FURUKAWA: Well, that’s a given. How long do you think we’ve known each other?

OUKA: That’s right. (smiles)

OUKA: (sighs) I’ll admit. There’s a part of me that wants to challenge it.

OUKA: Not just as VAZZY’s Kira Ouka but, there are a lot of things I want to challenge as Kira Ouka, as myself.

OUKA: I want to explore every possibility. There are a lot of different people in the project and I know that they’ll be a motivation.

OUKA: I think that I don’t want to lose to them. That I want to be good.

FURUKAWA: Yeah, that’s a wonderful thing.

OUKA: It is…?

FURUKAWA: It is. You have no regrets at all and you’re satisfied at what you know you can do.

FURUKAWA: After this, you’ll just have to take one more step as a talent.

FURUKAWA: Well, the day that you tell me that is probably when I’ll drown myself in alcohol while looking at a poster of you.

OUKA: I kinda wanna see Furukawa-san in that state…

FURUKAWA: Please go easy on me. I can’t even handle one glass after all.

OUKA: I know~ You’re someone who’s weaker to alcohol than I am.

OUKA: I know you well, too, Furukawa-san.

FURUKAWA: Is that so?

OUKA: Yes.

OUKA: Furukawa-san… Do you think that I can accomplish both? It’s not wishing for too much, is it?

OUKA: I mean… Doing activities for the VAZZROCK Project and for myself as well…

FURUKAWA: It’s not a matter of whether you can or cannot. I am here to help you figure it out.

FURUKAWA: That’s why… Please do it, Ouka-san.

OUKA: You’ll still push for that, huh?

FURUKAWA: Yes, I will.

FURUKAWA: I’ll try to work together with other managers who work with talents.

FURUKAWA: I won’t make it as busy as your schedule from before the Project started.

FURUKAWA: I’ll make everything count. That way is more profitable, isn’t it?

OUKA: (chuckles) I don’t particularly dislike Furukawa-san’s evil face when he’s in sales mode.

FURUKAWA: Thank you for your compliment.

FURUKAWA: Also, it’s a bit late for me to be saying this but, I’ve actually always thought that the gap between your appearance and personality as well as your natural air-headedness have their own selling point.

FURUKAWA: I’m satisfied that I saw proof of that just now.

OUKA: …! The gap between my face and my personality… Natural air-headedness…?

FURUKAWA: Oh my, this is no time for me to be standing around here.

FURUKAWA:  I’m heading to the Talents Department immediately. Please excuse me.

OUKA: Y-yeah…

(Furukawa-san walks away)

                                                 <------------------>

[06:45]

 RUKA: Uwah…!  

YUMA: Woah…!

OUKA: …!?

RUKA: Furukawa-chin’s personality is as strong as always~

RUKA: The famous model manager!

YUMA: H-how do I put this…? He was amazing, wasn’t he…?

YUMA: That person is?

RUKA: Yup! He’s Ouka-kun’s executive manager!

RUKA: He may look young but, he’s a talented manager in the Model Department. I heard that if he sees potential in a young talent, he’s able to get them in the agency by introduction letter in no time at all!

YUMA: Oh…! Ruka-san, you’re very informed, huh?

RUKA: Ha-ha-ha! From fashion to in-house gossip… Ruka-kun’s network is infinite!

YUMA: (clapping) I respect you so much, Ruka-san.

OUKA: Yuma… And Ruka, too. How long have you been there?

RUKA: Let’s see~ From… (Ruka starts imitating Furukawa-san’s voice) “That’s why I think you should do this job.”

OUKA: That’s a bit early on…

OUKA: So you heard me in an embarrassing conversation, huh.

YUMA: Ah… I don’t think that it’s embarrassing at all though.

OUKA: Really? “I wanted to do solo work just one year after our Project started.”

OUKA: Don’t you think that’s being too rash of me?

RUKA/YUMA: Not at all.

OUKA: …?! Really…?

RUKA: Yeah! I mean, that’s kinda like me being a stage actor too, y’know?

RUKA: It’s not just me. Everyone in the VAZZROCK Project have their own thing going on while still doing unit activities.

RUKA: It’s totally normal~!

OUKA: Normal…?

YUMA: Unfortunately, I don’t have much solo activities yet but, it’s sort of similar to me doing university work and VAZZY activities at the same time.

RUKA: Everyone’s got their own thing! Though, I’m a bit surprised that you turn down more solo activities than I do.

YUMA: Me, too.

OUKA: No, well… I see… I haven’t told anyone much about this.

OUKA: I want to talk for a bit. Do you both have time after this?

YUMA: Yes.

RUKA: I do~!

                                                 <------------------>

[09:00]

 RUKA: (running about) Uwah~! The weather’s so nice! It feels so good~!

YUMA: Ahh… So the agency building had a rooftop park as well.

OUKA: You weren’t aware?

YUMA: Yes, this is my first time here. The view is spectacular, isn’t it?

OUKA: There’s no building more magnificent than this one after all.

OUKA: It’s so tall that people who have a fear of heights feel dizzy when looking at the view.

OUKA: Like my manager Furukawa-san. He doesn’t even dare come near here.

YUMA: (laughs) Is that so? He seems to be a skilful manager but he has his cute parts, too~

OUKA: You’re quite something for thinking of that as cute…

RUKA: (running about) Found us a table~! Ouka-kun, Yuma-kun, over here!

                                                   <------------------>

OUKA: And so… This is going to be about my willpower and resolve but…

RUKA: Yup, yup~ It’s about your important willpower and resolve, huh~?

YUMA: (chuckles)

OUKA: It mostly goes how you heard it a while ago.

OUKA: Ever since I decided to join the VAZZROCK Project, I’ve been putting my solo work on hold.

OUKA: I’m… I’m not a skilful person by any standards.

OUKA: I thought that I needed to put more time and effort compared to other people.

YUMA: Even so, you had the image of being able to do your work so flawlessly…

OUKA: I continued with more solo work before I decided to be a part of the project.

OUKA: I didn’t really need to fret to take on any more new projects.

RUKA: Hah~ Not worrying about that when taking jobs means you’re that desirable, huh?

RUKA: I’m so jealous~

OUKA: I guess… Furukawa-san told me the same thing. It was unexpected.

OUKA: I did feel that I was reaching my limits as a model around that time, too.

YUMA: Eh? Why is that?

OUKA: My height.

RUKA: Ah~!

OUKA: My height is 175 cm. I’m not really short per se but, it’s completely lacking for someone as a male model.

OUKA: 180 cm was the lowest line after all.

RUKA: Right?! That topic totally hits me since I’m conscious about my height, too…

OUKA: By the way, Ruka-san’s height is?

RUKA: 172 cm. Everyone around me is so much taller!

RUKA: The work I’m trying to audition for has a 175 cm height requirement so… it’s so difficult…

RUKA: What about you, Yuma-kun?

YUMA: I’m 178 cm.

RUKA/OUKA: (with a dejected voice) I’m so jealous…!

YUMA: So-somehow, I’m so sorry… (nervous smile)

OUKA: Well, I can acknowledge it now. The reason why I turned down projects wasn’t simply to buy time.

OUKA: I thought that maybe I had somewhere to run away to.

OUKA: I didn’t want to look at my chances of getting work to diminish slowly.

OUKA: I started looking for a chance to do anything aside from being a model.

OUKA: I… I’ve always lived in this industry.

OUKA: I still want to cling on to it. Probably…

YUMA: O-Ouka-san… Um… I might not be able to put it into words properly but…

YUMA: I… I think that Ouka-san is a person who should continue being in this industry.

YUMA: Singing, dancing, photos, filming.

YUMA: No matter what the audience will be, Ouka-san is someone who can convey something to the people watching whenever he appears in front of them.

YUMA: That’s why, I think that you should continue being here.

YUMA: Please have some more confidence.

OUKA: Yuma…

RUKA: Yup, exactly~! Ouka-kun’s the type who looks dramatic just standing around!

RUKA: There really are people like that sometimes, huh? I’m so jealous!

OUKA: Hm? You shine brighter than anyone else, too, don’t you? On top of the stage, I mean.

RUKA: Hm?

OUKA: No matter which actor it is, even if you haven’t spoken to them, you strangely catch their eyes.

OUKA: And even then, you’re not being obnoxious or annoying.

OUKA: That’s the world you’re living in. I think that you’re a great actor.

RUKA: O-oh…! Thank you!

RUKA: I’m happy that Ouka-kun acknowledges me.

RUKA: But that’s just me when I’m acting, I guess. It’s the role’s power!!

RUKA: … If only I had the height to actually get those roles…

YUMA: Even if you don’t have the role…

RUKA: Hm?

YUMA: Ruka-san walks forward with everything that’s around him. That’s the kind of atmosphere you create.

YUMA: I think that you have the best kind of aura.

YUMA: I think that you can show a great many things more with that aura of yours.

YUMA: This might just be an amateur’s way of thinking but…

RUKA: Yuma-kun…

OUKA: Amateur or not doesn’t matter now, does it?

OUKA: I think that as well.

RUKA: Ouka-kun…!

RUKA: You’re right…

YUMA: Eh?

RUKA: You’re right! That’s what you’d think, right~?

YUMA: Eh? A-ah, yes…!

RUKA: I think so, too! It’s totally true, right?! I definitely have that, right?!

OUKA: Yeah.

RUKA: (smiles) Alright!! Ouka-kun, Yuma-kun, let’s do it!

YUMA: D-do what exactly…?

RUKA: Anything!

RUKA: It’s the VAZZROCK Project’s second year, y’know?

RUKA: We have to be more daring and confident this time ‘round~!

RUKA: With both our unit activities and solo activities! Heck, even studies and work and even hobbies~! Let’s do anything!

RUKA: We can do it! We’ll do it! It’s going to be okay!

RUKA: We can still go on!

OUKA: (smiles) That’s right. We can still go on. Right, Yuma?

YUMA: Yes! That’s right. We can still go on!

RUKA: Alright~! Hey, hey—

ALL: OH!!!!

  ==END==

                                                 <------------------>

※ Please don’t re-post the English translations without permission. Please just like/reblog them instead ^^

[sanjuno]

Game of Thrones, Jon snow just trolling everyone

(3/32 SI Promptfest)

By the Old Gods, I really was ridiculously pretty for a man. Staring at my reflection in mydressing table mirror, I tried to make an ugly face and only managed to lookpouty. Ech. I was conventionally attractive in my life before this one, but Ageon ‘Jon Snow’ Targaryen-Stark was supernaturally good looking.

It was actually a little upsetting. I was aestheticallypleasing, yes, but not at all my own type. If I had to be reborn as a man in this hope-forsaken hellworld, theleast the old gods could have done is fashioned me a meatsuit that catered tomy personal tastes.

I spared a wistful thought for the Mormonts, with theirstrong backs and lovely broad shoulders, before I dismissed the images with aresigned sigh. Nope, it was all dainty Targargyen features and the rangyleanness of the Starks for me.

Fuckers.

Grimacing one last time at my reflection, I tied back myhair and finished getting ready for the day. Stuck as I was in Winterfell andwith no desire to draw unwanted attention, my ability to influence the eventsto come was limited to the Starks. Which was, in my humble opinion, more than enough.

People always underestimated the Starks. It was baffling. Ina feudal society like Westeros there was nothingmore dangerous than a loyal people with a loyal lord. In Robert’s Rebellion, only the Northern forces had answered infull when the Banners were called to Arms.

The North answered without hesitation when the Stark inWinterfell called for them. The King in the North, and the North remembered it.A King uncrowned, a King untitled, but a true King nevertheless. Torrhen Starkmay have bent his knee… but he had notbared his throat.

Winterfell was a fortress of ice, untouched by sun or flame.I knew there were weaknesses, cracks in the foundation left behind by thewildfires of Robert’s Rebellion. If left alone those fissures they would bringdestruction, like melt-water under snowcaps just waiting to bring half amountain down on unsuspecting heads.

Good thing I was a manipulative little shit, and I knewexactly how to start doing away with those weaknesses. In this case I needed tostart at the top.

No one had done quite as much damage to the Stark’s goodfortunes as Catelyn Tully, and so the Lady Stark’s attitude would need alittle… adjustment. Which I was morethan willing to do now that Rickon was safely born. If she went nuts again andneeded to be removed I still had a full complement of Stark Wargs to advise andinfluence for the sake of preserving all life on the planet.

Wishywashy fishwives, blech. The only useful thing she evermanaged to do was make more Starks. After living with her prejudiced,thoughtless cruelty for thirteen years I was more than ready to break herinflexible little mind in half. Which was my plan for today. Best get a move onthat.

I grinned at my reflection in the mirror, knowing I wasdressed no differently than the rest of the Stark children and loving how muchit pissed my dear Auntie off. There was no chance of Catelyn letting me speakwith Father without listening in. Perfect.

Now if only my resting bitch face would start beingintimidating again instead of sullen, that would be just grand. Stupid prettyboy face.

/…/

“Your nameday is coming up.” Robb mentioned, just as he hadevery day for the last handful. My dear Auntie’s glare burned against my backas she lurked and waited for me to turn on Robb. Old Gods, but that woman’sblind prejudice was annoying. “Do you know what you’re going to ask Fatherfor?”

“I think… I’d like to know who my mother was. And why Fatherchose to raise me here instead of leaving me with her.” Carefully not lookingover my shoulder at where I knew the Lady Stark was spying on interactions, Imade sure to keep my voice thoughtful. “I’m almost a man grown. I think I’m oldenough to understand if it… if it was something terrible.”

“Oh…” The future lord of Winterfell looked thoughtful, andnodded his head as he clapped a hand to my shoulder. “If anyone deserves toknow it’s you, brother.”

“Well, one can hope.” With a chuckle, I shook my head. “Nowcome on, Robb. Let’s finish putting this away.”

“Aye.” Sighing as he looked at how much was left to takecare of, Robb grumbled but set too willingly enough. “Can’t leave a job halfdone.”

“T’would be unfitting of a son of House Stark.” I agreed withjust enough mockery in my tone to make Robb laugh and the Lady Stark bristle.Honestly, the woman was so easy to rile up. It was actually a bit sad.

/…/

“Father, please.”I may have arranged for Lady Stark to follow me into the Godswood today when Iwent to confront Ned Stark about my true origins, but it still bothered me toknow that she was lurking while I asked my father for honesty. Stupid bint. Myirritation made my voice crack with suppressed emotion. “Please, I deserve toknow. If it’s a secret you’re keeping to preserve a Lady’s honour, I swear bythe Old God’s I won’t speak of it! I just wish to know her name. Please.”

“I swore to your mother to keep you safe, Jon. You are myblood.” Ned Stark was a quiet man, but he had enough determination to grindmountains to dust. A brilliant attribute when you needed to ration suppliesthrough a decade long winter. Not so endearing when trying to get him to saysomething he wanted to stay secret. “That is enough for me. Let that be the endof it.”

“Fine then, if you won’t tell me my mother’s name… then tellme my fathers!” The blood drained out of my father’s face, and guilt rose in mychest. I forged onwards anyway, because this needed doing if we were going tosurvive the Long Night without worrying about knives in our backs. “People talkabout me, and I hear it all the time. ‘The Honorable Ned Stark’s only sin’,they call me. But they don’t know you, Father. Not like I do. Not enough toknow that… you wouldn’t. Not after you wed, not after you swore an oath. Evenif Lady Stark was supposed to be yourelder brother’s wife… you would never dishonour her that way.”

Father’s grip on the Heart Tree’s bark was desperate as hiseyes searched my face. I swallowed, hating the pain I saw in his eyes. “Idon’t… It matters not who sired me, not truly. You are my father in all the ways that count, and aye, your bloodis in my veins, but… it was Lord Brandon who sired me, wasn’t it. With LadyAshara Dayne. If I had been a girl… you could have left me there, let me be aSand. But I was a boy, and the only son of Rickard Stark’s eldest son. That’swhy everyone says Lady Ashara’s daughterwas stillborn. It was a misdirection to cover your tracks, because LordBrandon’s son, even a bastard one, could have a stronger claim than your sonsand-”

“Stop. Jon, please. That’s enough. That is… that is morethan enough.” Strong, sword calloused hands gripped my shoulders, and sterngrey eyes held mine for a long moment before my Father’s expression softened.“I can see now, how much this has troubled you. You’ve never liked the thoughtof causing problems for Robb, and I can well believe that you would draw theworst possible conclusion… Aye, I suppose there’s nothing for it now.Especially not with that sort of rumour taking root…”

I forced my jaw to relax and my breathing to steady.“Father?”

“Your mother was not Ashara Dayne, Jon. And your father wasnot my brother. Would that… would that they hadbeen your parents. Perhaps this would be a simple thing to speak of.” Old, deeppain etched lines in my father’s face, and for a horrible moment I imagined it.Of being the only one still remaining of my siblings. Of Robb slain bytreachery, Sansa stolen away by our enemies, Arya and Bran losing themselves tovengeance and madness, Rickon’s memories of us fading away until he forgot usentirely… Father closed his eyes, seeming to gather his strength before hecould look me in the eye again. “You will always be my son, Jon. My blood is inyour veins, Jon. As is… as is the blood of my sister, Lyanna.”

