#almost every other party member has a crush on her and we all drink respecting women juice for all meals so it was just.

[silverislander]

so we're playing the high school campaign at dnd tonight and we just recovered this girl's nudes from her shitty ex (read: we broke into his house and stole them back) and

rabbitfolk fighter: we got you your pictures back! neri looked at them to make sure they were yours we are sorry

neri, triton fighter who is aroace and was traumatized: I AM SO SORRY

girl: oh, thanks-

[half the party trying to explain "neri's asexual so don't worry they won't make it weird"]

neri, who has been actively sex/romance repulsed from birth but whose first language is not common: ᶦ ᵃᵐ?

[kovjiro]

Out of My League - an Aran Ojiro x chubby female reader SMAU - College!AU

Synopsis: Commitment can be scary, especially when the only taste of actual commitment has come through your three best friends. An absentee father and cruel classmates can do that to you - no foundational trust in men, only sustained by male counterparts continually making fun of you for your size and weight. You’re ready for change, though, and maybe change will come; as you set out for university in a new city miles away from your horrid adolescence, change is inevitable. A chance at growth, at love, and new adventures await you in this new part of your life but, really, you’d never think to find this all with the upperclassmen you’d deemed out of your league.

Warnings(for this chapter): written chapter, self-deprecating thoughts, underage alcohol consumption, explicit depictions of being drunk, very much angst, reader is big sad (Refer to masterlist for complete list of warnings for this SMAU

Masterlist | Prev. | Chapter Four: friend | Next

“It’s Kiyoko and Yachi, right?” you call out over the heavy base and electronic beats blasting throughout the room.

Earlier that evening you made your way to Aran’s dorm, along with Suna, Osamu, and Atsumu. Upon arriving Aran announced to all of you that a few friends would be coming along, two members of his frat and their first-year friend. Aran had seen the worry on your face, however, and didn’t hesitate to come up to you and reassure you of your worries. “They’ll love you, hun, I promise.”

His words eased your nerves a bit but meeting new people isn’t always a fun experience - there is no telling when someone will judge you because of what they see. They had been nice enough at first meet so now, here at the party a couple of shots in and one drink down, you have the confidence to let loose.

“That’s us,” the tall one with black hair says, who you deduce is Kiyoko. She’s insanely attractive in a mature and sophisticated sense, her aura demanding respect yet offering a sense of comfort as well. Beside her stands a small blonde girl, who you’ve been informed is the first-year friend and her underclassmen from high school. Yachi’s demeanor is completely different from that of Kiyoko, looking almost out of place with her uncapped drink in her hand. Regardless, there is no ignoring how breathtaking they both are in their own right.

“Y/n, yeah?” Kiyoko counters before taking a sip of her drink. “Aran has told me a lot about you.”

“Really?” Don’t get your hopes up, for the love of all things sacred and holy, don’t break your own heart. “All good things I hope.” Kiyoko fervently nods as if to relieve you of any fear, saying, “Aran always speaks highly of his friends back home.”

Oh yeah, friend. It’s not like every time he’s come to your aid, every time he’s offered words of praise or encouragement, every time he’s held you close to his chest with your heart beats seemingly syncing together ever meant anything more to him - you’re just his friend, just like the many other friends he apparently talks so highly of. You’ve known this for years so why does it hurt so much?

Just as you’re about to respond, someone comes bounding up to the three of you. “They’re doing jaegerbombs over at the bar, you girls coming?” Speak of the devil… “C’mon, y/n, i know you can down those like a champ,” Aran pushes, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to his side.

Maybe it’s the atmosphere of the cramped party filled to the brim with sweaty bodies bouncing and yelling, maybe it's the alcohol beginning to get to your head, or maybe it’s both and then some, but Aran’s presence is overwhelming and not in the good way. Where you’d usually feel over the moon to be near him you now find yourself feeling… annoyed? Upset? Absolutely devastated? In reality, though, you brought this on yourself because who could ever like you, the fat friend? Definitely not someone like Aran.

“Yup, that’s right, friend,” you say, mustering as convincing a laugh as you can. Not convincing enough because Aran cautiously chuckles all while squinting questioningly at you. “Yeah… friend.”

An awkward beat passes amongst the four of you but Kiyoko is quick to act, grasping your hand in one of hers and grabbing Yachi with the other. “Let’s get this party rolling, shall we?” she exclaims as she pulls you both to the make-shift bar the frat boys put together. As soon as she’s pulled you out of hearing range, Kiyoko leans closer to ask, “You good?” Her eyes convey just how much she’s gathered - you’re hurting.

What a horrible situation to be in - finding out your long-term crush only thinks of you as a friend in the midst of a night out. How will you get over this hurt, this heartbreak? Probably never. There is no cure for a broken heart.

But wait. There is. And you’re walking towards it right now.

“I will be,” you conclude.

In no time you’re standing in between Kiyoko and Yachi at the bar and what happens after is too much of a blur to make out. The first shot the three of you take together, the mixture of liquor and redbull hitting you in an instant. Your mind is running a mile a minute but it seems to be working - you’re numb. And so you have another, whatever it takes to forget why you were so upset a few moments ago. Two quickly becomes three, the same way three eventually becomes four then five then six.

In the haze that comes with being drunk you live the next moments oblivious to your surroundings. You miss when the twins and Suna join you guys right after Aran, you miss when Aran’s frat brother Sugawara appears and takes a shot with all of you, you miss - or perhaps ignore - when Osamu tells you to chill on the drinking. “You trying to die or something?” is what he says verbatim but his words don’t register in your imbibed brain.

What you don’t miss is Aran talking to a girl at the end of the bar and suddenly everything hits you tenfold - the hurt, the ache, the alcohol. Maybe if you weren’t so inebriated you would have noticed that he was only trying to help her out - apparently you aren’t the only person drunk off their ass at this party, who would have thought? All your mind can comprehend is that Aran is talking to someone other than you, a harsh reminder that you are - and probably always will be - the ‘friend.’

He comes to you then, speaking words you understand yet cannot comprehend, head spinning and vision blurring - maybe you should have listened to Osamu. He leaves you there at the bar and it crushes your heart all over again - didn’t he promise to be there for you? The alcohol has complete control of your body as you take a step in his direction but it’s as if the ground has moved out from underneath you. Two people are quick to your sides though and manage to keep you from hitting the ground. Who is that?

“Samu? Suna?” you manage to gurgle out, tongue feeling heavy and lips completely senseless. “No, honey, it’s Kiyoko and Suga. I think you’ve had enough for tonight, think it’s time to head home. Can you tell me where your dorm is?”

You know what she’s saying but your thoughts are jumbled, your dorm be damned. Where’s Aran? “I-I need to go- go see him,” you blurt out as you attempt to get out of their hold. You lose your balance as you take a step forward but they’re there to keep you from collapsing. They begin to drag you along to who-knows-where and you have no choice but to let yourself be carried, mumbling about how you need to see him and it hurts. It has to be the alcohol that’s making you spew nonsense, more so when you start crying because how could he only think of you as a friend, just a friend? Had it all meant nothing to him? Maybe you just misread everything, but you had been sure there was something there.

