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gojorgeous · 9 months

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"business or pleasure?"

pairing: gojo x fem!reader summary: the gojo clan decides it’s time to secure an heir… and you’re the lucky woman selected for the job… content: HEAVY breeding, arranged marriage, language, praise, dacryphilia, p->v, fingering, mating press, a lil’ blood (if you squint), pet names, implied multiple rounds, gojo just generally being a menace, no established relationship, reader and gojo literally just met, reader is literally there for the purpose of getting pregnant, positive pregnancy test at the end, ideas of women as baby incubators :x, consent king gojo. wc: 3.7k a/n: I HAVE RETURNED!!! Hey!!!!!! Long time no see, babes. I was looking at my account and I haven’t posted a fic in *cough* TWO YEARS. There is simply no way that’s real 😭 Anyway, I’ve returned with something slightly different: A Gojo fic. You’re welcome. Mwah. Also, please send messages I miss y'all. happy new year bbs. and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

It’s only your third time in Japan. The first had been to visit family friends when you were eight, the second for a girls’ trip after you graduated college. You liked it. Tokyo was bright and busy and full of shops and things to do. The countryside always offered beauty and peace. But this third time was different. No shopping, no temples, no amusement parks. You were here for business, not pleasure.

You run a finger along the edge of a mahogany bookshelf. Your feet are killing you, a flick of your ankles tossing your heels across the room. Your nose wrinkles when you land on a particular title. The Art of War? Interesting choice… You scan the other books, and your brows rise when you find a strange combination of academics, young adult, manga, and high fantasy? A multi-genre reader, then…

You absentmindedly rub at the arch of your foot, pushing out the ache as best you can. A day so full of stress has left you weary. Your mother hadn’t stopped hovering until the moment you’d escaped into your car, a new husband on your arm.

You sigh. You could still hear the shower running along with said husband humming loudly to a tune you didn’t recognize. At least your groom wasn’t shy.

A glance toward the bed has your brows raising. Were those… squishmallows? One looked like a shark, the other like a… sushi? You press your lips together, avoiding a laugh he would surely hear. You make your way to the mattress, sighing when you finally get to sit. You pull the sushi into your arms, hugging the pillow to your chest, but it no longer seemed so funny anymore. You had bigger things to think about. Your legs press together in a mix of anticipation and anxiety. All the way from America you’d come to marry the Gojo heir. It had been a rushed arrangement. Apparently, the Gojo clan had finally put their foot down and decided their heir should finally get to the business of making another heir. There’d been a search far and wide for the best match and somehow, they’d settled on you. An accomplished sorcerer yourself and abilities in your blood that only strengthened those of the Gojo line, you’d been an suitable pick. It didn’t hurt that you were young, healthy, and (upon a trip to a renowned fertility clinic) proven to be very fertile.

Your parents had been oh-so eager to accept the Gojo clan’s proposition. The Gojo heir’s power hadn’t been matched in nearly 400 years. Any and every family would jump at the opportunity to be tied to them, especially through marriage and heirs. You were surprised you’d been chosen considering all of the options there must have been.

Satoru seemed… fine, you thought. You hadn’t had much time to talk with him privately. The first time you’d met had been on a phone call with both of your sets of parents present and the next had been at the altar. At one point in the night he’d asked a waiter to refill your wine glass and he’d been a rather good dancer. Other than that, you’d been pulled apart at all odds and ends until you’d come back here: his apartment.

You’d expected something a little more lavish for your wedding night, especially considering the spectacle that your wedding had been. Ice sculptures, thousand dollar bouquets, and diamond encrusted wedding rings had turned to an elegantly decorated bachelor pad. A glance around revealed a space that was obviously lived in, with odd mixes of $10,000 dollar chairs and… squishmallows.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, eyes peeling over the half-moons of your nails and the heavy gems that now sit on the fourth finger of your left hand. They are a weight you feel the pressure of. A pressure to live up to expectations, to produce a much-desired product.

A door opens down the hall and you realize the pounding of water and the lilting of a hum has ceased. Your husband is done with his shower.

A few seconds later he reveals himself, prancing down the hallway and into his bedroom like it’s just another Tuesday and not his wedding night. A plush blue towel is slung low around his waist and from the rivulets of water running all over his body you judge that he hadn’t even taken the time to properly dry off. Not that you mind.

You’d known your new husband was beautiful but you’d never imagined he’d be so… so goddamn seductive.

Washboard abs, toned arms, sculpted back, wet hair and icy eyes… he was the image of a god.

“Sorry for making you wait. I really needed that.”

Gojo prods at his temples, eyes squished shut in what looked like a moment of pain. You’d heard of this problem from the clan. He hadn’t worn his blindfold all day for the sake of the wedding. It was no wonder the effects were catching up with him.

“No problem.”

A small smile reveals just a few blinding teeth and you could swear your vision went out for just a moment.

“You hungry?”

You arch a brow. The man had eaten two full plates and practically half the cake not yet an hour ago.

“Can’t say that I am.”

“Hm.”

He nods and you watch as he plucks a stray candy off his bedside table, tossing the wrapper to the floor.

“So, uh-” You watch the butterscotch bulge in his cheek. “You really wanna do this?”

You glance at your half-naked husband who is practically a walking temptation. You take a breath. He’s standing so casually, as if this is a normal conversation to be having and not something life-altering.

“You don’t?” you ask.

All that gets you is a shit-eating grin.

“Never said that.”

You can’t help the smirk that crawls across your lips.

“Well, we might as well get it over with, no?”

Another flash of pearly whites.

“Get it over with, hm?”

You miss his meaning, pulling at a loose thread on the bedspread.

“It shouldn’t take much effort. I’m on so many fertility meds you could probably spit on me and I’d get pregnant.”

You pick at the thread a little more, biting your lip when you realize it’s one of those strands that’s infinite.

“That so?”

You jolt when a speck of wetness lands on your cheek. A quick glance reveals a fuzzy blue towel far too close for comfort. A half-naked Gojo is a whole lot closer than he’d been just seconds ago. How is he so quiet?

Blue eyes bore into yours, water dripping down white strands and onto your skin. He’s so damn tall. He has your neck craned all the way back just to meet his gaze.

“Yes.” You swallow. “It was part of our prenup.”

Dazed. You’re absolutely dazed.

“Well, we probably shouldn’t risk breaking a legally binding contract, hm?”

Closer. He’s coming closer. Too close.

You lean back, scooting yourself up the bed in a feeble attempt to get a little more space, your emotional support sushi tumbling to the floor. He follows right after you.

Something primal thrusts through your veins at the sight of a man, sopping wet and smirking, crawling after you, some mix of teasing and pure drive hidden in his eyes. Gojo doesn’t stop, not until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard and his arms cage your waist. Close. Too close.

You’d thought he would have dried a bit by now, but water still slicks off his skin and hair, showering you lightly. You shiver and your husband notices. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you get a breath of the sweetness of butterscotch and mint toothpaste.

“You say stop,” he breathes, “and we stop.”

He leans closer, so close you can smell the eucalyptus and myrrh of his shampoo, the musk of his body wash, the candied sweetness of his breath. Those piercing blue eyes flit to your lips and back up again.

A breath, a pause.

“Stop?” he asks. His eyes are piercing.

You shake your head.

“Go.”

Lips, teeth, tongue. All of it hits you at once. For a moment you’re too shocked to respond, but then his weight is leaning on you and his hand is on your waist and his mouth tastes like candy and- and then you’re kissing him back.

A heavy hand digs into the flesh of your waist and your hands find a patch of damp white hair to tangle in.

He tastes good- too good and when a deft hand guides you down to the mattress you start to think that this whole baby-making business might not be so bad after all.

Teeth knock, tongues touch, and you are on the edge of what would have been a particularly throaty moan when he pulls away.

His attention shifts elsewhere, kisses trailing down your neck and hands straying to your hips.

“Have you-” a kiss to your collarbone. “Done this before?”

You freeze.

“What?”

Gojo raises his head a bit and the most irritating kind of smirk plays on his lips.

“Don’t know- thought maybe this was a virgin for your super rich husband kinda thing?”

You shove his head back down.

“Shut up.”

He chuckles and the sound vibrates against your skin.

“Okay, sp no need to go slow then…”

His lips continue their assault, brushing and grazing over your skin until it lifts with goosebumps. Your breaths come a little faster, a little heavier and you gasp when his hand curls beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Oh? What’s this?” His fingers brush against the garter that rests at the top of your thighs. Your cheeks heat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had you agreed to wear the damn thing? You reach down, hoping to quickly rid yourself of the scrap of fabric before you can become oven more mortified. You’re just about to clamp down on it when Gojo catches your wrist. “Ah, ah. No need to be so hasty.” Your hand is easily pinned down to the mattress and, for some reason, you don’t fight it.

Your breath catches when your skirt lifts only for Gojo to dive beneath it without a second thought. You feel his teeth grazing across the skin of your thigh.

“Gojo-” you breathe, squirming.

His head reappears suddenly, another one of those mischievous grins gracing his lips. “Satoru when I’m about to be inside you, baby.”

He disappears again and you gasp and wiggle when you feel his tongue laving across the inside of your thigh.

His teeth graze you again, but this time they clamp down on the garter and you feel it slowly sliding across your skin, down, down, past your knee and eventually to your ankle where Satoru finally yanks it past your foot with a final tug.

You stare at him, wide eyed and lustful. That had to have been one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

Satoru plucks the garter from his teeth and dangles it in front of his eyes. It’s a white, lacy little thing that matches the shade of his hair. He’s grinning again when he slides it onto his wrist like a bracelet– no, like a trophy.

“Thanks for the present.” He’s still grinning, still staring, his fingers still fiddling with the hem of your skirt. “How attached are you to this dress?” he asks.

You blink, swallowing nervously, unable to break away from his gaze. It’s too strong, too mesmerizing. “Not… attached at all,” you manage. It’s true. Somebody else picked it out, and you’ve only been wearing it for about an hour– and it’s not like you can’t just buy a new one now with access to the Gojo bank accounts.

His grin somehow grows even wider. “Good girl. Just what I wanted to hear.”

There’s a splitting sound and suddenly your dress is tearing straight down the middle. It’s slow and controlled and you wonder if he’s practiced at this or if his strength is just that regulated. You find yourself hoping it’s the latter.

The dress is ripped from your skin and you see it land somewhere across the room. You hear something shatter along with a thud, but Satoru seems anything but worried, so you ignore it.

You’re bare in just your undergarments, a lacy white set that you’re now half proud of and half embarrassed by.

Satoru whistles and his hands settle on your waist. “Damn, baby. Why’d you keep all this hidden for so long?”

You scoff, your confidence surging. You reach for him, grabbing a scruff of hair at the back of his neck and pulling him close. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, Toru.”

The sound of the nickname on your lips makes him shiver and you smirk triumphantly.

“Hmm…” is all he says as his fingers trail lower, lower, lower, until they’re dipping beneath the band of your panties. It’s somewhere between tortuous and ticklish and you squirm. “Ah, ah. Hold still for me, now.” He presses one hand to the valley between your breasts, holding you down as his other hand continues lower. When his thumb finds the wet spot on your panties and presses down your back arches and your breath escapes.

He chuckles. “Little needy, aren’t you?” His thumb moves a little higher, grazing your clit, and you whimper.

With one deft movement he unclasps your bra, tossing it aside. You register for just a moment that your chest is now completely bare, but soon enough his mouth is closing around your nipple and all else is forgotten.

“S-Satoru!” you whisper. Your voice feels hoarse, even if it has no reason to be.

His thumb continues its assault between your thighs. “So wet already, baby…” He sounds ecstatic. The grin on his lips makes you whine. “Let’s get these out of the way…” Before you know it, you hear more tearing and then cold air hits your cunt. You cry out when Satoru’s thumb returns to its ministrations, but this time there’s no cloth barrier to dull the sensation. Your hands push out and your nails curl into his bare shoulders. You need him closer.

“Satoru…” you breathe. “Kiss me…”

That shit-eating grin returns, but he follows your command. “As my wife wishes.”

When lips meet yours it’s hot and messy. Your nails claw down his back and you’re sure you’re leaving marks. If he minds, he certainly doesn’t show it.

His thumb continues at your clit as a finger prods at your entrance. When he slides in slowly, you gasp. He murmurs something about you being so sensitive, and proceeds to quickly find that gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Before you know it he’s adding a second finger and soon your hips are rocking against his thrusts, meeting his pace as you chase your high.

“God, you’re so wet.” he whispers against your lips. True to his word, he’s been kissing you, never letting up in his attack on your mouth. “Bet you taste like fucking heaven.”

You whine, your hips stuttering against his hand. “G-Gonna… I’m–”

He grins again, and pulls away just enough to meet your gaze. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me.” Your eyes flutter shut, your head rolling back– “Nuh, uh. Keep those eyes open. Wanna see every second.”

Your breaths flutter and you whimper loudly, the sound bouncing on the walls. You’re not sure why you listen, why you fight to keep your eyes open, locked on him, but you do. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll pull away and leave you wanting… or maybe you just want to please him.

You feel your muscles clenching in your stomach, hear the sloppy sounds of Satoru’s fingers thrusting in and out of you, see the gleeful anticipation in his eyes. His thumb rubs a particularly delicious circle around your clit and you feel yourself thrown over the edge.

You can’t help but be loud. You hold his gaze the whole time, whimpering and whining his name as you gush all over his sheets. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching, holding him inside, desperate to be filled. You hear him panting above you, like watching has somehow taken his breath away.

“Good girl,” he whispers and you feel a second wave of pleasure ripple through you.

You feel weak by the time your orgasm leaves you. Your muscles are limp and your cunt is so sensitive that you flinch when Satoru removes his fingers. He brushes a tear from the corner of your eye and you watch as he brings his sopping fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices clean. He moans, a deep throaty sound, like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. You watch his eyes roll back in his skull, watch his throat bob as he swallows. Your lips part at the sight.

His fingers fall from his mouth with a pop and his grin returns.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “Heaven.”

He’s back on you in a second, licking a stripe from your collarbone to just beneath your ear. His hips slot between your own and a strong hands hook around the backs of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. You whimper. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so completely and utterly exposed.

“On to the main event, yeah?” The twinkle in his eye has your heart racing even faster. His fingers catch the towel that is somehow still wrapped snugly around his waist. With one tug, it’s gone and your mouth is watering in anticipation.

Your jaw drops lower, if it’s even possible. He’s… huge. Long and pretty with veins that you know are going to rub just right. His tip is pink and leaking, ready.

“Satoru, it won’t–”

His lips connect to your pulse, licking and sucking when you feel him prodding at your entrance. “It’ll fit, baby.”

He slides himself through your folds, gathering your juices and torturing you every time his tip bumps your clit. By the time he’s finally lining himself up, you’re practically begging.

The first push is heaven. You’re both moaning when he prods past that first tight ring of muscle and you’re gasping, crying out his name and clawing at his back. He keeps pushing, filling you inch by inch until he’s pressed snugly against your cervix. You thank him aloud when he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of being filled to the absolute brim. He only kisses the tears from your cheeks.

The first thrust has you seeing stars, little white spots clouding your vision. The second has your nails embedding in his skin hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it has him moving faster, grunting in your ear and whimpering your name.

“Sooo… f-ahh-ucking t-tight…” he whispers.

A hand slides between your sweaty bodies, a thumb rubbing familiar circles against your swollen clit. You cry out, clenching down like a vice.

“F-Fuck, princess.”

His thrusts rock your body and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the air. You feel that familiar coil begin to form, to heat at your core. Your muscles tighten and your legs begin to shake.

“Atta girl. Cum on my cock, baby.”

You whimper at the praise, at the incessant rubbing of your clit, at the relentless pounding of your cervix. It’s all too much, too good.

“Satoru…” you cry. Your legs burn and ache. Satoru has your knees pressed so tightly to your chest you’re afraid something might snap. It only adds to the tension beginning to unravel at your center. You feel as if you’re burning, as if you’re going to snap– and then you do. Heat unravels beneath your skin and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your legs tremble and your toes curl and you vaguely hear your husband whispering a mix of curses and praises in your ear. You’re still lost in the sensation when he starts groaning and you feel him flooding your insides with shallow thrusts close to your cervix, filling you with rope after rope of his hot cum. You’re still panting when you finally regain your mind. Satoru’s still on top of you, completely limp with his head buried in your neck. You curl a hand into his hair, silently holding him close. That was some of the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had. You smirk. Yeah, maybe this baby-making business wasn’t going to be so bad.

You shiver when you feel Satoru licking and sucking at your skin. There’s a tenderness in the action that makes you pull him closer. He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but you can already feel him hardening inside you, ready for another round.

“Think it stuck?” he asks. You smirk and answer with a breathy laugh.

“Don’t know.” Silently, you think that there’s no way it didn’t. You can feel his cum dripping down your thighs and there’s just so much of it.

He lifts his head, eyes bright and sparkling even in the dim light. He grins. “Guess we’d better make sure.”

With the rate at which Satoru fucks you it’s no surprise when you get two positive little pink lines a few week later. You tell Satoru by unceremoniously dropping the test in front of him while he’s drinking his morning coffee. He only grins and kisses you before he bends you over the counter, whispering something about needing to show you how appreciative he is when he slides inside you. The next morning you wake to Satoru’s lips on yours, a brand new credit card, and a new car in the driveway, fitted with all of the newest safety features (only the best for his wife and baby, he says). You sigh and smile when you see it. Yeah, this whole baby-making business definitely wasn’t so bad.

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#jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #tw: breeding #bree’s fics

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ginnsbaker · 1 year

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In Flames I Sleep Soundly (1/2)

Summary: What do you do when you find out that person you trust the most is a liar? Or the Unfaithful AU that I've been wanting to read for a while.

Word Count: 9k+

Warnings: Angst, Smut (18+), Cheating/Adultery, Implied Het Sexual Content

Author’s Note: I was thinking about making a separate tumblr for fics (since I primarily post fanarts), but I’m too scatterbrained two maintain more than one account. I recently saw Unfaithful (2002) again and thought about doing an AU based on that movie. The title of this fic are lyrics from "Wedding Song" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs. No betas. And I won't apologize for how imperfect this monster is. I haven't written in more than a decade, so let's all suck it up.

AO3 / Part Two / Masterlist

Part One

Summer arrives in Westview, New Jersey in a fairly conspicuous manner. Its parks have been repainted with various shades of green, and the oversized trench coats on the streets that its residents are so fond of during the cold months are nowhere to be found.

Despite these observations, Westview remains a sleepy town. At least it is to you, but that's probably because you’ve spent half of your life in Manhattan. You and Wanda moved to New Jersey a few months ago after you were promoted to branch manager. The salary that came with it was enough to pay off your student loans including Wanda's, so it was easy to accept the offer despite the trade-off of having to move to a relatively unknown and rural town.

"It's only temporary," you told Wanda when you broke the news. "My supervisor said that if I can prove myself there, I can come back as a regional manager."