I had been hoping for it, expecting it even, but still hearing him say it made my breath catchlike I had just been hit. There in front of the Heart Tree, with the truthringing in my ears, all I could manage to do was blink. “But… that would makemy father… but I don’t want to be aTargaryen! I want to be a Stark! Father, don’t tell anyone else!”

Sputtering a relieved laugh my father shook me gently untilI stopped whining, and then he pulled me into an embrace. “I promise, Jon. Noone else will ever know.”

“Mm… maybe… uh, maybe oneother person.” I felt my father stiffen, and I firmly kept my face pressed intothe fur of his collar. “Maybe… I think it would be okay for you to tell LadyStark? Maybe then she’ll agree to have a proper marriage ceremony.”

“Jon, I… I know Cat hasn’t always been kind to you. Are yousure you wish for her to know?” Father pushed me back so he could see my face.I pouted shamelessly, because proper hugs were stupidly scarce in thismachismo-laden hellscape. “Don’t… don’t say yes because you want to make thingseasier for me, Jon. I can handle an argument with my wife.”

“But you want to get married in front of the Heart Tree.” Ipointed out sullenly, keeping my eyes firmly on my father’s chin. “And youcan’t do that while you keep secrets from her.”

“It’s been three and ten years, Jon.” Father sighed, clearlonging in his words even as he pushed his own wants aside for the sake of hisduty. “If she were willing to truly join the North she would have saidsomething to me by now.”

Oh, that comment was going to burn. I know my dear eavesdropping Auntie has never felt welcome inthe North, and now she knows why.This is delicious and I love it.

“Tell her anyway, Father.” Meeting those grey eyes again, Ioffered up a wry smile. “Perhaps this will be enough for her to make thatoffer. Perhaps it will calm her fears about me hurting Robb. Perhaps she willsimply continue to ignore the fact that I exist until she cannot avoid it anylonger. Regardless of the outcome, she at least deserves to know that you havenever broken your oaths to her. She deserves to know that another oath boundyou to silence, for all our sakes.”

“You are a good boy, Jon.” Father smiled, embracing me againas he kissed my hair. “Never forget that kindness. It is a great gift.”

“I won’t, Father.” I smiled back and leaned into thestrength of the only father I would ever acknowledge. “After all, I have you toshow me what to do.”

/…/

The next morning, I could see that Father had spoken to hiswife. The way she looked at me… Catelyn was ashamed of herself. Was writhing inguilt of her own making like a worm on a hook. Doubtless she was rememberingthe promise she had made to her Seven Gods, the promise she had broken so veryquickly when she learned that I had lived through my fever.

This was no less than she deserved.

I took my seat at the head table without sparing her morethan a glance. Catelyn’s eyes were reddened and heavy from a night of weeping.For once, there was no transparent attempt to have me sit elsewhere, removedfrom my family. Sansa wrinkled her nose at me, only having recently learnedwhat the word ‘bastard’ meant, thanks to the Southron influences in her life.

Robb and Theon glanced at Lady Stark, but did not hesitateto draw me into their morning conversation once I was seated.

“So.” Robb kept his voice quiet enough not to be heardbeyond our small huddle. “Did you get the nameday gift you wanted?”

“I did.” Inclining my head, I answered just as quietly.“It’s like we thought. She’s dead, but Father’s still trying to protect hermemory.”

“But he gave you a name?” Theon questioned, sharp eyesscanning slowly over the hall for listening ears.

“He did. I asked him to tell Lady Stark.” I shrugged whenthey both looked at me strangely. “Perhaps now she will stop fretting over it.It would be nice not to be accused of causing everything that inconveniencesher.”

“Aye, that’s clever.” Grinning, Theon bumped his shoulderinto mine as he pulled his plate closer. “And now she owes you a debt, too.”

“Let’s not bring attention to that, shall we?” I smackedTheon’s fingers with the back of my knife before he could steal my bread.“That’s my breakfast, Greyjoy. Get your own.”

“But it tastes better when it’s stolen!” Laughing as heprotested, Theon held his hands up in surrender when I pointed my knife at him.“I yield, I yield. Your food is safe, Snow.”

“Now there’s a lie if I ever heard one.” Robb snorted,curling his arm around his plate when Theon turned to him with a woundedexpression. “You’re a shameless food sneak, Theon. The cooks are all out forvengeance over missing platters.”

With a disdainful sniff, Theon turned back to his own plate.“I’m a growing man.”

“You’re a bottomless pit, is what you are.” I eyed theIronborn boy up and down. “How are you this weedy if all you do is eat?”

“You’re one to talk.” Robb snickered, the smug little shit.One day he would actually reach an awkward growth stage and I was going tolaugh so hard. “You’re barely biggerthan the girls, Snow.”

The was a scraping noise as Father stood up and cleared histhroat, drawing every eye in the hall and cutting off my retort. Robb was goingto get his ass kicked for that comment later during our arms practice. For now,I held my tongue and paid attention as Father raised his hand for silence.

“I have two announcements to make this morning.” Fatherturned and smiled at his wife, placing a hand on the back of her chair. “Tocelebrate the anniversary of King Robert’s coronation, my Lady Wife and I shallbe renewing our vows in the Godswood. The invitations to our bannermen Housesshall be sent later today.”

A cheer shook the rafters. I laughed and clapped my hands,vastly entertained by the dumbstruck look on Catelyn’s face as the Northernpeople applauded. This was the first step to her gaining full acceptance, and Iplanned to keep that momentum going.

“Second.” Father continued once the ruckus had died down. “Withthe blessings and council of my Lady Wife, I have written to King Robert askingfor the granting of legitimacy to my natural born son. Once it is official, JonStark will be named the future lord of Moat Cailin and tasked with itsrestoration.”

Robb and Theon whooped, pounding me on the back as I gapedat my father. Arya shrieked in glee and lunged across the table to throw herarms around my neck. Even Sansa was smiling, even if it looked a bit stiff withconfusion. Baby Rickon had no idea what was going on but he still added hisvoice to the mess.

Holy shit yes. My plans were working. Theon actually had manners, Father had told the truthabout my birth, Lady Stark had gotten a reality check, and I had actually been legitimized…

Fucking right, I was going to Machiavelli the hell out of the Seven Kingdoms. Next up,convincing Father to have Arya fostered with the Mormonts, or at least have hertutored as a shieldmaiden by one, and then I was going to get Sansa someone shecould have an actual intelligent conversation with.

Yes, excellent. This pleases me.

=/=

[rkwendy]

It’s The Endgame.

Coaching Solo for the Final Episode of MGA Season 5

Featuring: @rkmiya, @rksxngyeol, @rkkenta, @rkxbin, @yewonxrk, @jacksxnrk Special appearance: @rkchaeyoung @hyunark

Wendy’s lips couldn’t help but set into a firm line as she watched the results of the MGAs on TV. This wasn’t any good. The kids were going to have to redeem themselves if they wanted to prove that they truly belonged on that stage. The other companies’ performances may have outshined their teams. Part of her feels responsible for not doing enough as a coach. She shakes her head as she reads the notes the producers have handed her. The kids were going to have to think bigger and be a little more creative and daring as a one-last ditch attempt. It was go big or go home at this point of the competition. 

She doesn’t have much time to spend with them this week because of her own commitments as a member of AND*ROMA and all the preparation that comes with it. However, she’s still trying her best to be a good coach and wants to be there for them as much as she can. 

She’s also aware of the comments they had gotten in contrast to the other coaches. Perhaps some image reversal was in order? Especially now that the kids have shown improvement with last week’s military training.

Despite Sunmi unni’s best intentions and advice, Team Polaris seemed to have a mindset similar to hers in a more extreme fashion. Wendy had suggested to go bigger, bolder, and to think out of the box, but she wasn’t expecting them to go completely crazy. She had tried her best to retain some semblance of control, but her creative and ambitious side had been piqued as the rest of the team threw in more suggestions. As she imagines how everything will sound in her head, Wendy nods as she takes notes. She doesn’t want to dampen these contestants’ fire, now that it’s sparking back to life after a last-place finish. Sungyeol oppa is completely onboard as he even fuels their passion by suggesting special effects. Wendy only shudders as she thinks to herself as she starts sending Sunmi unni messages via Kakaotalk. Sunmi unni definitely wasn’t going to be pleased. She almost chuckles as she thinks of how she’ll have to finish mixing everything as soon as she finishes her own training for the day. 

The concepts they had come up with were going to be impressive to watch if executed properly. Then again, that is what they’re there for: to make sure the contestants can pull this off. This is a high-risk, high-reward kind of thing, in Wendy’s opinion. She’s more realistic about things, but she also believes in what their team is capable of. Wendy then spends the rest of the night at the studio that she has come to call hers as cuts the songs according to the contestants’ requests. She also throws in the special effects that they asked for as she searches for royalty-free sounds on the Internet. The sooner she finishes this, the sooner the team can practice. In the meantime, she hopes they still do the exercises she taught them the week before. 

With one singer less, Wendy then takes it upon herself to hit two birds with one stone: improve everyone’s singing and hopefully change the public’s perception of them as coaches. 

“I trust that you’re still doing the planks and running in laps, yes?” She asks as greeting after presenting them with the final audio they’ll use for their performance. “Some of you have an issue with voice projection. I’ll give you some tips on that,” Wendy says to them as she settles on the chair assigned to her. 

“You have to know how to open and close your vocal chords. The thing is, a lot of people want to look good while singing, so they don’t open their mouths properly. You need to lower your jaw and really open your mouth.” Wendy demonstrates it by opening her mouth wide enough to lower her jaw. “If you open your mouth like that, your vocal chords open up naturally. Let’s give it a shot, everyone.” 

Once she’s satisfied, she continues talking. “I have another tip and this time, it’s for doing high notes. As scary and risky as they are, there’s only two things to keep in mind,” she says. “There are sounds that go inward and sounds that go outward. It has something to do with how you breathe when making those sounds. For example, I’ll be singing ‘그녀를 지켜라 날 잊지 못하게.’” She almost chuckles at how the song to come to the top of her head is a MYNAME song. She thinks of how the tune goes before taking in a breath and keeping that breath in as she sings the line and leans backward, pointing to herself. Her voice sounds like it’s being held back, and she hopes the kids notice it. “That’s an example of a sound that goes in. Meanwhile… 그녀를 지켜라 날 잊지 못하게~ It sounds way better, doesn’t it? ” She opens her arms like she’s doing the Baby Shark dance as she sings the line properly. She hopes Insoo sunbaenim doesn’t think she butchered his line if he ever hears this. 

“When practicing high notes, remember to use sounds that go outward. Ah!” She demonstrates as she gestures for them to repeat after her. She keeps repeating the same syllable as she breathes outward, raising the pitch and volume as she goes. When they pull it off, she gently claps. “Great job! In fact, the sound you make when you’re angry is the best one to make for high notes. DAD, WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” She yells as a demonstration before laughing. After calming down, she adds, “You may laugh, but that’s actually a good sound to make.” She smiles at each of them. “You can practice by being angry with me. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” She senses some hesitation from some of them. “Think of this as your chance to get even for all you’ve been through last week.”

Wendy decides to pay extra attention to Kenta, who suddenly has more singing responsibilities now. She can trust Jackson to sing even in his sleep, so she’s not too worried about him. Kenta on the other hand has been promoted from sub-vocal to lead vocal. She is going to make sure Kenta can at least pull off what he has to by show time.

“Ah~” Wendy sings as she opens her mouth. She watches Kenta as he repeats after her. She nods. 

“Just move your jaw downward, Kenta,” she instructs and points at her own jaw. She sings the note again. As he repeats after her, Wendy notices an improvement in his voice. “Just a little more, Kenta. Repeat after me.” This time she sings a higher note than the previous one. She gives him a thumbs up. Wendy decides to push Kenta to his limits by singing a really high note. She has to applaud his effort for trying, and that’s what she does. It may not have been perfect, but it’s a step up. 

Meanwhile, Changbin comes to consult her for feedback on rap lyrics. She had liked what he had come up with, but she feels like rap is completely out of her depth. She tries not to show her internal panic as she turns to the nearest PD. “Am I allowed to phone a friend? Or two? I need backup!” At the PD’s nod, she then turns to Changbin. “I know a thing or two about lyrics, but I want to get you the best help I can, as rap isn’t my field of expertise. Let’s just hope they both take the call,” she admits with a laugh as she goes through her contact lists to look for two specific numbers. 

She had actually wanted to ask Hugo oppa, who Changbin seriously reminded her of, but he’s busy with preparations for PER_SE’s debut. However, it will benefit Changbin to get help from two very different, but incredibly talented female rappers — assuming both people she calls pick up their phones.

“Chaeyoungie~ Are you busy?” Wendy asks as soon as the first of two people picks up. As she explains why she called, she puts her phone on speaker mode for Changbin to hear. “Hang on, I’ll send you the lyrics so you can read them as Changbin performs them.” 

Wendy listens and takes notes as she listens to Chaeyoung give her feedback on the rappers. Her feedback is a mix of things Wendy had thought of, but there were some things Wendy sure how to do or correct as well. Phoning a friend had definitely been one of her better ideas. It was less risky than kidnapping Chaeyoung in the practice room and dragging her here. 

When Chaeyoung’s done (or was forced to go back to practice, Wendy’s not sure), Wendy gently sings “Thanks, Chaeyoungie~ I owe you food later! See you when I get back~” 

That’s not the only person she thinks of calling. She’s more sure of Chaeyoung’s schedule, as they literally live together. However, the second person she’s calling is probably not as free to take calls. Wendy decides to risk it all the same. She blinks at the cameras for comedic effect as the phone rings for the second time today. 

“Hyuna unni~ Are you busy?” Wendy asks as soon as a familiar voice that’s not voicemail (thank God) answers. She doesn’t bother holding back a snort as she realizes that she may have called Hyuna unni while the older girl was resting from training. Her suspicions are confirmed when Hyuna unni says “You want my help? Okay cool uhm — let me get a coffee.” 

Having Hyuna unni onboard is always a great help to Wendy. After all, when it comes to making music, the two of them are almost always on a similar wavelength. It’s one of the secrets to their teamwork. She knows this isn’t any exception. She’s desperate and is glad her friends pulled through. 

When Hyuna unni is done (or wanted to go back to bed — again, Wendy’s not sure), Wendy sings “Thanks, Hyuna unni~ I owe you cookies! Love you!” before ending the call. 

Turning to Changbin, she says, “I hope they were able to help. I definitely wouldn’t have thought of some of the things they said.” She hides her face in her hands as she laughs. 

At some point, one of them brings up the question of the coaches’ own MGA experiences. Wendy’s genuinely surprised at this turn of events. This is the first time any of them had asked her about it. She chuckles as she thinks back to three years ago. She tells them about the things Team Nova did, as well as Ricky oppa’s high standards. “What I did to you guys is chill compared to the dance boot camp we went through with Ricky oppa!” she says with a laugh. “He was very hands-on and helpful with my team back then…” 

On the night before the live performance, Wendy makes it a point to drop by the practice room. After all, she won’t be allowed to watch them live due to her own schedules. Once Sunmi unni is done with her pep talk, Wendy decides to give it a go. “I know Sunmi unni covered most of it, but I thought I should try this pep talk thing too. My figure skating coach used to tell me ‘You are the one thing in life you can control.’ Sure, you can’t control what the CEOs and the audiences will think of you, but you can control what you do up there tomorrow. What matters is that you have fun and give everything you have on that stage. No one can take that away from you. And if people see you love what you do, then it will be easier to win them over. After all, isn’t that what performing is? Despite what happens, I want you all to know I’m proud of you. Win or lose, you’re the best to me.” 

Wendy takes turns holding onto their individually as she looks at each of them in the eye. “My coach used to do this right before I took the ice,” she says with a gentle smile as she shakes their hands as her coach used to do to her. “I believe in you. You’ll kill it up there,” she says before hugging each of them. “It’s been an honor coaching you guys.” 

[minaminokyoko]

Captain Marvel: A Spoilertastic Review

Well, here we are. Our first female-led Marvel movie (unless you count Ant Man and the Wasp, which I kind of do because Scott was basically useless and Hope ran the whole movie like a boss, but too bad she ran the show on a dull, rushed movie). How does it measure up?

It's fine.

I'd coin Captain Marvel as good, not great. It's definitely a popcorn flick, in the same vein of Ant Man for sure in terms of where it fits in our giant pantheon of MCU movies. I'd rank it dead center, so slightly underneath Cap 1 and Thor 2, but above Doctor Strange. I think Ant Man is a good comparison for the tone and the enjoyment of this movie, although it does do more to characterize the main lead than Ant Man did for Scott Lang. To be fair, though, somehow they end up in the same spot for my personal rankings.

So let's dive in and see why.