Or you’re the one in the wrong this time around, obviously, to even begin thinking Aran would be different. Every person you meet is unable to get past what’s on the exterior so why would this be any different? The idea of Aran reciprocating such feelings is an act of projection, simply put.

Your mind is a dark and negative spiral of harmful thoughts, reminding you of all that you’re not and why that is just not enough for Aran - for anyone, even. Yachi attempts to console you as Kiyoko and Suga place you on your bed? No, definitely not your bed. You may be wasted out of your mind but you’re cognizant to your surroundings that are in no way familiar at the moment. The three of them are able to reduce you from loud cries to soft whimpers in some time and eventually you’re all off to bed but you know deep inside of you everything will be different come tomorrow. How long would you continue being alright with being just a friend?

Credits:

raise your hand if you, too, have drunk your feelings and ended up crying

you've always held on to the hope that aran liked you too

he had always treated you differently than other guys

kiyoko, suga, and yachi>>>

taglist: OPEN! send an ask to be added :) AGE IN BIO PLZ

@szeonn @thatnikkixx @slutkags @roselleviennesstuff @bookiedoll @kris-1 @lucacangettathisass @serostapesweat @kiyokoism @ctrlaprilx @fantasycantasy

a/n: LONG overdue but here it is! i'm finally all moved in and got my wifi setup so ta-da :) i should go back to updating daily like i had been. i'm excited, it's about to get good >:) let me know your thoughts so far!!

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 7)

Chapter Summary: How you and Bucky feel about the presence of your ex-boyfriend.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings:+18 only, mention to smut, overdrinking, embarrassing behavior due alcohol consumption, Natasha knows stuff, ex-boyfriend, minor jealousy, minor angst, floof, Bucky has a somewhat creep confession, but give him a break, he’s never been in love.

A/N: Another smutless one, I hope you don’t mind. Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.  

Previously:

Your shoulder brushes against him as you walk past Bucky and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.  

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse makes him turn to her and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to see on her face.

“What?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in an estate of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried with the wrong person.”

No point. Bucky sees absolutely no point in trying to make it like there isn’t  turmoil twisting inside of him. Not for Natasha, anyway, it would be to no avail. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s a kicked puppy look on his face to make it harder for him to put on any kind of façade.

“Fuck,” he sighs and run his hand harshly over his face, “What the hell is this, Natasha?” He whines, failing at trying to not sound as helpless as he does.

“You tell me, buddy.” She points at him with her glass of vodka, tilting her head with interest.

“Shit,” he exhales, looking down, before his face snaps up at her, “I’m … just weird, I’m not myself these days.” Bucky bites his lower lip as if trying to somehow refrain from spilling the words, but he just can’t, he’s dying to let it all out. He steps closer to her and lowers his voice as much as he can with the loud music beating around them, “I’ve spent almost every day of the last month with her. I have absolutely no desire to see or think of another woman and I have to restrain myself constantly, cause if I had it my way I would call her every five minutes to check in on her, and… and when I’m thinking about her - which is all the time, I fucking swear - I wonder if she’s thinking of me, and now? I mean, right now? I feel like snatching the blade right now on my ankle and shooting it right on that fella’s throat.” Finally taking a breath after his rambling, he points in your direction, before turning to see you right when you’re letting out a small laugh at something the punk has said.

“Wow…” Natasha lets out a whistle.

“A few days ago,” he turns back to his friend, “I snuck into her closet to find out the name of her perfume. And you know what I did next?  I bought a large bottle for myself, like a fucking creep,” sheer frustration plasters on his tone.     

“Oh my…,” Natasha snorts at the same time a mix of incredulity and amusement shines on her eyes, “That’s definitely creepy and it’s even worse than I imagined. The almighty Bucky Barnes, the I’m a whore and proud,” she thickens her voice playfully, moving her arms in a mimicking way, “The I don’t do romance and attachments king is a tiny lost puppy with big blue heart eyes, aww,” she inclines her head as if she’s thinking of him as exactly how she’s just described him.

Bucky tries but he can’t actually find the amusement in all of that. The fact one single woman is making him feel that way is entirely new, unpredictable and… scary as hell. He has no clue where to go from there.

Natasha seems to swiftly catch on his little inner self torment and, after letting out a deep sigh, she puts on a small smile and shakes her head, “Don’t worry Bucky, it’s probably a crush. A big one. But only a crush,” she places her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze, “Y/n is one of my best friends and I know how delightful it is to be beside her. Maybe you’re just infatuated…”

“Maybe…” he exhales and shrugs, “I wouldn’t know… all I know is I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not that I remember…. but I’m pretty sure I would.” He looks at you again while you’re still talking to the Eddie guy.  

“They have history,” Natasha says in a kind voice, following your gaze.

“I know.”

“He was her first and only boyfriend.”

“I know.”

“She thought she was going to marry him.”

“Damn Nat…” he breathes out his frustration, dropping his head for a moment, before raising his downcast gaze at her again, “Yeah, I know that, too.”

“But you’re Bucky fucking Barnes,” she snaps in a more cheerful voice shaking his arm with a enthusiastic force, “Don’t forget that, buddy,” she shoots him a warning glare, “Also, I’ve never seen a brighter smile on that woman than when she’s talking about you,” she beams.   

Bucky’s heart jumps and a quick breathy smile surges on his lips before he takes in a shuddering breath, “I’m not sure what I should do, though.”

“Well, figure it out,” she lets go of his arm and taps on it, “My advice for the night if you should accept it is let it flow,” she shrugs. “Go on with your thing and see what happens. Just try not to hurt you or her on your way, though,” Nat warns.

“I’m not even sure I-Wait,” he frowns after his gaze is drawn to the spot where you are again, “Did that fucker just leave her alone?”