Wanda had assured you that you had her full support. At the time, she was working part-time at a small gallery for up-and-coming artists in the state, and while she needed to start somewhere to realize her dream of becoming an art dealer, she figured it wouldn't derail her career so much if she could learn art trading online.

Everything happened in a blur after that. In two weeks, you were driving to Westview with nothing but two suitcases and your dog, Sparky, on Wanda's lap. You held her hand while she slept throughout the entire trip and you faced the unknown roads that led to your new life.

The house they picked for you and your family exceeded your expectations. Granted, you had to subsidize a percentage of the move-in fee, it was a small price to pay to have so much space. The bathroom alone is larger than the guestroom of your previous two-bedroom apartment in Yorkville. On the first day, Wanda had explored the house with a childlike wonder, while Sparky tried to cover every inch of its ostensibly boundless backyard. That night, with only a blanket laid out on the floor, you made love to Wanda and then some more on the kitchen counter and the bathtub upstairs, inside the master's bedroom.

You've been married to her for five years, but a fresh start gave you two the sexual appetite of newly weds. It didn’t take 48 hours to christen every room in the house.

By now, a routine has been established: you wake up at five in the morning to go out for a run, back at home by six, and then showered and dressed for work before seven. Wanda, on the other hand, would try to get up before you're done with your ceremonies to prepare breakfast. She's not always successful–sometimes waking up long after you've gone to work.

"You want some coffee?" Wanda wakes you out of your stupor. She's still in her nightgown, holding two cups of freshly brewed coffee. Her auburn hair is up in a messy bun and she is, after all these years, a sight to behold.

You look at her and then at your left wrist to check the time on the Rolex she gave you as a wedding gift. You still have a few minutes, but there's an urgent staff meeting that you're a little anxious about.

"And maybe some omelet?" Wanda suggests when you don't answer, already cracking some eggs in a bowl.

"Sorry, babe, got to run." You shake your head apologetically before walking over to her and kissing the back of her head. Wanda merely continues whisking the eggs for a while before commenting, "Until when are you going to have these early meetings?"

"I don't know. Maybe the end of the month?"

"You're the boss. Can't you just call them off? Maybe schedule them during actual office hours?"

You shrug and say nothing, unwilling to engage in an argument so early in the day. Wanda exhales heavily at your lack of reaction, which compels you to reach for her hand and stroke it. Seeing how she’s not pulling away from your touch, you move to hug her from behind.

"I'll try to be home early tonight, okay? I miss you too." You say softly and kiss her cheek.

"I didn't say I miss you." Wanda deadpans, but she's already turning around in your arms for a proper embrace. You kiss her forehead and let her hold you for a few beats. She buries her nose in your neck and inhales deeply. “I told you to stop wearing this perfume. It makes you unbearably enticing.” Wanda admonishes you with a hungry look.

It’s embarrassing how easily your wife can turn you into a bashful teenager with a little flirting.

“Well, maybe you should do something about it.” You playfully taunt her.

“Maybe I will.” Wanda says in a low voice, and she’s close enough for you to notice the total lack of green in her eyes.

As much as you want to rip her silky lingerie and take her right then and there, the fact is you are already going to miss the first few minutes of the meeting–and then maybe a quarter of it if you don’t leave soon.

"I really have to go. But first things first," You grab one of the two cups of joe and Wanda starts giggling when you drink from it in one go. "Best coffee in the world. Maybe you should start a cafe business."

"Idiot." Wanda taps your nose affectionately, before shoving you towards the door.

Later, you arrive home just a few minutes shy of midnight. The house is deathly silent, even your dog could not be bothered greeting you at the door. You go straight to the bedroom, making as little sound as possible, to find Wanda asleep on her side, facing away from you. You get rid of your clothes and climb into bed. You carefully inch towards her and press your front against her back, spooning her. You hear her breath hitch, but before you can start thinking of an apology, you fall fast into a dreamless sleep.

***

It’s two months later and on a lazy Sunday afternoon, when Wanda breaks the news that she’s been offered a temporary position at Westview Institute of Arts and Sciences. You’ve watched your wife gradually grow restless each week, having a difficult time adjusting to life in the suburbs. Wanda interviewing for a job wasn’t as forthcoming as her asking you to move back to the city. Taking the job would mean integrating with the community in a semi-permanent way. So it’s a surprise that Wanda would even consider it.

"Assistant professor?" you ask distractedly, not looking up from the Jonathan Tropper novel on your lap. Wanda’s perched on one of the barstools of the breakfast counter, waiting for her banana bread to be done in the oven. Sparky lays at her feet, also waiting for the banana bread.

"What do you think?" Wanda muses and drums her fingers on the table.

You regard your restless wife for a moment, before closing the book and tapping the spot next to you on the couch. “C’mere.”

Wanda does as she’s told and Sparky follows after her.

"I think it’s a great opportunity and experience to have. But I thought you're getting a lot of projects from Upwork."

You try not to sound too partial to the idea of her working in the university. However, if you’re being totally honest, it would essentially solve the problem of your wife’s mild existential crisis– and your guilt of probably causing it.

"It’s just a side-hustle,” Wanda argues. “Besides, they’re going to need me only three times a week and they offered me a full-time pay.”

“Sounds too perfect to be true.”

Wanda shakes her head. “I don’t think so. It’s not unheard of that there’s a huge demand for educators in small-town institutions.”

“So you’ll take it?”

Wanda nods with a smile and then says, “Only if you’ll drive me in the morning.”

“Of course, baby.” You say almost instantly and give her a quick peck on the lips. It doesn’t even matter that Wanda has her own car since she hates driving with a passion.

"Professor Maximoff." Her potential designation rolls off your tongue coolly. You’ve never really pictured Wanda in academe before, and now you can’t get rid of the image of her in a perfectly tailored suit.

The corners of Wanda’s mouth quirk up in a dreamy smile. "Kinda has a ring to it, huh?"

"A very sexy ring to it, professor."

Wanda giggles as you go ahead and think of ways to sneak into one of her classes some time in the near future.

"I'd tell you I've gotten a job at Baskin' Robbins and you'd say I look hot in their uniform." she points out.

"I bet you're hotter with all your clothes off."

Suddenly, the oven dings and Sparky starts barking at Wanda.

“And you’ve got a one-track mind,” she mutters with an undercurrent of mirth, before getting up to return to her baking. “Ten points from Hufflepuff!”

You burst into a fit of laughter. “Can’t blame me for having a hot wife. Also, I’m a Gryffindor you vexing Slytherin!”

Wanda can be the biggest dork at times, and it only makes you fall for her a little harder in these moments.

She sticks her tongue out at you. “Dream on, Badger Queen.”

***

It’s some kind of Hollywood domestic bliss.

You still wake up at five to go out for a run, but now Wanda’s your running buddy and you’re always trying to catch up with her pace.

“I can’t believe this gives you more energy than coffee.” she said the first time she laced up and she finished her run a minute faster than you. You thought it’s ludicrous that Wanda was a natural athlete on top of her good looks, but you figured it was an organic truth given that her brother played professional soccer for a couple of years before he got into the business side of sports.

Most days, you’d let Wanda clean up first while you cook breakfast. On one occasion that you joined her in the shower, Wanda turned up so late in class some of the students were already preparing to leave.

“That can’t happen again.” Wanda told you.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

You’d been married to her long enough to know that Wanda often broke her own rules. Historically, you’d watch her do so with satisfaction just because it’s usually an unspoken challenge between married people. And maybe because it reminded you that she’s human. Imperfect as much as you were.

“Just be careful, Y/N,” your best friend, Natasha, told you a month into dating Wanda Maximoff. “Mistakes and disappointments are inevitable. Hell, even I will let you down at some point in the future.”

“You have. Many times.” you said jokingly.

“Is that right? Look, all I’m saying is it’s also not fair to Wanda if you put her on such a high pedestal.”

Natasha was right. However, it wasn’t like you could change who you were and how you loved. The night you met Wanda at freshman orientation, you knew she was the one. You loved her through college as her closest friend as much as you did when she began to see you in a new light thereafter.

And even now, as you stare at her sneaking a nap on the drive to her workplace, nothing has changed. It’s a cherished moment, no matter how mundane.

Your hopeless crush on Wanda never really went away.

You feel very lucky that she feels the same way.

***

You’re about ten feet from the door of your house when you hear scratches from behind it, followed by Sparky’s incessant barking. Quickly, you fish out your keys from your backpack and open the door.

Sparky jumps at you as soon as the door swings open, and then starts licking at your pants.

“What’s up?” you say, scratching behind his ears until he calms down.

You look around the empty living room and notice for the first time that Wanda’s not home.

You send a text to her asking where she is. Sparky is making whiny noises, while pushing his empty bowl towards you with his tiny paw.

“Sorry, bud. Let’s get you your dinner.” You say, picking up the bowl and bringing it to where you store his food. You open the cupboard to find a mostly empty bag of Merrick. Sparky patiently waits for you, wagging his tail. Wanda was supposed to get some groceries this afternoon.

You check your phone and find no new messages.

“Looks like you’re coming with me for a quick run to the grocery store.” You tell Sparky with a sigh.

Sparky tilts his head at you in confusion. You send another text to Wanda telling her you went out and ask if she’s already eaten, before heading out to your car once again.

You don’t hear back from Wanda long after you’ve had dinner by yourself and it’s almost midnight. Your anxiety levels are at an all-time high, and you’re about to call the cops when you hear her car approaching the garage.

You’re waiting by the door, so at the very second she slips inside the house, you hoist her into a desperate embrace like a mad woman.

“Where were you?” You exclaim as you pull away and clasp her shoulder blades hard. “I’ve been worried sick and you went dark on me.”

Wanda winces at you, gently prying your fingers from her. “My phone died and I forgot to bring my charger. I was writing the final exam that I have to turn in by tomorrow, and got carried away. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t do that again. You couldn’t have borrowed someone’s cell or call from the school?”

“Like I said, I was working,” Wanda rolls her eyes, just a tad snidely. “It’s Westview. What’s the worst that could happen to me? Please let it go, I’m so fucking exhausted.”

It’s not that you’ve never heard your wife curse before, but you can’t help but flinch given the context at which she’s said it.

“Fine,” You clench your jaw, stepping out of her way. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Sure.” Wanda says stoically.

You don't talk about it in the morning. Or at all.

***

The forecast is you’re not going to hit this quarter’s targets. You’ll be two to three percent short, and everyone is telling you there’s not enough time to pull off a new campaign and drum up enough business to meet the numbers.

Your stubborn nature beseeches you to try anyway. It is, of course, at the cost of being stuck in front of your laptop in the dead of night.

Wanda approaches you to see if you need anything before she goes to bed without you. You smile at the sweet gesture but shake your head no.

“I’m good,” you say.

“Are you sure? I’ve got us fresh tea bags.”

“Positive.”

“Okay, good night.” she offers you a faint smile and starts to leave the room.

“Wands?” you utter abruptly.

She pauses and leans against the door frame. “Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course, I love you,” Wanda drags her feet back to you. “What a silly question.”

“I guess I’m just feeling silly. We’ve been working hard, and when we’re together,” You let out a mirthless laugh. “We’re still working.”

Wanda nods solemnly but doesn’t speak. You can’t see her eyes with just a lamp lit on your desk and you're oddly grateful for that.

“I just miss you.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, uhm,” you fidget, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

***

You wake up to wet kisses all over your face, only to be sorely disappointed to find out it's just Sparky, while Wanda looks at you softly as she waits for you to shake off the residues of sleep.

“Baby, I need a favor.” Wanda says.

"Good morning to you too." You reply good-naturedly.

Wanda ducks her head sheepishly. "Sorry, I've been waiting for you to wake up. I've said ‘good morning’ in my head, like, a hundred times." she tells you.

You silently brush a lock of hair from her face, before scooting closer to her and pressing a small kiss on her forehead.

"How can I be of service, m'lady?" you ask.

Wanda gets to it immediately. “There’s this painting I need from where I used to work. I need to bring it tomorrow, but I can’t take the day off. There’s no substitute because, well, I’m supposedly the substitute.”

“Sure, I’ll drop by there after work.”

Wanda makes a bashful noise of disapproval. “They’re only open until three-thirty.”

It’s a bad time to be missing work these days, but Wanda rarely asks for your help with anything. She’d sooner ask a stranger than her partner. There's one ex-boyfriend of hers you actually got to talk to in the past long before you and Wanda happened. The conversation was short, with mostly him talking–or rather ranting about how Wanda never made him feel needed. He went as far as claiming that she emasculated him in many ways. You never agreed with his insinuations of it being Wanda's flaw, and that it contributed to the downfall of their relationship. You like that Wanda is not a damsel in distress and that she carries herself with an air of confidence that only a truly independent woman can exude.

Although it does feel good to be needed sometimes.

“I’ll take care of it.” You assure her.

“Thank you,” Wanda says, and then proceeds to give you a tight but fleeting hug. "Alright, I'm gonna go get ready."

You plop back on the bed with a huff. You haven't gone out on a proper date with Wanda for months, and you don't know how much longer you can survive this routine of late nights and rush hours. Maybe a vacation isn't too improbable by the end of August. Wanda's always wanted to visit Maui and, but you've kept deferring it until next year. A year has turned into two, three, and you don't realize it until just now that she's stopped mentioning it to you.

You make a mental note to search for discount flights later. Or maybe you can start with something more feasible like, say, lunch?

"Wands?"

The noise of the running shower drowns out your call, so you lumber from the bed and towards the bathroom.

Your mouth goes dry at the view of Wanda's soaked body, nostrils flaring at her stupid rule of no sex before work.

Wanda turns around and your eyes drop lower.

"Jesus, Y/N!" she gasps, then lets out a breathy laugh.

"Sorry," you lie, smirking at her nakedness. "Should we go out for lunch later?"

"I'd love to," Wanda says. "But I've got a lunch meeting with the dean."

"I see." you say and linger by the door. The crestfallen look on your face doesn't go unnoticed by your wife.

"We can have dinner," Wanda proposes tentatively. "Maybe drive to the city for some steaks and a dive bar after?"

Your eyes light up at her suggestion, heart brimming with repose.

"I'll pick you up at seven," you say. "It's a date."

Wanda throws a wink in your direction before turning back around to lather herself with your favorite soap.

Finding a parking space in Soho is almost next to impossible. You've only been living out of Manhattan for a couple of months, but it already feels like the population has doubled since. You're thinking about just leaving the car somewhere near the island and using the subway, when a woman enters your view and you step on the break as fast as you could. There's a loud screeching sound to be heard before the woman is rushing to your door with every intent to pulverize you on the spot.

As soon as you roll your window half-way through, a string of profanities welcome your ears like a gunshot. What you don't count on is hearing them from a spectacularly familiar voice.

"You almost got me killed you fucking asshole –"

You tilt your head towards your assailant. There's no mistaking that pair of green eyes.

“Yelena?"

Natasha's younger sister stares at you wide-eyed before her face breaks into the brightest smile.

"Y/N?"

"I almost didn't recognize you. I'm glad you still remember my name." you say. The last time you saw each other was right before Yelena went to an English university that you’ve forgotten the name of(it rhymes with ‘weed’) and you were a freshman in college. Yelena was a brunette then; she used to wear thick-rimmed glasses and her hair was always up in a low ponytail. The Yelena in front of you has blonde hair, a nose-piercing, and a cherry blossom tattoo on her chest that trails down and disappears into the collar of her blouse.

"How could I forget the only friend of my sister who was ever nice to me?" she quips with a toothy grin.

You blush at the fond memory of tutoring Yelena and treating her often to street shawarma.

"That's not true. Bruce was friendly with you as well."

"That's because he was dating my sister and wanted to get on my good side. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Looking for somewhere to park. Do you happen to know any in the area?"

"I've got one if you want. It's just down the street, second corner to your right."

"You're renting a parking space in Manhattan? I'm absolutely impressed."

“Oh, no!” she exclaims. Then adds, "It's my roommate, Kate's. She's loaded."

"Are you sure it's okay?"

Yelena nods and you thank her as she lets herself in your car.

The parking turns out to be too narrow, and so Yelena has to get out before you slot your car in the spot securely. Afterwards, she asks you where you’re off to, and you tell her that you’re picking up a painting for your wife. You ask her to come with you when she expresses an interest in the gallery.

You reacquaint yourselves with each other on the long walk to Wanda’s previous workplace. The conversation is, for lack of a better term, enjoyable. Yelena has always been an easy person to talk to–a remarkable contrast to Wanda who is often a challenge.

“When did you come home?” you ask suddenly after a while of talking about your work and recent settlement at Westview.

“Two years ago.”

You’re taken aback by her answer, feeling a bit hurt as you process the new information. Yelena’s been here all this time. Why didn’t she try to contact you?

“My cell didn’t ring either, you know.” Yelena tells you as if she can read your mind.

“Nat didn’t mention anything. I assumed you were still in London.”

“Leeds. The British are right about us not knowing any other city in the UK.” Yelena chuckles. “I told Nat to keep her mouth shut about my affairs.”

Before you could reply, Wanda’s ex-colleague, Agatha, comes out with the painting in hand. Yelena saunters off to observe the artworks on display.

“Thank you, Ms. Harkness.” you say, accepting the piece that was about the size of Mona Lisa.

“Welcome, dear. Whoever bought this must be made with money.”

The painting is wrapped in manila paper and it makes you curious who it is for. It must be someone who held a high position at Wanda’s university.

You excuse yourself with a polite nod, unaware of the look of suspicion she directs at Yelena, as your companion trails behind you on the way outside.

“Someone’s got a crush on you.” Yelena bumps your shoulder with hers.

“Wanda seems to think so too. Though I bet she’s just a nice old lady.”

Yelena laughs and slaps your arm this time. “Dude, she’s not old, old !”

“Someone’s got a crush,” you tease her back. Then, as if on cue, a reckless motorist speeds through a puddle, causing a wave of wastewater to splash all over your shirt.

“Shit,” you hiss, frowning at the ruined fabric of your white button-down. Yelena takes out her handkerchief and proceeds to wipe the specks of grease from your neck and face.

“Come on, we have a washer in the apartment.”

"Sorry I couldn't come to your wedding."

The hot coffee you just sipped refuses to come down your throat.

Yelena snickers at the dumb look on your face and says, "I'm just messing with you."

Your veins pulse in your temple as you force yourself to swallow. Yelena’s having a field day with you, poking fun at you on every opportunity.

"I'm so sorry for not extending an invite. It happened pretty quick. It was just your sister and Clint, and then Wanda's brother, Pietro. Our reception was at a pub in Brooklyn, and just getting absolutely shitfaced." you rush out, toying with the sleeves of Yelena’s sweater you borrowed. It’s cozy despite the hot weather. And undeniably smells like her.

"I know, Nat told me. Hey, I'm not offended. Besides, getting a wedding invitation from you would've been weird because,” Yelena pauses, and then sadly says, “We haven't connected in a long time."