Overall Grade: B-

Pros:

-Plenty of action. No shortage on that whatsoever.

-Lots of off-world adventures, for those fans who sometimes are annoyed that too many MCU movies are earth-based. We don't hit earth until about the halfway point and there are still some shenanigans then.

-The dynamic between Carol and Fury is a lot of fun. Larson and Jackson work off each other's energy very well and the banter feels fun and familiar without ever veering into any weird territory. Fury is just as effective as ever at her side, and it's before he becomes full on grumpy Dad Fury, so he's a lot less cold and it's fun to see.

-It was also delightful getting to see Coulson one more time, although it's a cameo, not a whole role as some of the trailers sort of imply.

-The female relationships are probably the strongest in the Marvel lineup, aside from Black Panther. Particularly Carol, her best friend Maria, and Maria's daughter. We don't see a ton of it, but it's just enough to put a huge grin on your face. It's very warm and endearing. I also like that Maria was not only a supportive best friend struggling to get over her loss, but she got to join the action as well, and it was badass. I really am happy with Marvel pushing forward to give black women more representation in the superhero genre. Too many folks think black women in film are only sassy best friends or baby mamas or Tyler Perry stereotypes. We love sci-fi/fantasy just as much as everyone else, and so I loved seeing two beautiful black actresses shining next to Brie Larson and Samuel L. Jackson. It lends the film a lot of heart.

-Brie Larson is relatively decent in the role. She has some moments better than others, but overall, she did a good job. It never felt like she couldn't handle the work of beating some ass, and she sold me far more than Gal Gadot did as Wonder Woman. Which, yes, I know, it's unfair and kind of tasteless to compare them, but I have to note it since I didn't care for the WW movie that this is what I was talking about with film presence. Gal Gadot, to me, looks like a supermodel wearing a Wonder Woman costume. To me, she never embodied the poise, agility, and strength that Diana has in the comics or in the animated series. I believed Gadot more during the softer parts of the WW movie, but she couldn't pull off the action because she just doesn't have the presence. Larson does, imo. She carries herself in a manner that makes me feel like she can kick your ass. She has a stance and a stature that allows me to feel her strength, and it's in line with other Marvel women like Widow, Okoye, or Scarlet Witch.

-My favorite part of the movie is hands down the "I'm Just a Girl" by No Doubt scene. Oh my God. I was internally squeeing and singing along with the lyrics while she kicked ass. I was so delighted to see them perfectly use that song that I already liked in high school anyway, and it just worked so well.

-I also liked the montages of Carol getting back up. That is a really, really important image for the girls growing up to see. It's not about how many times you fall. It's about how many times you still get back up. That's great. We fall and get dirty and scuffed and mocked and hated. But we still get up and try again every time. Love it. It's very empowering.

-The de-aging looked pretty good. Jackson is tougher since he's gained weight since the size he was back in the 90's but they filled in his wrinkles well enough. Coulson's looked better, although I did notice just it a tad bit during the stairwell scene, but overall, I thought it was well done.

-Gosh, her costume looks amazing. I want it. I want to wear it for Halloween. It's gorgeous.

-The sequence of the Skrulls acquiring her memories was very neat and uniquely done. Kudos.

-THE MOTHERFUCKING FIRST END CREDITS SCENE. Y'ALL. I SCREAMED. I SCREAMED AND CLAPPED MY HANDS SO HARD I HURT THEM. OH MY GOD. SHE'S ON EARTH. THE QUEEN IS ON EARTH AND WE SHALL ALL BE SAVED. SHE IS GOING TO TURN FUCKING THANOS INTO FUCKING PURPLE CLAM CHOWDER WITH HER BARE HANDS FOR KILLING FURY AWWWWWW YEEEEEEEEEEAH BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII. Ahem. Sorry. I am really goddamn excited about that tiny piece of Avengers: Endgame because Marvel and the Russos have been so fucking stingy with details. We still don't know the plot. We only have that 30-second Superbowl spot and the Sad Stark trailer. I was livid they didn't give us a final trailer in front of this movie, but I guess with it a month and change away, they're just banking on us frothing at the mouth wanting more. Jerks. But anyway, yes, this fucking scene is mint and I wish I could rewind it.

-Nick naming the Avenger Initiative after her was a great cherry on top moment.

-I fucking lost it when Nick started singing “Mr. Postman.” Deadass, I just started listening to that song about a month ago thanks to that one famous Vine where those dudes sung it acapella. I was dying. You go, Nick. 

Cons:

-This movie overall has a bit of a bland taste to it. It's most revolving around Carol. The problem is that I think they were too chicken to dive deeply into who she is and her personality and her desires because they were afraid the feminists would complain that they made her too soft, so they replaced it all with action. Which is fine, some people just want a girl kicking ass, but I think it did Carol and Larson a disservice by rushing everything and doing drive-by characterization. The dialogue doesn't stick as well due to the bland flavoring, for example. If you ask me who Carol Danvers is, I can't really tell you. I can tell you what she does, but not who she is. I regret that probably the most out of everything. This movie is a bit of a vehicle than a movie where we discover who she is. We discover what she is, but not who she is. She's kind of just every tough, stubborn, smartass female lead you could see in maybe an Avengers OC fic on AO3. She really needed more distinct quirks and likes and dislikes, and I really fault them for cutting out her life on the Kree planet. It would have shown us so much more about her if we knew what her Kree life was like juxtaposed against her original human life, and it could up the stakes and help them sink it, and give more immediacy and concern to the dangers she faced.

-The villains were telegraphed. Again, people ding Marvel for this all the time. It's because they seem to struggle with balance. Often, the villains are thin to cut down the running time by not developing them at all. It's a shame. I've always found Jude Law very entertaining and I think they should have given him something to work with other than Obvious Bad Guy Pretending To Be Good. It was so transparent, much like the bitchy sister villain from Incredibles II. He might as well have been twirling a mustache. I mean, any dude who tells you your emotions are bad is probably not on the up-and-up. And it would have been better to see him and Carol square off at the end in an emotional battle than for it to just be a cheap shot and a joke. But I digress.

-While there was a lot of action, aside from the "Just a Girl" sequence, I will forget it all by morning. I think they wanted the movie to have mass appeal, so a lot of it comes across as generic. The stuff that stands out more are bits like finally seeing what alien Goose actually was or some of Fury's quips and the bits with Maria's daughter and Carol. The action itself is serviceable, but I'd have liked it to have more flavor if possible.

-Not outlining the limit to Carol's powers. This is going to be tough lining up with Endgame because she's so god-like we're gonna wonder if she just bitchslaps Thanos and that's the end. She feels overpowered without the chip limiting her, so I would have liked them to give us some kind of idea as to how she won't just wipe the floor with him in retribution in Endgame.

-Nitpick: Nick losing his eye to Goose annoyed me. People called it. I didn't want them to be right, but ugh, they were. It was a bit too silly for me.

-Nitpick: They really didn't need to waste our time with the second end credits being Goose puking up the Tesseract. We knew he did. You didn't have to show it, dummies.

-Nitpick: Was hoping for some 90's era cameos from at least one other Avenger, but no such luck. Damn. What a letdown.

I had fun, and I am eager to see her fit into the rest of the MCU. And I am also selfishly even more interested in Kamala Khan someday popping in as the new generation of heroes. Please, God, give me Kamala Khan. I want her and my son Peter Parker to team up and be the cutest superhero dorks ever. But until then...God help us all. Endgame is coming.

Enjoy the sunlight coming off of Ms. Danvers.

Because it's finna get dark up in here, my children.

See you in Endgame.

Kyo out.

[in-the-grip-of-depression]

In The Grip Of Depression Chapter 17: Bittersweet

Chapter 1|Previous Chapter|Next Chapter Trigger Warnings: Mentions of blood, vomiting

Prestons eyes fluttered open and he held back a small groan as he felt the pain in his head from where it had hit the tree he was now slumped against.

He could see Virgil and the others over by the barrier, they hadn't noticed he was awake just yet because they were more focused on Virgil.

Deciding that he didn't want to hang around until they did notice, Preston slowly began crawling into the trees until he was out of sight of the others. Only then did he stand up and start walking.

He was curious if his tree house was in the barrier so he set off in that direction and a pleased smirk twisted onto his face when it came into view.

He slowly pulled himself up the ladder, wincing and grunting from the aches and pains in his body.

He flopped onto the balcony with a loud sigh and lay there catching his breath for a bit before standing up and heading into the tree house.

He began searching through the house for anything useful and grinned as he pulled open a draw and found a ton of his favourite torture tools.

He pulled out a long sharp hunting knife that made his old knife look like spoon and closed his eyes as he imagined all the ways he could get back at Virgil with it.

He let out a small sigh and set it down, searching the rest of the room and coming across his hidden stash of cigarettes and lighters.

He ripped open the carton and stuffed one of them into his mouth, lighting it and letting out a contented sigh as a cloud of smoke burst from his lips.

He felt the stress of being trapped in this hellish barrier thing melt away and he could actually focus on a plan of action now.

He stuffed the packet into his pocket and toyed with the lighter in his hand thoughtfully as a thousand different ideas ran through his mind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan sank to the floor with a small groan of exhaustion as he finished healing Virgils back.

It had taken a lot of intense concentration but he'd managed it and now Virgil wasn't going to bleed out.

Virgil had fallen asleep leaning against the barrier and Patton quietly said "I'll take Logan to bed and you can keep an eye on things tonight. Is that OK?"

Roman nodded and replied "That's fine by me, just make sure Thomas doesn't have another one of those nightmares. That's the last thing any of us need right now."

Patton shuddered at the reminder as he gently helped Logan up. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he has a peaceful sleep. If anything major happens let me know."

Roman watched as Patton coaxed Logan into walking and the two disappeared back to the main part of the mindspace leaving him alone with Virgil.

Roman turned back to Virgil with a sorrowful expression. He wasn't sure how long this process was going to take but he was quite certain that it wouldn't be pretty and the one thing he wanted more than anything was to embrace Virgil and tell him it would all be OK.

Roman slumped forward with his head in his hands as he was overwhelmed with the daunting truth; nothing was going to be OK anymore, he wouldn't ever be able to even hold Virgil in a hug because of everything that had happened and the barrier.

It was as if something within him broke and suddenly his body was wracked with sobs, hot floods of tears running down his face.

He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who dreamed big and never let anything put a damper on his hope of reaching his goals, but he didn't feel like that at that moment. He felt lost and hopeless, like anything he thought about would be pointless.

His sobs mustn't have been particularly quiet because a soft voice from nearby said "You know, I never thought I'd ever see you cry like this."

Roman raised his head and found himself looking at a now awake Virgil.

When Roman raised his head and showed Virgil his tear streaked face Virgil inhaled sharply. It was such a bittersweet image because all the raw emotions in Romans eyes made them sparkle so beautifully.

Roman opened his mouth to try and explain himself but all he could produce were more sobs.

"There's no need to say anything, just let it all out and you'll feel better." Virgil said in a comforting voice.

Roman let himself cry for another half an hour before he started to try and calm himself down. He felt much better at having let it all out but there was still an overhanging feeling of despair.

"I'm sorry for waking you, I didn't mean to be so loud." Roman muttered with a sigh.

"there's no need to apologise, there are much worse ways to be woken up." Virgil replied, trying to make light of the situation but failing as it reminded both of them of Preston.

Roman wiped his face and said "You barely got any sleep though and I bet you don't get much when in this thing." he gestured to the barrier which both of them were now leaning against.

Virgil was leaning on the barrier sideways his head resting against it as he surveyed Roman. "It was probably better I was woken up after a little bit of peaceful sleep than having to go through hours of nightmares and agonising sleep paralysis."

Roman frowned at that and felt another wave of sorrow flow through him at how much he wished he could save Virgil from all this suffering.

"This is actually a welcome change. I got enough sleep that I don't feel like I'm going to collapse and I woke up to a lovely sight." Virgil said casually before freezing as he realised what he'd said.

"A lovely sight? What do you mean?" Roman asked.

Virgil opened his mouth and nothing came out as he tried to think of a way to respond.

"are you talking about me crying?" Roman asked with a confused expression.

"yes and no, it was just kind of breathtaking seeing you crying because your eyes were so.... Pretty and... Stuff..." Virgil managed to stutter out lamely and looked about ready to bury himself in the ground to hide from the shame and regret.

Roman was stunned into silence before he managed to ask "you think my eyes look... Pretty?"

Virgils cheeks burned as he stared at anything but Roman. He mentally cursed himself for making the comment about waking up to a lovely sight and regretted everything he'd said to try and explain.

Roman noticed the reddened cheeks and felt a jolt of hope which was promptly squashed as he remembered the situation.

"Pretty isn't quite the word I meant." Virgil eventually mumbled "I was just so caught off guard at the amount of raw emotion in your eyes and the way they sparkled while filled with tears... Ugh I'm just going to shut up now and contemplate removing my tongue so I stop embarrassing myself like this." Virgil hid his face in his hands and fought the urge to headbutt the barrier.

Roman was lost for words as he processed what had just been said but when Virgil made another comment, this time about wanting to just disappear, he managed to say "If you disappeared I wouldn't get to say something equally embarrassing back."

Virgil raised his head and peered at Roman from between his fingers. "what?"

Roman swallowed nervously and said "I... I might have a small amount of feelings for you, which you probably don't return and you don't have to at all I just felt like I needed to say it so now you're not alone in your embarrassment and now I'm starting to understand the wanting to remove your tongue thing because I can't seem to stop talking right now."

Roman clapped a hand over his mouth to force himself to stop speaking and fixed his eyes on Virgil who had yet to respond.

Virgil was dumbstruck at Romans words and was struggling to comprehend just what had been said. He just about managed to become cognitive enough that he realised Roman had admitted to having feelings for him.

Panic surged through Virgil as he tried to force his sluggish brain to form actual words in response. "I.... I.... I think I'm going to be sick." Virgil spluttered before retching.

Roman winced and looked away as Virgil vomited, this didn't appear too promising.

When Virgil had finished puking he started laughing hysterically. "This whole situation is so fucking typical. Of course it's when I'm behind an impenetrable barrier, ready to sacrifice myself for everyone that I'm suddenly aware of you having feelings for me. This sums up my life so perfectly, I eventually find love and I'm in a situation where it's impossible to have a relationship."

Romans jaw dropped at Virgil mentioning love but sobered up quickly as Virgil let out a weird half laugh half sob. "Even if this barrier wasn't here, we wouldn't be able to be together either."

Roman, who had rested his forehead on the barrier, looked up at Virgil questioningly "Why not?"

Virgil took a few gulps of air and replied in a subdued voice "The medication is changing me, taking away all the limits and rules I've created for myself so I don't become a monster. I've become more violent and angry while I've been in here and I never used to be able to physically manifest my anxious energy. I'm changing and if the barrier were to come down now I'd probably become more of a threat than Preston is."

Roman opened his mouth to protest but Virgil looked him right in they eyes, his hands pressed against the barrier. "Promise me you'll keep making Thomas take the medication. Even if Preston dies before me, even if I ask you to make him stop. He must keep taking them until both me and Preston have gone."

Roman stuttered "I... I don't know... If you asked me to tell him to stop why wouldn't I listen to you?"

Virgil closed his eyes for a few seconds as he unblocked his anxious energy until it was a huge mass of black smoke swirling around him and his eyes were glowing eerily. "Because right now I'm pretty much fully in control but the longer I'm in here the harder it is to stay in control. If in the future I ask, or even beg to be let out you can't listen. If you were to let me out I could utterly destroy Thomas."

Roman stared at the black smoke with a tinge of fear before locking eyes with Virgil. "I... I promise Virgil. I'll make him keep taking them no matter what." Romans voice wavered slightly but Virgil smiled and carefully brought the energy under control again until the black smoke had gone.

"Thank you Roman. You'll have to convince the others but knowing you that won't be very hard."Virgil said with a sad smile.

They sat staring into each others eyes for a bit before a few tears trailed down Romans face. "I wish I'd said something sooner, I can't even hug you or hold your hand and the thought that I'll never get to hold you again is killing me inside."

Virgil felt tears of his own run down his face as he smiled bitterly "Unfortunately life's unfair Roman but at least we said something now so we both know. It would have been worse if you'd never said anything."

Roman took a few gasping breaths to calm himself down then said "It seems like it was years ago that I was threatening to stab Logan for getting drunk and kissing you."

Virgil snorted at that "Now there's something I'm not surprised about. I did always peg you as the jealous, possessive type."

Roman managed a small smile at that "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Virgil rolled his eyes "actually I didn't say it was a bad thing, it's fine by me, but threatening to kill someone? That seems a bit overdramatic."

Roman let out a light laugh "But I'm the Prince, it's my job to be overdramatic."

Virgil let out a small snicker as Roman gestured wildly and felt the urge to shove him playfully but he was quickly bought back to reality as he remembered the barrier.

A sad sigh passed his lips and he leant against the barrier with his eyes shut. "All this is fun and everything but don't you think this will just make everything worse in the long run? The more time we spend talking and getting closer is just going to make it hurt more when I become a monster."