He instantly struts towards you, ignoring Nat’s snicker.

~~~

“Hey,” you smile, gulping down the nervousness down your throat as you approach your ex-boyfriend. The one you haven’t seen ever since he broke up with you months ago.

“Hey,” he offers you a tight but kind smile back.

You halt on your way, the awkwardness building up a barrier on your way as you’re not sure what to do next. Should you give him your hand to shake? Hug him? Do nothing at all? Not once before you had thought that moment would play out between you and Eddie.

But he seems a bit more resolved than you and shrugs, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Congratulations again,” he says, still holding you, “You’re the best and most hard working person I know, you deserve it.”

The small smile in your lips grows wider and you accept the compliment, relieved that the awkwardness seems to be tamed. While you’re so close to him after all that time, you notice he’s wearing the same perfume he’s been wearing for years, the one which would make you sneeze all the time, but you never really said anything.

“Thank you,” you lean back, sniffing discreetly to suppress the sneeze threatening to come out, “I’m happy you could make it,” you add. The fact he’s arrived all by himself grasps your interest, considering how everyone around you would tell you he was probably seeing someone else… however, if he did have someone, he wouldn’t bring them to your party, would he?

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he says with a gentle tone, but the formality is still there, you notice.  

You two engage in some small conversation and you can’t help but to take him in and realize that, just like the perfume, Eddie looks exactly the same with everything else. The same hairstyle, same grey t-shirt you gifted him on your last Christmas together, the same constant half smile while he talks… he still speaks quietly, letting out just a few small words, which has always forced you to be the one to push on the conversations…

It’s… familiar… even comfortable, you dare say. But if you’re going to be honest with your own feelings, ever since he walked away, you thought you would be yearning to feel that familiarity again, that it would lead you to a sense of… home.

Why it isn’t quite like that, though?

“You look different,” he says as the subjects of small talk seem to come to an ending point.  

You put your previous thoughts aside for later consideration.

“Oh…Different good or bad?” you ask, tilting your head with a small pull in the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know... just…different, I guess,” he frowns and quickly puts on that half smile of his.

“Oh, well… it’s been a while…“

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he says, regarding you with a wondering look in his eyes that makes you shift on your knees, “Listen,” he clears his throat, “I was wondering if we could meet to talk one of these days.”

“Oh,” you draw in a breath. Talking to him, having a real conversation, is something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time. It still feels like you don’t fully understand why you’re broken-up. Regardless the time it’s passed, you still feel attached to him somehow, like, no matter how exciting and new, you’re now living someone else’s life and not the one you had planned for you years ago.

“I mean,” he adds before you can give him a proper answer, “We still need to figure out what to do about the condo.”

The words are like cold water thrown at your face. There you are, thinking he wanted to talk about your relationship, but what’s really on his mind is the condo you’ve bought together. Swiftly, you work on putting a small smile on your face, “Yeah… sure, you’re right,” you nod.

“Hey! Eddie!”

Both of you look towards the female voice and your eyes fall upon a beautiful young woman you recognize as one of the members of SHIELD’s tech team. You’ve worked with her on a joined project of the two organizations before. Chloe… you believe her name is Chloe.

She’s waving at Eddie excitedly, calling him over the little group she’s with. She doesn’t seem to notice you’re standing next to him until her gaze meets yours. The wide grin on her face drops into a quick cringe before she nods in a respectful manner and shifts her look away, whispering something at one of the guys in the group.

When you set your attention back on Eddie, you tighten your lips just as you notice how the bone on his throat bobs right before his flustered eyes meet yours again.

“I-I, ahm, gotta go,” he runs his hand on the nape of his neck, “Can I call you later?”

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice comes out calm and controlled.

“It was good to see you,” he says, before placing his hand on your shoulder, “Congratulations again.”

After you give him a small nod as a thank you, keeping the tight smile on your face matching his, he walks away towards the group and the woman. The one your friends kept warning you about, apparently, given how uncomfortable he seemed to be in front of you after you saw her. As soon as he gets there, you see the two of them talking in hushed words. He keeps a safe distance from her, but his hand on her arm is where your gaze sticks on. 

You don’t have the slightest idea of what’s happening with your feelings right now. Minutes ago you were realizing the familiarity of Eddie wasn’t what you expected it to be anymore, but now, seeing him so close to someone else… a beautiful woman, to be more specific, with her long black straightened hair and fancy blue dress holding each one of her beautiful curves…It just crushes you.  A lump grows in your throat and while your gaze flicks around, you feel small… lost… picturing ways you could flee away from your own party at the same time ten years of your life flash in your mind.

The cold, yet gentle touch of metal in your elbow is what takes you out of your own head, “Hey, everything alright?” says the silky and soothing voice.

Your gaze meets Bucky’s while he stares at you with concerned eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his…There’s already a bit less  turbulence inside your chest and mind. You think nothing of it, though.

“Yeah, yeah…” you smile, “He, ahm… Some friends called him. He had to go.”

Bucky just lets out a hum – which sounds more like a groan – staring over your shoulder to where the little group stands.

“He said he wants to talk…“ you start, and don’t see when Bucky’s breath hatches catches on his throat, his eyes back on you, “About the condo,” you press your lips, “He said he’ll call me.”

While your gaze gets lost ahead, you have no idea that the sadness in them pinches deep inside Bucky’s chest. If you could read Bucky’s mind at that moment, you would find out that the fact your reencounter with your ex-boyfriend hadn’t ended up in some sort of hope for reconciliation hasn’t left him sad at all, but the lost look in your eyes… makes him wanna hold you in his arms and never let go. Not before punching a douche in the face, of course.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” he wraps his arm around your shoulder, side hugging and pulling you closer to him, “You’re the fucking boss now and, look around, ” he gestures with his glass of whiskey to the crowded and jazzing place, ”You have a damn Stark party just for you. We’re all here to celebrate the badass motherfucker you are. You’re not just going to let anything ruin your night, will you?” The corner of his eyes crinkle as he grins at you.

You let out a small laugh, the heaviness inside you slowly slipping out of your body as you allow yourself to synchronize with Bucky’s vibe. You can always trust  the upbeat way he presents the world to you to lift whatever mood of yours up.  You look down at your empty glass and shrugs, “I might need a refill, though…or two,” you shoot him a warning look.  

Bucky’s smile stretches even wider and he lets go of your shoulders to offer his arm, nodding towards the bar, “Shall we?”

You gladly accept his suggestion by wrapping your hand around his elbow and walking with him, not even noticing that Eddie’s gaze follows you with piqued interest.

~~~

Quite a few more drinks later and after listening to Tony’s very nice and very Tony speech on his toast to honor you, you’re already fully invested in your party again. Bucky stays by your side most of the time, but you also come across with a lot of your friends from work and a few others, who are all more than happy to put you high on a pedestal for your promotion and party with you. It stings a bit when Camilla, your friend from work, tells you she heard Eddie and Chole are really together, but two or three more drinks after, you end up hitting the dance floor with a few friends by your side, not even seeing when Eddie leaves the party early, right before Chloe.

You’re happy to see that Amanda, one of Bucky’s friends you met that night in the club, has made it to the party, but you’re already too tipsy and it slips from your attention when she comments on how Bucky has been quite distant from her and the other girls for almost a month now.

If you’re going to be honest, you end up not truly noticing a lot of stuff since you’ve been drinking a great deal more than you’re used to, probably due the drill of having a kickass party thrown for you mixed with the unexpected sight of Eddie with a potential new girl - after months without seeing him. As the alcohol does its thing in your senses, you don’t notice the way Bucky looks at you, the way he holds you a little bit stronger when you’re dancing together, how he glares at the guys who tries to approach you or the fact he only leaves your side when he knows you’re comfortable and safe.