"Yeah," you agree with a rueful smile. You haven't spoken to or thought about Yelena since you met Wanda.

“What’s she like?”

“Wanda? She’s…” It dawns on you that it’s not easy to translate your regular daydreams of her into a description you’d share with someone else.

“Exquisite,” you say, after going over various adjectives in your head. “And driven and smart. A glass half-empty to my glass half-full.”

“I’m happy for you,” Yelena mutters over her glass of Merlot.

“And Kate? How did you meet her?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Who are living together,” you point out.

“Best friends then.” Yelena says, unperturbed.

You smirk. “If you say so.”

“I’ve dated around, but I never really found someone who could replace–” Yelena bites her lower lip to stop herself.

Except, she didn’t have to because you know.

You’re both quiet for a while, before you break the silence with, “Anyway, thanks for the parking and saving my shirt.”

"You did take my virginity. That's something I can never repay you for."

You’re too shocked to react–she is too, at her brazenness–that for a while you just stare at her with your mouth agape.

Placing the coffee mug on the table, you get up on shaky feet.

“Sorry, that was a bad joke. I–”

“You know what, I should go."

"Oh," Yelena gets on her feet as well. "But your shirt?” she asks weakly.

"I'll just continue drying it at home. And then," you look down at the sweater you borrowed from her. "I'll mail this to you."

"Don't worry about that, I haven't worn that in ages."

"I promise to return it."

"Okay."

"Alright, so," Not quite knowing how to say good-bye, you jerk your thumb towards the door. "I'm gonna head out now."

Yelena closes the distance to give you a hug, which she keeps short when you go rigid at the proximity of her body and yours.

"Bye, Y/N."

***

Wanda cancels dinner at the last minute. You’re surprisingly amenable and just text her when she’ll be home. You decide to cook for Wanda and try to convince yourself it’s not because you just need to keep busy and not think about what happened earlier with Yelena.

***

It’s Wanda’s day-off and she’s overslept. You watch your wife sleep soundly on her stomach, without a care in the world. Like this, the years fall away from her face and she looks like the girl you strongly want to protect for the rest of your days. Your eyes scan the room, until they fall onto the chair beside the bed. Hanging over it is a newly-bought lingerie with its tags still attached to it.

“Can you stop being a morning person just for today?”

You avert your gaze from the piece of clothing upon hearing Wanda’s voice still thick with sleep.

“Hi,” you greet your wife, twisting your wedding ring on your finger.

“Hi.” Wanda greets back, peeking at you from the comforter.

“I made breakfast, who’d you like to join me?”

“Sure, just give me a minute.”

You think about telling her you’ll wait until she’s ready and you can go together, but there’s an air of unfamiliarity and awkwardness hanging over your head–even worse is you don’t know where these feelings are coming from.

You don’t mean to count but it takes Wanda roughly twenty minutes to meet you at the breakfast table. It’s easy to force down your irritation when she looks immaculate and very put together.

Together, you eat in silence. You try to make conversation but in the end, Wanda’s responses are clipped and unfocused, so you just concentrate on finishing your oatmeal.

"You and I had a pretty crazy schedule recently, so I thought I'd take the day off and do something together." you say after waiting for Wanda to finish her meal.

"That's great, baby," Wanda smiles at you, before getting up to take the dishes to the sink.

Sneaking up behind her, you gently place your hands on the curve of her waist, and your lips just beside her left ear. For a while, you massage the flesh beneath your palms, feeling firm muscles instead of softness you're used to. Wanda's body has transformed right under your nose, and while you appreciate her more toned figure, you hope she's not being too restrictive with her diet.

"Leave them, baby. I'll do the dishes later..." You press an open-mouthed kiss to the skin just beneath her lobe. "...after I do you."

She squirms in your embrace, and you interpret it as a sign that she's getting turned on from your advances.

"Y/N–" Wanda doesn't get to finish her sentence as you twist her around and gently capture her lips. While she kisses you back with her hand coming up to wrap around your neck, she doesn't make a move to deepen it, seemingly satisfied with lazy pecks that end sooner than you'd like.

"Can I take you back to bed?" You inhale her scent soundly as you nose the length of her stupidly perfect jawline.

"I actually have to uhm–the laundry won't take care of itself." Wanda reasons, but doesn't really pull away from your hold. You take this opportunity to slide your hands up her back, beneath her shirt, and you can feel her goosebumps from your eager ministrations. Only now, being this close to her, have you realized how much you missed your wife.

Ignoring her excuses to thwart your affections, your fingers find the hook of her bra with ease. You snap it free and hastily move to grab both of her breasts, squeezing them tightly. "God, the things they do to me." You groan. She gasps at that, and by now, she should be pushing her chest towards you for more, but she remains slack as ever, like an obedient ragdoll under your whims.

Something's not right, you thought to yourself. You pull back just enough to check, and what you find has you swiftly stepping back to give her some space.

The expression alone on your wife's face could send you to jail.

"Shit, are you alright?" You rasp, overwhelmed with self-disgust at the thought of causing Wanda the slightest discomfort. Were you just about to take advantage of your wife without her consent?

Wanda looks at you with regret that you couldn't quite understand.

"D-Did I hurt you?" You dread the possible answer, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

Wanda quickly closes the distance between the two of you and envelops you into a hug.

"Oh, baby, no you didn't. I'm so sorry I made you think that." She coos, rubbing your back in soothing circles. You sigh against her shoulder, carefully keeping your hold on her hips loose.

"I just missed you so bad these past few weeks, and I thought you wanted to… it's okay if you don’t. I'm sorry."

It breaks Wanda's heart that you're taking the blame for this. She feels annoyed and guilty at the same time, at how apologetic and sensitive you are to her feelings, as if they matter more than yours do.

"It's not your fault. There's just so much to do and I can't get in the mood until I tick off everything on my to-do list."

"I know. I’m sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Wanda chastises and it comes out harsher than she intended. "You're perfect. I'm sorry. I miss you too. So bad."

"I love you." You tell her, burying your face into her hair to seek more of the lavender scent of her shampoo. It used to frighten you how much the little details about Wanda affects you in big ways. But that fear has turned into comfort, and you've grown to trust her enough to be happily vulnerable around her.

It doesn't worry you at all when she says she loves you back after a long, mysterious pause.

***

Wanda starts driving herself to work and attributes it to her inconsistent hours at the university for the rest of the term. Sparky’s in the dog daycare now more frequently than he is at home.

***

Wanda has gone up to take a shower before bedtime.

You just finished scrubbing the kitchen clean after having dinner together, and you're buzzing with the prospect of getting laid tonight. Your tactic to get your wife to sleep with you is to offer her a massage after witnessing firsthand how hard she's been working lately. In a way, you also want to show your appreciation for everything she still continues to do in the household. And although she accidentally burned the lasagna, she outdone herself with the roasted chicken.

It still amazes you to this day that you’re married to Wanda Maximoff.

Making as little sound as possible, you climb the stairs and towards the bathroom. You can hear the sound of water hitting the floor, and you can't help but imagine Wanda's naked body, lathered in soap, her brunette hair sticking to her clavicle. Your mouth waters at the prospect of taking her, pressing her against the wall and reminding her what you've both been missing for weeks. And just like that, your earlier tactic is out the window.

With practiced ease, you wrap your hand around the doorknob and twist it as gently as you can.

But something unexpected happens.

Wanda's locked the door. "That's odd." You mumble to yourself.

You decide to knock instead. "Baby?" You call out.

No reply comes for several seconds, and as you were going to leave, thinking she didn't hear you, Wanda's breathless response echoes through, "I'll just be a minute! Did you need something?"

"Hey! Uh, no. I was just going to–" You suddenly feel like an idiot wanting to sneak in for some surprise sex. "Never mind. You locked the door?"

"Oh, did I?"

"Yeah! It's fine, I'll just use the toilet downstairs."

She doesn't say anything else to that and you awkwardly turn on your heel to actually use the toilet downstairs.

***

You google ‘ how busy are part-time assistant professors’ on the second straight-week Wanda’s been going home later than The Late Night Show with Jimmy Fallon.

***

Your best friend finally comes around and visits you in Westview. Although you wish it weren't on pitiful circumstances that warranted her special skills of exposing people and their secrets. Even to this second, you're still unsure if you really want her help. You can't even be sure of your own sanity. The only thing you know is that you feel more like yourself now that Natasha's here with you. You've made new friends in your new neighborhood and at work, been invited to weekend barbeques and the local cycling community. But the sense of being alone has never been this strong as when you were living in the city, barely keeping any sort of acquaintanceship and let alone a meaningful friendship.

“You know I don’t do this anymore.” Natasha claims with a huff. "And typically, consultation alone will cost you a grand."

“And I never thought I’d ever ask you to do this.” You shake your head apologetically as you help her deposit her luggage in the trunk of your old Mercedes Coupe.

“I still think you’re just overreacting.” Natasha says as she settles in the passenger seat. It's what you want to hear, but instead of pacifying you, they urge you more to dig for the truth of it all.

"Weren't you always telling me in college that Wanda's too boy-crazy to really be with me?"

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Yup. But then she married you, and I lost ten bucks to a wager with Clint."

"You wagered on the most important event of my life?" It's the first time you're hearing that two of your closest friends gambled on your critical life choices. You're not exactly surprised per se, but it makes you curious about what made them choose which side of the coin.

"Well, no," she answers nonchalantly. "We wagered on almost everything. Like who would you lose your virginity to: Carol or Maria. Two beautiful women who had been throwing themselves at you for a whole semester."

"Who won that bet then?"

"Nobody. Remember when we bought you drinks after you finally slept with Wanda? That's where all the stakes went. We both lost."

"So after my marriage, what else did you put your money on?"

Natasha smiles. "None. That was the last of it. It's not right to give odds beyond a happy ever-after."

If she notices your deathly grip on the steering wheel, she doesn't comment on it.

***

Wanda's serving you the cold-shoulder for not giving her a heads-up about Natasha. You try to ask her why it's such a big deal, and she begins ranting about dinner portions and the “chaos” in the living room: some skewed pillows and a bundle of her students' reaction papers on the center table. Natasha is outside, waiting, so you try to help Wanda straighten the room but she merely dismisses you and asks you to drive for take-out.

"If it's too much trouble for you, we'll just get dinner somewhere." you say.

Wanda narrows her eyes at you murderously, as if you've just made things much worse.

"Fine," Wanda says with finality as she walks up the stairs. "Give my regards to Nat."

And then she's gone, but not before slamming the door of the guest bedroom shut.

You're absolutely fuming when you go back to the car and Natasha peers at you questioningly from the passenger’s seat.

"You in the mood for pizza?" you ask instead of explaining why you can’t still invite her in.

Natasha scrunches her nose in disgust. "Pizza in New Jersey? No, thanks. How about Chinese?"

"Sure." you nod in agreement, having already lost your appetite anyway. You toss the car keys at her. "You drive."

You're laying on your back, staring at the ceiling. Wanda hasn't uttered a single word to you ever since you got home from dinner with Natasha.

"She used to spend the night every week at our apartment." you whisper in the darkness.

"What?" Wanda mumbles and shifts onto her back as well with an arm draped over her eyes.

"Natasha," You clarify. "So it didn't cross my mind to inform you that she's visiting. It's just how it's always been."

Beside you, Wanda is mute as a statue. She does this sometimes–tune you out. Wanda claims it's her way of circumventing her anger and saying something she might regret.

For all you know, she could be telling the truth. But to you, it just feels like you're being punished.

"Wands?" you try. She rolls to her side with her back to you.

You're in hell every time you fight with Wanda. Returning to normal is not an option unless you fix it. You wonder if it's the same for her, or if it's something as trivial as running out of toilet paper or an expired carton of milk left in the fridge.

"Baby?" you try again. It seems like it's all you ever do these days. "Please?"

You hear Wanda release a ragged sigh.

"We're fine, Y/N. Let's just go to sleep."

You nod to yourself and finally let go of the tears you've been holding back. Subsequently, Wanda's cold hand reaches for yours and locks your fingers together. It makes you cry harder, but you can't let her know.

***

Natasha is still radio silent a week after you’ve asked her to spy on your wife.

It's not like her to be slow with the results. You take the lack of news as good news.

***

You wake up in the middle of the night to find Wanda's side of the bed empty.

"Wanda?"

"Hey, baby."

You rub the sleepiness off your eyes at the sight of Wanda’s puffy eyes.

“Are you crying?"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head. "Sorry, I was watching this movie. You know how I get."

You grin at that. "My big crybaby." You sit beside her on the couch and she snuggles to you.

For a while you stay that way, your fingers playing with her hair, and Wanda, palming your cheek affectionately. It brings you back to years before, when she was merely a close friend who would lay her head on your shoulder while she cried about some guy who didn’t deserve her. Like this, Wanda seems so small and vulnerable. You’ve come to realize a long time ago that whatever she’s done, or is to do, you will always feel the need to protect her at all cost. That was the last strip of armor you had given up when you decided to love her until the end.

Then all of a sudden, you see a flash of brown and you end up on your back as Wanda straddles your hips, her eyes darker than you've ever seen them.

"Take off your shorts." She commands in a rush, her own hips already starting a rhythm. You do as she says, but you only manage to move down your shorts and underwear past your ass, when you feel a finger swipe at your wet slit.

"Fuck. Patience, baby." you moan, feeling yourself get slicker.

"Don't have any," Wanda rasps and she sucks the very same finger into her mouth before taking over your undergarments and sliding them all the way down to your ankles. You've barely kicked them off before she spreads your legs and doesn't waste any time tracing your intimacy with her tongue. Her patience comes back eventually, but you're about to lose yours when she doesn't do anything else other than softly brush the tip of her tongue from your tight hole to the underside of your clit. She does this over and over and over, until your legs begin to tremble from being spread out like an eagle for what seems like an eternity.

You clench your core and try to come just from what she's doing, but it's not enough.

"Please, I need more." You manage a whisper although you're unsure if Wanda heard you.

"I've missed you so much, Y/N." You feel her say against your pussy. "I've missed making you feel good. Missed feeling this way with you..."

What way? You want to ask, but your brain is too muddled with lust to care.

You could only grunt in reply, before Wanda is pulling away in order to arrange your position on the sofa. You've almost forgotten how physically strong she is, and it turns you on so much, you nearly peak. Wanda grabs both of your ankles and pushes them back, until they're on either side of your head, near your ears. Heat spreads across your face and down to your neck for being exposed like this. Wanda takes a moment to appreciate the mess she's made between your legs, her teeth digging at her lower lip. You can't bring yourself to watch her watch you, and you stare at the same spot before you feel her lift your chin to kiss you in the most delicate way.

"I love you." She murmurs against your lips. Every fiber of your being is ablaze as you take in the smallest details of this moment: your taste that you two shared in a kiss, the mingling scent of your arousal and hers, the endearing sweat on Wanda's brow that's making her more desirable than any lingerie could ever. You'd never admit it to Wanda, but sex was something you only learned to want and need when you fell in love with her.

You smile up at her. "I love you. More than you could ever know."

Her face crumples in an aching manner, but before you can register what that means, Wanda has crawled back to the source of your pleasure and takes your clit in between her lips. She starts sucking at it gently, while her hands work their way to your buttocks and then spread your ass cheeks. In this way, both of your holes are exposed to the air, sending a chill down your spine and threatening to make you come any time soon.

A finger experimentally prods at your other entrance, making you whimper as your slick continues to brim in your cunt hole.

"Wands, gonna cum," you moan as you hold onto the edge of the sofa for dear life. Wanda ignores your warning and continues rubbing at your crimp hole, while her tongue quickens its laps against your clit. It doesn't take a few more seconds before you're bursting, and Wanda plunges her tongue into your pussy at precisely the second you start to come so you don't clench around nothing.

Soon enough, the tremors subside and Wanda wipes her mouth before she gives you a searing kiss.

You're still catching your breath when Wanda lays her head on your chest so innocently, as if she hasn't just given you the best orgasm of your life. You wait a few more seconds for your heart rate to go back to normal, and once they do, it’s only then that you notice that Wanda's still in her pajamas, fully clothed.

That needs to be rectified. Immediately.

Without a word, you get up with Wanda still on top of you. You make her wrap her arms tighter around your shoulders as you bring yourself into a standing position while she clings to you like a koala. Wanda laughs at your attempt to hold her up steadily, simultaneously impressed that you actually can.

"I've been going to the gym whenever my lovely wife's stuck at professoring ." You snicker at your own terrible wordplay, as you plant your feet firmly on the floor.

You miss the shadow of guilt that passes over her fleetingly. "I can see that," she says, biting her lip as she feels your straining biceps. You grin up at her, before carrying her upstairs as steadily as you can while she distracts you with kittenish nibs at your earlobe.

Once in the bedroom, you lay Wanda gently on the bed, your movements slow and delicate as if one wrong move could ruin everything. You start to undo the buttons of her silky top, holding her gaze with a look of adoration typically reserved to deities. It's only fitting because Wanda Maximoff is your religion.

"Wait, can you–" she glances at the night table to your right, and you understand right away what she wants. You quickly retrieve the flesh-colored strap-on at the bottom most drawer. And as you start putting on the harness, Wanda leans forward to capture a dusky nipple, effectively sidetracking you from the task at hand.

"Baby, just a sec..." You chuckle at her apparent neediness. Between the two of you, it's Wanda that's been more in-touch and expressive with her carnal needs. More exciting. More daring. More adventurous. She's always been more in everything, and you sometimes wonder if she's weary of leading the wallflower to the dancefloor all these years.

"Hurry." Wanda whines, her teeth nipping hard enough to play the line between pain and pleasure.

As soon as the harness is secured around your hips, you push Wanda back onto the mattress. You hook one of her creamy thighs over your shoulder, holding it firmly while your other hand aligns the tip of the toy to her slit. Pressing a languid kiss to her knee, you start moving your hips to brush your cock along the length of her drenched sex. Wanda moans lowly and unabashedly, and you feel yourself getting wet again.

"Fuck, baby, inside..." Wanda mewls, her hands traveling downwards to massage her own clit. You grunt in protest and seize her hand, interlacing your fingers together to prevent her from touching herself. Increasing the rhythm of your hips but still not entering her, you give her a warning, “ I make you cum.” It’s not like you to engage in any sort of powerplay in the bedroom, and yet you couldn’t help but let out some of the resentment that has built over the last few weeks through the sex you’re having with her now.

Besides, Wanda seems to love it. You look down just in time to see her wetness trickle down to the sheets. You groan loudly from the visual and roughly position her to lie sideways. You keep the thigh over your shoulder secured, while you straddle the other one. Moisture begins to form at the back of your neck, muscles straining to hold this position. Wanda’s face reddens as you stare at her weeping cunt, before her eyes roll to the back of her head as you unceremoniously enter her in one, powerful thrust.