Romans hands fell to his sides and his head hung slightly as he absorbed what Virgil had said. He'd waited so long to admit his feelings and he just wanted to know everything he could about Virgil.

Romans expression turned determined as he said "It may hurt in the long run but I don't care. I want to know everything about you, what you like, what you dislike, everything. Surely this will help keep you as yourself for longer and it's better to have experienced this and then lost it than to have never experienced it at all. I don't care how much it will hurt, I'm not abandoning you."

Virgils eyes shot open and he stared at Roman in astonishment. He hadn't expected any of this and he knew he should say no, that they shouldn't indulge in their want to get closer but the expression on Romans face and the words he'd just spoken had made any argument Virgil had melt away into nothing until he found himself saying "OK, fuck it, let's do this."

Roman grinned and they sat there all night talking, neither of them even noticing the absence of Preston.

[creativeashproductions]

Hyde Park // Jughead Jones

Summary: As Archie’s older sister you return to Riverdale amid the closing of the Jason Blossom murder case when tragedy strikes your life. Traumatized you race home from England to the comfort of your Dad’s arms. To think it tragedy would strike again in the Andrews family just weeks are your return.

Characters: Jughead Jones x Andrews!Reader, Archie Andrews, Fred Andrews, Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge, OFC!Ruth Abbott, and Mary Andrews

Words: 2752

Disclaimer: I do not own Riverdale or the characters. Nor do I own any images, gifs, jokes and lyrics that may appear in this.

Warnings: Swearing, injuries, traumatic event, Riverdale shooting, death (mentioend), fluff and angst

Author: Caitsy

A/N: I really love this one for some reason. Please request more Teen Wolf and Riverdale imagines. Thank you.

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Walking towards your seats near the front of the room in the concert area you giggled with the girl beside you. Both with a closed can of alcohol, thank god for the youngest age limit, you were excited for the concert to begin. It was your first in your new home and to have it with the first person you connected with after the flight you were ecstatic.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe we’re seeing this!” Ruth screamed over the music. It was getting you pumped and hearing Ruth’s accent really set into your mind.

“Best way to end the week and our break begins!” You yelled back as the announcer called out the band.

“I hope your pumped London! Give it up for Machine Gun Kelly!” The entire Hype Park area freaked as he walked on stage.

You weren’t crazy obsessed with him but Ruth was a massive fan so when he announced he would be appearing in the small concert you knew you had to come. Getting cheap tickets was easy when you knew the right people.

“We’re going to start with Bad Things!” MGK called out before it began.

Ruth and you abandoned your empty cans on the ground to dance in your area not caring about anything. You weren’t sure how long it was before someone managed to get on stage.

“GET DOWN!” They screamed before a ear bursting loud boom split the area with grass and dirt flying everywhere. The stage crashed from the force, you didn’t know what was up or down but you knew something was wrong. Someone had spilt their beer on you and the glass had hit you because you hurt so much.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?!” Ruth screamed trying to shove pass people in a fury to move.

You whimpered when you were pushed on to the ground where panicked feet moved different ways. You blacked out when a shoe slammed into your face.

“Archie come here!” Fred Andrews yelled from the living room. His eyes stuck on the tv screen.

“I’m bu-“

“Archibald! NOW.”

The frenzy nearly had Archie fall down the stairs in his hurry to get to his Dad. Archie hadn’t heard his father yell that before. He was unprepared when he found Fred collapsed into a chair with his hands clasped together in front of his face. On the screen was flashing lights and a newscast speaking with a banner going across the bottom.

A Tragedy Has Struck Westminster, London at Hyde Park.

“What’s going on Dad?”

“Call your sister.”

“Dad I’m sure she’s fine. She’s been busy with school.” Archie nervously said biting his lip, “She broke her phone.”

There wasn’t much the Andrews’ men could do as the information came forth.

“Just four short months after a bomb went off at the Manchester Arena another concert tragedy has occurred. In Hyde Park the musician Machine Gun Kelly had a concert when just shy of half way through a bomb was detonated. No information has come forth on the numbers injured and dead but we have facts to believe it’s in the dozens.”

Archie’s hands shook as he struggled to get his phone out of his pocket to call your emergency contact. Ruth Abbott had taken you under her wing when you decided on going to accept Oxford University in England as your choice of education.

The phone rang before it was angrily picked up.

“This isn’t funny.” The voice was deeper.

“Is Ruth there?”

“No. She’s out and this isn’t funny. Stop calling this number.” The man seethed before the call was cut.

“No answer.” Archie murmured looking up.

“Go to school Archie.” Fred groaned looking back up at the tv. The newscaster glanced behind her before returning her eyes to the camera.


“We have a confirmed attendant by the Y/N Andrews safely in one of the houses taking in people for safety.”


Fred and Archie sighed in relief as they each collapsed into a chair no longer anxious if she was dead. Clapping his hand on his father’s should Archie turned to grab his bag.

“However Y/N’s friend Ruth Abbott has been confirmed to be in critical condition at the nearest hospital. We have no information on the suspect.”

“She must be devastated.” Fred sighed shaking head to turn off the tv, “I should get to work. Y/N will call when she can.”

A few weeks passed by with revelations hitting the small town from FP getting arrested being the most talked about. Ms. Grundy leaving town was another but nothing could match when news broke out about London again.

Clueless Archie had opened his locker to grab his textbook not noticing the looks from everyone. He barely noticed when Betty carefully closed his locker to garner his attention.

“Did you finish the biology homework?” He questioned, “The last question has me.”

“Arch.” Betty softly spoke steering her best friend into the Blue and Gold.

“What’s wrong?” Archie asked looking at her.

“Have you looked at the news?” Betty said sitting on her desk. 
“No?”

“It’s bad Archie.” Betty sighed, “You haven’t heard from Y/N because she was in hospital.”


“No she’s safe and can’t call. She’s saving money for a phone.” Archie reaffirmed his feelings on the situation just as Jughead, sitting at his desk in the Blue and Gold, turned his screen.

There on the screen was you with your suitcase he had got your for your eighteenth birthday just a few weeks before you left. You had a high IQ with enough credits to bypass your senior year entirely and get into Oxford University with acceptances from Brown university and Yale.

You were alone in an airport staring blankly as you were shadowed by a man in a uniform until you were out the camera view. You were layered in clothing that you wouldn’t have done previously.

“Archie. She was in a coma for a week with no ID or friends to give her a name. Ultimately she was a Jane Doe until she woke up and she stayed another week due to injuries.”

“They should have known it wasn’t her!” Archie screamed furiously rubbing his eyes.

“Common mistaken identity.” Jughead said, “They both had red hair, brown eyes and Archie it was a complete disaster on the event. They couldn’t focus on Y/N.”

You gasped lurching in your seat as your dream cemented in your mind with Ruth front and centre glaring at you. You saw you were still on the plane heading back to Riverdale with the financial help of Mr and Mrs. Abbott and their healthy bank account. You didn’t want to leave Ruth but you were being forced back to America because the Abbott’s knew you needed to be far from London.

“Thank you for flying with us!”

You brushed your hand over your baggy sweater from the healing wounds were on your body. In the words of Natasha Romanoff in the marvel movies, ‘bye-bye bikinis’ because you certainly wouldn’t show them off.

Mrs. Abbott had insisted on paying for the cab you would take from the airport home because you didn’t remember what your family’s number were at all. You had lost your phone during the bombing and didn’t have the money to get a new one. You were relieved when your childhood home came into your line of sight.

“Thank you.” You mumbled shoving a few bills at the cabbie. He grunted as you dragged your bags to the door. You tiptoed until you felt the spare key on the edge of the doorframe.

“Home sweet home.” You murmured to yourself as you walked into your bedroom still painted the colour to had demanded when you were able to get rid of the pink.

You walked into your bathroom to wash your face but when you looked up you saw a bloodied Ruth instead.

“No. No.” You whimpered scrambling to shove your back against the wall curling in on yourself, “It’s not real.”

With your eyes closed you forgot where you were until you opened your eyes to see the Hyde Park clear as day. You could still smell the scent in the air while Ruth slowly turned her eyes to you.

“It’s your fault.”

“I-I.”

You screamed before opening your eyes and looking down to see blood on your hands from pressing your nails into your skin. You had a long recovery ahead of you. Not trusting yourself to not remember that day you used the bathroom and came out to your dark room. Grabbing your computer you put on your favourite movie.

Time passed before you heard the front door slam open but you heard the deafening sound from the bomb in the park. Pushing yourself off the bed you crawled underneath waiting for the man in your nightmares to appear. Logically you knew he was dead but emotionally you were sure he was terrorizing you.

“Are you sure?” Your Dad, Fred, asked from downstairs.


“I can’t get a hold of anyone. They’re not sure if she got on the plane.” The sweet familiar voice of your mother replied while keys were dropped on the table.

You whimpered feeling that need to be held by your Dad came back strong as it had since you left Riverdale in the first place. You just wanted to feel protected like you always did in his arms growing up.

“Can Sheriff Keller call someone?”

“Archie, Keller doesn’t have any contacts or jurisdiction.” Another voice chimed in, the same voice that caused your heart to race.

You slowly opened the door to walk to the stairs with a slight limp from your left leg you barely even noticed anymore. It was a struggle getting up the stairs initially but you had managed but getting down them would be another one entirely.

The step slightly creaked when you stepped on it causing the entire house to go still. Fred was the first to come around the wall not yet looking up the stairs.

“Daddy?” You sobbed getting his attention.

“Y/N.” Fred yelled racing up the stairs to pull you into a hug, “My baby.”


“I’m scared.” You whimpered the tears fully running down your cheeks.

“I’m here baby.” Your Dad sighed kissing your head as he pulled you in tighter, “I’m never letting you go again.”

Your Dad swept you into his arms to get down the stairs where the three people stood in silent shock.

“You’re alive.” Archie breathed before almost knocking you on the ground, “I thought you were gone.”

You hadn’t felt safe ever since the accident so when your brother and parents hugged you for the first time in months you finally felt safe again. The family reunion was raw with emotion still high from the unknown of everything. Yet at the same time it was palpable with relief at knowing you were out of harms way.

Adjusting back to life post accident was tough with Riverdale all knowing you were back and spreading rumours on your injuries. It ranged from a minor cut to be ghastly third degree burns and a prosthetic leg.

You banned anyone other than your family into the house, even Jughead, because you were disgusted with everything. You couldn’t be around loud sounds without being mentally transported back to Hyde Park and large crowds made you extremely uncomfortable.

“Y/N?” Your Dad said opening the door up, “You okay?”

“I’m fine Dad.” You shifted on your feet.

“Archie and I are going to Pops for breakfast, do you want to come with us?”

“No thank you. I’m not ready yet."

“I have to go to the construction site later but if you want me to stay I can come back from breakfast.”

“I’ll be fine.” You weakly stated moving towards your open bedroom door, “I’ll have to face the town at some point.”

“Take your time.”

You spent your time alone in the house in the kitchen staring in the abyss you called your fridge currently. You wouldn’t mind food from Pops but at the same time you didn’t want to leave the house and face the looks. You were sure things would never get better because you barely slept with the nightmares and not knowing if Ruth was going to be okay or not didn’t help.

You screamed when the front door slammed open before stomping feet thundered in the entry way.

“Shit sorry. I was trying to balance the trays.” Jughead chuckled before seeing your terrified expression, “Shit.”

“I-I’m fine.” You gasped leaning over closing your eyes tight, “You’re in Riverdale. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Jughead soothed pulling you into his arms. You barely felt the tears falling down your cheeks as you pressed your hands onto his chest to ground yourself.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.” You choked.

“That’s okay.” Jughead murmered into your hair, “I’ll be there when you fall and when you pick yourself up again and again.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m ugly.” You sniffled forcefully pushed back to see his stunned expression.

“You are not ugly.”

“I am. I’m scared physically and emotionally.” You cried trying to escape his warmth.


“So am I.” Jughead sighed, “When the drinking first got bad with Dad he got angry one night. He threw the glass at the wall and I stumbled into it. I’m scarred too.”

“Did he hit you?”

“No.” Jughead quickly shook his head, “My Dad may be an ass but he would never lay a finger on Jellybean or me. Ever.”


“Ruth was excited to see the concert. I was too because I got to see my best friend light up in ways she hadn’t in a long time. When it happened it was blinding both by scent and hearing. I couldn’t see anything and I couldn’t hear anything when it went off. I tried to get away but I fell and then its black.”

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Jughead whispered leaning against the counter with you in his arms.

“It was a nice day out and Ruth was yelling. It was like I was underwater with no escape and I just…I was fucking scared.” You whimpered burrowing further into his arms.

“I won’t let anything hurt you anymore.” Jughead murmured into your ear leading you to sit on the couch. You were surprised at how safe you felt in his arms even if you had heard from your brother that Jughead was a serpent following his father’s arrest and the whole Clifford Blossom being Jason’s murderer.

“Thank you.”

The next hour involved him playing with your hands together and taking your mind off of everything by telling you stories about anything and everything. Things changed when Jughead got a call from changed everything for you. Dad had been shot in a robbery at Pops. You didn’t think when you ran for the door shoving your feet into your abandoned shoes and racing out side, you hesitated when you saw that Jughead had a motorcycle.

You didn’t care. You got on after he did and took off to the odd hospital that had strange uniforms that bordered on past decades. You met with Archie’s other friends Betty and Veronica with their parents before you slammed into Archie’s arms not caring of the blood.

“How is he?” You exclaimed running your eyes over the splotchy red marks staining Archie’s cast, lettermen jacket and his skin.

“I-I don’t know.” Archie whimpered as multiple arms surrounded him. You noticed that Hal and Alice were talking to the reception. You were close to collapsing when Archie whispered exactly what happened and you collapse again feeling as if you were back in Hyde Park again.

Jughead led you to a waiting chair when your leg started hurting more and the movement was starting to really hurt. You leaned down in your chair welcoming when Jughead put his arm you and became your support.

In the time you father was in surgery and then resting in the hospital Jughead and you grew even closer to the point where you silently got together. A bad scenario brought out a relationship you should have expected but didn’t see coming and you were very happy. He stayed when your Dad got out of the hospital, when the Abbott’s called to tell you that Ruth had passed away from her injuries. He was there and you loved him for it.

Forever Tag List

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Riverdale Taglist

@n0average @ateliefloresdaprimavera @sgarrett49 @jarchiee @casismyguardianangel @supernovares @juggie-sprouse @an-enigmatic-avenger @leah-khaleesi @rax-writes @shameless-danni @rapunzxl @peetapansneverland @peetapansneverland @sebby-staan @katshrev @zachmantle @30inlovewiththecoco1 @semoremohhh @gilly-grantgustin-the-flash-glee @roses-are-bae @jackyfrost01 @cheytheredhead @my-baby-daryldixon @ladyfairenvale

[shutupkimjongdae]

[TRANS/MAGAZINE] Jelly Magazine - EXO-CBX for July Issue 2017 To view as HQ scans, click here and zoom in!

source: x translator: fai please take out our translations with full credit only!

To read as text only, keep reading!