All you see and feel now is the music and the lights as you sway your hips to the beats. The party is almost coming to an end, but there’s still a small crowd of people enjoying their last moments there. The alcohol, the music and your friends, more precisely Camilla, Olivia, Amanda and Nat – the last two in the middle of a flirting contest you fail to notice, as well – are the ones around you. The buzz clouds your mind in a delicious way until your back bumps into a hard wall. Your weakened knees give in but before you hit the floor the wall wraps around you and holds you still.

Oh, you know that hard wall of muscles… You know it pretty well.

“Hey, there.” A foolish smile plasters on your lips at the same time the back of your head leans against the wall so you can see his face. His gorgeous and ungodly sexy face, “Your face is sexy,” you decide it is a very good idea to tell him that now.

“That right?” Bucky smirks, holding your gaze.

“Oh, yeah,” you clumsily turn around to face him, prompting him to grab you tighter since you stumble a bit on your toes. You curl the hand holding your glass around his neck, “And you’re big, too,” you don’t even notice but you’re a slurring mess as you speak and look to see your running hand down his broad chest, roughly probing his muscles, “Very, very big,” you exaggerate a sultry tone, the alcohol erasing any kind of subtleness or refinement in you or the notion that there are people around you, while your hand explores further down his body to say it’s not just about his muscles you’re talking about.

“Sweetheart.” Not making a big fuss about it, he gently grabs your wrist over his lower stomach to place it around his neck along with the other one, ”I’m very flattered to hear that, you’re one very nice piece of ass yourself, too,” he engages with you, keeping the playful tone.

You let out a girlish giggle, turning your face towards your friends, the trio now whispering and laughing among themselves as they watch the both of you, “He said I have a nice ass,” you shout, not realizing how loud you actually are as you lift and shake your hips, making your friends laugh harder and causing you to trip on your toes once again. But of course Bucky catches you before you fall.

“How many drinks, so far, huh?” Bucky chuckles, keeping the hold of his arms and eyes on you.

“Three or four,” you answer with nonchalance, bringing the glass to your lips as you hold yourself on his neck, only to pout when you notice it’s empty.

Your friends scoff at your lie behind you, “You can add at least ten more to that count, sweetheart,” Natasha shouts from behind you, punctuating the word sweetheart with a teasing pull on her mouth. 

You make a dismissive face only Bucky can see, “Nonsense, check out what I can do,“ You step back from Bucky with the intention to put on a yoga pose you’re sure will convince your friends of how ok and steady you are and as soon as you lift your leg, you trip again and this time Bucky is not fast enough to catch you before your ass hit the floor.

The four of them rush to help you out as tears fall down from your eyes at how much you’re laughing, holding your glass up. It’s Bucky who ends up picking you up, though.

He and your friends shower you with questions to check if you’re ok but it all falls like a blur sound to your years.

“Ok, I guess it was a bit more than three or five,” ignoring the curious eyes around your group, you laugh making an ok sign with your hands before your stomach churns and you grimace, placing your hand over it, “Oh…” your face drops.

 “Alright, come one, let’s go,” Bucky supports you with his hands and urges you to walk with him.

“Where are you taking me?” You frown, sounding almost offended as he takes your glass from you and hands it to Natasha, gently pulling you along.

“My place… let’s freshen up, come on,” Bucky patiently says, nodding at the girls to say goodbye, who just nod back, knowing you would be in good hands.  

“Ooooo, bye girls, we’re going to his place to freshen up,” you wink exaggeratedly and make air quotations with your fingers, addressing your friends as you clumsily walk away with Bucky.

~~~

“Bridal style,” you loudly announce stretching your hands and legs to the air as soon as he steps inside his living room with you in his arms.

Bucky can’t help but laugh as a snorting giggle follows your words. If he had his way he would’ve carried you from the party, but he didn’t want to attract even more attention to your state. So, on the second trip on your own feet inside the elevator he picked you up. It would be easier that way.

Bucky carefully puts you standing on the floor and, as soon as he’s convinced you can stand on your feet without stumbling or falling, he turns to shut the door, only to have you jumping on him as soon as he faces you.

“Hey, hey,” he manages to say softly, placing his hands on your hips as you shower his mouth and face with sloppy kisses which taste strongly like fancy champagne.

“What? Let’s freshen up,” you answer in a log slur, dragging your lips on anything of him you can reach.

Bucky laughs, pushing you away with a gentle yet steady touch, looking deep into your eyes, “That’s not what I meant… not when you had so much to drink, sweetheart.” He flicks his thumb on your chin.

It takes a moment or two, but realization – and disappointment- finally dawns on your face, “Oh… you meant freshen up for real…” You shut your eyes and tap your hand on your forehead.

Bucky thinks you’re too damn cute for your own good.

You focus on him again, “Are you sure, though?” You insist, shoving a finger in your mouth and tilting your hips, putting on before him the unsexist pose Bucky has ever seen.

Yet, it’s the most adorable thing and his annoying heart swells inside his chest for you as you keep your attempts of seducing him, “Yeah, I’m sure,” he nods unrelentingly, holding back a laugh and waiting to see the follow up of your shenanigans.

“But I’m horny and I wanted to suck your big dick,” you pout, crossing your arms and thumping your foot against the floor.

Bucky takes in a deep breath. He is only human and can’t help that his poor cock twitches at your bratty whine. But your glossy half open eyes and dragged voice reminds him he’s the only one sober enough to make decisions in the room and therefore, his buddy down there needs to chill, “I’ll be more than happy to allow you to do so,” he’s amused when your face light up, “But not tonight, sweetheart,” he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you towards the kitchen, not without spotting the dirty look you give him.

“You’re no fun,” you complain, barely able to put one foot in front of the other before you stop and swirl around, trusting on his strong hold to not let you fall wearing a devilish little smirk on your face.  

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, waiting for whatever mischievous pearl will come out of your lips now.

“What if…” you start before a hiccup interrupts you, “I show you my boobies?” You offer, leaning over and pressing your breasts together through your dress, “You looove my boobies,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively even if your eyelids can’t even remain wide open.

“I do love your boobies,” Bucky can’t deny, not hiding his amusement.  

Apparently, that’s all you need to hear before you throw yourself on him again. Bucky swiftly catches you with a huff, but you can’t do much more than circle your arms around his neck and rest your head on him.

“Love your muscles,” you mumble quietly against him, “There are so many of them.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bucky tries, “As much as I love your boobies and you love my muscles, now it’s not the time. Now it’s time to get you some water, maybe a sandwich, huh? Then I can prepare you a shower and you can rest a bit and… Y/N?” Bucky calls when you’re too quiet- not even making a sex innuendo when he mentions a shower.

He listens a not so soft snore as a response and looks down to see you completely dozed, with your mouth agape against his chest. He sighs… still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, goddammit.

“Guess we can skip right to the resting, then,” he whispers through a fond smile.

Taking you in his arms he walks towards his bedroom and places you on his bed. You only stir a bit when he gently removes your shimmery and apparently uncomfortable dress and unties your heels. He dresses you in a t-shirt of his so you can rest comfortably. He manages to make you drink a little bit of water, to which you whine graciously enough, and, after covering you with a thin blanket – because he knows you’re never really that cold at night, no matter the temperature in the room –  he moves to get up and maybe take a shower for himself.

“Bucky,” you mumble and, without opening your eyes, you move yourself to nuzzle against his metal hand sprawled on the mattress, “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

Bucky is absolutely sure you have no idea of what that question really means to him, how it falls upon the rising tangle of feelings inside him… which is all for you. Wonderful and beautiful and special you, who came unannounced and stirred up something in him he never thought possible. Something he just doesn’t know what to do with.

Moving meticulously slowly not to pull his hand and wake you up again now that you’re deep back into slumber, he lays down beside you. For your question… he doesn’t say anything. Simply because he doesn’t know the right answer yet.