“Fuck!” Wanda cries through gritted teeth, her French-manicured nails digging painfully between your knuckles. Unlacing your bruised fingers from her, you then wrap them around her throat. You’ve never done anything like this in bed before, and you watch in twisted satisfaction as Wanda’s lust-filled eyes widen in shock and slight panic. The way you're grinding into her is viciously savage, callously chasing your own high. Wanda tips her head back as far as she could, her chin pointing to the heavens as she experiences an other-worldly kind of pleasure. Your thighs grow slicker from your shared arousal, the stench from it filling your nostrils. Her hips try to match your tempo and an animalistic sound rips from your throat as your movements become more and more frantic.

"Shit, baby, I think I'm gonna–"

"No." You lightly squeeze around her neck.

"Please," Wanda sobs in frustration, staving off her impending release. You pay no heed to her request as you slow down your motion to keep her on the edge.

"Say it again." You demand.

"W-what?"

"Say you love me."

"L-love you..." The length of your spine curves as you bend forwards, pushing Wanda's thigh back in the process and opening her up even further.

Wanda whimpers at the new angle you're fucking her with wild abandon. "Jesus, Y/N. I can't-"

"One more time. Say it." You plead against her mouth, increasing the speed of your thrusts again, but this time you’re determined to finish her off.

With a sharp cry, Wanda clenches around your cock and comes, screaming those three fated words that are simultaneously your salvation and your undoing. You try to prolong her orgasm, alternately pausing and then jogging your hips, studiously watching her facial reactions and loving the subtle twitch of muscle in her jaw. A couple of tears run down her cheeks, and you lick them gently from her face. Letting go of her delicate neck, you run a free hand across her back, gathering beads of sweat along the way. Without pulling out of her, you drop her thigh on your shoulder with great care, before pressing your lower body down so that your pelvis is snug against hers. Wanda grabs your face with both hands and pulls you down for a searing kiss.

You release her lower lip with a wet pop and then like an eager puppy, starts peppering her face with featherlight kisses, making Wanda laugh and squirm in your arms. "You're cute," You tell her. "And so damn hot. How is that possible?"

Wanda blushes, overwhelmed by the ferocity in your words and in your eyes. She starts jogging her hips as your kisses become more insistent, but then an idea hits you. Embarrassingly, you've never done this with Wanda before, but this time feels as good as any to finally try it. Wanda shivers as you unsheathe your cock from her pussy, leaving a thread of wetness across her inner thighs. Afterwards, you remove the harness and place the drenched toy somewhere on the floor. Wanda pulls you back on top of her, a sleepy and satisfied grin on her face. She's prepared to call it a night when she feels your hand wandering back to the still feverish spot between her legs.

"What are you doing?" She asks coyly.

Instead of replying, you merely continue to trail south until your fingers find her slippery nub. Wanda gasps, back arching and eager for more. "Lie on your stomach and stick your ass up in the air for me." You whisper in her ear, and she obeys without a second thought. Abandoning her clit for a second, you crawl towards the foot of the bed, until your nose is a trifling inch from your wife's firm buttocks.

"Are you ready?" You husk, planting your chin at the base of her spine.

Wanda is almost convulsing in anticipation, and barely manages a nod. Heart beating wildly in your chest, you spread Wanda's cheeks with your thumb to reveal her puckered entrance. When Wanda finally understands what you’re about to do, her head whips over to look at you, but she doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Y/N?” Her voice is muffled by the pillow, small and unsure. You massage the back of her thighs to calm her down.

“I want to if you do.” You tell her sincerely. Wanda appreciates your touches staying in safe zones, making her feel safe and secured.

“It’s just… it’s been hours ago since I showered, it's dirty and I don't want to gross you out-”

“That’ll never happen,” You promise. “Whenever you were snotty from crying over your exes, all I could think about then was kissing you. I'd never not want you, Wanda.”

“Okay.” Wanda murmurs softly, shifting back closer to you. “I’m ready.”

“Good girl.”

You place a pillow beneath her stomach so she can comfortably prop herself up. Wanda’s breathing picks up when you part her cheeks again. This time, there’s no hesitation or wasted second as you lick a stripe from the entrance of her cunt to the rim of her backdoor.

“Да, да, детка!” Wanda yelps in her native language, impossibly turning you on even more. You could count on one hand the few occasions you’d been able to reduce her to a Sokovian mess, making her feel so good she forgets her English. Wanda's flavor there is different, more pungent and oh-so delectable.

"детка, I need-"

Wanda doesn't get to finish her sentence. Knowing exactly what she needs, you plunge your middle and ring fingers inside her wet heat. You feel her anus contract against your tongue, and you take it as a cue to enter her with it. Wanda thrashes violently on the bed and tries to move away from the intense pleasure that's bordering on pain. Eventually, you find the perfect cadence of plunging your tongue into her tight crevice every time you withdraw your finger from her pussy and vice-versa. Wanda, on the other hand, finds herself wantonly humping the pillow, practically grazing her tumescent nub.

All of it lasts a few more seconds before you feel Wanda's imminent little death. You stop moving your fingers to allow her to take over her own release, until finally, Wanda collapses on her stomach. You lick your fingers clean before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You pull the blankets up to cover both of your aching bodies, before settling beside your wife. Wanda automatically lays her head on your breast and throws an arm over your stomach. You kiss her sweaty forehead, and right before you are about to close your eyes, something wet hits your flushed skin.

"Wanda, hey," You search her face, your eyebrows creasing in worry. "Are you alright?"

She smiles through her tears, nodding. “I am now.”

Your own eyes glisten, a wave of relief passing over you. Right now, with the way Wanda's looking at you, it's like you're finally waking up from a long, terrible dream.

***

When Natasha finally calls, you’ve practically forgotten about hiring her to investigate Wanda.

You’ve had a perfect week with your wife. Things weren’t just back to normal, they were even better not only in the sexual aspect of things (though insatiable doesn’t even begin to describe Wanda nowadays), but you’ve been talking and doing things together more than ever.

“Hey, Y/N,” Natasha’s rough voice comes through.

“New phone, who’s this?” You try to joke.

“Hilarious, Y/N,” you hear her try to lighten up her tone, but for someone who used to work for the secret service, she’s terrible at hiding her emotions from you. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to call you since early this week. I just didn’t have the time…”

You’ve known Natasha longer than anyone in your life who’s not your parents. Wanda’s the love of your life, but Natasha’s your person. You understand each other beyond words and actions.

“Nat, what’s going on?” you ask.

“I saw them, Y/N. T-Two days after you asked me to… they went for a movie at a worn-down theater 3 miles from the university. I waited for them to leave and when they did–” Natasha hesitates to tell you how she’s seen them together. “I can’t tell if there’s–if she’s… I can just show you the photos.”

You don’t say anything for almost a minute, and Natasha waits for you quietly.

And then, “Is that all?”

Natasha draws in a long breath. “No.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming. And then, like a man on trial waiting for their verdict, you nod to yourself and square your shoulders.

“Alright. Tell me everything.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #category: angst #category: smut #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maxmoff x y/n #my writing #marvel

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see-arcane · 5 months

Text

I figured I should interrupt everyone's dash for some notes on current real life things.

This is a hefty one, so I'm tucking everything below:

A little good news. As of this writing, I’ve sold 74 copies of The Vampyres, in eBook and paperback! That’s 74 more than I thought I would ever sell! Thank you to everyone who picked up a copy or asked your library to grab some. Especially when I know I haven’t been the most stellar self-marketer. I can’t remember the last time I opened the septic tank formerly known as Twitter, so it’s all been down to this little corner here and a skinny appearance in Goodreads. Which means I owe any attention this short and sinister tale has received to you all and plain old word-of-mouth.

That said, thank you x100000 to you and any new readers yet to take a look. (And doubly so for those of you who go out of their way to leave comments and reviews around for me to reread ad infinitum.)

For those not in the know, all the info on The Vampyres can be found here, and all my author odds and ends can be found on my website here.

On a less heartening note…

As I’d already expected, the market for career writers is…rough. Copywriting—and writing in general—is technically a big open field (full of caveat descriptions about having to work with/teach AI programs to eventually swallow your job)! Tons of open positions! Most of which either pay you in pocket change while you’re working full time or expect you to singlehandedly run the entire marketing of a business for slightly more pocket change. Everything else is bloated with contract and/or freelance work*.

*Read: Gig economy schlock trying to pass for an actual job position with payment being a coin toss. I’ve also seen one too many listings on the job boards that are volunteer positions. Plenty of exposure to rake in though, right? Ha. Ha ha.

I’ve still been applying like clockwork, same as the rest of my fellow creators trying to get by in a field that seems to actively punish trying to be a professional in said field, and still no bites further than an interview. I have years of experience and a degree, but everyone’s chasing the same crumbs, so. Yeah. I’ve got to start padding things out.

Reminder that I do have a (barely peddled) Ko-Fi. It’s there for art commissions and chucking a few spare bucks at. Which is an increasingly big ask these days, I know. You can’t scroll two posts down without hitting someone else’s Ko-Fi, Patreon, GoFundMe, Kickstarter, et cetera. We’re drowning in arting starvists here. And although I have been asked before whether I would consider going full Freelance Storywriter on top of selling art, I’m still a little hesitant on it. I do occasionally send out story submissions and have even gotten published a few times, but I get nauseous thinking about:

1) Putting up a paywall on the scribbles that assail me like a baseball bat wielded by an unmerciful Muse. 2) Putting up a ‘Stories for Sale!’ sign only to wind up disappointing prospective buyers because I didn’t do their blorbos justice even after researching X background for the piece. 3) Getting duped into being a nonconsenting ghostwriter and discovering someone else has published my work under their own name.

So, still a bit iffy on that. I’ll chew on it. But what else is left?

Before you click the button!

Stop!

NOT YET!

Before you click, please know that I am being serious about this as something to potentially make 1) something of good quality and 2) earn more money than it loses. Looking around at the merch-making/selling options, there are fees involved with making an account just about anywhere in the online store game, give or take the price tweaking needed for shipping and manufacturing blah blah blah.

With that in mind, please do not automatically hit ‘yes’ because you want to be nice. I appreciate it, but this isn’t the same thing as the Ko-Fi where there’s no real loss in just leaving it up and drawing something once every few months. This will take new designs, another subscription to pay for, more logistics to untangle for quality and pricing and all the rest of the mess. Only hit ‘yes’ if you, personally, genuinely, would like to purchase some nefarious See Arcane wares beyond a book or a digital drawing.

#heaviest sigh #rolling back into my coffin #the vampyres #my art #my writing #ko-fi #merchandise #(in potentia)#dracula #polls

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proshippers-against-censorship · 3 months

Note

I have a confession. I stopped talking to one of my good friends a few months ago because of the things they were drawing and posting on their side twitter account.

Me and my friend were both pretty deep into Hazbin Hotel when the first season dropped a few months ago. They’d send me their art sometimes over the years, but I’d never seen them post any of it on any of their accounts I was following them on. I suggested they should start an art account a few times in the past, but they always brushed it off.

Imagine my surprise when I stumble across one of those pieces they sent to me in private posted on Twitter. I forgot I was still logged in on my private account, and I realized that page had my main blocked. I scrolled through their art for a minute and very quickly realized why they had me blocked on my main. Most of the things they were posting there was NSFW art of Lucifer and Charlie (father and daughter), some of them of Charlie as a little girl talking about how sexy she was as a child and how Lucifer should have molested her. I’ve been very vocal about my disgust with similar art/accounts to them and I guess they blocked me preemptively, but forgot about my priv.

I confronted them about the account and they confirmed that it was them, and they said they just think it’s hot. I blocked them instead of responding. I haven’t talked to them since, and I don’t plan on it. It really hurts losing such a good friend, but I genuinely can’t look at them the same anymore. Knowing the things they’re into, I don’t feel comfortable being around them at all.

I know obviously this isn’t directed at me, but I still feel so betrayed. This isn’t the person I was such good friends with, or anyone I would’ve talked to at all if I would’ve known, and they knew I wouldn’t take it well considering they went out of their way to keep it from me. I feel like none of the fun memories we had together were even real, because I never would’ve even talked to them if I knew.

I’m very firmly against censorship and harassment over fiction, which is why I blocked them instead of responding. They have the right to post it I guess. But the fiction someone posts/enjoys completely changes the way I look at them. I can’t be friends with someone like this, and it hurts. I’d complained about loli shit to them many, many times, and every single time, they agreed with me. I’d say “just scrolled past porn of (insert underage character here), night ruined, gotta kms” and they’d say “yeah lmao ew.” I get why they didn’t, but I wish they would’ve just said “actually I think it’s hot” a long, long time ago instead of keeping it a secret. At least then I would be losing an acquaintance instead of one of my best friends.

Perhaps you should consider why they did not trust you enough to be honest and open if you two were the best of friends.

#proshippers against censorship #jackal barks #proship please interact #proshippers please interact #proship positivity #proship #proshipper safe #proshipping #proshipper #anti anti #ask #asks

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horriblegoosefest · 7 months

Text

The goose is almost here!!! 🪿

Rummage around in those folders you haven’t opened in years, dust off the cobwebs, and bring some life back to your most abandoned works. You said you’d come back to it again one day, but the days turned to years, and – what’s that I hear?

H-O-N-K, we will finish a wip today!

H-O-N-K, write it or I won't go away!

What is the horrible goose fest?

The horrible goose fest is borne from the many cries for accountability from fandom creators and the wish that someone hound them (or honk at them) into finishing their wips. This is a partnered fest in which one partner (creator) commits to finishing a work-in-progress and one partner (goose) commits to providing dedicated accountability.

Great, how does it work?

There are no prompts in this fest. It's designed to help you finish those languishing drafts and build relationships with other folks in the fandom. You can sign up as a creator and/or a goose. If signing up as a creator, you are committing to finishing an existing work-in-progress (fic, art, podfic, translation) that is not affiliated with other current fest collections or prompts/self-prompts (wips from past fest drops are fine!) If your work-in-progress is already posted to ao3, we will ask you to hide it by adding it to a private collection for the duration of the fest; it will be revealed with everyone's works during the posting period. Creators will upload their finished works to the fest’s ao3 collection.

If you sign up as a goose, you are committing to frequent check-ins with your creator to help them finish their work in progress. This will involve ongoing discussions with your creator about their progress and deadlines. You're not expected to alpha or beta their work. Think of yourself as a particularly tenacious cheerleader. You are also committing to writing a thoughtful rec of the work upon its completion, which will be posted on tumblr.

How do I sign up?

All participants will sign up by filling out a form on airtable. You can choose your own partner to sign up with, or be paired with a partner by the mods. Participants must be 18+. Due to modly time constraints, we will be capping the number of fic sign-ups at 35. There will be no limit for art or podfic.

If signing up to be paired with a partner, sign up forms will be used to help the mods best match pairs. All HP fandom ships and characters are welcome. Creators will detail their wip plans and accountability needs. Gooses will detail their accountability style and preferred time/frequency commitment – how often and for how long can you check in, are you strict or more of a softie, what strategies and advice can you provide your creator? The form will also have a space for geese and creators to share ship preferences and squicks. We will try our best to match compatible creator/goose pairs, but as with any paired fest, you'll also need to be open, flexible, and friendly.

Can I sign up as both?

Sure! But be aware of the time commitment of both roles and be mindful of what you can realistically handle. Your partner is counting on you!

What if there are more geese than creators? Or more creators than geese?

If we have an imbalance, and you are a good fit for more than one creator/goose, you may be assigned more than one participant to work with. We will do our best to take into account your time commitment and preferences, so please let us know in the sign up if you are willing to be paired more than once! For fairness reasons, if you are a creator assigned two geese, the two geese will collaborate on a single rec of your work at the end of the fest. You are always welcome to assemble your own team of additional cheerleaders if you’d like <3

If I'm a goose, do I have to be horrible?

The title is jokey. We're not really encouraging anyone to be unkind. Think of a goose as an accountability partner. We're hearing from lots of creators that deadlines and kind but firm expectations are what really get them across the finish line. Goosing is a big job, but in the end we're all rewarded with more works to enjoy!

What if there’s an issue with my pairing?

To avoid this as much as possible, we encourage folks to sign up as an already-formed pair. Prior to matching, we will share a list of the participants who have signed up. Feel free to use this to form your own pairs. We will be running a discord to facilitate participants getting to know each other. Please remember to be kind, and if someone’s wip really catches your eye, don’t be afraid to reach out - they may be eyeing you!

That said, we know this might be stressful for some, so we are happy to pair you. If you have any concerns with regards to matching, or at any point throughout the fest, please reach out to us. Our goal is to make the fest a safe space for all participants in accordance with our expectations below.

Speaking of kindness, what are the other expectations in this fest?

We ask that participants generally abide by sals, kink-tomato, and dldr, but also, in recognition of the ways these rules have been used to silence poc voices in fandom, you may be asked to tag content beyond ao3's major trigger warnings or the fandom typical disclosure of sexual acts and violence, such as racist tropes/triggers. Refusal to tag sensitive content may result in your fic being pulled from the fest. If you have questions about what kinds of content we'll ask you to tag or want a sensitivity read for your content, please contact the mods, we really are happy to help!

There will be email check-ins throughout the fest. Make sure to add our email, [email protected], to your contacts to ensure you receive these communications. Please only reply via email, not via tumblr, discord or any other messaging service. Please send any questions about the fest to [email protected] or #mod-help channel in the fest discord (do not contact individual mods).

We will post small (optional) challenges and games to participate in during the fest to hype everyone up. These will be posted in the discord server and on tumblr, so make sure you join the server and follow @horriblegoosefest on tumblr!

Submission info:

There is no word count minimum but we do ask that you submit one fic, artwork, or podfic. Fics should be beta-read. Remember that geese are not required to beta (although they can if they'd like to). Podfics and translations must have either blanket permission or consent from the original authors to be included in the fest.

Works can be submitted in any language. There will be a space on the sign up form to let us know what language you intend to post. If our mod team is not fluent in your chosen posting language we will contact you to discuss options to help us make sure works are beta read and tagged according to fest guidelines. You may be asked to include a disclaimer that the mods are unable to guarantee comprehensive tagging.

Creators will submit works to an ao3 collection and the following header information should be emailed to the mods. Multi-chapter works will be revealed on a single posting day. As the fest deadline nears, geese will write a celebratory rec of their creator’s work, which will be posted to tumblr. We are happy to provide guidance on writing a rec if you need it.

Header for Fic:

Title:

Creator:

Pairing(s):

Rating:

Word Count:

Warnings/Content: (content warnings as well as general fic tags/enticements go here!)

Summary:

#horrible goose fest #horrible goose fest 2024 #harry potter #hp fests #drarry #hp wlw #hp rarepairs #harry potter fanfic #hp fic

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616witch · 2 months

Note

Hi there! As a pretty casual Avengers fan, I haven’t read too many runs that portray the relationship between Wanda and Vision. Why do fans like this ship? And why do some Wanda fans seem to dislike Vision? Are there any runs or comics that show the good or bad of this pairing?