EXO-CBX ARRIVES AT JELLY!! Korea’s popular idol group EXO’s first unit, EXO-CBX has come to JELLY to celebrate their Japanese debut! The members look cool in their solo shots, but when they’re complete as 3, the atmosphere become exciting (laughs). Bringing you plenty of EXO-CBX’s natural selves across 10 pages ♡ EXO-CBX PROFILE The first subunit of the 2012 debuted Korean idol group EXO, with Chen, Baekhyun and Xiumin. Debuted in Korea in 2016 with first mini album 「Hey Mama!」. Getting close to everyone around the world with their pop and colourful sounds. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF EACH OTHER!? Understanding the three's relationship! Since this is their first appearance, let's have them talk about their characters. No holding back! Q. Between the three of you, which member is the most reliable? B & C: Our eldest, Xiumin! X: I’ll say me too (laughs). B: Xiumin knows a lot of delicious shops so our menu is always decided smoothly, and he always go last to choose what he will eat (t/n: letting JD and BH choose first). Q. Between the three of you, who do you think is the coolest and manliest? X: I think it’s me. C: I think it’s me! B: No no, it’s me! ALL: Hahahaha (laughs). B: I’m cool when I’m playing games! C: Xiumin’s firmness when making decisions is manly. X: That’s right! B: And Xiumin carefully plans on his own, and he acts on (his plans), so I think that’s very manly and adult-like. Chen also can do a lot of things on his own, so that is manly and cool. C: Well, I like doing things on my own than having someone doing it for me. X: Chen has the drive to challenge everything! Q. 「Actually… I think this side about this member is cute!」 Please tell us your thoughts! B: Xiumin keeps a cat, and he’s very smitten with his cat! I don’t know if Xiumin is keeping the cat or if the cat is keeping Xiumin (laughs). Since he has started raising his cat, he has never gone out of the house, and I think the fact that he spends his whole day tending to his cat is very cute. X: For me, it’s when Baekhyun uses casual speech with me. (When he does this) He says 「Yah!」 and drops honorifics, but I think that’s cute (laughs). B: Of course, those are expressions of closeness! X: Chen has one too! Chen’s butt is really cute (laughs). When he steps out of the shower, it makes me want to hit (his butt) (laughs). His butt is round and perky. B & C: (roaring laughter) X: Sometimes, I touch it (laughs). B: His butt is round like an apple. X & B: (looks at Chen) C: Waaaee~e (laughs)! B: Please show us a bit (laughs). C: No, no (embarrassed laugh), but even I think my butt is my charm (laughs)! Q: Between the three of you, which member cries the easiest? B: I don’t think the three of us cry that easily. C: Even in EXO, the three of us are the hardest to cry, but the one who has shown the most tears since debut is definitely Baekhyun. He cried during the award show (t/n: 2016 Melon Music Awards). B: Also, I cried when I watched D.O.’s movie 『My Annoying Brother』, so I thought of sending D.O. a selfie of me crying (laughs). Q. Please say a few things about each other’s personality! C: Xiumin is the eldest, even in EXO, so he’s 「A VERY RELIABLE PRESENCE」. X: Baekhyun is 「A HAPPY VIRUS」 that makes everyone around him have fun. He picks up skills very easily, and he’s good at everything except for sports (laughs). B: Hahahaha (laughs). But I can snowboard, and I can play billiards! C: But you cannot even run. When he runs, his form is weird and very clumsy (laughs). B: I had a running scene for a photoshoot before, and Xiumin and Chen said to me, 「You’ve never ran before in your entire life, have you?」 and I was found out (laughs). X & C: (roaring laughter) X: But he’s good at games, singing, and even impressions. If Baekhyun is there, it becomes really fun, so he’s a presence that EXO cannot be without. C: I think that EXO would probably be a boring group if Baekhyun wasn’t here. B: Yes, yes, I agree (laughs). Okay, so I will introduce Chen. Chen is 「A PERSON WHO IS VERY GOOD AT SINGING AND CAN SING HIGH NOTES EFFORTLESSLY」 「His butt is firm and cute ♡」, personality-wise, he is very 「gentle and passionate」. I cannot express him with just a few words (laughs)! Even when he laughs, he gives off a warm feeling like a father looking at his son or his daughter, so I think he will be a good father in the future. Also, no matter what clothes he’s wearing, he wears it stylishly with his own personality. X & C: Woo~w! (claps) C: I’m so happy! Q. 「I want this member to fix this!」 Please expose your thoughts on the members! X: Me! It’s about Baekhyun! B: I knew it was about me… (laughs) X: I want Baekhyun to wake up earlier. B: I usually get ready 15 minutes before we have to go. However, I take 20 minutes to get ready. X: So everyone has to wait for him for 5 minutes (laughs). It’s not that he cannot wake up, it’s that he doesn’t wake up. C: He says ‘I will wake up!’ with determination, but he doesn’t wake up (laughs). B: Okay, then I have something to say too! Actually, these two are very bad at billiards. But recently, they’ve been getting better and better so I DON’T WANT THEM TO GET ANY BETTER AFTERWARDS!! X & C: Oooooh (laughs)! C: I don’t have anything in particular. I’ve gotten used to the members now. X: So kind~ ♪ C: But really, the thing about Xiumin’s billiard ability getting stronger and stronger is true. X: (pointing at Chen) I WILL BEAT YOU! C: No, I think I’m better (laughs)! Q. Between the three of you, which member do you think has the most gag sense? X & C: BAEKHYUN! B: Yeah, it’s me (laughs). C: Xiumin worked very hard and now, he became funnier, but I feel like he doesn’t match my sense of humor. X & B: Ahahaha (laughs). B: Sometimes, the things I think of are really funny, even I go 「Wow~ How can I think up of such funny things」 and admire myself (laughs). I’m surprised at my (funny) sense. I must have been born with it~ ♪ C: Ahahaha (laughs). X: But (Baekhyun’s sense) has one downside, if Baekhyun talks too recklessly, then I’ll hold the back of his neck and stop him (laughs). ALL: (roaring laughter) SOLO INTERVIEW Q. Not as EXO, but as EXO-CBX, what kind of charms do you want to show? C: From the start, EXO-CBX is a unit that was created with the concept of being “easily enjoyable”. I think EXO has a cool, mysterious image but as EXO-CBX, we want to have that relatable, familiar presence of your regular boy-next-door or your older brothers, so I hope we can become closer! B: I think we have more relatability than EXO. Towards our fans and also to the people who only knew of us, I hope they can get the feeling of being friends with us. X: As EXO, (the image that) we show puts emphasis on strength and coolness. But as EXO-CBX, while coolness is still a plus, we want to show our cheerfulness and the side of us that’s having fun. To say more on this, I want us and our fans to get excited and have fun together! Q. Your debut mini album [GIRLS], what kind of album is it? C: Because there’s a lot of up tempo and addictive songs, so maybe an album that is easy to listen to? Please do listen to it a lot~! Even the MV was made by the Japanese staffs, so I hope you can pay attention to it. B: It’s an album that was created with the thought of being a present from us! In our song 「Ka-CHING!」, there is this line 「Diamonds, dresses, cars… that’s not the limit」, even so, (in the MV) we looked like “rich guys with lots of money”, didn’t we (laughs)? But the song is all about the message of 「Money is not everything」. Recording a Japanese song with the three of us is a new experience for me, and I had lots of fun! X: I really like our title track 『Ka-CHING!』. Musically, it is excellent and even the choreography is fun and unique. It gives off a very sophisticated feel, and you can see a new side to us, so I believe that all of you will like it! Of course, (songs) aside from 『Ka-CHING!』, each has their own message, so I hope you could listen to it and receive the messages that we want to tell to all (our female fans). Q. Recently, what kind of thing do you enjoy doing most? C: Aside from preparing for our album, personally, I’ve been having singing and dancing practice since the year started, so I enjoy doing those the most. For singing, I’ve been practicing EXO’s songs and also other artists’ songs. But hip-hop songs, those are still difficult (to sing)… (laughs). B: Recently, I’ve had a new interest, which is snowboarding! Going snowboarding with Chanyeol and returning to the lodge and talking about a lot of things at night, that was very fun. Am I a pro!? I only started recently, but since it looks like I’m getting better at it really quickly, I could become the 'the star everyone is waiting for' (laughs). X: Playing billiards with Baekhyun and Chen and also with the other members, that is the most fun. But since I always lose, I have to pay all the game fees…. (cries). The members are all good, but the best amongst us is D.O and after him, Baekhyun is good too. Q. Please tell us of any new Japanese phrases that you have learned recently. C: 「(In Japanese) There’s still a long way to go.」 I learned this (laughs). Japanese is difficult~! The three of us have been getting together and learning Japanese by asking our manager who is good at Japanese to teach us. B: 「(In Japanese) (I’m) taking it (clothes) off」…Eii, I’m not saying anything weird (laughs)! In photoshoots, we had to put on and take off a lot of different (sets of) clothes, so this phrase just stuck in my head. I think this (phrase) gets used often, even amongst our stylist. Q. Please teach us any Korean phrases you frequently use as of late (t/n: マイブーム is slang for something you’re into, like trends; in this case, of the Korean language). C: Hmm.. (thinks for a while), I can’t think of one in particular. But I’m sure Baekhyun will know some (laughs)? B: It’s not a phrase, but more of a reaction. When you’re trying to make people laugh, but they didn’t get your joke, tilt your head sideways, hit your hand on your forehead and say 「A~ah↓」. With this action, you can end any boring conversation (laughs). Q. What food do you like most recently? C: I’m eating a lot of delicious food, but the yakitori (grilled skewered chicken) I ate with Xiumin and Baekhyun yesterday was very good! Eating while drinking sake (rice-wine, Japanese alcohol), it was the best! B: The yakiniku (grilled meat) I ate with Xiumin and Chen yesterday! Afterwards, I bought a cold, hard bagel with cream cheese on it at a coffee shop and ate it while drinking beer. It was very delicious! I really recommend it! X: Sushi is delicious! But the sushi I ate was in Korea, so this time with our activities in Japan increasing, I want to try real sushi! Eel and salmon are my favourites. Q. What kind of women’s fashion do you find cute? C: Before this interview, I read JELLY, there were a lot of fashion that I like and I thought that they all looked very cute. I think casual styles and street fashion look good on girls. (While pointing at the front cover of JELLY April edition) Like these clothes here, a loose long-sleeved T-shirt with the logo on the side of the sleeve, I like those kinds of fashion! B: As long as the fashion fits the person’s style, I think it’s already fine. Wearing denim is a stylish fashion that I find cute. Before this, I used to like street fashion, but recently I like simpler fashions like matching something with skinny jeans. X: I don’t pay as much attention to fashion as Baekhyun and Chen, so I don’t know that well, but any kind of fashion, if the girl likes it, then it’s OK! But, if I were to give a certain style that I like... then maybe skirts or dresses, a more feminine fashion is nice. Q. What kind of fashion are you into nowadays? C: For me, I really like hoodies. I’m really into comfortable, loose styles, like (wearing) oversized tops with hoods. B: Something that doesn’t look coordinated, but is actually coordinated… Something that doesn’t look like it was thought out, but if you look closely, it looks cool… I like those kinds of fashion! So, just T-shirts underneath a jacket, matching it with denim (pants) underneath, just a casual and chic vibe is nice. X: I like loose and oversized clothes with hoodies. Because I’m not tall, I always fuss over sizes so that I look well-balanced! Q. Please tell us of anything you recently bought. C: I recently bought NIKE sneakers! I like it, and it was very comfortable to put on. I absolutely love sneakers, so I just bought it without thinking (laughs). B: Snowboarding wear that I bought together with Chanyeol. Up until now, I’ve gone snowboarding three times, but I bought 2 snowboarding wears. People ask me 「Do you plan to wear new clothes every time you go?」, because normal beginners usually go for one set that would be good for the whole season (laughs). For me, I place importance in my clothes, so I want to go for appearances that make me look like a pro, and (I am) not outdone by anybody! Because I don’t want to only go down the (ski) slope, I want to look cool doing so (laughs). X: I bought sportswear and sports sneakers! I normally like sporty fashions with clothes that I can wear comfortably, so I have lots of sportswear. Even so, I still buy more of them (laughs). I always wear (the clothes) and go for practice! Q. What kind of picture did you take on your phone recently? C: Umm… (pulls out his smartphone and pretends to take a picture with Xiumin next to him) It’s this! (referring to the ‘picture’ with Xiumin)… that would be a lie (laughs). I think it was a picture at the skiing area at a resort I went to for work two months ago. I’m normally not the type to take pictures, but at that time, to remember the background of the skiing area, I took a selfie. B: When I was dyeing my hair, I took a picture of myself to make sure. That was the most recent picture. I really like the orange colour I have now. X: I’m shy when I have to take pictures of myself and I’m bad at it too, so I rarely take any selfies. But recently, I took a picture of only my face to show my newly dyed hair to my manager (laughs). I’ve been asked why I always dye my hair showy/bright colours, but there are 3 points to this. Firstly, I want to try colours that I have never used to dye my hair before. Secondly, I think of whether it fits with the album concept and thirdly, I think of whether it will suit me and decide from there. Q. How do you spend your vacation days lately? C: Recently, I’m always in the studio or the practice room, but I have an ideal scenario on how to spend my vacation day. That is, I want to go to the cinema and watch everything they have on that day! I have watched two movies consecutively before this, and it was very fun. I really like the 「X-MEN」 series, so now I want to watch 「LOGAN」! X: I don’t normally go out on my vacation days, so usually I just stay at home. I watch TV shows and movies, also I always play with my cat. I’m already busy just tending to my cat (laughs). MESSAGE FROM EXO-CBX C: The activity in Japan that I really wanted to do... 「Finally I get to do it!」 so I’m very excited! We released CDs in Japan as EXO, but we didn’t get to do a lot of activities (in Japan), so this time with EXO-CBX’s activities, I’m anticipating more meetings with our Japanese fans. We’ll work hard so we can meet all of you more, so please take care of us! B: As EXO, we couldn’t really meet with our Japanese fans, so debuting as EXO-CBX and knowing that we get to have more meetings with fans, it makes me happy and immediately, I get excited! We worked hard as EXO, but we as EXO-CBX are still rookies so I want to work harder to become closer with the fans and grow together with them. Please watch over us! X: I’ve always thought that it is not enough to meet with all of you just through EXO’s activities. Because of that, when we were set to debut in Japan as EXO-CBX, I became happy knowing that we’ll get to meet (the fans) more frequently! To show our new colour as EXO-CBX, we prepared a lot and worked hard from zero so please do anticipate a lot, okay? To have fun together with our fans, we’re also working hard to learn Japanese!

[inkyardpress]

Excerpt: When It’s Real by Erin Watt

1

HIM

“Please tell me every girl in there is of legal age.”

“Every girl in there is of legal age,” I dutifully repeat to my manager, Jim Tolson.

Truth is, I have no clue if everyone’s legal. When I came home last night from the studio, the party was already raging. I didn’t take the time to card anyone before grabbing a beer and chatting up some eager girls who proclaimed that they were so in love with my music that they sang it in their sleep. It sounded vaguely like an invitation, but I wasn’t interested. My buddy Luke took them off my hands and then I wandered around trying to figure out if I knew even a quarter of the people in my house.

I ended up counting seven, tops, that I actually recognized.

Jim presses his already thin lips together before taking a seat in the lounger across from me. There’s a girl passed out on it, so he’s forced to perch on the end. Jim once told me that the biggest hazard of working with a young rock star is the age of his groupies. Sitting this close to a bikini-clad teenager makes him visibly edgy.

“Keep that line in mind in case TMI asks you about it on the street today,” Jim warns.

“Noted.” Also noted? Avoid any celeb hot spots today. I have zero desire to be papped.

“How was the studio last night?”

I roll my eyes. As if Jim didn’t have the studio tech on the phone immediately after I left, replaying the track. “You know exactly how it was. Crappy. Worse than crappy. I think a barking Chihuahua could lay down better vocals than me right now.”

I lean back and stroke my throat. Nothing’s wrong with my vocal cords. Jim and I got that checked out with a doctor a few months ago. But the notes that were coming out yesterday lacked...something. All my music seems flat these days.

I haven’t recorded anything decent since my last album. I can’t pinpoint the problem. It could be the lyrics or the rhythm or the melody. It’s everything and nothing, and no amount of tweaking has helped me.

I run my fingers over the six strings of my Gibson, knowing my frustration must show on my face.

“Come on, let’s walk a little.” Jim dips his head toward the girl. She looks passed out, but she could be faking it.

With a sigh, I set the guitar on the cushion and rise to my feet.

“Didn’t know you liked walks on the beach, Jim. Should we start quoting poetry to each other before you propose?” I joke. But he’s probably right about putting some distance between us and the groupie. We don’t need some yappy fan talking about my music block to the tabloids. I give them enough to talk about already.

“Did you see the latest social media numbers?” He holds his phone up.

“Is that an actual question?”

We stop at the railing on my wraparound deck. I wish we could walk down to the beach, but it’s public, and the last time I tried setting foot on the sand in the back of my house, I came away with my swim trunks torn off and a bloody nose. That was three years ago. The tabloids turned it into a story about me getting into a fight with my ex and terrorizing young children.

“You’re losing followers at a rate of a thousand a week.”

“Sounds dire.” Sounds awesome, actually. Maybe I’ll finally be able take advantage of my beachfront property.

His perfectly unlined face, courtesy of some of the best Swiss knives money can buy, is marred by irritation. “This is serious, Oakley.”

“So what? Who cares if I lose followers?”

“Do you want to be taken seriously as an artist?”

This lecture again? I’ve heard it from Jim a million frickin’ times since he signed me when I was fourteen. “You know I do.”

“Then you have to shape up,” he huffs.

“Why?” What does shaping up have to do with making great music? If anything, maybe I need to be wilder, really stretch the limits of everything in life.

But...haven’t I done that already? I feel like I’ve drunk, smoked, ingested and experienced nearly everything the world has to offer in the past five years. Am I already the washed-up pop star before I hit my twenties?

A tinge of fear scrapes down my spine at the thought.

“Because your label is on the verge of dropping you,” Jim warns.

I practically clap like a child at this news. We’ve been at odds for months. “So let them.”

“How do you think you’re going to have your next album made? The studio’s already rejected your last two attempts. You want to experiment with your sound? Use poetry as lyrics? Write about things other than heartache and pretty girls who don’t love you back?”

I stare sullenly at the water.

He grabs my arm. “Pay attention, Oak.”

I give him a what the hell are you doing look, and he lets go of my arm. We both know I don’t like being touched.

“They aren’t going to let you cut the record you want if you keep alienating your audience.”

“Exactly,” I say smugly. “So why do I care if the label drops me?”