~~~

To be continued. 

[petri808]

I1+Nalu Only one bed @thegalilea3 request

The wedding of Laxus and Mirajane Dreyar was a cozy affair attended by only close family and friends. Neither had really wanted a lavish event, so a simple morning ceremony and luncheon in a beautiful garden was perfect. The bride and groom instead funneled the majority of their budget into food, drinks, and overnight lodging for the guests at a small nearby hotel. Lucy Heartfilia was happy to see her friend finally married and settled because Mira deserved it.

Though there was one odd thing about the luncheon— assigned seating. With only 21 people including the bride and groom, it seemed unnecessary. Plus, everyone except Lucy and one other person were a couple anyways. Maybe it was to ensure everyone was accounted for, only Mira knew. As it was, it also meant Lucy was sat next to the only other single... Natsu Dragneel. It was a bit weird, but not a big deal. Natsu was her close friend after all.

The day was perfect in every regard. Clear skies, light breeze with warm sunshine, great food, and jovial company. It was a nice reprieve from Lucy’s job in the city. She missed spending time with her friends, especially Natsu and this provided a perfect couple of days to relax in the countryside. They were best friends, her unrequited high school crush until adulthood sent them onto different paths. University, then careers. The pair stayed in touch as often as possible, but both were busy in their endeavors.

“How has it been at the magazine,” Natsu questioned Lucy. “I see you’ve made it to junior editor.”

“Oh,” she laughed, “yeah, but it’s still a glorified title. I’m really just my bosses assistant.”

“It’s still a big step,” he smiled back.

“What about you?”

“They’re sending me to EMT training next month. So, I’ll be a specialized firefighter.”

“That sounds exciting.”

“I guess,” Natsu shrugged, “I prefer the action.”

Lucy chuckled, eyes crinkling in a smile, “same ‘ole Natsu.”

“Hey you two,” Mirajane waved as she walked over. “How is everything?”

“Hi Mira! Everything is perfect, you did a fantastic job planning it.”

“Aww, thanks Lucy.”

“I was surprised that Laxus finally caved.”

Lucy slapped Natsu’s chest for the comment, but if only made Mira laugh.

“I threatened to leave if he didn’t just get this over with. Anyway, the reason I came over is I just received a call from the hotel and it seems they made a mistake in my booking. Instead of 11 rooms, they only booked 10. Unfortunately... they’re also full.”

“So, what does that mean?” Natsu questioned the woman.

“Well, as singles I had booked you guys your own rooms, because the couples have theirs, which means one of you now doesn’t have one.”

“Oh. It’s okay Mira, I can try and find a room elsewhere for the night,” Lucy chimed in. “Don’t worry about it, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Why don’t we just share it?” Natsu then suggests to Lucy. “When we check in, we’ll just ask for a room with two beds.”

“Are you sure,” both Lucy and Mira questioned at the same time.

“Why not? I mean, I don’t mind.”

“Lucy would you be okay with that?” Mira questioned her friend. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Lucy looked at Natsu, then back to Mira. “I’ll be okay. I mean, he’s not a stranger to me.” She laughed although inside she was a bit nervous about sharing a room with him.

“I won’t bite,” Natsu put his hands up in defense. “I swear.”

“Weirdo!” Lucy laughed.

Mira laughed as well. “Great! I’ll let the hotel know the room will be a double occupancy. You guys enjoy the rest of party. Check in is anytime after 4pm.”

“Thanks Mira. And congratulations again!”

Everything will be fine, Lucy assured herself. It’s just Natsu. She knows Natsu. He’s harmless. Spending one night alone together won’t kill her. Just think of it as more time to catch up. Maybe find out why he’s still single. ‘Stop that!’ Lucy chided her mind. She is not asking him that kind of question! Even though she is curious... more so now after having spent the last 4 hours being reminded of what a great guy he was. All the reason she’d crushed on him, his warmth, oof, his smile...

“Wait what?!” Lucy shrieked at the hotel receptionist. “There’s no rooms with two beds?”

“I’m very sorry ma’am, but we only have a few of those and they’re all taken already.”

“What about a roll-away?”

Again the woman shook her head. “We’re just a small country inn. We don’t have those.”

“Oh... my god...” Lucy breathed out. She’d have to share a bed with Natsu?!

Speaking of the man, at that moment, he gently coaxed Lucy away from the receptionist. “We’ll make it work, don’t worry, she’ll be fine,” he assured the woman. “Just give us the keys and we’ll be on our way.”

Once inside of the hotel room, Lucy surveyed their predicament. It was a king sized bed. Great, at least it provided a decent amount of space between them, and it was a very nice room... a bit too nice compared to a standard hotel room. Strange, but maybe it was the only option left because of the full capacity. Well, guess it wasn’t such a bad thing. She could think of it as a sleepover, like the kind they would have when they were teenagers.

The first thing Lucy did was change out of her formal party attire into something comfortable. When she exited the bathroom, Natsu was lounging on the bed, looking through the pamphlets the hotel left on the nightstand.

“What’re you reading?” She questioned him.

“It’s a pretty small hotel, no services, but they do have a restaurant open for lunch and dinner... oh and a pool.”

Lucy hadn’t brought a swim suit, so the pool was out of the question. “What time is the restaurant open till?”

“Um... 9pm.”

“Good. I’m not hungry yet, but in a couple of hours I will be.”

For the rest of the evening Natsu was weirdly quiet. He talked as needed, but it almost felt to Lucy as if he was trying to avoid something. Or maybe it was all in her head. Maybe Natsu was just as nervous as she was about arraignment and was doing his best not to make it uncomfortable. Their conversations were pleasant enough, catching up on their lives, their families, any new interests they may have developed. They’d become functional members of the community in careers they enjoyed. For all intents and purposes, their lives were normal, happy on the surface.

Around 11pm the pair agreed it was time to get some shut eye. It had been a long and contented day, but tomorrow they’d return to their own lives. They chose their respective sides, turning off the light and settled into bed facing away from each other.