Hello! I'm going to answer this question because I love these characters and I love to waffle about them, but also just going to remind people that I also have a personal account over at @brw where I talk more about stuff like this! This account is almost a portfolio of my graphic design, as well as an archive for comic art and editing resources and other graphic designers, with a few odd extra things I think are cool that I want on this blog. I try to refrain from posting too much commentary or the like here, just because I want to keep it very focused on my creations and the creations of other folks. With that out of the way, I'll dive into this!

Why do fans like this ship?

Well, I can only speak to my experience as a 616 ScarletVision fan, and from engaging with different fans through the years, but these are only my personal takes and some observations. Everyone you ask could give you a different answer, and none of them would be wrong.

For me, the personal pull is, first and foremost–I really like both of these characters. They both have a very distinctive design, they both have very strong core aesthetics, they both have dramatic, strong personalities and they both have a very distinguished speech pattern, so their relationship would always be interesting to me, because it combines so many different things that I love. Without being a fan of Vision and Wanda separately as characters, I wouldn't like this relationship as much as I do.

Anyway, beyond just generally liking their respective vibes, I've always appreciated just how dramatic and intense these two are. Vision and Wanda definitely feel like their respective first, proper adult relationship, at least in my opinion. This might be divisive, as Wanda and Warren Worthington III did date in First Class, but that relationship to me read more teenage and youthful, while Vision and Wanda are very much so swept in the emotional and physical intensity that they develop for each other very rapidly in their Avengers appearances together. That dramatic, strong personality they both possess makes their relationsip very dramatic and over the top, which I find a delight to read.

Giant Size Avengers #4 (1974)

Even when they get married, this drama doesn't really go away, and the bio of this blog comes from one of my favourite issues depicting these two and their dramatic sensibilities.

Marvel Super-Heroes V2 #10 (1992)

This panel brings us into our second reason, which is that there's something really interesting about the way these characters are both social outcasts for a variety of reasons; Wanda is Rromani, a mutant and a witch, and Vision is a synthezoid, completely non-human and unable to fit into human norms and customs. A big theme of these two and their relationship is having a similar lived experience because of the ways they are social outcasts, and of their love becoming stronger than the adversity that they face because of it.

Avengers V1 #113 (1973)

To me, its a very engaging story, and it's well compounded by again, how dramatic and high-energy these two are, the ways they show and perform their love for one another. They're also often very bitter and angry at the world for the way it mistreats them, which is an interesting character trait for both of them as other characters (like Pietro) are often written as antagonists for those opinions. And this of course makes it more special when they are so tender and loving around each other, the ways they can find solace and peace in one another.

They also just generally brought out the best in one another during their marriage, in my opinion. Vision's stoic, dependable personality and their support for Wanda while she was exploring her magic with Agatha Harkness was incredibly important as she developed and grew from a mutant with magical themeing, to a powerful witch in her own right. It is Vision who taught Wanda the principal of "Order and Chaos belong together", which is a really important line of thought for her. And Vision of course becomes increasingly more in tune with their own emotions, more emotionally mature and more developed as a person as their relationship with Wanda develops. They go from a traumatised, bitter person angry at the world, with essentially no emotional regulation skills because they're like three days old, to being a loving, deeply compassionate and considerate spouse and parent, who has built their own family in spite of the isolation they grew up with.

There's probably other reasons I'm missing, but these are the big ones in my opinion, why I keep coming back to these two despite not being together for 30, 40 odd years.

Why do some Wanda fans not like Vision?

There are a few different reasons for these, so I'll do my best to be brief. Some reasons are more than valid and are worthy critiques and understandable reactions and feelings to have, and others, quite frankly, are complete horseshit made up by people who feel like their dislike of Lines On Paper has to be justified, or righteous, and can't allow it to just be. I'm focusing this list on specific reasons they dislike Vision, not people just preferring other relationships like WandaJericho or ScarletPhoenix or what have you.

Just not the type of character they like. Which is understandable. Not every character works for every person, and sometimes disliking a character isn't that deep! People are allowed to not like lines on a sheet of paper, after all.

Character and ship was ruined for them by the MCU, and MCU fans. Also understandable, although I wish that didn't mean that all the actually interesting parts of the 616 Vision/Wanda dynamic was ignored, but what can you do.

Has a difficult and varied history of being coded as a minority by various (very white, very American) writers during the 70s and early 80s, which have not aged well. A big inspiration for Vision was Spock from Star Trek, who is obviously a biracial character and faces a lot of discrimination for this, and this was part of the character makeup of Vision and it was often a source of allegory, as well as a source of drama in Wanda and Vision's relationship. Not an often well done aspect of their character, and not very tasteful. This writing turned off some people, which is understandable (although if you're asking me, which you are, it's not any more egregious than X-Men coding but that's neither here or there)

Vision's character development and prioritisation in the 70s came at the expense of Pietro. This one is true; Steve Englehart, for whatever reason, decided that as Vision and Wanda's relationship became more fully fledged and he was going to continue with Vision's minority coding, that Pietro was going to be an antagonistic and often allegorically racist person to give that dynamic more drama. This was fixed when Moondragon decided to lobotomise him because I guess actually writing character development was too much work, but it still means a solid chunk of Pietro's 70s appearance are marked by this. It's a shame, because I think there's a way to write this antagonism in a way that makes sense and is narratively fulfilling, but that's not the conversation at the moment. I do appreciate this as a reason of why some people have never quite worked with Vision (although given that this hasn't been true in the past 20, 30 odd years of publication history I find it strange as a reason to dislike modern Vision but I'm biased in this conversation)

Writers reduced Wanda to her relationship with Vision. This is, frankly, bullshit, and I really don't know where it came from. There's a slight argument for pre-Byrne Wanda and especially early 70s Wanda, but I can still name a few different issues during the period of their marriage where Wanda had her own adventure outside of Vision, and the thing is folks; Vision wasn't getting many solo appearances or stories during their marriage, either. Post Byrne, it really doesn't make sense. Wanda was reduced to her grief and her mental illness, yes, which were caused by the traumatic dissolution of her marriage to Vision, but that isn't the same as her being reduced to her marriage. Later on, what Wanda is reduced to is House of M and the Decimation; this has nothing to do with Vision. Sure, if you're reading Roy Thomas/Steve Englehart early 70s Avengers, maybe, but these are only two writers in a sea of people who have handled these characters, so this argument doesn't hold water for me.

Vision is abusive. Anyone who says this shouldn't be reading comics, they should be watching Blue's Clues. Vision can be mean, or blunt, or emotionally distant, or bitter–but that does not mean Vision is abusive, that means that comics exaggerate personality traits for the sake of drama. It's a soap opera! And to be honest, any argument you can apply to them can apply to virtually any comic relationship from the era. That's just the writing style, it doesn't mean that Vision is an abusive figure.

Vision made a robot version of Wanda, which was creepy and weird. True, but using a Tom King comic to talk about Vision is like using a Bendis comic to talk about Wanda. Neither of these writers had good intentions with these characters, or particularly cared about or respected them as characters and what they're meant to represent. Vision (2015) was a bad, deeply racist and xenophobic comic written by a CIA agent who admitted freely to torturing people as if it was a fun little tidbit. Unless you're using it to criticise Tom King's racism, I have zero interest in acknowledging this comic in the history of these two.

Vision's character comes at the expense of Jim Hammond and Simon Williams. I... don't see this one? Both the revelations that Vision had a relation to Jim and Simon came after their initial debut, and Vision is a distinct person and design from both these characters. Writers can use Jim and Simon whenever, and they often do. There is just that historical/familial connection, to try and build up connections in the Marvel Universe, but it isn't as if the character of Vision RUINED Jim and Simon, or whatever. In fact, Simon would have never been remembered and brought back from the dead to be honest without Vision keeping his character alive in the memory of people. The same is arguably true for Jim, who wasn't really used in post Timely marvel comics at all until the Vision connection was established. And if any character ruined Jim Hammond's prospects in comics, it would be Johnny Storm, the character who is considered the definitive Human Torch, not Vision, who only dedicated comic fans probably know of the Jim Hammond connection.

Vision cheated on Wanda with Mantis. A) no they didn't, B) Steve Engelhart just has a weird cheating thing, so I really don't consider this a big deal. Don't believe me? In the Fantastic Four: Big Town series he did, there's a moment where it is heavily implied that Hank Pym and Charles Xavier are having some kind of affair to contrast with the affair Janet and Tony Stark are having. It's just a quirk of his. Also, you can't blame Englehart for making everyone fall in love with Mantis, that's his girl.

Vision has no emotions and can't emotionally fulfil or love Wanda. Anyone who says this has probably not passed basic English class, because my G-d, how do you miss the point of a character that badly. Avengers #57 didn't die for this.

And finally, I think a lot of people only care about Wanda in relation to the Magetfam dynamic and aren't particularly interested in her realtionships on the Avengers at all, despite the fact that that is who she is far more than being an X-Man. They don't really like that she's on the "cop team", so any relation to it is dismissed or ignored in favour of her having more relationships with mutant characters. Every time Vision appears in a Wanda comic, despite the fact that they are the parent of her children, someone she spent years of her life with, her first proper love and someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, it has to be "forced", regardless of how ridiculous an idea that is. It's dumb, and stupid, and I don't think these people really care about Wanda as a character, but that's probably just me being a nasty little hater.

Runs and comics I recommend for this couple

Good or bad can be subjective; I've seen people read completely differently into a scene I thought was sweet, or creepy, or whatever, so I'll just send a list of what I consider good issues to get a handle on these two. Bolded are important, italics are just bonus issues that might be of interest.

Avengers V1 #91–#93

Avengers V1 #96

Avengers V1 #113

I (heart) Marvel AI <- AU issue, but cute

The Celestial Madonna arc (#124, #125, #129–#135, Giant Size Avengers #2–#4)

Avengers V1 #147

Marvel Team-Up V1 #41–#42

Marvel Fanfare #14

Marvel Fanfare #58 (Their house here is burned down in Avengers V1 #252)

Marvel Super-Heroes V2 #10

Vision and the Scarlet Witch V1 & V2, V2 also crosses over with West Coast Avengers V2 for the first 4 or so issues.

West Coast Avengers V2 #34–#36

What If? V1 #20, #38

West Coast Avengers V2 #42–#46 is the Vision Quest arc, and is the dissolution of their marriage.

Hope this helps, anon!

#wanda maximoff #the vision #avengers #scarletvision #asks #anonymous

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silkling · 2 months

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TFRB 2024 - Everything Stays

Ahhh, it’s here y’all! My fic for this year’s @tf-bigbang! The first two chapters are up, and I’ll upload the rest in the coming days! But without further ado, I present:

Everything Stays, a JazzOP found family adventure featuring sparklings, concussions, sappy romance, and a very campy and fluffy vibe.

Also, there’s ART! The illustrations in this fic were drawn by the very talented @chocolateisbrainfood. You can find the post they put up with all the illustrations HERE. (Mind, the last two illustrations have some minor spoilers for the chapters that haven’t yet posted, but it’s nothing that the fic tags haven’t already told you.)

P.S. In the next couple weeks, maybe towards the end of summer, I’ll probably start locking all my fics. This is due to the whole thing going on now with people scraping fics for AI. I do not want my fics to be used in AI, so I’ll lock them eventually to act as an extra security measure. For now I’ll leave them open for anyone without an ao3 account, but if you don’t have one you should probably look into getting one. I know a lot of authors are also locking their fics.

#tfrb2024 #tf jazz #optimus prime #tf sideswipe #tf sunstreaker #tf bumblebee #jazzop #Jazz x Optimus #fanfic #transformers fanfic #transformers #maccadam

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badly-drawn-bbu · 10 months

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HI FRIENDS!! As some might’ve heard from the main accounts of Admin Maah, today marks THREE YEARS since they first became a fan of BBU! But what you might not know is that I, Admin Buck, share this same anniversary with them!!! >:3 we were actually on the same call together when she discovered the game!

Before we get into some personal messages below, let’s talk about the art! We collabed on recreating two drawings we each made that faithful day ❤️ individual credits will be in this post’s tags!

Now here are some SUPER sweet words from Admin Maah 🥺: “I’ve already had my little celebration for the day but!! I can get sappy Again, as a Treat. BDBBU was started as a small side project back in 2021 because I really loved making silly stuff for this game, and years later I still do! These characters and this world are so incredibly fun for me to explore and work with and BBU countinues to be a source of joy for me through it all 🥹🩵 - Maah”

My turn to say sentimental things yippee!!! I haven’t played a more direct part in BDBBU for very long, but being a fan of BBU itself has both spanned most of our (the admins) friendship, and has made a huge impact on it overall. Making silly art and jokes surrounding the games characters has brought us closer together ever since we discovered BBU, and I’m excited to continue having fun with my best friend and making you guys laugh with our badly-drawn-bbu art onwards <:3c 💖

#admin buck #admin maah #CREDITS TIME!#Maah drew/coloured both Barnaby and Emmaah #they also coloured my Fantoccio and added all the text and extra effects #I (Buck) drew/coloured Buck and drew Fantoccio #I drew the OG doodle of our sona’s jamming to I’ve Had Enough of You >:3c #Maah ALSO drew the OG Fantoccio/Barnaby doodle #and yes they are singing the Best Friends song Master Frown and Brock sing in Unikitty! 🙏🩷 we both love that show and that pairing #bbu #billie bust up #badly drawn bbu #fantoccio bbu #barnaby bbu #dang it i can’t move tags in browser. just know that Admin Buck wrote this post in case it wasn’t clear enough #still tagged maah for their contributions!

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reilliane · 8 months

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This is my personal obligatory post and apology for my poofing disappearance- if you're not up to read things like these, then feel free to scroll past! Have a good day/night!

—

the poofing, the poofed, and the un-poofing.

TLDR; Bad stuff happened for the entire past year, stopped college just a few months ago to learn the materials myself and market myself in the graphic design industry soon, and got a whole dose of religious epiphany that threw my life around. Wrote in a different account a few months ago to ease and destress without much expectation. Will continue to write albeit there won’t be many updates, had/have to drop original writing plans [right now focusing on a short story for Wanderer, though it doesn’t mean I won’t be able to write for others when I get the time]. May unfortunately discontinue ongoing AUs but will provide a summary for them [I think it’s only Tyranny-?] Will also open writing/art commissions soon, maybe set up a kofi account, but I won’t be ‘gatekeeping’ any content I plan to post. I’m thinking, if ever, it’d only be standalone specials or maybe nsfw [gosh I’m really saying that?] in kofi, buuut that’s just a maybe. Everything else is free to read of course <3

A really detailed and long [I MEAN IT, MAYBE 1.3-.5K?? WC] exposition under the cut, but of course, it’s optional to read!

PS. I opened my drafts and had one or two finished works there, I will publish those soon. Get ready. Because they’re angst AHAAAAAAAAAA-

PPS. I won’t be able to respond to everyone’s sweet shucking messages in my inbox forgive me But know that I’M REALLY SO TOUCHED YALL I really didn’t think anyone would look for me that much 😭 Someone said I vanished like the avatar and it’s sending me crumpling to the floor.

ALRIGHT STORYTIME LET’S GO—first of all, I haven’t been on Tumblr for so long, nor have I interacted with anyone and coming back,, the web interface bamboozled me.

Anyway- the past year was roooough, like settling in and getting into college.

From the start, my brother and I have known of our depleting resources but couldn’t stop because of our mother’s insistence and my father’s very.. volatile attitude. Double the latter since he has cancer and has been nothing short of cranky and infuriated for the past years—knowing that the money is facing a downward slope because of his expensive medicines and learning that we’ll stop because of it would’ve,, been terribly bad and that's understating the nature of my headstrong, independent, and prideful father.

There were times when he was very somber about his state, but then mad—it was just a really bad time, but my brother and I finally convinced our mom that we had to stop for real a few months ago because money was just tight. Until now we’re hiding the fact from our dad that we stopped under the pretense that we’re only taking one course for the semester :v

We were very lost and torn.

I knew I had to go out and look for a job, but my brother would be doing the same, too—the thing was that we knew our mom couldn’t handle our dad being sick alone, so my brother opted to be the one to find work outside.

I’m learning materials and courses on my own at home, but finding a remote job without a degree is no doubt near unimaginable with how remote setups are almost nonexistent now. The time was just bleak at home, too, my father would ask for bad things to eat that would worsen his health and then blame it all on my mother when he felt body pains and repercussions—it was just BAD, that wasn't all of it, but I digress. Cancer sucks.

Just a few days ago, I lost my uncle to the same thing, and now there’s an overall family dispute over who gets what and it feels like I’m living a kdrama fever dream [pls get me out hfasjdkfhdsaf]. I don’t recommend it if it’s not romance lmao.

Things were getting so out of hand and I also couldn’t get back into writing or socializing with everyone in my writing socials—but I still wanted to write without the expectation of being able to deliver as I used to. It was a de-stresser for me, so I opened a new account in ao3/quotev and wrote in.. November or December, I think. It was nice, I got to just type away and post and leave it at that.

I think one of the reasons why I didn’t go to Tumblr for that was because I knew I wouldn’t be able to commit to updates, and I love you guys, I didn’t want to say something and promise it’d be given but then nothing. I’ve done it back then and I just, don’t want to do that :(

Despite how heavy and dark the past year was, however, something really unexpected happened—okay here it goes.

As a child, I’ve been taught about Christian doctrine and was brought up to believe in the existence of a God. I didn’t have my heart in it though, of course not, how was I to believe something that I only knew because someone said it to me?? I did attend church out of duty and had a shallow fear of the greater being, but as an authentic believing person? Naw.

Not until June at least.

I don’t know how to explain it rather I, out of the want to give my mother the chance to go somewhere she wanted to for Sunday, decided to join her for church. I was ready to just daze off and think about some solution to our problems, but then the sermon spoke to me—you know, that feeling when someone is passive-aggressively referring to you in a complaint or something?

It felt like that, only it felt like that message was something I was meant to hear, and boy I couldn’t believe it—neither did my mother [lol]. She told me how shocked she was when I listened throughout the what, an hour and a half of preaching that I usually just dismiss.

It’s cliche, but my life really changed after that one simple Sunday.

All my tweeeeenty years of living, I’ve asked if God really is real and whatnot and I never got answered until July of 2023. What really cemented my belief in knowing that he is real, is when I decided to genuinely pray—then for seven consecutive days, the Bible would lead me to a page [like just randomly opening a part of the book after prayer] that answered my questions and/or convicted me of something. I'd wake up every day and an event would happen that would answer my confusion and I'd sit in the night thinking 'no way that just happened', but it did. Boy, when I tell you I thought I was going crazy.

Not to mention opportunities such as baptism and ministry suddenly popped my way when I only had the idea in my head and I kept it to myself. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, but when it ��popped up’ more than thrice in a single week, I knew it wasn’t. Think of it as like, the thing in fanfiction when it seemed like the universe was saying something to you. Yeah, I felt that for myself. Mindblowing.