“Because labels exist to make money, and they won’t produce your next album unless it’s one they can actually market. If you want to win another Grammy, if you want to be taken seriously by your peers, then your only chance is to rehabilitate your image. You haven’t had a record out since you were seventeen. That was two years ago. It’s like a decade in the music business.”

“Adele released at nineteen and twenty-five.”

“You aren’t fuckin’ Adele.”

“I’m bigger,” I say, and it’s not a boast. We both know it’s true.

Since I released my first album at fourteen, I’ve had unreal success. Every album has gone double platinum, with my self-titled Ford reaching the rare Diamond. That year I did thirty international tour stops, all stadium tours, all sellouts. There are fewer than ten artists in the world who do stadium tours. Everyone else is relegated to arenas, auditoriums, halls and clubs.

“Were bigger,” Jim says bluntly. “In fact, you’re on the verge of being a has-been at nineteen.”

I tense up as he voices my earlier fear.

“Congratulations, kid. Twenty years from now, you’ll be sitting in a chair on Hollywood Squares and some kid will ask their mother, ‘who’s Oakley Ford?’ and the mom will say—”

“I get it,” I say tightly.

“No. You don’t get it. Your existence will have been so fleeting that even that parent will turn to her kid and say, ‘I have no idea who that is.’” Jim’s tone turns pleading. “Look, Oak, I want you to be successful with the music you want to make, but you have to work with me. The industry is run by a bunch of old white men who are high on coke and power. They love knocking you artists around. They get off on it. Don’t give them any more reason to decide that you’re the fall guy. You’re better than that. I believe in you, but you gotta start believing in yourself, too.”

“I do believe in myself.”

Does it sound as fake to Jim’s ears as it does to mine?

“Then act like it.”

Translation? Grow up.

I reach over and take the phone from his hand. The social media number beside my name is still in the eight digits. Millions of people follow me and eat up all the ridiculous things my PR team posts daily. My shoes. My hands. Man, the hands post got over a million likes and launched an equal number of fictional stories. Those girls have very vivid imaginations. Vivid, dirty imaginations.

“So what’s your suggestion?” I mutter.

Jim sighs with relief. “I have a plan. I want you to date someone.”

“No way. We already tried the girlfriend thing.”

During the launch of Ford, management hooked me up with April Showers. Yup, that’s her real name—I saw it on her driver’s license. April was an up-and-coming reality television star and we all thought she’d know the score. A fake relationship to keep both our names on magazine covers and headlining every gossip site on the web. Yes, there’d be hate from certain corners, but the nonstop media attention and speculation would drive our visibility through the roof. Our names would be on everyone’s lips from here to China and back again.

The press strategy worked like a charm. We couldn’t sneeze without someone taking our picture. We dominated celebrity gossip for six months, and the Ford tour was a smashing success. April sat in the front row of more fashion shows than I knew actually existed and went on to sign a huge two-year modeling contract with a major agency.

Everything was great until the end of the tour. What everyone, including me, had failed to recognize was that if they threw two teenagers together and told them to act like they were in love, stuff was going to happen. Stuff did happen. The only problem? April thought stuff would continue to happen after the tour was over. When I told her it wouldn’t, she wasn’t happy—and she had a big enough platform to tell the world exactly how unhappy she was.

“This won’t be another April thing,” Jim assures me. “We want to appeal to all the girls out there who dream of walking down the red carpet but think it’s out of reach. We don’t want a model or a star. We want your fans to think you’re attainable.”

Against my better judgment, I ask, “And how do we do that?”

“We conjure up a normal. She starts posting to you on your social media accounts. Flirting with you online. People see you interact. Then you invite her to a concert. You meet, fall in love and boom. Serious heartthrob status again.”

“My fans hated April,” I remind him.

“Some did, but millions loved her. Millions more will love you if you fall for an ordinary girl, because each and every one of those girls is going to think that she’s their stand-in.”

I clench my teeth. “No.”

If Jim was trying to think up a way to torture me, this is absolutely it, because I hate social media. I grew up having my baby steps photographed and sold to the highest bidder. For charity, my mom later claimed. The public gets a ton of me. I want to keep some parts of my life private, which is why I pay a couple of people a fortune so I don’t have to touch that stuff.

“If you do this...” Jim pauses enticingly. “King will produce your album.”

My head swivels around so fast that Jim jumps back in surprise. “You serious?”

Donovan King is the best producer in the country. He’s worked on everything from rap to country to rock albums, turning artists into legends. I once read an interview where he said he’d never work with a pop star and their soulless commercial music, no matter how much anyone paid him. Working with King is a dream of mine, but he’s turned down every overture I’ve ever made.

If he wasn’t interested in producing Ford, then why this latest album? Why now?

Jim grins. Well, as much as his plastic face allows him to smile. “Yes. He said if you were serious, then he’d be interested, but he needs a show of faith.”

“And a girlfriend is that show of faith?” I ask incredulously.

“Not a girlfriend. It’s what dating a nonfamous, ordinary girl signifies. That you’re down-to-earth, making music for the sake of music, not for the sake of money and fame.”

“I am down-to-earth,” I protest.

Jim responds with a snort. He jerks his thumb at the French doors behind us. “Tell me something—what’s the name of that girl who’s passed out in there?”

I try not to cringe. “I...don’t know,” I mumble.

“That’s what I thought.” He frowns now. “Do you want to know what Nicky Novak was photographed doing last night?”

My head is starting to spin. “What the hell does Novak have to do with anything?” Nicky Novak is a sixteen-year-old pop star I’ve never even met. His boy band just released their debut album, and apparently it’s topping the charts. The group is giving 1D a run for their money.

“Ask me what Novak was doing,” Jim prompts.

“Fine. Whatever. What was Novak doing?”

“Bowling.” My manager crosses his arms over his chest. “He got papped on a bowling date with his girlfriend—some girl he’s been dating since middle school.”

“Well, good for him.” I give another eye roll. “You want me to go bowling, is that it? You think that will convince King to work with me? Seeing me roll some gutter balls?” It’s hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“I just told you what I want,” Jim grumbles. “If you want King to produce your album, you need to show him you’re serious, that you’re ready to stop partying with girls whose names you don’t know and settle down with someone who will ground you.”

“I can tell him that.”

“He needs proof.”

My gaze shifts back to the ocean, and I stand there for a moment, watching the surf crash against the beach. This album I’ve been working on these past two years—no, the one I’m trying to work on and failing—suddenly feels as if it’s actually within my reach. A producer like King could help me move past this creative block and make the kind of music I’ve always wanted.

And all I have to do in return is date a normal? I guess I can do that. I mean, every artist has to make sacrifices for his art at one point in his life.

Right?

 2

HER

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I want,” my sister objects.

“I don’t need to. You have that look in your eye.” I pull the bacon out of the microwave and dump four slices on each plate.

“What look?” Paisley checks her reflection on the back of the spoon I used to stir the eggs.

“The one that says I’m not going to like what you have to say.” I pause as I dish up the rest of the twins’ breakfast. “Or that I’m too young to understand.”

“Ha. Everyone knows you’re more together than most adults. I wish you were more impulsive, actually. It’d make this easier.”

“Breakfast is ready!” I shout.

The clatter of shoes on the staircase makes Paisley sigh. Our little brothers are incredibly loud, eat an incredible amount of food and are getting incredibly expensive. All I can say is, thank goodness for Paisley’s new job. We’re barely keeping our heads above water, even though Paisley has performed miracles with what little insurance money our parents left us. I’m adding to the family account with my waitressing job at Sharkey’s, but we don’t have much extra left over. Spencer and Shane insist that we don’t need to worry about college tuition for them because they plan on full-ride athletic scholarships. But unless it’s for competitive eating, I’m not going to count on it.

As the twins practically fall face-first into their breakfast, Paisley pours their milk and shoves a paper towel next to their plates. Hopefully they’ll use it instead of the kitchen towel. Again, I’m not holding my breath.

I drink my coffee-infused milk, watching my twelve-year-old brothers inhale the first of what will likely be their six meals of the day. As they grumble about the shortness of Christmas break, I think about how glorious it is that I haven’t had one class this year, unlike them.

“Vaughn,” Paisley says urgently. “I still need to talk to you.”

“I already told you no.”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, fine. Talk.”

“Outside.” She jerks her head toward the back door.

“We’re not listening,” says Spencer.

Shane nods in agreement because that’s their shtick. Spencer talks and Shane backs up everything his brother says, even if he disagrees.

“Outside.” Paisley’s head jerk looks painful this time, so I take pity on her.

“Lead the way.”

The screen door slams shut behind us. I take another sip of my rapidly cooling drink as I watch Paisley search for words, which is worrisome because Paisley is never at a loss for words.

“Okay, so I want you to hear me out. Don’t say anything until the very end.”

“Did you drink one too many Red Bulls this morning?” I ask. We both know Paisley kind of has a caffeine addiction.

“Vaughn!”

“Okay. Okay.” I zip my lips shut. “Not another word.”

She rolls her eyes. “You do the lip-zipping after the last word, not before.”

“Details, shmetails. Now talk. I promise not to interrupt.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay, so you know how they finally gave me my own cubicle, so I don’t have to share with that other assistant anymore?”

I nod. “They” are her bosses at Diamond Talent Management. Paisley’s official job title is Brand Coverage Assistant, but technically she’s a glorified gofer—she goes on coffee runs, makes a zillion photocopies and spends an insane amount of time scheduling meetings. I swear, the people she works for hold more meetings than the UN.

“Well, my cube has this little bulletin board on the wall. I’m allowed to put up pictures, so yesterday I brought in a few photos. You know, like the one of Mom and Dad that we love, where they’re kissing on the boardwalk? And one of the twins at baseball camp. And then I put up the one I took of you at the beach bonfire we had for your birthday last month.”

I have to fight the urge not to make a waving motion with my hand to tell her to speed up. Paisley takes forever to get to the point.

“Anyway, so get this! Jim Tolson is walking by my cube—”

“Who’s Jim Tolson?” I ask, breaking my vow of silence.

“He’s my boss’s brother. He manages some of the biggest musicians in the world.” Paisley is so excited her cheeks are flushed. “So he’s walking by, and he sees the picture of you on my bulletin board and asks if he could borrow it for a minute—”

“Ew! I do not like where this story is going.”

She shoots me a dirty look. “I’m not done. You promised to be quiet until I was done.”

I swallow a sigh. “Sorry.”

“So I’m, like, sure, go ahead, but just make sure to bring it back because that’s my favorite picture of my little sister. So he takes the photo and disappears into his brother’s office for a while. He’s got all these assistants in there and they’re all talking about your picture—”

Okay, now I really don’t like where this is heading.

“Something major is going down at the agency,” Paisley adds. “I have no idea what, because I’m a lowly assistant, but Mr. Tolson has been in and out, arguing with his brother all week, and they keep having these secret meetings in the conference room.”

I swear, if she doesn’t get to the point soon, I’m going to lose my mind.

“So at the end of the day, my boss—Leo—calls me into Jim’s office and they start asking me all these questions about you.” She must see my worried look, because she’s quick to reassure me. “Nothing too personal. Jim wanted to know how old you are, what your interests are, if you’ve ever been in trouble with the law—”

“Um, what?”

Paisley huffs in annoyance. “He just wants to make sure you’re not a criminal.”

Forget this vow of silence. I’m too confused to stick to it. “Why does this agent—”

“Manager,” she corrects.

“Manager...” I roll my eyes. “Why does this manager care so much about me? And you said he manages musicians—is he trying to sign me as a client or something? You told him I can’t carry a tune, right?”

“Oh, totally. That was one of his questions, if you had any ‘musical aspirations.’” She air-quotes that. “He was pretty happy when I told him you’re (a) not musical and (b) interested in becoming a teacher.”

“Is it a matchmaking thing then? Because, gross. How old is this dude?” I ask skeptically.

She waves a hand. “In his thirties, I think. And that’s not it.”

“Is there an it? Because I’m beginning to wonder.”

Paisley pauses for a beat. Then she blurts out her next words in one breath. “They want you to pretend to be Oakley Ford’s girlfriend this year.”

I spray the concrete steps with lukewarm coffee mixed with spit. “What?”

“I promise you it isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

She runs a hand through her ordinarily perfectly styled black bob, and I notice for the first time that her hair is sticking up on the sides. Paisley’s usually so polished, from the top of her shiny head to the tips of the flats that she buffs every night.

“Mr. Tolson thinks you’re perfect for the job,” she tells me. “He said you’re pretty but not in an over-the-top way. More like a natural, girl-next-door type. I described you as down-to-earth, and he thinks that will complement Oakley, because Oakley can be really intense sometimes—”

“Okay, let’s back up,” I cut in. “Are you talking about Oakley Ford, pop icon? Oakley Ford, the guy with so many girls’ names tattooed on his body he’s like a phone directory of former Victoria’s Secret models? Oakley Ford, who tried to depants a monk in Angkor Wat and nearly caused an international incident? That Oakley Ford?”

“Yeah, him.” She scrunches up her nose. “And he’s only got one tattoo of a woman’s name and it’s his mom’s.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Did he tell you that or did you make a personal inspection?”

Oakley’s nineteen and Paisley’s twenty-three, so I guess it could happen, but that’s kinda disgusting. Not because he’s younger, but because Paisley’s too awesome to be some celebrejerk’s castoff.

“Ew, Vaughn.”

“Look, if you’re serious, the answer is still no. In fact, there are so many reasons for me to say no that I don’t know if we have time for me to list them all. But here’s one—I don’t even like Oakley Ford.”

“You played his album on repeat for, like, three months.”

“When I was fifteen!” Oakley Ford was a phase. Like BFF necklaces and Hannah Montana. Plus, his antics got really unappealing. After the tenth or so picture of him making out with some random girl at a club, he got kind of slimy in my eyes.

Paisley runs her hand through her hair again. “I know this is your year off. And I want you to have that, I swear. But this thing isn’t going to take up very much of your time. An hour or two maybe every other day. A couple nights. A couple weekends. It’s the same as if you were waiting tables at Sharkey’s.”

“Um, aren’t you forgetting something?”

She blinks. “What?”

“I have a boyfriend!”

“W?”

“Yes, W.” For some reason, Paisley hates W. She says his name is stupid and that he’s stupid, but I love him anyway. William Wilkerson isn’t the greatest name to be saddled with, but that’s not his fault. It’s also why we call him W. “There have to be dozens of girls who want to pretend-date Oakley Ford. And why does he need a fake girlfriend anyway? He could probably walk down to the Four Seasons on Wilshire, point to the first girl that drove by and have her in a hotel room in five seconds flat.”

“That’s the whole problem.” She throws up her arms. “They tried the whole fake girlfriend thing with him before, but she fell for him and he broke her heart. I think half of the bad publicity the guy gets is because of her.”

“Are you talking about April Showers?” I gasp. “That was fake? Oh, man, I believed in ShOak. My childhood dreams are crushed.” I’m only half-kidding. Fifteen was a tough year for me, and not just because it was the year my parents died.

Paisley punches me in the shoulder. “You just said you didn’t like him.”

“Well, not after he cheated on April with that Brazilian swimsuit model.” I chew on the corner of my lip. “Fake, really?”

“Really.”

Hmmm. I might have to rethink my opinion of Oakley. Still, doesn’t mean I want to be the next fake girlfriend to be fake dumped and fake cheated on.

“So you’ll do it?”

I stare at her. “I make a couple hundred a night at Sharkey’s. You said before Christmas we were doing fine.” I narrow my eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Last year I found Paisley crying at the dinner table at two in the morning. She admitted that Mom and Dad didn’t leave us in the greatest financial position. The insurance money kept us afloat at the beginning, but last summer she’d had to get a second mortgage to cover all the bills, and she was thinking of leaving college to get a job. Appalled, I sat down and made her go over everything with me, because she was a year away from graduating. I got my diploma early by taking summer courses, online ones to supplement my high school studies, and special permission from the school to take advanced classes. And then I found a job. Serving steak and iceberg lettuce wedges isn’t fancy, but it pays the bills.

Or so I thought.

“No. We’re fine. I mean...” She trails off.

“Then my answer is no.” I’ve never been interested in the other side of LA. It seems so artificial, and I do enough pretending as it is.

I have my hand on the screen door when Paisley drops her next bomb. “They’ll pay you twenty thousand a month.”

I spin around slowly, my mouth hanging open. “Are you effing kidding me?”

“Don’t swear,” she says automatically, but her eyes are bright with excitement. “And that’s for a full year of commitment.”

“That would...”

“Put the boys through college? Pay off both our mortgages? Make everything easier for us? Yes.”

I blow my overgrown bangs out of my face. This proposition is insane. I mean, who pays such an obscene amount of money to some random girl to pretend to be a pop star’s girlfriend for a year? Maybe that’s normal in the entertainment industry, but I grew up with parents who were elementary school teachers.