As Lucy lay there, she reflected on how things had turned out and of their day. The thoughts in her mind loud against the silence of the darkened room. It felt weird, knowing Natsu lay less then two feet away. Or maybe it was simply weird sleeping in a bed with another person. It had been a couple years since her last failed relationship, so she wasn’t used to this feeling anymore. She didn’t know how many minutes had passed by when she’d heard Natsu shift in the bed and his voice, soft and hesitant cut through the inky blackness.

“Do you ever think about... us Lucy?”

What does he mean? “Us?” She parroted.

“I do sometimes,” Natsu continued. “I think about, what our lives would be like if I’d grown some balls and asked you out years ago... where would we be today?”

Lucy’s breathing slowed as she processed his words. Had she thought of it? Moisture slowly filled her eyes. Yes— yes she had, many, many times over the years. Every time a relationship failed, she thought about it. But she never blamed him because she was just as guilty for not saying something sooner. Yet here he was posing such a question.

Her eyes closed as she spoke. “What are you trying to say Natsu?” She felt him turn over and shift again, then a hand pulling, coaxing her to face him. Once she’d switched sides, Lucy could see his shadowed face, oozing with regret.

“I’m saying...” Natsu reached out and took her hand. “I wish we were an us. I’m saying I want to lay like this every night next to you, to wake up beside you, come home to you. Im saying... I don’t want this to end.”

Lucy squeezed his hand back. “Idiot!” Tears prickling the corners of her eyes. “Why didn’t you say something sooner!”

“I was afraid! Okay?! I thought you deserved better than me and I’d just hold you back!”

“Better?! It was always better together! All these years I’d been lonely and miserable cause no one could replace you!”

“I’m sorry!!”

A few seconds after the last words are screamed, laughter broke out from the two. Unrefined laughter at their own stupidity. They’d both been pining all these years and it took being stuck in a room together for it all to come crashing out.

“Natsu...” Lucy squeezed his hand again, “I’d really love to be an us too.”

He reached over and caressed her face. “I’ve always loved you Lucy, and I wanna make up for all the years we lost. But I have a confession to make.”

Oh, god what the hell now?! “What are you, actually married? No, divorced? Secret kids?! What?!” Lucy trembled as her euphoria threatened to crash down again.

Natsu scratched the back of his head nervously. “No! Nothing like that. The hotel didn’t make a mistake. Mira and I set this up so I could confess. I’d planned to do it earlier but couldn’t work up the nerve until I realized I was running out of time again...”

“Ohhh! Is that it?!” Lucy’s head lolled as she groaned. “You damn goof! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Im sorry!” He chuckled. “I just didn’t want you to find out later. And don’t blame Mira, it was my idea. I’ll make it all up, I promise. I’ll make you forget about those years of loneliness. I’m gonna make you so happy you—”

Lucy sighed. “Natsu?”

“Huh, yeah?”

“Just shut up and kiss me already.”

[4birds-of-a-feather]

Chapter 27 - Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight (when it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night) [part 5]

Birds Of a Feather

A bit late because we wanted to update on occasion of Jeff Ament’s birthday but it’s the thought that counts, right? ✨ Hope you’re gonna enjoy this, thanks for your patience!

(In the previous chapters: after Mike has made her reason, Layla has decided to finally do something about her crush on Eddie; Sara has been enjoying Demri’s company but her mood has been ruined by finding Jeff with another girl in what’s been her room for the last weeks; Stone has witnessed the entire scene and, after some failed attempts by Layla, is resolute to make Sara come out from the bathroom where she has locked herself up)

“There you are!” Eddie came up behind Layla’s back as she was chatting with a guy and a girl who told her they were going to be part of the band’s crew during their first actual tour. She had known for a while that the guys were about to leave to play some gigs outside Seattle but somehow she kept thinking about it as something happening in a much more distant future. Talking with the crew members she realized they were going to go to Canada in a little more than a week and, in less than a month, they’d be off to California. She was thinking about Eddie and the fact she’d be missing him and also that she and Sara would probably be back to their own apartment soon. When she heard him call her she got startled because it was like her thoughts materialized right there beside her. She turned around and saw him standing there, holding two glasses of what looked like red wine, lips curled up in a kind of goofy smile “Did I scare you?” “Hehe no, I just didn’t hear you coming” she awkwardly replied and took one of the glasses from his hands. <It’s a party, it’s loud, you’re not supposed to hear anything, you didn’t need to point that out> “Wine! Good idea! Hey Smitty, let’s go get some for the midnight toast as well” the girl told her friend as they exchanged an obvious look. “I’ve been doing toasts with Cready the whole evening, I can’t miss the big one. By the way, where is he?” “No idea, let’s go find him” she dragged him out of the way and left Eddie and Layla alone. “So…” Layla smiled at him and started to talk but didn’t know how to continue and hoped he would say something to fill the however pleasurable silence. “So… what about Sara? Where is she?” Eddie thought that if Layla wasn’t right outside that door anymore then things must have been settled. “Oh. She’s still in there, with Stone. He’s trying to talk her into starting the new year in a room that’s not the bathroom” she shrugged and took a sip. “Stone? And why did you leave it to Stone to solve the mystery?” the singer asked suspiciously, since he knew the two girls were inseparable and Layla sounded weirdly annoyed all of a sudden. For a fleeting moment he thought she could be jealous but immediately laughed at the idea. “He confessed he was the one who made her upset” “It’s Stone’s fault then? It’s always Stone’s fault”  “He told her Scorsese is overrated and you know she’s a little touchy on the movie department” “Ouch! Yeah, hehe, I guessed. So, she likes Coppola and Scorsese too” Eddie tilted his head like he was assigning new interesting information to his memory and drank some wine while the girl stopped right before drinking. “How do you know she likes Coppola?”  “Oh well, ehm, because… because she said it. Not like she told me directly but I think I heard her mentioning him a couple of times”  “I see…” “IT’S ALMOST MIDNIGHT, YOU FUCKERS! GO AND GET YOURSELF SOMEONE AND CHOOSE CAREFULLY WHO YOU WANT TO ENTER THE NEW YEAR WITH!” Cornell turned down the music for a second to yell his announcement, then turned it up straight away. Eddie and Layla turned their heads to watch Chris just like everybody else in the room and, when the music was back on and their eyes met, the awkward silence was back on. “Err, any particular New Year’s Eve’s tradition in France?” Eddie mentally kicked himself as he spoke.  <What the fuck did I just say??> “Oh, well, yeah, there are many traditions for nouvel an” she answered, taken aback by the question. “I’m all ears”  “Well, people usually go to the réveillon, that is the New Year’s Eve party, all dressed up for the special occasion” “And I see you respected the tradition perfectly” the guy was feeling he was making a fool of himself with Layla but couldn’t help it. “Thanks. Mmm and well, to ring in 1991 the French way the wine in our glasses should be sparkly but I prefer red so I can make an exception” “I prefer red too” Eddie was thinking less about the wine he was drinking and more about the color of Layla’s top.  “And, you know, at the stroke of midnight… everybody wish each other a happy new year and kiss” “Lovers kissing at midnight is a tradition that goes beyond borders, I guess” he watched as couples were starting to appear all around them and felt the urge to drink a little more. “But it’s not about lovers only, everybody kisses everybody”  “WHA-” “... On the cheeks” “Ah!” “Hehe, lovers usually s’embrassent sous le gui” Layla added giggling at Eddie’s funny face. “That is…? They kiss… like idiots?” “They kiss under the mistletoe” she explained. “Isn’t that on Christmas?” “In France it’s a New Year’s Eve thing” she drank up what was left of her glass of wine and realized she hadn’t thought about putting any mistletoe branch in the apartment.  <It wouldn’t have made any difference but…> “No mistletoe here though” Eddie said, almost mirroring her thoughts. “And no lovers either. At least, on my part” she sighed as she scanned the living room and noticed people already kissing without the need to wait for midnight or to have mistletoe hanging over their heads. “Same for me” their eyes met again and totally unexpectedly they both burst out laughing at the same time. “We’re such losers” Layla stated as she was catching her breath. “We can always enter the new year kissing each other’s cheek like the losers we are” “Agreed!” Layla and Eddie shook hands “But being losers, we also need more wine to enter 1991 properly” “Your wish is my command, Miss Boulais” he offered her his arm and she gladly took it as they made their way together to the drinks table.