I could go on and on about the other life-changing things that occurred, but this would be so long LOL.

But I never regret coming to faith and accepting Jesus for real that day, and although life is still dark for me these days, the burden feels light. It’s an amazing feeling. He's really changed everything.

I’m not going to force anyone these beliefs—I knew how it felt to be on the receiving end and it could get very annoying, rather I just spoke on it to say how wonderful it was to know him, and it would be nice to let others know about my side in case they'd also take the faith. Who knows?

Also, I think I understand what those people were saying now. Again, I won’t force anyone—just reminding and asking you to try if you want, because it’s amazing. Bombard me in my inbox if you’re interested, but no pushing here, because I’m a firm believer that things shouldn’t be forced if it’s not the right time yet.

Anyway, that was my source of strength and hope to go through these days—and I believe it’s also the driving force that led me to write this out in.. in Tumblr of all places lol. If someone told me this would happen two years ago I'd laugh in their face 💀

Rather than just getting back into writing and opening my social circle again, there’s that bit in me that wants to say that religious epiphany. That said, I know how diverse everyone is in their beliefs so I’ll say it very tersely that, no, I will not be parading and pushing people to believe this and that—this space is, after all, my space for writing :)

Ah, and nor will I ramble about it like shuck lol, but I will, in private, when prompted.

With that out of the way, back into writing—I was floored when I first opened Tumblr and saw all the notifications and messages about my disappearance and I could’ve cried, really. It touches me poor heart :sob: and I wanted to thank all of you for such caring messages—I wouldn’t be able to reply to all of them [there were many!

Like maybe more than fifteen or twenty, not even counting the direct messages] but know that I’m very- very grateful for every one of you.

I could crawl out of your screen and hug yall but I won’t because I can’t and it’d throw people off KJHFSADKJFHALJSKDFHA

Life is, again, still hard—and navigating it is still difficult, but I’m managing these days. I can no longer return to my usual days of sporadic updates and teasers lol, but I’m happy to say I will still be writing, though it won’t be my entire focus nowadays. When I open writing commissions for genshin and art commissions, it’d get me going, of course.

I have to let go of most of my beloved works because I realized that sticking to them would take up most of my time when I need to be out there upskilling and taking initiative to start earning money to support the bills. I still wanted to write though, and in my downtime I even got to watching One Piece and writing a currently on-hold fanfiction for that in Ao3, but fuuully realized that, no, I’m no longer cut out for really long written stuff unless I commit to writing a long piece that would take weeks for it to be published.

In the end I settled for a single character [wanderer bb] short story that I get into writing without much hassle, and make myself happy, still :) I have ideas for other characters, too, but getting them out to be posted would take longer than usual.

My other AUs, as well, since my focus is just.. God, life, expenses, work, then hobbies. I don’t guarantee finishing them [I think Tyranny? And others, like Smite/Mercy/etc.], but I have in mind to write a summary because I meant it back then when I said the plot was really finished. Sighgisghsighs

Opening art commissions, I’d do that soon—writing, too.

Maybe a kofi account, as well—but I won’t be having any posts I want to be posted to be locked behind some tip or pay. I’m thinking of only adding specials there, specials like, standalone oneshots from an AU, or an nsfw piece. Oh golly, writing that is so beyond me, I think that’s the only reason why if anything is going to be in kofi, it’d probably be the nsfw. I plan to keep this writing blog sfw, still.

But we’ll,,, we’ll see [dying]

So yeah! That’s.. Everything. For the writing thing, I think I’ll technically just be .. here, lol, with a focus on that story with wanderer. Gone are the 7k worded oneshots, now we’re just around 1.5k unless I commit to the creation. The story is so fluffy too [not angst? Surprising]

But again, I will write for others eventually—can’t say when, or how, or who, but I will in time.

I have so many plans in my head about my life, and I’m glad to say going back to Tumblr is a check off the list. I have an original novel in mind, but would you all be interested in such a thing? I don’t honestly know—other than opening commissions, I also plan on a Youtube Channel, but that’s uncertain. A Webtoon for my original plot too is a maybe, buuuut those are just what-ifs. Time will tell!

Those are just my two cents and I don’t regret sharing that—you guys have been with me for so long, even if I don’t really know you all beyond that screen, you all really became a part of my life, too :”))

If you reached the end of this post, wow, I’m touched. I hope you all have a good day–oh wait, what do I say? Ah yes.

I wish you all a good mornight [fhkadjsfhiajhgf].

God bless yall sweet people.

#moonlitrambles #queued #i actually navigated my tags and was gobsmacked.#i thought of a new and more organized blog but i aint got the time for that pls bear with me fhdajskfhas #plus i am so unwilling to leave this behind- i kennat

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u-friend-or-ufo · 3 months

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My Story

Disclaimer

I do not want any witch hunt or harassment towards his family and friends when/if I reveal their username or their real name. I haven’t got a lot of screenshots of our messages. I do have some during the end of me talking to him and others. I may also delete the post to work on it more, with more screenshots if I can find them. Or, if I find this too overwhelming for me.

Also, if you have any suspicions on who this person is. Please don’t reblog this post with their username and/or their real name as I’m not ready to reveal it.

Throughout my teenage years to an young adult (14/15-19/20) I was in contact with someone who was in their 60s on Deviantart. As of yet, I’m not ready to reveal their username or their real name.

I started my own Deviantart account when I was 12/13, which is now deleted. For the first year I posted my cringe drawings and photos. During when I was 14/15, I started to Like The Beatles and the cartoon that they had back in the 60s and would favourite art and fanfictions of the band. That’s when I came across one of their drawings and posted a comment on it. I can’t remember who sent a note first. If you are not familiar with Deviantart, notes are like privet messages before the Chat function that Deviantart has now.

At first it was fine, talking about The Beatles and different bands. Normal stuff for around a year like hello and how was your day.

During 2015 when I was 15/16, we got into an argument that got pretty bad. He asked me what year at school I was in and I said I was in year 11. He then replied with “Does that mean your 18?” I replied with No, I’m 16.”

He replied later with something along the line “We can’t talk anymore. Goodbye.” Again I don’t have any screenshots of our earlier notes. I was confused, why couldn’t we talk. Nothing was going in in a bad way. We argue about it. He blocked me, I blocked him. After a while we unblocked each other, apologized and continued on talking. This would happen a lot. We argue about something, he will bock me, sometimes deactivated his account only to reactivated, unblocked me and then apologise to me.

One time they told me that they had a dream about my trying on cute short dresses. I should have cut contact after he told me that. But I was an idiot and still talked to him.

We talked on Messenger as well. He asked for pitchers of me. Not in the nude, nothing like that, just of my face. He said one time that he would get a tattoo of my face because I was so beautiful One time he asked for a picture of me and for a joke, I took and sent him a picture of one of my stuffed toys. He got mad at me for doing it and I apologies for the joke. I don’t have any screenshots of these messages, I’ve looked for them but can’t due to them deleting their Facebook.

We also did roplays together. Just silly Beatles roplays that involves some ocs of mine. However, some of the rolpays did involve some fetishes and kinks that I didn’t find sexual. So did some of the art work that they draw for me. Now, I don’t kink shame. If you got a kink or a fetish, then that’s fine. As long as you don’t push it on to other people who find it uncomfortable. Especially onto minors, even if they do have it.

Just after my 17 birthday, somehow one of the staff at the collage that I was attending at the time found out that I was talking to him. I do believe that one or two of my collage friends told them about us. I do remember one of them looking at my computer screen time. They brought me into a room and asked me some questions. “When did you first start talking?” “Has he ever asked for sexual images of you?” One thing that they said did baffle me a bit. “Well, you are over the age of 13. This person isn’t a paedophile. Do you know what grooming is?”

They phoned my parents and I was allowed to leave early. My parents told me not to talk to them privately but I still can post comments on their art work. But I went behind their backs and still talked to them privately on Deviantart and Messenger.

I was pissed at them for telling the collage staff. I didn’t know who actually told them but I had my suppositions. One of these friends was 24 at the time, we meet in collage when I was 16. The friend group that they were in took me under their wing and we became friends. However, as time went by they wanted to be in a relationship with me. But that story is for another time when I’m ready to talk about it.

When my parents found out that I was still talking to him after some months passed, they were so mad at me. Screaming at me, reducing me to tears. But after all of that, I still continued to talk with him behind my parents back. Being more secret about it and deleting our privet notes together. And, using other platforms like Tumblr and Twitter. That’s one thing I deeply regret, deleting all of our notes beside some last ones that they sent me before I cut him off.

One of his conversations with me was how I saved him from suicide by being there for him, talking to him. I was there for him when we would rant about politics and other Deviantart users. The fact that we lived in different countries, me living in the UK and him living in America. I would have late nights talking to him and roplaying as well. I would end the night by saying.” I’m going to sleep now, talk to you tomorrow.” And if I didn’t say goodnight to him, he would get mad.

Another time he asked me to marry him, I was 17 at that time… Again, I wish I kept the notes…I was an absolute idiot for deleting them. When he asked me, I was out with my family and the phone I was using had terrible internet connection with the place that I was in. I didn’t reply straight away, I was shocked… I didn’t know what to say. I moved somewhere else away from my parents when he massage again. I do slightly remember what the message said.

“I’m waiting for the answerJ”

And like the fool I was… I said yes…That I will marry him… I didn’t want another augment to happen or them hurting/committing suicide . He was so happy… This was a man in his 60s, he was married, had children and even had grandchildren…

In 2019 when I was 19/20, we had one last argument then I block him permanently after that because I have had enough of his threats and the way he was treating me. I then deleted my main account later on. I can’t remember if I deleted it in 2019 or 2020.

The argument was about me having an interest into Wicca and them finding out that I was in a relationship with my third ex-boyfriend.

Below are some screen shots of the notes that I kept from 2019. His username and mine are blocked out, as well as other personal information.

After some time he also deleted his main account but then crated a new one, uploading some if his old drawings.

Other screenshots

This one is from an email that they sent me during 2017. They had some suspicions that I was in a relationship and we had another augment about it. I lied to him and said that I wasn’t in one so that the argument wouldn’t continue.

These messengers are from Tumblr. I must have forgotten to block him on their. I sent him this message to him to him in 2020. I don't have a screenshot of the messages but here is it typed out.

What you have done could be consider as grooming. However, I do not think that was your intention or that you are a podophile. I believe that I appeared in your life when you was in a bad mind state and somehow have helped you. You did tell me that I saved you from suicide once. The reason why I left was the way you was talking and behaving towards me. You did not like the fact that I had a boyfriend at the time who you called a "fag" You didn't like me not talking to you for a day.

I don't know if your lgbtq+ views have change or not. I am Asexual, witch I have told you before. I am also questioning Bi-curious. You have your own opinions witch is fine but they have hurt me.

You called me a devil worshiper for having an interested in Wicca. For some clarification, Wicca is an Religion witch has nothing to do with the Christian devil. I did explain that to you but you didn't listen.

You threatened to hurt yourself and kill yourself if I left or didn't agree with you. How did you think I felt when you said theses things to me? What was your intentions?

I am sorry that you suffered from a stroke and I wish that you will have a full recovery. I don't know if you will see this message as well if you will reply to it. All I want is us the move on.

In 2022 he replied to the message.

Last year in 2023 I found out that this person passed away. I don't think I will ever forget his name so out of curiosity, I Googled his real name and found his Obituary. I couldn't believe it at first. I just stared blankly at the computer screen, my mind racing with thoughts. I couldn’t believe it at first that he was gone.

And that’s my history with this person. Again, I’m not ready to reveal their username or their real name. Not even my parents, my ex-boyfriend at the time when we was together fully knows what happened. Only my closest friends know and I’m so thankful for them taking the time for listening to me.

What I’m still conflicted on is dose this count as grooming? I do believe that used me as their own personal therapist but there is non-sexual grooming. I feel like an idiot for not cutting contact when red flags started showing up. That I blamed myself for getting in this situation. But another part of me says that this isn’t grooming. Other people have had it way much worse than you. You’re blowing this way out proportion.

I’m also worried about the outcome of telling my story. That people will say “Why didn’t you listen to your parents?” “Why didn’t you get the police involved?” “Why tell your story now?” Those are all valid criticisms. I just wanted to get this out of my chest. Again, I may also delete the post to work on it more, with more screenshots if I can find them. Or, if I find this too overwhelming for me.

#personal #possible grooming #tw grooming #possible groomer #tw abuse #online grooming #my apologies for the bad grammar #I wont let people reblog this post #you can comment on it

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blunderrscrew · 4 months

Text

Finally getting back to this account after like 2 years, since the whole AI thing with instagram is going on. Still haven’t made up my mind if I’ll fully switch over or not but I might as well post something here, at least to get some of my newer art on this account. Anyways here’s two of my characters Allen and Garfield being drunk in a church

#digital art #procreateart #stylized art #art #aesthetic #artists on tumblr #historical art #historical characters #small art account #fuck ai art #oc art #ocs #my ocs

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leahsfavefics · 9 months

Text

All I Want for Christmas is Joon (Teaser)

Title: All I Want for Christmas is Joon

Banner: the incredible @kithtaehyung

Pairing: art historian!Namjoon x art historian!reader (f)

Rating/genre: m (18+) angst, fluff, smut, second chance au

Estimated WC: 20k - this teaser is 792 words!

Posting Date: Dec 21st

Summary: You have had a rough year following the mutual break up with your grad school sweetheart. On a whim, you book a spontaneous trip to Europe for the holidays to help get you out of the funk you’re in and assert your independence. It would be great, if it weren’t for the fact that you keep bumping into your ex boyfriend.

Part of the Jingle All the Way collab!

BEFORE:

Your fingers itched over your computer mouse, hesitating on the ‘click’ you so ardently wanted to make. Anxiety held you back.

“Just do it,” Melissa hollered from your kitchen. You smiled, impressed at how she sensed your hesitation somehow. Outside of your family, she’s one of only two people that could ever read you that well. Though you guess that now she’s the only person that can, since the other is your ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in over a year.

You took her encouragement with a grain of salt. She was always egging on whatever hair brained idea you had, ever since elementary school. This time, though, maybe she was right.

“It’s expensive. And I’d be all by myself. I’ve never traveled all by myself,” you whined in response.

“Bitch, it’s literally cheaper than it’s ever going to be,” she shot back, strolling into the living room and leaning against the couch where you sat. You couldn’t argue. The Travel Tuesday flight deals this year were insane. You’ve never seen a round trip flight to Europe be less than $500, and somehow the itinerary you’ve secured rang in at $386.00 round trip, taxes and fees included. It was probably a bulk fair with a million restrictions and you’d be fucked if you wanted to change it, but the flight left in 3 weeks. If you booked this, you were going no matter what.

“And traveling by yourself is not bad,” Melissa continued. “Obviously I’d rather be on a girls’ trip with you or on a trip with Taehyung, but it’s also really nice to not have to worry about anyone but yourself. Sure, there’s no one to take cute pictures of you unless you want to ask a stranger, but you can do whatever you want without consulting with anyone or taking their feelings into account. Craving sushi? Go get sushi! Want a nap? Go take a nap! Want to check out an obscure museum no one would be interested in but you? Do it! You only have yourself to worry about.”

You sighed. “You’re right, I know you’re right. But you’re so much more adventurous than I am.” Mel and her husband, Taehyung, were always going off and doing the wildest of things. Going on amazing trips around the world, skydiving, scuba diving, the list goes on. Whether they were a match made in heaven or hell, you weren’t sure- they rarely said no to each other’s schemes. They were happy though, and beyond in love, and that’s all you could ever want for your best friend.

“That’s not true.” Melissa said. “You’re adventurous, you’re just also nervous. Ever since…. You know what. You’ve been complaining that you want to get better at doing things on your own. This is your chance. And you’ve wanted to go to Norway for ages. You can’t achieve your dreams if you’re afraid to pull the trigger when the opportunity presents itself.” You winced, but it was the truth. The hard truth, but the truth nonetheless. And you trusted Melissa to give it to you straight when you needed it. Since the breakup with Namjoon over a year ago, you’d been wallowing. The two of you did everything together, attached at the hip since you met in your grad school apartment building the weekend you both moved in. You’d made it all through college, moving in together the second year of school into a nice apartment off campus that you still occupied. The study abroad semester Namjoon spent in Paris had been tough, especially because you’d only had enough time and money for one brief visit, but it wasn’t until college was over that things fell apart. Art History is a tough field to get a job in. You were both insanely lucky to land jobs fresh out of college. Grades and letters of recommendation helped, but still. It was unfortunate that they were across the country. You’d barely made it through one bout of long distance. You thought it better to end things rather than face that again, and with no end date in sight.

“You’re right. I know how to travel. Namjoon and I took a few trips together. And you and I have gone on trips together. I need to learn how to be comfortable doing things on my own. I’m 25 years old. I can’t wait around forever.” You nodded as you spoke, convincing yourself. Taking a shaking breath, you squeezed your eyes shut and made that final click.

Melissa squealed in excitement and pulled you in for a constricting hug that pulled a laugh from you despite your nerves about your newly booked solo adventure. “I’m so proud of you! And excited! You’re going to fucking Norway!!”

#bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon au

111 notes · View notes

mrsbsmooth · 5 months

Note

I’ve been so turned off by what fusebox has been putting out lately that I haven’t even opened the app in a year or so, but I’m glad that people seem to be liking s8 so far!

I’m super curious to know how you would rank it against past seasons and what your thoughts are overall ❤️

RANK? YOU WANT ME TO RANK THEM

hjeslafhajsdkfgsdj

omg okay. way to make my night. I'm supposed to be writing. Let's fucking gooooooo.

[Noting based on my recent post, this is my ranking for if you're pursuing a male LI. WLW rankings would be very different].

So, to me, I think there are two main criteria that define a season: Love Interests and Gameplay.

Love Interests can be further broken down into:

Sprite Design: How good they look overall as a cast. Are they proportionate? Unique?

Variety: How different/unique are they to previous seasons? Are they all models and carpenters and finance bros?

Fandom Impact: This one is silly and subjective. Are people still talking about them years later? Do they have fanfics and art? If you don't know this person, are you missing out?

Gameplay can be further broken down into:

Quality of Plot Drama: How it's written, how impactful it is. Is it stupid manufactured shit, or is it important and moves the game along? (Cherrygate? Great drama. Suresh wanting to 'give Lulu a chance' after he'd been all in for us? Shitty, awful drama).

Challenges: Are they engaging and interesting? Do they move the plot along?

Replayability: Are there enough unique aspects in the routes that you feel the need to replay?

So, based on these two criteria, I assigned rankings to each season, with Season 2 being the best that fusebox can possibly do. (We already know that it is).

These are completely subjective, but this is what I came up with.

Some brief explanations:

Season 1:

Not the best art style, but overall the proportions were spot on, the body shapes and types were different and unique. Personalities top tier (Tim? Jake? sigh.) Cherrygate, dunking challenge etc.