I suddenly wonder what Mom and Dad would say if they were alive to hear this crazy offer. Would they encourage me to do it, or tell me to run, run for my life? I honestly don’t know. They were all about exploring new opportunities, taking the road less traveled. It was one of my favorite things about them, and I miss my fun-loving, impulsive parents. I miss them a lot.

That said, their love of spontaneity is part of the reason why we’re hurting for money.

“An opportunity like this doesn’t come along every day, but you don’t have to say yes,” Paisley assures me. Her words say one thing; her strained tone says another.

“How long do I have to think about it?”

“Jim Tolson wants an answer tomorrow morning. And if it’s a yes, he wants you to come to the agency to meet with him and Oakley.”

Oakley. Oakley frickin’ Ford.

This is...nuts.

“Fine, I’ll think about it.” I let out a breath. “You’ll have my answer in the morning.”

Twenty thousand dollars a month, Vaughn...

Yeah. I’m pretty sure we both know what my answer is going to be.

3

HER

I said yes.

Because (1) It’s a lot of money. And (2) It’s a lot of money.

Guess that makes me a kinda sorta gold digger? I’m not sure if my situation fits the exact definition, but I can’t deny I feel like one as I follow Paisley into the elevator the next morning.

Diamond Talent Management is an entire building. Not just a couple of floors, but an entire glass-covered, needs-an-elevator-and-a-security-team building. The scowly but hot guards with the earpieces give me the willies, but Paisley walks by them with a wave. I copy the motion. I kind of wish I hadn’t had that second cup of coffee this morning. It’s sloshing around in my stomach like a tidal wave.

The elevators are a shiny brass, and there’s a guy in a suit whose only job appears to be spraying them constantly with cleaner and wiping them down. He’s got a jaw that would look good on the side of a mountain and a butt tight enough to rival any football player’s.

Paisley gets off on the sixth floor, which is emblazoned with Music Division in big gold letters on a dark wood backdrop. The receptionist is more beautiful than half the actresses on the tabloid covers. I try not to gawk at her perfectly outlined lips and wicked winged eyeliner.

“You’re staring,” Paisley mumbles under her breath as we pass the reception desk.

“I can’t help it. Does Diamond only hire people who could star in their own movies?”

“Looks aren’t everything,” she says airily, but I don’t believe her because clearly Diamond requires photo applications. Gotta be beautiful to work in show biz, I guess, even if you’re behind the scenes.

We’re ushered into a huge conference room, where I stop in my tracks. It’s full of people. At least ten of them.

I quickly scan the table, but I don’t recognize anyone, and the one person I would recognize—and who this meeting is about—isn’t even there.

A tall man with dark hair and plastic skin stands up from the head of the table. “Good morning, Vaughn. I’m Jim Tolson, Oakley’s manager. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I awkwardly shake the hand he extends. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Tolson.”

“Please, call me Jim. Have a seat. You, too, Paisley.”

As my sister and I settle in the chairs closest to his, he goes around and makes a bunch of introductions I can hardly keep up with.

“This is Claudia Hamilton, Oakley’s publicist, and her team.” He gestures to a redhead with huge boobs, then at the three people—two men and a woman—flanking her. Next, his hand moves toward three stone-faced men on the other side of the table. “Nigel Bahri and his associates. Oakley’s lawyers.”

Lawyers? I cast a panicky look at Paisley, who squeezes my hand under the table.

“And finally, this is my assistant Nina—” he nods at the petite blonde to his right “—and her assistants. Greg—” a nod to the African-American guy to his left “—and Max.” A nod to the slightly overweight guy next to Greg.

Jeez. His assistant has assistants?

Once the introductions are out of the way, Jim wastes no time getting down to business. “So, your sister has already provided you with some details about this arrangement, but before I tell you more, I have some questions for you.”

“Um. Okay. Hit me.” My voice sounds unusually loud in this massive conference room. The echo feels endless.

“Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself?” he suggests.

I’m not sure what he wants me to say. Does he expect me to recite my life story? Well, I was born in California. I live in El Segundo. My parents died in a car accident when I was fifteen.

Or maybe he wants trivia-type stuff? My favorite color is green. I’m scared of butterflies. I hate cats.

My confusion must show on my face, because Jim gives me a few prompts. “What are your interests? What do you aspire to do after high school?”

“Oh, I’m done with high school already,” I admit.

I don’t miss the way Paisley’s lips curl slightly at the reminder of W. Ugh. One of these days she’s going to have to suck it up and accept that I’m in love with the guy.

“Yeah, I have a boyfriend,” I reply awkwardly. “And actually, my Twitter and Instagram have lots of pictures of the two of us.”

Jim turns to Claudia, who falls silent. I can see the wheels in her bouncy head turning and turning.

“You’ll announce a breakup on your social media,” she decides. “We’ll spend two—no, three, weeks focusing on the split. First will be your despondent post announcing the end of the relationship, then we’ll document your grieving process, how you’re so upset and—”

“Listening to Oakley Ford’s albums on repeat,” one of the assistants finishes animatedly.

Claudia’s eyes light up. “Yes!” She claps her hands together. “Oakley’s music pulls you from the dark abyss of heartache.”

I almost gag.

“And that’s what inspires you to draw his face, which leads to our social media meet-cute.” She glances at Jim. “It still works.”

He looks pleased. “All right. What about Vaughn’s appearance? How do we feel about that?”

Everyone at the table swings their heads toward me. Their gazes pierce me, assessing me like I’m a specimen under a microscope. My cheeks heat up, and Paisley squeezes my hand again.

All of a sudden, the critiques start pouring in.

“The bangs are too long,” Claudia chirps. “We’ll trim them.”

“Hair itself needs a trim, too. And that shade of brown looks too fake.”

“It’s my real hair color!” I protest, but nobody’s listening to me.

“The honey-brown eyes are nice. I like the gold flecks. We’ll forgo colored contacts.”

“Shirt’s a little too baggy. Are your shirts always this baggy, Vaughn?”

“Isn’t normal what we are going for?” someone disagrees. “If we make her pretty, then the fans won’t be able to relate.”

I have never been more humiliated in my life.

“Oh, one last thing,” Claudia says suddenly. “Are you a virgin?”

Scratch that—it’s possible to be more embarrassed. There are a few coughs from other people at the table. Jim pretends the traffic in the hallway outside the room is fascinating, while the lawyers all stare stone-faced down the length of the table.

“Do I have to answer that?” I cast a dark look at my sister, who shakes her head.

“That can’t be important,” Paisley says to the man who’s more or less her boss.

Jim ignores her. Clearly this question is one he wants the answer to, as well.

I want to hug her for standing up for me. I’m pretty sure my cheeks are officially as red as Claudia’s hair.

“If you’re worried there’s some sort of sex scandal in Vaughn’s past, don’t be,” my sister assures the table. “Vaughn is the definition of good girl.”

I don’t know why, but Paisley’s view of me kind of stings. I mean, I know I’m not Miss Badass, but I’m not a Goody Two-shoes, either.

Claudia shrugs. “We’ll do a thorough background check, nonetheless.”

Background check? My sex status shows up in someone’s report? I’m about to burst in outrage when Jim steps in.

“All right, I think we can all agree that this arrangement shows promise.” He clasps both hands together and glances at the lawyer section of the table. “Nigel, why don’t you and the boys draft a rough contract and jot down any negotiation points you anticipate? Oakley will be here in an hour, so we can get into the finer details then.”

I frown. We’re all just supposed to wait around for an hour until His Majesty gets here? And now that I think about it, do I need a lawyer? I whisper the question to Paisley, who voices the question to her boss.

“The contract will be very straightforward,” Jim assures us. “Basically, it will state that you’ve agreed to enter into a service contract and that should you, at any time, no longer be able to perform your duties, the contract can be terminated. Any goods or monies received up to that time are yours to keep.”

I bite my lip. This is starting to feel exceptionally complicated. But I guess when twenty thousand dollars—a month!—is involved, I should have expected complicated.

“How about this?” Jim suggests. “Why don’t we sit down with Oakley and go over the contract details? Then you can read the agreement Nigel’s firm drafts, and then you can decide where we go from there.”

“Okay,” I answer, because that sounds very reasonable despite the ridiculousness of the situation.

Next to me, Paisley winks and gives me a not-very-subtle thumbs-up of encouragement. I shoot her a wan smile in return.

If I just remember why I’m doing this—so my brothers can go to college, so Paisley can stop worrying about how we’re going to pay the bills... If I can just keep focusing on all that, then maybe I’ll stop feeling like I’m going to throw up.

4

HER

I’m hungry and my stomach’s been announcing that fact for the last thirty minutes. Still, no one suggests we take a break for lunch, even though it’s close to noon and Oakley Ford still hasn’t appeared. It’s been two hours. Jim and the lawyers have left the room, but everyone else is glued to their chairs.

“Here’s a granola bar. And a Coke.” Paisley sets the snacks on the table in front of me.

“No wonder you like working here,” I joke. “The free lunches are so fancy.”

But since I’m starving, I shove half the bar in my mouth—at the exact same moment that Oakley Ford throws open the door.

Two burly guys with arms like tree trunks follow him inside. One plants himself next to the entrance while the other trails behind the singer. I barely notice Jim and the lawyers entering and closing the door, because I’m too busy staring at Oakley.

He’s taller than I thought he’d be. Everyone in Hollywood is short. Zac Efron is barely taller than my five-six. Same with Daniel Radcliffe. At six-four, Ansel Elgort is a veritable giant. Oakley looks to be Elgort-size, but with way more muscles.

He’s even hotter in person. It’s not the sandy-blond hair spiked up in the front and cut short in the back. Or his moss-green eyes. Or his chiseled jaw. He actually has an aura. You hear of things like that, but until you’ve experienced it in person, you don’t believe it exists.

But he has it.

Everyone in the room is responding. People are sitting up and straightening their clothes. I dimly register Paisley smoothing her perfect hair into place.

And I can’t look away.

Oakley’s jeans are low enough that the brand of underwear he’s wearing is visible as he reaches across the sideboard to grab a bottle of water. His arm muscles are defined enough to be noticeable, and I watch in fascination as the right biceps flexes when he twists the bottle cap off. Those muscles remind me of the shirtless spread he did for Vogue a couple of months ago. It was all over the web because the editorial spread had one shot of him in underwear only, and the size of his crotch got everyone speculating whether he stuffed a sock down his shorts.

I forget I’m eating my granola bar. I forget that I’m sitting at a table with a bunch of lawyers. I forget my own name.

“Sorry. Traffic,” he says before settling in the seat at the very end of the table. The bodyguard stands at his shoulder.

I find myself nodding, because LA does have horrible traffic. Of course this beautiful god wouldn’t make us mere mortals wait for him because he was doing something—is his hair wet? Did he just shower? Is it getting hot in the conference room?

This is Oakley Ford and I did listen to his album on repeat when I was fifteen. And fine, I might have harbored a teeny-tiny crush on him, which was why I was so upset when he cheated on his girlfriend. His fake girlfriend.

Which I’m going to be.

Fake.

I don’t like fake, but I’m good at it. Faking things, that is.

Paisley nudges me.

“What?” Then I realize I still have the stupid granola bar hanging out of my mouth.

A quick scan of the room reveals that everyone has noticed this. Claudia wears a worried expression. Jim is resigned. I don’t want to look at Oakley, but I do anyway. His face shows a cross between horror and fascination. The glance he throws his manager definitely says You’ve got to be kidding.

The only thing to do is act like I don’t care. I bite off the bar and start chewing. The health bar, never an appealing item to begin with, tastes like cardboard. Everyone watches me, and I chew even slower. Then I take a big swallow of Coke before wiping my mouth with the napkin that Paisley miraculously produces. I’m certain I’m redder than the receptionist’s lipstick, but I pretend that it’s no big deal. See how good I am at acting like everything is perfect?

“So this is her?” Oakley waves a hand in my general direction. I’ve heard him speak in interviews before, but his voice sounds even better in person. Deep and raspy and hypnotizing.

Jim hesitates and then looks down at his phone. Whatever he sees there stiffens his resolve. He sets the phone down. “Oakley Ford, this is Vaughn Bennett. Vaughn, Oakley.”

I start to rise and hold out my hand, but stop halfway out of my seat when Oakley leans back and clasps his hands behind his head.

Okay then.

Suddenly all my nervousness and embarrassment drain away. Relief settles in their place. I take another sip of my Coke. Surprise, surprise—Mr. Famous is a total jerk.

For a moment there, I felt like I was in danger of being sucked in by his magnetism. That I’d forget W, the money, April Showers, Brazilian supermodels and become caught up in his force field. But a guy who mocks me because I had the nerve to eat a granola bar while we all waited on his late ass? Who doesn’t have the courtesy to shake my hand?

There’s no way I’d ever fall for a guy like that.

I sneak a look at Paisley, who’s smiling slightly. She must have had the same concerns.

“So are we going to talk about terms? Like, what are my work hours?” I ask coolly, cradling the pop can between my hands.

“Work hours?” Claudia echoes, a tiny furrow appearing on her forehead.

“Yeah, since this is my job.”

She titters. “Not a job, more like a...”

“Role?” one of her assistants offers.

“Yes. A role in a long, romantic movie. And you’re the two leads.”

I feel actual bile rise up in my throat.

Oakley grumbles with impatience. “Let’s get on with it.”

Quickly, Claudia outlines our meet-cute with the drawing and the Twitter stuff. When she’s finished, Oakley yawns.

“Sure. Whatever. You’re going to handle it, right?”

“Well, not me, but Amy here will.” Claudia tips her head to the raven-haired woman on her right.

Amy holds up her phone in acknowledgment.

“Great.” He slaps his hands down on the table. “Then we’re done?”

Seriously? I waited over two hours and got only a granola bar and an extra serving of humiliation for this five-minute demonstration of how Oakley Ford isn’t even going to participate in this charade? Instead, I’ll be fake flirting with the assistant of one of his media people.

I turn to Paisley, who gives me a small, rueful shrug.

“No. We’re not done,” Jim barks from the other end of the table. The two of them exchange glares, but whatever power Jim holds over Oakley, it’s enough to get the young star to resettle into his chair.

“Let’s hear the rest of it.” He makes a tired gesture toward Claudia.

She picks up her notepad. “We’ll need the first date. We don’t think you should have any physical contact until after the third—” she looks at her assistants and then at Jim “—fourth date? I mean, we’re trying to sell this as a wholesome romance.”

Everyone starts throwing ideas out about when and how the touching will happen. Someone says he should kiss me on the forehead. Another suggests a hand on the small of my back. There’s another vote for hand-holding.

I’m still struggling with the concept of any touching when Paisley, the traitor, asks, “When did you and W start holding hands?”

Before I can answer, Oakley jumps in, snickering softly. “You dated a guy named W?”

“So what?” Wow. His first words to me are to make fun of my boyfriend’s name? It’s like Oakley’s trying to get me to dislike him.

“Sounds like a pretentious asshat.” He leans back in his leather chair and folds his arms across his chest. The action makes his biceps flex again.

I drag my eyes away. “Okay, Mr. I-Name-All-My-Albums-After-Me Ford.”

Someone at the end of the table gasps at my audacity, but Oakley’s unfazed by my insult. “Even Madonna has a full collection of letters in her name.”

“W is not pretentious.”

“If you say so.” He smirks.

“I do. He’s awesome. And sweet.”

“So why’d you break up with him?”

“I didn’t,” I say indignantly.

His brow creases. “So he broke up with you?” He sounds...confused. Like that doesn’t make sense to him.

“He hasn’t!”

Oakley shifts to Claudia. “So my down-to-earth, wholesome, normal girlfriend is a cheater?” He raises his eyebrows. “That’s gonna go over well.”

“Oh, you mean the fake breakup,” I say. For a minute there, I’d forgotten.

He looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but refrains.

“He’ll break up with her tomorrow. The sooner, the better. We’ll give it approximately two weeks after the breakup, and then she’ll Tweet you the drawing. Then there’ll be a series of dates, but no touching.” Claudia turns to me. “When did you have your first kiss?”

“Ever?” I realize it’s a stupid question, but my mind is stuck on the breaking up with W bit. I haven’t thought this whole thing through. I’ve been so focused on the money and how we’d be able to pay off the mortgage, pay for the twins’ college, allow Paisley to sleep better at night, that I hadn’t given any thought to the actual details of how this whole thing was going to work.

“Yeah, ever,” Oakley says, and this time he does roll his eyes.

These personal questions suck. “When was yours?” I counter, still focused on the W issue. Lately, he’s been pulling away. He says it’s my fault that I don’t act like an adult about our relationship because I’m still refusing to have sex with him.

“With tongue? I think I was eleven. It was with Donna Foster, the daughter of my dad’s side chick.”

My eyes grow wide. He French-kissed at eleven? I still thought boys had cooties at that age. Oakley would probably pee with laughter if he knew I was a virgin.

“You?” he prompts.

“Um...” Jeez, now I’m even more embarrassed, but for another reason. “Sixteen,” I mumble.

“How sweet. Just like the saying.”