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“You’ve been too harsh with Mike, Gossrad… I would have suggested my ex-apartment but the plumbing is fucked up, just like the electrical system and everything else” “No worries, I’m sure he has already charmed one of your neighbors – it’s a quality I envy him, to be honest” the guitarist sighed “C’mon, Sara, let me in” “I wanna be alone, is that such a hard concept to grasp? I hate New Year’s Eve, this is my normal mood for this day” “But you were totally fine before… has something happened to you?” “Well, I’m a great actress whose strongest suit is feigning happiness… now, seriously, nothing has happened: you must leave me alone, please”  He couldn’t see her but the way she had just said that last word struck something within him. “Scirea” “... what did you say?”   “I said Scirea, you fool!” “No, you mangled that word, you big fuckin’ idiot!” the girl almost growled “And that was a low blow, you shouldn’t have said it” “Desperate times call for desperate measures… C’mon, now you have to let me in, you can’t go back on your word” “I can’t believe you still remember it after all these years…” “I know, right? It’s just a code word that forces one of us to do whatever the other one wants, nothing remarkable”  “Just like your pronunciation, genius” she quickly retorted, making Stone snort. “So? What are you waiting for?” “You know you just blew the chance to use it for the rest of the year, right?” “Well, according to my watch I can survive this: it’s a quarter to midnight, after all” “Suit yourself,” Sara declared, finally peeping out from a crack in the door that she had just cautiously opened “but next year I’ll have two free passes to the word and it’s mandatory, ok?” “Deal” he smiled at her and followed her inside the room, then closed the door behind them. 

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“Hey, what time is it?” he heard the question as if it was coming from a distant voice but it actually came from the person right beside him. It was probably due to the loud music playing at the party but mostly to the fact that his mind was somewhere else, just like his eyes, which were searching through the crowd in the living room. At some point he looked further ahead through the foil curtain and noticed some kind of commotion near the bathroom. He clearly saw Eddie and Layla leave one after the other. Then the bathroom door opened once again and someone let Stone in. He didn’t see who was inside, but caught a glimpse of a blue silhouette and didn’t like it at all. “Jeff?? Are you deaf?” “Huh?” he immediately came back from his frozen zoned-out state and looked at the blonde right next to him, who was giving him both a perplexed and amused glance “... It’s almost 1991, I guess”

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“You know he died, right?” “Who?” Stone shifted in his seat, turning to look at the girl. They were both sitting on the floor, with their backs leaning against the door. “Scirea… last year, in a car accident” “Oh, I didn’t know” “Yeah, you never were a big soccer fan” Sara hugged herself “It’s a pity, he surely deserved much more fame” She then kept on rambling about his fate, what had caused his death, what kind of a job he was doing for Juventus and God knows what else; Stone couldn’t care less about soccer, that was true, but he listened to every single word without interrupting her: if babbling about deceased soccer champions kept her from wallowing in her own misery, he wouldn’t mind spending the next hours listening to her. Not at all. 

♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️♣♦️

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me??” Steve shook his head as he watched Layla and Eddie laugh together straight in front of him; in the meantime, somebody else was sitting near him and singing to himself. “When I was young, I never needed anyone…” “I can’t believe she hasn’t been single in like forever and now that I gave up putting the moves on her she’s fuckin’ single, for fuck’s sake?!” “And making love was just for fun…” “Oh shut up Elias, you’re probably still a virgin!” someone shouted behind the guy, who kept getting more and more dramatic and louder in his solo performance. “Those days are gone…” “And she’s already hooking up with some other guy – I mean, so much for being a devoted girlfriend” “Living alone, I think of all the friends I’ve known…” Elias drunkenly went on and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m not your friend, man” “But I’m everything you’ve got left so I wouldn’t be so rude, you know?” Elias retorted really quickly before singing again “When I dial the telephone, nobody’s home” “You don’t even have a phone anymore, Dave said you forgot to pay the bill!” Matt said passing him by.  The red haired guy just gave him the middle finger and screamed at the top of his lungs: “ALL BY MYSEEEEEELF” “Oh, Jesus Christ” Steve facepalmed while everybody in the room looked at Elias and laughed. “DON’T WANNA BE ALL BY MYSELF ANYMORE” “I can’t believe even Lukin scored someone and I’m stuck here with you” he pointed at the couch where his bandmate was busy tongue-wrestling a goth girl. “UH! I LOVE THIS SONG!” Layla yelled out of nowhere and for a second the guitarist thought she was referring to Elias’ rendition but then he realized she meant the song by The Church that had just come up from the big stereo in the living room. She was dragging Eddie towards the center of the room when Elias tapped Steve on his shoulder. “Shall we dance?” he asked with a hiccup. “... I need a fuckin’ drink”

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Sometimes, when this place gets kind of empty Sound of their breath fades with the light

“This song…” “It was Layla’s idea, she specifically requested it” “Typical El: she has good taste in music but lacks some ability in the mixtape department… I hope she hasn’t asked you to put on some Dylan or Cohen as well” “Hell, that would spoil the party” “Lambada, on the other hand… no contest, c’mon” Sara exclaimed in a theatrical way, making the guitarist sneer. “Admit it, I brightened your whole evening!” “More like ruined it, champ” “Don’t think you can fool me, missy; I saw you before, when you were rambling on some astrological bullshit with Demri: you were practically grinning from ear to ear” “I told you, I’m a fairly good actress”