Season 2:

The best the fandom can do in terms of consistent art style, poses, challenges and replayability. Every route is unique. Characters are overhwhelmingly gorgeous. Some may not like the drama, but I think it's just enough.

Season 3:

I thought things were ranked too high but then remember Tai? Rafi? AJ? The waterfall date, the water balloon and tent challenges that meant something and caused drama?

Season 4:

Lost points for the NaJamUno character merge, but gained points for Youcef and Oliver. Great characters, poor challenges and drama points. Dylangate was dumb and so was making us sleep on the daybeds.

Season 5:

The less said the better. But the sprites were hot af.

Season 6:

The great character merge was atrocious. But the drama from Casa, the Marshall&Ozzy plotline, and HAMISH oh my god, he gets a bonus point for drama all on his own.

Season 7:

Personally very forgettable season. Some of the sprites were lovely. Evan was a highlight and he's gorgeous. But given how quickly everyone forgot about this season, it's loowww.

Season 8:

Gets a high ranking for fandom impact purely based on the immense amount of art and interest that's come about this season. Even with up to a half-point deduction to account for recency bias, this season ranks highly.

This gives us an updated ranking of:

Third? THIRD? Season 8 is THIRD?!?!?

This gives us an average season rating of 6.4. We could remove the outliers, but we're trying to plot how good each season is against the average, so let's not. If we then plotted this and threw in a bar to show the average:

It says the only seasons that are 'above average' are Seasons 1, 2, and 8. Which, honestly, given my adoration for Bruno, Ciaran, and Lewie, rude. How dare I hurt myself with my own chart!!!!!

I'm sure one of the maths people could do something statistically significant and make this fully mathematically valid, but this is just me latching on to a silly ask and being an idiot about it.

I like S8 a lot. It's worth playing.

In other words:

Yes. Play it.

#litg #love island the game #love island game #litg s8 #litg tempting fate

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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 1 year

Text

[CN] Victor’s HS SSR Story: Carefree Years (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a story, 岁月无忧, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

Do remember to read the event stories beforehand for further info and understanding: ♡ || ♡ || ♡ || ♡ || ♡ || ♡ || ♡

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

──────

【Subbed Video】

Work in progress, will add the link once it’s uploaded :>

【Transcript Version】

[Notes]: The story is told from young Victor’s perspective + includes the narrator’s POV towards the end sporadically~ 💕

—

【Chapter 1】

It’s early autumn, and Loveland City hasn’t yet shaken off the lingering summer heat. The breeze, still carrying the residual heat, slips through the cracks of the windows into the dormitory, dispelling the slight chill.

The hour hand of the alarm clock by the bedside is about to point to six. I roll out of bed, pick up my toiletry bag, and turn around, heading for the door.

—

Once I’m done freshening up, I plan to go to the cafeteria for breakfast before heading to the classroom to drop off my backpack.

Considering the time required for submitting summer vacation assignments, preparing for the first class, and accounting for any unforeseen circumstances…

I should have enough time before I need to be at the playground at 7:30 to confirm the final proceedings with the emcee of the flag-raising ceremony.

??: Morning, Bro Vic~

A slurred voice sounds from the side just as I wipe the water off my face, and then that familiar face comes into view.

With his mouth full of toothpaste foam, Zheng Xi tilts his head back and makes gurgling sounds as he rinses his mouth. His hair is so disheveled that it could hide a couple of eggs within.

Victor: Morning.

Victor: It’s rare to see you not stepping on the dot.

Zheng Xi: New semester, fresh start. Besides, we can’t lose face to our seniors. Must follow the examples of Bro Vic!

Victor: Don’t make things harder for yourself, and don’t end up straining your neck when the time comes.

Zheng Xi: …cracking cold jokes on such a hot day. I must thank you for it.

As he speaks, he haphazardly wipes his face a few times and then carelessly tosses the toothbrush into the washbasin.

—

The corridor has become much livelier when I walk out of the dorm room again after changing into the school uniform and hanging my backpack over my shoulders.

Accompanied by the sound of flowing water, the jingling and clattering sounds reverberate through the corridor in the early morning. The doors of different dorm rooms swing open and then close, as if orchestrating a concerto unique to high school life.

Walking beside me, Zheng Xi suddenly begins to talk.

Zheng Xi: You haven’t said hello to our new roommates yet, have you? One of them was in Section 6, and the other was in Section 9.

Victor: Oh, didn’t we have a quick encounter earlier?

Zheng Xi: Saying hello means introducing yourself, not just exchanging a brief glance and nodding, okay?

…it seems like one summer break isn’t enough for someone with a young-at-heart mentality to have much growth.

Victor: If only you could channel this meticulous attention to every wording in your reading comprehension, “Empress Dowager Hu” wouldn’t call on you to answer questions every class.

Zheng Xi: Don’t jinx me! Also, my mom practically had detained me these past two months to catch up on Chinese. Who knows, I might have improved by leaps and bounds.

Zheng Xi: Speaking of which, why would teachers like “Empress Dowager Hu” who receives awards yearly, teach liberal arts classes? Oh well, damn lucky Wu Xing!

Victor: Well, that’s not necessarily the case.

Victor: I’m afraid pulling up the Chinese language grades for a student like you who is biased towards specific subjects is more about showcasing your skills.

As expected, the wails of anguish resound. I shake my head helplessly, finding myself already somewhat accustomed to this.

I just can’t wrap my head around how this guy who’s been getting nearly perfect scores in math since the first year of high school can be so one-track-minded in other subjects.

—

As we walk into Section 1 of the first year, I find that quite a few students have already arrived. Among them are both familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Some are in groups, chatting about their summer vacation experiences, while others sit alone at their desks, organizing their textbooks.

I cast a brief glance at the seating chart on the blackboard and quickly find my name.

Surprisingly, it’s the same seat as before. That’s actually good.

Just as I’m about to lift my foot, I notice the person next to me is still squinting while trying to find his name.

Victor: You can stop searching; you’re in the first row.

Zheng Xi: …

After setting down my backpack, I find that inside the desk, there’s a carton of milk, its outer packaging still oozing moisture from the condensation.

Whose is this? And why is it placed here?

Before I can even inquire, my arm is poked with a pen cap.

I tilt my head and see a boy I’m not that familiar with pointing at the milk carton in my hand.

Boy: Um… I put it there. Don’t take it the wrong way–– I’m just helping someone out. I’m delivering it for a girl who used to be in my former Section 6.

Zheng Xi: Whoa–– it’s been ages since I’ve seen a scene like this. I almost feel like I’ve traveled back to our first year.

Zheng Xi walks over to poke his nose in as he hears the noise, wearing a gossipy look.

Zheng Xi: I know many folks from Section 6. Who is this brave soul? Spill the beans.

Boy: Uh, she specifically told me not to disclose her identity…

Zheng Xi: F*ck! Quite smart to keep her identity under wraps. It’s a shame, though, cause she’s also fallen into the pit. How come she hasn’t heard about our Bro Vic’s wide reputation for being strictly incorruptible and not getting anywhere near girls?

He lowers his voice as he speaks, feigning a sense of mystery.

Zheng Xi: Besides, there’s a name this guy keeps murmuring about in his dreams all the time…

Victor: Was your summer vacation too boring since you had to keep these words pent up for two whole months?

Victor: Here, drink this to moisten your throat.

Victor: So you don’t get stuck while trying to recite Classical Chinese in the first class.

–

I toss the milk to him, grab the speech notes, and stand up to walk out of the classroom. Sure enough, a wave of cries akin to “wailing ghosts and howling wolves” follow from behind.

Zheng Xi: See– see! Such foul temper and unapproachable look on his face! I bet it won’t be long before everyone who wants to give him a gift will be scared away!

It’d be the best outcome– ideal to avoid any complications.

–

I stride down the stairs with big steps, until the refreshing air fills my nostrils.

Victor: [murmuring to himself] …how could I possibly sleep-talk in my dreams, [sounds as if he’s telling himself–] idiot.

Thinking about Zheng Xi’s incessant chatter leaves me speechless. Even though they all unanimously claim that I do mention that name in my sleep, I remain skeptical.

While searching for information about the orphanage incident, it's highly likely that I came across the compiled data from the past few years.

Inhaling a deep breath, I continue walking toward the playground.

To be honest, I’m not oblivious to the significance of those gifts and the feelings that can blossom at this age. It’s just that, personally, I don’t find them as something necessary.

Time has always been best spent on more important endeavors, whether achieving short-term goals or paving the path for long-term plans. From this point on, it’s crucial to be adequately prepared.

Anything unrelated to these matters is just a waste of time.

I take another turn, and sunlight filters through the greenery, casting vibrant patches on the plastic athletic track, creating a colorful dance.

It’s 7:10 sharp, right on the dot.

—

[Tidbits]: For those who are unaware, all the dream-talk is a reference to Victor’s R&S “Six out of Seventeen,” (find the translation here by @/cheri-translates), which touched upon the extent of his long and strenuous search for MC— including the little crumbs as how he’d call a girl’s name in his sleep and his roommates would tease him about it– which we got to see a bit here as well. I do VERY HIGHLY recommend reading all the canceled R&S for yourself because if you haven’t, you have NO IDEA what you’re missing out on! ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 2】

Victor: Teacher. Reporting!

The people in the office glance up at my voice, the rapid movement of their pens coming to a pause. Teacher Hu adjusts the wire-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose, displaying a composed smile.

Teacher Hu: Come in, Vic.

Teacher Hu: Here— the mock Chinese exam papers for our section. Take them and hand them out. I’ll discuss them during the class later.

As she speaks, she taps the stack of test papers on her left with the tip of her pen, then retrieves a laminated file from the drawer.

Teacher Hu: In here, you’ll find the scores and class-grade rankings for each subject this time. Help me attach them to each student’s respective test papers one by one.

Teacher Hu: We have an eye exercise break during this class, right? You can stay here and get everything organized before going back. Here, the paperclips.

Victor: Roger.

Once Teacher Hu finishes speaking, she resumes grading the papers with her head lowered. It seems … she is grading the Classical Chinese reading exercises from yesterday evening’s self-study session? The moment this thought springs to mind, I quickly glance over.

Luckily, I answered that set of questions quite smoothly yesterday.

Thinking this way, my fingertips subconsciously relax as I untie the knot. As expected, the report cards are sorted by student ID.

Just as I’m about to begin flipping through them from the back, Teacher Hu’s voice sounds right on cue.

Teacher Hu: Vic, you did quite well in the exam this time, but there is still room for improvement. Your math teacher, Mr. Gao, also asked me to commend you properly.

Victor: …thank you, Teacher.

Teacher Hu: Zheng Xi-- that kid has also made some progress. It looks like he’s finally catching on.

Victor: I’ll relay the message on your behalf and tell him to keep making persistent efforts.

Soon, I spot my own name among the array of report cards.

Chinese 132, Math 140, English 125, Physics…

Victor: [sighing LONG and HARD in disappointment] …

My gaze at once shifts towards the ranking listed at the bottom of the paper.

Section Ranking: 4th, Grade Ranking: 13th.

My heart, which has inexplicably leaped into the air, temporarily settles back into its original place. I continue with the sorting, but my thoughts involuntarily begin to decelerate.

Thankfully, I’ve performed decently in the physics and chemistry exams, and my ranking is still within the range I had set for myself.

However, my English score is unexpectedly almost 10 points lower than my estimated score. So, where did things go wrong?

The classroom bell chimes, and the music for eye exercises flows through the air. I’m unable to come up with an answer, so I just subconsciously speed up my movements.

Teacher Hu: Xiao Luo turned in the participant list for the Autumn Sports Festival yesterday. I noticed you signed up for the friendly soccer match?

Victor: Yes. There aren’t many students in our section who play soccer, and I’m somewhat familiar with the basic rules and regulations of the game, so I thought I’d participate to make up the numbers.

Teacher Hu: That's great; participating in this kind of activity is a good thing. It's important not to focus solely on academics; diverting some of one’s attention to meaningful activities like this can also contribute to their self-development.

Teacher Hu: Don’t you think so, too?

I nod in agreement, vaguely sensing that Teacher Hu’s words seem to carry an implicit meaning. After picking up the file bag and exam papers, I slightly bow in her direction.

Victor: Teacher Hu, I’ll take my leave now.

Teacher Hu: Sure… ah, Vic, there’s something else I wanted to ask you.

Teacher Hu: Wu Xing from your former section, is it true that he is dating the academic representative from section 3?

Victor: Is it? I’m not too sure about that.

Teacher Hu: Weren’t you two dormitory roommates?

Victor: Yes, but that was last semester. Since this semester began, I haven’t really seen him much.

Victor: Regarding your question, the response would be more accurate if he answered it himself. Would you like me to summon him for you?

Teacher Hu: Hahaha, no need for that.

Teacher Hu: Those friends of yours who hang out with you should learn to take a page from your book and invest their time and energy in more meaningful pursuits.

Teacher Hu: Alright, you should head back now.

–

Following my parting with Teacher Hu, I walk in large strides toward the academic building— a melodious tune wafts through the campus, melding with the breeze.

I’m afraid “Master Hu,” asked that question, likely because Wu Xing’s results in the mock exam didn’t meet expectations.

Admittedly, I “did not disclose the information I knew” earlier, but to be fair, I indeed haven’t seen him around much at all, not only during this semester but throughout the entire summer vacation.

Rarely, when we finally managed to schedule a long-overdue soccer match during our free time from makeup classes, this guy who prioritizes his date before friendship flaked out on me.

Victor: [scoffing, BUT BAOBEI YOU’RE GONNA DO THE VERY SAME THING 10+ YEARS LATER 🤣] How childish.

–

I’m not sure if it’s a coincidence or one of those cases where “if your heart ponders something, there will be some sort of corresponding response,” but this “ex-roommate” of mine, whom I haven’t seen around much, shows up out of the blue right after taking his name, for the first time in ages.

Wu Xing: Sir Vic— VIC— TOR—

A sneaky voice suddenly drifts from the classroom’s back door during the lunch break. Wu Xing cautiously waves his hand, approaching the unfamiliar classroom with a hint of nervousness.

Feeling a bit resigned, I walk over and offhandedly close the classroom door behind me.

Victor: Doesn’t your section have you guys work on test papers during lunch break?

Wu Xing: Does your section still have you guys work on test papers during lunch break?

Our questions sound in unison, inexplicably making me laugh, but then I quickly refocus on the matter at hand.

Victor: You need me for something?

Wu Xing: For something big. Is Lao Zheng not around?

Victor: I haven’t seen him.

He asks as he peers into the classroom through the rear window a couple more times before finally speaking solemnly, as if it truly is something of utmost urgency.

Wu Xing: Well, let’s go then. Time is of the essence.

–

I could have never imagined that the “something big” he was talking about was actually buying snacks from the convenience store outside the school gate.

The aged iron gate, entwined with crawling vines, has a mottled appearance. Even though the lock is dangling loosely, it offers a firm barrier. The air carries a subtle scent of iron rust and the dampness common to the equipment room.

The hand clutching the paper money reaches through the gap between the railings, and when it is withdrawn, it holds an assortment of snacks in various packaging bags.

I hardly ever come to this place, and the handful of times I have been are all thanks to my dormitory roommates.

Victor: So, this is what you referred to as “something big?” I’m out of here.

Wu Xing: Ack, Sir Vic, don’t! Don’t roll the dice yet. The “iron rooster” is on patrol duty today. If he catches us, it’ll be bad news. At the very least, we’d probably have to sweep the playground for a whole month!

Victor: And you’re still going to “commit the crime in broad daylight?”

Wu Xing: [dramatically] I have reasons for which I must take this risk.

Victor: …if it weren’t for your talking nonsense, everything would’ve already been bought.

As if finally remembering his purpose, Wu Xing briskly rushes toward the iron gate and calls out to the convenience store owner while cupping his throat.

On his way back, he is busy hiding two large packs of “Meow Meow Snow Cookies” in his school uniform jacket.

He nonchalantly tears open one of the packs while walking over, and then he stuffs two pieces of snow cookies into my hand without any explanation.

Victor: No need, keep them for yourself to snack on later.

Wu Xing: No, no, it’s all thanks to you that I could carry out this daunting mission smoothly. Thank you, my greatest ex-roommate, my former class monitor, my…

Victor: [sighs helplessly] …shut up.

–

Not wanting to waste more time, I off-handedly stash the two snow cookies into my pocket and motion for him to hurry up. He continues walking alongside me, matching my strides, until we reach the academic building.

The grating noise created by the plastic rubbing against something makes me furrow my brows, and I can’t help but offer a warning.

Victor: Your classroom is at that end of the corridor.

Wu Xing: I’ll go to section 3 first.

Victor: …

Wu Xing: LuLu didn’t do well in the mock exam. I think she cried. Her eyes were red when I saw her at the cafeteria during lunch.

Wu Xing: Although she hasn’t mentioned anything, I’m afraid she might think our relationship is interfering with…

Wu Xing: I don’t know how to make her happy; I can only think of buying her the Meow Meow Snow Cookies she loves. Bro, say, girls would usually feel happy when they eat something they like, right?

Victor: [softly] …I think you might be the one who would be even happier.

—

[Tidbits]: kept the notes for last so as not to break the flow—

✦ uhh they have so many nicknames, ofc it’s expected and relatable LMAO, but GODS THEY ARE a PAIN TO TRANSLATE HHH. Victor addressed Teacher Hu as “胡师太” which I translated as “Master Hu.” In Chinese, it’s essentially another sarcastic play on the other nickname they have for their homeroom teacher, “Empress Dowager Hu,” the message behind which is self-explanatory LOL.

✦ “Prioritizing date before friendship” – the phrase here was 重色轻友, which in more causal English terms would be “hoes before bros,” haha.

✦ “Iron Rooster” – here, I did the literal translation of “铁公鸡” to retain the sarcastic effect. It in simpler terms refers to someone being a cheapskate or miserly.

✦ “Meow Meow snow cookies” (喵喵雪饼) – as the name suggests, they are similar to your usual snow cookies, only cat-shaped and much cuter LOL.

✦ Victor’s final line about you being happier than the person receiving the gift— yes, as you might’ve already presumed, it’s the 2nd reference to MC in this story, and also a theme that runs through Victor’s contents pretty often— when they’re happy because of you, the cheery smile on the person’s face apparently brings you more joy than the person themselves.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 3】

Xiao Luo: Victor, how about we play some soccer later? Maybe you could show some of your footwork to the team?

Despite seeing the expectant look on his face, I still shake my head.

Victor: Sorry, but today won’t be possible. I can return to the dorm on Sunday morning and have the entire time afterward for practicing.

Victor: I’ll compile the fundamental tactics and rules later tonight and send them to you on QQ. As for my footwork… I’m an amateur, so the most I can do is share some of my experiences during the actual training session.

Xiao Luo: Sure thing! Just give me a knock tonight!