I curl my fingers into fists. If Claudia’s team wasn’t sitting between the two of us, I might’ve reached over and smacked his smug smile off his smug face.

Paisley grips my hand, an unspoken gesture for me to get it together.

Even Claudia must sense that my patience is coming to an end. Hurriedly, she says, “Let’s do hand-holding on the third date and then a kiss on the fourth date. We’ll keep the first couple of dates under wraps, but leak the later ones to the paps.”

“Hold up, we’re going to kiss? I have a boyfriend,” I remind the room. “No one said there’d be kissing.”

“We’re gonna have a year-long relationship and we don’t kiss? Why don’t we just announce that it’s fake from the beginning?” Oakley mocks.

“But...but...” Yeah, I definitely didn’t think this through. I quickly turn to Paisley for help.

She grimaces. “They’re right. No one is going to believe that you and Oakley haven’t kissed. Not if you’re serious.” Her tone is apologetic, but her words don’t provide me any relief.

“You don’t expect me to...” I trail off, not able to bring myself to say the words out loud.

“Of course not,” Jim interjects briskly. “We’re not that kind of agency.”

He tries to play it off as a joke, but, um, they kind of are. They’re hiring this guy a girlfriend and they expect us to kiss.

How am I going to explain this to W? Sorry, babe, not willing to have sex with you yet, but I’m going to kiss another guy. In public.

That will go over well.

Claudia leans forward. “This is no different than if you were acting on a television show. Remember, you’re playing a part in a big love story.”

Her assurance doesn’t help, either. I may not know what I want in life. I may just be telling everyone I want to be a teacher because that’s easier than admitting I’m clueless about my future and that I’d rather hide as a waitress for the next five years. But I do know that the entertainment industry doesn’t interest me.

Paisley squeezes my hand again, probably to remind me why I’m doing this. By playing the role of a girlfriend, I get to lift the burden off my big sister’s shoulders and provide for my brothers. It’s not like I’m signing my entire life over. It’s just one year.

“What do I need to do?” I ask, feeling resigned.

“Just a few kisses, some hand-holding. It’s nothing, really.” Claudia waves her hand airily. “And it doesn’t need to be in the contract other than some general terms about physical contact when necessary.”

“Does any of this need to be in the contract?” Oakley sounds annoyed.

“I agree. If this ever got out, it would be terrible for Oak’s image,” Jim points out.

“The terms need to be specific so that the girl can be held to them,” one of the suits replies. Then he and Jim engage in some furious whispering until the lawyer presses his lips together in unhappy surrender. “Fine, it can be general, then. A general contract of employment.”

Once that’s decided, Claudia returns to her list. I wonder how long it is. I glance at the big white clock on the wall. It’s going on three hours and I’m exhausted.

“Let’s talk about her look again.”

                                                                “I’m not changing my look,” I mutter. “I like my look.”

                                                                I like my comfy skinny jeans, assortment of colorful T-shirts and the Vans that W and I doodled on during morning advisory last spring. The sneakers are filled with details marking our favorite dates. There’s a wizard’s wand along the left sole because we’re both Harry Potter fans. Then there’s the light post to signify the Urban Light display on Wilshire, where W kissed me for the first time. Where there was definitely tongue. His initials are on the back of one shoe and mine are on the other. He has a pair of them, too, but he doesn’t wear his. He says he doesn’t want to ruin them.

“You have a look?” Oakley raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, and it’s better than yours,” I retort, tired of his attitude. “Would it kill you to wear pants that actually fit around your waist? No one wants to see your underwear.”

“Baby, everyone wants to see my underwear. I get paid a hundred grand per pap pic.”

“Baby?” I scoff.

He leans forward, threading his surprisingly elegant fingers together. “Don’t like that one? Pick another, then. You’re my girlfriend,” he reminds me mockingly.

“So you’re into infants?”

“What?” He rears back. “No. Fine. How about—” he pretends to think and then snaps his fingers “—old lady?”

“Great.” I give him my fakest smile. “I’ll call you...dick cheese.”

“Vaughn, gross,” my sister interjects.

Oakley covers his mouth. I swear I see a smile. I wait for his response and I’m not disappointed. “I have no problem with that, crabby patty.”

“All right, that’s enough of that. None of this needs to be in the contract.” Oakley’s lawyer rattles his papers in agitation.

I turn back to Claudia. I’ve given in on the kissing. On the dates. On this made-for-the-media breakup with my boyfriend, but no way am I going to let them change my look. I’ve got to fight for something. “I thought you wanted a normal girl. I’m a normal girl. This is what some normal girls wear.”

When Claudia and Jim exchange a glance, I know I’ve won this one. They agree to keep my look...for now.

“But when we take pictures, at least let us do your makeup. You’ll want us to,” Claudia promises.

Um. That doesn’t sound ominous or anything.

The negotiation goes on. When will our first official picture be released? Where will the dates take place? Will I go to an awards show with him? How about fashion week in New York? How often should I be seen with him? Every day? Every other day?

Oh, and I would not get Oakley’s phone number. Like I care.

But I still find it weird, because what nineteen-year-old isn’t allowed to give his number to his own girlfriend? And how does he communicate with his friends? Wait—does he even have friends? Or are they all fake like me?

I peer at him from underneath my lashes and feel a pang of sympathy. Oh, brother. Am I actually starting to feel sorry for him? I think I might be.

But then my stomach growls and reminds me that we’re still mad. And unfed.

“You’ll text Amy or me if you want to get ahold of Oakley,” Claudia says.

“I feel like I need my own people. My people can text your people,” I joke.

No one laughs. Instead, Claudia looks like she’s seriously considering it, but then decides against it. “No, I think two nonteens Tweeting each other and commenting on Instagram would appear too contrived. And your voice, we want to preserve that. Whereas Amy has been running Oak’s page for a couple of years now.”

I have a voice?

“Whatever.” I’m exhausted and hungry. One granola bar wasn’t enough, and my stomach rumbles again to alert everyone to that fact.

“Is the granola bar all you’ve had today?” Oakley asks.

A burst of surprise jolts me. Out of all the people in this room, Oakley’s the one to ask? “I had breakfast, but I like to eat like a normal person.”

A faint smile touches his lips. “Jim, we need to eat.”

“Oh, sure.” Jim turns to Paisley. “Run and get us one of everything from the café across the street.”

I see a chance for fresh air and an escape. “I’ll go, too.” Not to mention that I don’t want to be here without Paisley.

“Oh, no, we’ll need you here,” Jim objects.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur to my sister. She doesn’t need to wait on me.

Paisley laughs. “It’s my job, silly. I’ll be right back.”

She trots out like she’s glad to be out of there, while I watch her exit and wish I could go with her.

On the other side of the table, Oakley leans back, crosses his arms again and looks smug, like he cured world hunger. “Well?” he prompts.

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to thank me?”

“Why? Paisley’s the one getting the food.”

“You wouldn’t be having lunch without me.”

I point to the clock. “I’ve been sitting in this conference room for five hours. Prisoners in maximum security receive better treatment. If it weren’t for you, I’d be lying on the beach rereading The Handmaid’s Tale and I would have eaten something. But sure, thank you for alerting your manager to send my sister to get me food.”

He doesn’t like my smart-ass response. “It’s too cold for the beach.”

“I never said I was going to swim.” I speak in the same tone I use when I tell my little brothers they’re acting like immature idiots.

“Why are you at the beach, then?”

I gape at him. “Why does anyone go to the beach? Because it’s awesome.”

“If you say so,” he responds, but the smugness he’s previously displayed is dialed down a watt as if my reasons for liking the beach are important...or even interesting. Or he might be confused about why I’d choose to go there rather than sit five feet away from his holy presence.

But I’m not going to tell him.

Instead, I drain the rest of my Coke, slam it on the table with more force than necessary and then sit back and refuse to say another word.

Is it childish?

Oh, yeah.

But it feels really, really good.

[deliverydefresas]

now i’m speechless, over the edge i’m just breathless

SIMBAR FICWEEK IS HERE AND IM SO DAMN HAPPY I MIGHT JUST AS WELL CRY OKAY 

yes, hi. this is day one, and i’m so excited even tho i only have a total of a day and a half ready and 1000% sure this all will be written the day before so im sorry in advance y’all 

anywayyyyy hope you enjoy this not even close to be proofread mess: 

DAY ONE: “You’re unfairly good at everything, but I’m strong enough to carry you bride-style and this for some reason renders you speechless”

Ámbar was getting more and more annoyed by the second, waiting for him to arrive.

The guitarist wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t the best either; and always, always late.

She was the strongest out of the two; it was easy to outshine him when skating (not that she didn’t do that already when she skated with Matteo, but now it was laughable how easy it was) However, Simón being weak was also a risk; because then her safety would be compromised if he lifted her the wrong way, or dropped her by accident if he stepped wrong.

So far none of that had happened because they hadn’t practiced those parts yet; Tamara wanting to help them ‘connect’ with each other had taken most of their rehearsing time with the easy steps first, leaving the most complicated ones for last (which was stupid and a waste of time, she had made it known but, of course, “take it easy” was the team’s motto).

Another problem was that he was easily distracted all the time; if she had to count the number of times she had to snap him out of his Luna-induced-state, she’d fall asleep very quickly at night.

Him not giving her enough attention bothered her a lot.

And her vanity was wounded. She was used to shine, to be the sun on the rink, everyone’s attention on her, awed by her talent, envying her because her steps were as flawless as it could be; and he, foolishly, would rather focus on a stupid moon who couldn’t care less was his center of gravitation.  

Yes, it bothered a lot.

Ámbar huffed once she finished tying her quads’ laces, angry at herself for letting that boy’s obliviousness affect her, when Simón stumbled into the lockers, in a rush.

“Am I late?” he asked, breathing heavily. She didn’t know what was with him and Luna being late to everything, but she was reaching her limit of patience, always waiting. Was this a Mexican thing, or were they just oh so connected that shared the same flaws?

“Not yet.” She scowled him, standing up to allow him lace up his own skates. Simón had the decency to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry, but with the band we’re still choo-”

She interrupted him, scowl intact, “I honestly don’t care.”

Ámbar waited for him to be offended by her response, like a normal person would; he, of course, being all Mr. Nice Guy, just smiled at her, sitting down with his quads to begin putting them on. “Fair enough.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that.

She wanted to ask him what he meant, why he didn’t seem to mind her bashing his band; but she just huffed again (which she did a lot around him), and skated to the rink, not before shouting a “hurry up” in his direction, to, well, hurry him up.

She stepped in the rink in seconds, unsurprised that the only people from the team that were there, were Ramiro, Matteo and her. Ámbar, of course, couldn’t stop from complaining.

“Your partners aren’t here yet? So unprofessional.”

Matteo was the first to react, rolling his eyes at her comment, and jumped to defend his lover girl “Luna had to stay at school a little longer today, she’ll be here soon.”

“Ah, of course.”

She could see her ex’s mouth turning upwards for a second, before she started her usual warm ups around the rink, not bothering to hear what Ramiro had to say about Jim’s whereabouts. She could care less about whatever those losers were doing, probably moping around some guy; because they were that desperate.

Matteo caught up with her a moment later, “where’s the guitarist, anyway? I don’t see him here either.”

“Miss him already?” she changed her course, standing in front of him to now skate backwards, smirk well put on her face. “Worried that he’s actually with your little Luna-love?”

“Ámbar.” His face turned blank, not entertained at all (which in Matteo terms, meant he was jealous and wasn’t willing to let the world know)

“Luckily for us, though,” she nodded towards the lockers’ doorframe, where Simón was already there, about to step into the rink, “he’s here, alone.”

Matteo didn’t look back, didn’t even tilt his head to look behind him, but kept his eyes on her face. His eyes turned from emotionless to amused in a second, and a smile appeared just as fast, “I see.”

“But you don’t.” She retorted, confused at his answer. Was today a “tell Ámbar weird responses to confuse her” day or something? Or were they just idiots?

“Or do I?” he teased, circling around her. Ámbar glared at him, crossing her arms.

He was acting ridiculous now. From experience, she could tell he was trying to get something out of her, by making her want to lash out and admit something. What exactly, she wasn’t sure. Balsano knew her better than most people, so the probability of him catching up with something about her before she could even think about it first was high.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Matteo circled her one more time before shrugging off, “you’re smart, you’ll figure it out.” With that, he left her side to go to the bleachers, where Gastón was now with Ramiro, Jim and Yam.

Nevertheless, Ámbar was annoyed. “What the- Matteo!” she called after him, ready to skate in his direction when Simón appeared in front of her, blocking her way from demanding answers out of her ex-boyfriend.

“Have you warmed up yet?” he asked, half scaring her to death, half actually killing her by nearly making her fall from the scare. Basically, he almost murders her.

He did save her, though, by holding her by the shoulders before she could meet the ground.

“I was in the middle of that,” she shrugged him off, literally, to get his hands off her. He took a step back, and smiled down at her, making her slightly uncomfortable.

Personally, she thought he looked ridiculous. Crooked beanie, horrible blue hoodie, and creepy smile. She was reminded of her best friend’s stupid crush when he first appeared in their lives; for someone who loved fashion, how could Jazmín had ever been interested in him? A real mystery she was not set to solve.

He had a nice enough body and face, but there was something that just made her hesitate about him. Unknown territory she had no intention to step on.

“Want to warm up together? We could even practice the lifts this time.” Simón pulled her out of her thoughts. So, of course, taken out in a shock, she blurted out the first thing that came out from her brain.

“Do you like Jazmín?”

He blinked, once, twice, “what?”

The heat from her cheeks was unwelcome. She knew she was embarrassed.

Fortunately for her, it was then when Mariano came and ordered them to start skating around the rink again, so they did.

They circled around fourteenth times, stretching and practicing a couple easy steps on the way. Lunita joined them when they hit the fourth round, shouting apologies nobody (her) cared to listen, and she huffed once more.

Fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth.

On the eighteenth turn, Simón finally caught up with her, skating along her and trying to follow whatever step she was making. She got annoyed soon, and went past him, increasing her speed until it was safe to do an axel without falling on her face for lack of impulse.

She heard her friends cheer on the background, clapping loudly. When had they arrived, she had no idea, but she still flipped her hair in acknowledgement, smirking proudly.

When she looked back she found Simón’s eyes on her, smiling and clapping along. The image was so weird, so unusual to her, she lost her balance for a second, and fell on her butt. His face turned concerned immediately and, rushed to her side; the rest of the team plus their coaches close behind.

His face was in front of hers in a minute, “you’re okay?”

She gulped at the closeness, her stomach getting unsettled all of the sudden, “I think so.”

Tamara came behind Simón, who had kneeled down beside her, and asked, “can you stand? Does it hurt anywhere?”

It was then when Ámbar noticed her ankle was actually in pain, wincing. “I think my ankle might be hurt.”

Mariano cursed loudly, and ordered for anyone to bring ice quickly, while he ran to his cellphone to call a doctor. With Tamara and Simón’s help, they took her quads off, the former examining her left ankle as soon as the sock was off.

“I think it might just be a bruise,” she spoke sweetly, after a few minutes, “still, it’d be better if you just sit down and ice it for today.” Ámbar was more than ready to complain, but Tamara’s look shut her up before she could, “now, one of you please take her to the bleachers so she can sit down there.”

On the corner of her eye, she saw Matteo taking a step, ready to offer himself. Simón beat him at it, surprising them both, but made her ex smile for some reason.  

“I will.” Without giving her time to protest, he lifted her up, securing her in his arms; bride-style.

Ámbar was speechless. He even had his freaking quads on! She didn’t know if she was scared he’d let her fall or just plain shocked he volunteered to carry her, but she couldn’t form a sentence.

Once they reached the stands, he accommodated her on a chair, before allowing Delfi and Jazmín to bombarded with questions about her wellbeing.

“Hey, hey, let her breath.” He nudged them softly, shutting them up effectively for a total of two seconds, because then they proceeded to apologize non-stop.

Somehow she found her voice again, “just shut up already.” They did this time, “if you want to be useful go and bring me water or something.”

They were gone in a flash, so she looked up to the boy, who looked more amused than anything. “What?” she asked, but he just shrugged, avoiding an answer.

“Simón! Get back to practice!” Mariano yelled at him, snapping his fingers to let him know there was no time to waste.

“I hate that guy,” he told her secretively, making the corners of her mouth twitch.

“SIMÓN!”

The boy rolled his eyes, but still didn’t move, “are you going to be okay by yourself for now?” she nodded in response, “feel better, yeah? Can’t let this rink be without its queen.” Simón winked, and left her to go with a very pissed Mariano, finally starting to practice the choreography.

She was stunned, once again, by him. What even was this? Black magic? Voodoo? This clearly wasn’t her.

“Does it hurt less now, Ámbar?” Delfi appeared again, with a bottle of water and a very worried Jazmín carrying a sandwich behind her.

She nodded. But inside, she was screaming.

Simón must have thrown a spell on her, that was the only (il)logical reason.  

Cause she, sure as hell, wasn’t crushing on him.

At all.