–

As I walk out of the school gate, the last rays of the setting sun cast a soft, crimson halo over the bustling streets.

The charm of Friday lies precisely in this, rendering even the usually ordinary sunset into something particularly romantic.

Soon, the No. 923 bus arrives, and after the crowd has boarded, I stand close to the handrail and shift my backpack to the front.

The bus isn’t overly crowded at this hour, which makes it easier to fetch one’s belongings without causing any inconvenience to other passengers.

–

With this thought in mind, I grip the handrail with one hand while my other hand reaches into the front compartment of my schoolbag to retrieve the vocabulary notebook. With my fingertips, I flip through the pages one by one.

A few points I lost this time were in vocabulary and grammar. It looks like I need to consolidate my understanding of these error-prone areas much more.

I concentrate on each letter in the notebook, quietly repeating every word three times in my mind before turning to the next page.

For a moment, the clamors surrounding me seem to grow muffled. I feel as if I’m isolated in a space of my own, able to hear only the voice of my mind crystal clear.

Even the passage of time seems to slow down.

The window’s shadow on the edge of my vision is rendered a hazy tint, slowly receding, but it also sharpens the clarity of the words in front of me.

Although these words aren’t my first language, as long as I grasp the arteries and veins that connect the word roots and affixes, the rest is simply a process of putting them together and restructuring them.

The patterns that dictate how the world operates also follow this principle.

Firstly, one needs to understand the distinct characteristics of different things, then find their respective gaps–– and finally connect them, akin to joining mortise and tenon.

This way, the correct answer is plainly evident.

The sky outside the window has gradually begun to darken. I weave through the crowd to the back of the vehicle and take a quick look at my wristwatch.

The hour hand ticks down one notch, and the time is about the same as what I had in mind. I should still be able to make it to Dawn Market before it closes for the day even if I hit traffic.

Auntie Zhang usually doesn’t close her stall this early. I’m just not sure if I’ll be able to get any of the fruits Dad loves.

I subconsciously look at the condition of the road ahead, feeling a slight hint of impatience creeping in.

Victor: Yes, I can still make it in time.

–

By the time I arrive home, it’s slightly past 7 o’clock.

Swiftly, I put down my schoolbag and change my clothes. I then step into the kitchen, don an apron, put the clams in a bowl to let them soak, and simultaneously begin cleaning the scallops.

Just as I’m serving the garlic-steamed scallops on the table, I hear the door lock turning in the porch.

Victor: Dad, you’re back.

Papa Li: The flight got delayed, so it took longer than expected. Ah, you must be starving, aren’t you?

Victor: I’m fine. You go and take a rest for a while. I’ll call you when the meal is ready.

After saying this, I wipe my hands dry and pick up his suitcase propped against the doorway, placing it in the study. When I return to the living room, my father has already rolled up his sleeves and is standing by the dining table.

Papa Li: I was wondering why the entire house was filled with the aroma of food as soon as I walked in the door. It turns out that our master chef has once again prepared a grand feast.

Victor: It’s not that over-the-top, just regular home-cooked dishes, that’s all. Victor: But I do have the clam stew and garlic butter scallops that you love.

Papa Li: Well, it sounds like I must be in for a treat.

Papa Li: What are you still stir-frying in your pan? Here, let Dad exhibit some tricks for you.

My father seems to be in a good mood. It’s probably because the work on his business trip has been exceptionally successful. Although doing things myself would be more efficient, I naturally can’t dampen his spirits.

I smile and lend him a hand.

Papa Li: How’s school been going recently? Are you settling into your new class well?

Victor: It’s going pretty well. We got our mock exam scores and class rankings today, and overall, they’re within the range I expected, except for some mistakes I made in English.

Victor: I’ll show you my report card after we’re done with dinner.

Papa Li: I’ve always been confident in your academic performance. What about things outside your studies? Have you been busy with student council duties recently?

Victor: Hm, we are gearing up to organize the Autumn Sports Festival soon, and lately, I’ve been exploring potential sponsors among educational organizations and bookstores that have shown interest.

Seeing that he hasn’t shifted his gaze, I contemplate for a moment and add.

Victor: In my free time, I’ll be playing soccer with the others. I’ve signed up for the soccer tournament in the sports festival.

Sure enough, my father appears visibly happier upon hearing this and even teases me a little.

Papa Li: Such opportunities don’t come by often, so you’ve to make sure to give it your best! But son, you haven’t played as much soccer as you used to since you’ve grown up. Are you sure your skills are still sharp?

Victor: How about personally inspecting my skills tomorrow morning?

Papa Li: Hahaha, are you “throwing down the gauntlet” to me? Alright, alright, no problem, let’s have a friendly showdown.

Before we know it, the family dinner wraps up amidst an atmosphere steeped in laughter, something we haven’t done in a long time.

It’s almost ten o’clock by the time I finish my homework, and I notice that the light in my father’s study is still on. After hesitating for a moment, I go back to my room, pick up the notebook from my desk, and knock on the door of his study.

–

Papa Li: Vic? Why are you still up?

Victor: I’ve got a few questions that I’m having a bit of trouble understanding.

I flip my notebook to the most recent page and place it in front of my father, briefly giving him a summary of the few stocks that I’ve been researching these days.

My father comprehends the situation and begins circling things in the notebook, gradually clarifying the puzzles that have been plaguing my mind.

Seeing that I haven’t said anything in a while, my father gently taps on the table with his pen.

Papa Li: Is there a part you didn’t understand?

Victor: No, it’s not that. I’m just glad that I’m in a simulated investment scenario where there’s room for trial and error.

Papa Li: Real business transactions can also withstand trial and error. Son, there’s no one or no circumstance that can bring overnight success.

I understand what my father is saying, but it’s precisely because I understand these principles that my resolve to achieve my goals becomes even more steadfast.

It’s also because I have experienced that feeling of powerlessness, where I was helpless to find a way out, that my conviction has been more solidified— I must advance at a faster pace.

Victor: I’ve got it. Thanks, Dad. You should get an early night.

Papa Li: But judging by your achievements of the past few years…

As if he has suddenly remembered something, my father takes out a somewhat aged notebook from a drawer.

Inside the notebook, there are meticulous records of the maintenance cost I’ve earned every year for Vic Vic through simulated investments, starting from my junior high school days.

Papa Li: It looks like you’ll get there earlier than you had planned.

Victor: My goal is to round off the remaining amount in the next three years.

Victor: I was quite conservative in my calculations back then, but now I’m confident.

–

In the blink of an eye, the preparation phase for the Autumn Sports Festival is in full swing. Adhering to the “first-come, first-served” principle, there’s a constant rush of people in the venues and equipment storage areas.

It appears that this enthusiasm has got the entire school’s faculty and students immersed, as evident in the ongoing internal meeting of the student council.

I close the proposal document in front of me and turn my gaze to the head of the sports department who has been talking confidently since the beginning of the meeting, putting forth all kinds of budget-busting ideas.

If memory serves, he only joined the student council this year. While it’s understandable to have such drive when taking on a major responsibility as this for the first time, it’s not surprising that his ideas are so impractical.

Victor: We are organizing a sports event for the school, not the Loveland City Youth Sports Meet.

Victor: Before asking me if I can secure such a large budget, shouldn’t we first consider the already existing conditions?

Victor: Even if we manage to lock in sponsorships smoothly, I’m afraid we don’t have sufficient space and workforce to sustain it.

Head of Sports Department: But I’ve discussed this issue with Xiao Sun from your External Affairs Department beforehand, and the proposal he’s handed in today is actually twice as substantial as what he initially suggested.

Victor: That’s the very reason why having this meeting today was essential, isn’t it?

Victor: To prevent the possibility of others misinterpreting due to the spread of incomplete information inappropriately.

The other party doesn’t seem to have anticipated that I would respond this way, rendering him silent for a moment before he speaks again.

Head of Sports Department: Doesn’t the External Affairs Department need to hold another meeting to discuss this? Or is Student Council President Victor implying that we don’t have any room for further discussion?

Victor: First and foremost, whether the External Affairs Department needs to deliberate on the conclusions drawn from today’s general meeting, I will make that assessment.

Victor: Secondly, “we” are not the ones who get to negotiate this. Because this matter has never been about any of us individually, from the outset to the conclusion.

Head of Sports Department: [sarcastic laugh] Heh, I’ve heard rumors that the External Affairs Department is managed by an autocratic approach, and today I finally got the chance to witness it first-hand.

…I can hardly believe someone would make such an elementary-school-student-style remark in this situation.

Victor: If labeling me with a derogatory term as “autocratic” can make things seem more reasonable, then I don’t find any objection to your remark.

Head of Sports Department: …

Victor: I apologize for taking up everyone’s time. The Executive Committee and the Secretariat, please inform me as soon as you have made your decisions, and I will make further improvements to the proposal.

After finishing my words, I pick up the folder and turn around to exit the conference room.

—

[Tidbits]:

✦ regarding the “arteries and veins” (脉络) and “mortise and tenon” (榫卯) parts— I decided to do their literal translations despite initially going for metaphorical terms, to show you guys the way Li Zeyan writers think + how they wanted you to grasp just how immersed he was and how passionate he is in general about learning that he is subconsciously relating things like this.

✦ Dawn Market and Auntie Zhang are references to his S2 Company Project, where we met this old lady and learned the precious story of how Victor would visit the market with his dad when he was a kid. I don’t remember her name on the EN server LOL, so used the original one as it was.

✦ The stock research, simulated investment, and paying for Vic Vic’s (the panda Yan Yan) upkeep fees – these are all references to Victor’s 4th birthday story, where after learning that the panda’s adoption fee had to be paid on yearly installments, 15-year-old Victor decided to put his knowledge about simulated investment to action and use the profits from investments to pay the panda’s upkeep fees. And sure enough, his investments were successful, and at the time he had told his dad that he’d be able to pay his dad all the adoption fees back over the years by the time he was 25. But as we saw in this story, in 2nd year of his senior high school, he had cut that time down to only 3 years, and he did not need those years in full either~ :’)

✦ And as for using the “Papa Li” term of address instead of “Victor’s Dad”–– it was a force of habit LOL + I wanted to retain the personalized feelings here haha (,,>ࡇ<,,)

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 4】

As the other person reiterates his “refusal” attitude once again, I take a deep breath and reach out to loosen my tie.

The sunlight at high noon is somewhat glaring. After stuffing the proposal into my backpack, I walk mechanically towards the subway station.

I still have more than enough time before the cram classes, and this morning has gone well as I successfully negotiated for most of the sponsorship according to the plan.

Apart from…

I can’t help but sigh, kneading my throbbing forehead.

Perhaps because it’s the weekend, as I pass by the park, I hear the animated sounds of laughter and cheerful voices.

It’s as if I’ve caught the contagious effect of that simple joy, I subconsciously change my path and sit down on a bench nearby.

All of a sudden, I loosen up a tad and my mind involuntarily begins thinking back to the wall I’ve hit just earlier.

—

───── [FLASHBACK BEGINS] ─────

Victor: Mr. Yu, the significance school sports day holds in high school activities is quite evident, whether in terms of its overall scale or the level of importance placed on it by both teachers and students.

Victor: And with the level of publicity in an event such as this, it’s without a doubt that it can boost your campus market share, while simultaneously deepening the profile of your company.

Victor: In my opinion, this collaborative effort is one that demands minimal investment but yields rapid returns.

Victor: Please take a look at our proposal, and if you have any questions, we can discuss them right away.

The man in the impeccably dressed suit and shoes in front of me remains completely silent, waiting patiently until I finish speaking. Then he sits up straight on the couch, courteously accepts the folder from me, and places it directly onto the table.

Mr. Yu: Your arguments are very sound, but there’s no need for us to invest in the school.

Victor: Do you have any concerns, or are there any aspects of the proposal that you currently find unsatisfactory?

Mr. Yu: Hahaha, Victor, you seem to have missed the point of what I meant.

Mr. Yu: As a matter of fact, your proposal is already very well-rounded. To be honest with you, among all the proposals I always receive, many from adults don’t even measure up to yours.

Mr. Yu: But you must know that what you’re confronting are people, not only proposals.

Mr. Yu: There’s nothing wrong with being considerate of all aspects, but people are incoercible, let alone businessmen who always prioritize their interests above all else.

───── [FLASHBACK ENDS] ─────

—

Suddenly, something lightly bumps against my feet, snapping me back to reality.

It’s a soccer ball.

??: Sorry——

An unfamiliar voice sounds not far away, and upon lifting my head, I see a group of young boys waving at me, dripping with sweat. I knowingly rise to my feet and lift my leg to kick the ball back to them.

The ball is passed with perfect accuracy to the feet of a young boy not too far away.

??: Thanks, buddy!

Sunlight filters down the gaps between the branches and leaves. I incline my head to gaze at the dappled light spots it creates.

On this day, I’ve come to understand that many things don’t yield results based on the perfection achieved by one individual; there are numerous external factors at play.

And that, one should always be prepared and have a well-rounded plan in place for everything.

–

The highly anticipated Autumn Sports Festival has lifted its curtains on a bright and beautiful morning.

With the piercing sound of the whistle, the friendly soccer match is down to its final five minutes.

Under the scorching sun, the grass field sizzles beneath our feet, and the striking 0:1 on the scoreboard has got everyone in the Section 1 team with their hearts hanging in midair.

However, as if the situation is not already bad enough, more troubles keep coming one after another. Not only are we behind in the score, but our goalkeeper has also been red-carded and sent off the field due to a mistake while charging out.

My gaze shifts from the glaring red card to the referee’s finger–– pointing at the 12-yard mark.

??: You’ve got to be kidding me! A penalty kick at this moment–– they’re giving us the full “red-card” combo! This is ridiculous! Can’t we protest this?

??: Come on, move along. The match is over.

??: It’s really a pity for the Section 1 team. The two teams were neck and neck for so long, and I thought a miracle might really happen.

??: You’re overthinking it. It’s already a miracle that they managed to persist until now. Among those students of Section 9, six of them are sports prodigies, you know.

The ceaseless buzz of murmurs and discussions lingers around me from all directions. Fine beads of sweat cling to my neck in disarray, and I wipe them away in irritation, my toes finding themselves stomping on the ground several times.

The current situation is indeed far from optimistic.

If we bring in a forward as a substitute for the goalkeeper, the odds of winning the game will be completely against us.

Given that nothing can be done about the 10 vs. 11 situation we’re already in, what can we possibly do to level the score?

My brain spins at a lightning pace, and suddenly, a somewhat bold idea springs to mind.

With almost not the slightest hesitation, I raise my hand to draw the referee’s attention, requesting a substitution.

Xiao Luo: ...but you hardly ever took on the role of a goalkeeper in the practice matches we had before, and now to substitute as...

Victor: The key is not just to defend the goalpost.

I interrupt the sports committee representative and earnestly shift my gaze to the coach and the team members on the field.

Victor: Being a midfielder, if I take on the role of the goalkeeper, to some extent, it will create a similar sense of skepticism in the opposing team.

Victor: Now, at this point in the game, it essentially boils down to a competition of stamina.

While speaking, I turn my gaze to the substitutes who are about to replace the wingers on both sides.

Substitute teammate: But doesn’t that mean we’re giving up control of the midfield by doing this?

Victor: You’re right. But without taking risks, there will be no reward.

Victor: My strategy is not something I can accomplish relying on my abilities alone. I need the trust and cooperation of every single one of you.

Victor: I will surely block the penalty kick.

After putting on the protective gloves, I clap my palms together vigorously twice, and in my peripheral vision, I can see the penalty taker also walking to the designated spot.

Drawing a deep breath, I walk to the side of the goalpost, slightly arch my body, and then fix my gaze straight ahead. Inadvertently, I raise my hand and gesture towards the completely unguarded opposite side.

For a moment, it feels as if all the eyes in the entire arena have turned towards me, causing me to fall into a trance and giving me the sensation as though I can hear the sound of time ticking away.

Another whistle blows.

The opponent clearly hesitates for a moment, as if trying to decipher whether my action is intended as a provocation, or it has some other meaning.

But all of that is unimportant at this moment.

He had already lost right at the second he hesitated and did not take a decisive shot.

And that second was all I needed.

──

Xiao Luo: Victor! You’re really something! I can’t believe that pulling off such an unconventional strategy secured us a narrow victory!

Victor: It was merely a draw, nothing more.

Teammate: Well, that still counts as a victory in our book! Let’s go to Lao Beimen’s street stall; I’m treating everyone to soda, ice-cream, and grilled sausages! Victor, you coming with us?

Victor: Sure, let’s go.

Xiao Luo and Teammates: YES!

Watching my fellow teammates, who have shared the sweat and toil, beam with expressions of elation as if they have scored a goal, I find myself smiling along with them.

The afternoon heat is yet to subside, and pedestrians are seeking shelter beneath the shade of the trees as they move forward. Only we continue to walk under the sunlight, chatting and laughing among ourselves as we walk down the footbridge.

The lady working at the newspaper stand places the newly arrived comics in a prominent spot, then sits down in the shaded area, fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan;

The bright and youthful college students walk hand in hand, their phone charms clinking together, producing a crisp sound;

Clad in their uniform, the junior high schoolers sport headphones as they wait for the bus to arrive. Who knows what they’re listening to, whether it’s some English listening exercise or popular music;

The fine beads of sweat glisten with a radiant glow between the young boy’s hairline, while his red sportswear is eye-catching and vibrant, epitomizing the most splendid appearance one can have at his age.

I tighten the cords of my drawstring bag a little and skillfully keep the ball bouncing on my toes, maneuvering around a few bicycles on the lane without any people, and then use a bit of force to toss the ball in the air.

The attempt to catch the ball with my knee isn’t executed perfectly, and the ball slightly slips out of control.

I jog a couple of steps to catch up, throw the ball again, and catch it once more— and like this, I indulge in this self-amusing routine tirelessly.

A light sheen of sweat lightly dampens the ends of my hair. I fling my head back a little and quicken my stride, allowing the gentle breeze to whisk away the residual heat.

Even though it’s merely a school-level sports event, triumph always feels great, especially when your own efforts are so clearly visible.

There are still two more intersections to go before we reach Lao Beimen’s stall. As I watch the several spiritedly hopping figures ahead of me, I decide to bring my own little celebration to an end.

After all, this was merely a school-level soccer match; I couldn’t let satisfaction be so readily apparent on my face.

The soccer ball bounces and produces a firm sound, while the fluttering clothes closely trails its trajectory.

It’s only the sunshine that knows the young boy has been unknowingly sporting a smile at the corners of his lips, unmistakably revealing a look of satisfaction.

────── ••• ─────

💘 【Calls】: Here!

───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

【Anika’s Ramblings】

—

#I AM SO SO SO SO PROUD OF THIS PRECIOUS BOIIIIIII #AND I LOVE THIS SILLY BOI SO FREAKIN' GODDAMN MUCH YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)#mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc #mr love victor #mr love queen's choice #李泽言 #恋与制作人 #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc translations

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