I think about the loveless fascination

“Jeez, Sara, is it so hard for you to just admit you were perfectly fine before? And then something happened – and you don’t wanna tell me what it was exactly – and-” he gesticulated, pointing out the bathroom and her “and you ended up here, all alone during New Year’s Eve” “I told ya, this is normal for me… I don’t enjoy New Year’s Eve and hate parties, so put the two together and you end up with my archnemesis” she shrugged, but wasn’t able to meet his gaze. “You’re impossible! I saw you running in here, ok?! I saw you and I’m still doing it right now, when nobody else is giving a shit about you!” he blurted out, and she was taken aback. “What the fuck do you mean?? What, you saw me having a mental breakdown and want me to thank you because you ran here like a knight in shining armor?! Fuck off, Stone! Just what am I supposed to do to make y’all understand you have to leave me alone?! Tell me, what-” the girl stopped because she felt her voice already quivering. <Fuckin’ great, Fancini! Have yourself a good cry, given how it’s been hours since you last cried your eyes out! And do it in front of somebody who probably still appreciated you and now will lose all the respect he had for you! Great fuckin’ job, you outdid yourself> “Hey… hey, it’s ok” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled back. “Nothing’s ok, understood? Nothing! And it’s all because he...” she finally sobbed, her eyes immediately watering like they had wanted to do ever since she had turned that goddamn light on.  <... ever since that July afternoon>

Under the Milky Way tonight

“Forget about him, ok? Let’s not talk about him” the guy kept on babbling. “How… how can you ask me to forget him?” she snapped out of it and recoiled, shooting him a glance full of both desperation and disgust for what he had just said. “Ok, then you don’t have to forget him,” he rolled his eyes, mustering all the patience he could “but we can talk about someone more important – you” “Me? More important? What’s that supposed to mean?”  “It means that you’ll stay silent and I’ll say every single thing that makes you awesome and hopefully you won’t feel like shit anymore” “Then you can cut it out already, there’s nothing you can say that can make me feel better” the girl hid her face between her knees, hugging her legs “And it would only be a waste of time, I haven’t done a single positive thing in years… I’m just tired, I wanna be alone”  

Lower the curtain down on Memphis Lower the curtain down, alright

“You’re so articulate and well-spoken it honestly puts to shame a lot of men who think you aren’t worthy of their time, and somebody should seriously tell ‘em it’s actually them who don’t deserve to waste your time” the guitarist cleared his throat, then resumed speaking without looking at her “The way your mind works… you can have a conversation about everything, there isn’t a single topic you can’t tackle – and yeah, I’m talking about science too: you may have been terrible at it in school, but outside? Whenever the newspaper had a story on the latest scientific discovery, you were always the first of us to know it” He heard her sniffle quietly and took her silence as a sign to keep on going.

I got no time for private consultation

“You’re always unapologetically yourself, for better or worse; you stand up for yourself and the ones you love, but also for people you don’t know at all – hell, you must be the bravest person I know” he heaved a sigh, his eyes never leaving the tile they had been staring at for the past five minutes “You’re a force to be reckoned with, truly you are… and I know you always carry some snacks in your backpack so you can feed stray cats – a shitty person doesn’t do that” At those words the girl raised her head immediately and looked at him with wide eyes: “How…?”

Under the Milky Way tonight

“Five years ago… every time a Queen song came on the radio, I used to think of you and what you might be doing in Florence: were you still attending gigs? Did you speak Italian with an American accent, just like you spoke English with an Italian accent? Did you still fly into a rage if anybody said that Hot Space was a shitty album?” he had ignored her previous question, but now finally found the courage to turn and look her in the eye “Did you still have that half dimple when you smiled all embarrassed? You know that kind of smile, the tight-lipped one”

Wish I knew what you were looking for

“Please, don’t look at me!” Sara immediately turned away, almost shrieking “I’m a monster: I have a runny nose and I’m sure my make-up is all smudged” The guitarist put his hands on her shoulders and made her face him again, then started to wipe her nose with some toilet paper. “... I look like a fucked-up panda, don’t I?” she muttered after a while, finally regaining her voice. “You just have a nose as cute as a button and as red as the one of a certain reindeer, the rest is just like it was before… oops, except for the eyes” “What? What is it?? They’re red, aren’t they?? Fuck, I’m not ready to say goodbye to my reputation as a badas-” “They’re shining, brat” he poked her nose with his index “Crying apparently suits you, but I’d appreciate it if in the future it’ll happen because you’re laughing too much” “Oh, shush” she pouted and shoved him, making him chuckle because avoiding her pushes was becoming increasingly harder but, most of all, because her half dimple had just appeared on the right corner of her mouth.  

Might have known what you would find

After a while Stone was finally able to stop her, taking her hands in his without looking away.  “Ever since I’ve known you, the ending of Chaplin’s City Lights has been able to move me, because before I didn’t understand it… I had never experienced what the Tramp goes through with the flower girl” he sighed and gave her a sad smile, slightly squeezing her hands “I don’t get tired of you the way I get tired of other people”

And it’s something quite peculiar Something shimmering and white

“Stone, what-what are you trying to tell me?” the girl looked quizzically at him but squeezed back his hands. “I don’t know,” he raised a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear “what do you think it is?” 

It leads you here, despite your destination

Neither of them could tell who had been the first one to move, but now Sara was straddling him and he was holding her face in his hands and they were kissing – heavily. She could still hear the song faintly playing in the background, but all she could focus on right now was how Stone had been looking at her, the feeling of his lips against her own and the way he was still holding her, like she was the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on. She touched his cheek and felt it was smooth, almost boyish (not strong and stubbly as the one she would have liked to stroke), and the realization made her angry; she instinctively proceeded to run her fingers through his hair, eliciting a moan from him, and pictured a pair of hazel eyes behind her eyelids that turned immediately into green ones. She shut her eyes with all her might until all she could see were lazy stars, then dizzily abandoned herself to passion, as if she were living somebody else’s life. 

Under the Milky Way tonight

[pulpwriterx]

Meanwhile on Ahch-To...

“Master Luke, what was Ben like, before he was Kylo Anybody?”

When Luke returned to his hut in the morning, Ben and any trace of him were gone.

Luke pretended he knew nothing, and made a cup of tea for himself, and for Rey.

“Ben loves the wild, desolate places of the world. Mountains. Forests. Tundra. Deserts. He comes by it, honestly. He’s a Wookiee.” Leia said.

Rey laughed, a little.

“I’m not kidding. Ben is a member of the Clan Wroshyyr. Chewie is his godfather. Ben has a Wookie name. Kallaurra. Out of the four of us, me, Han, Leia, and Chewie? Chewie did the best job. You know that strange, halting, flat, quality in the way Ben talks? How he growls his words, sometimes? That’s because Basic is not his first language. Shriiyywook is. He said all of his first words in Shriiyywook. He never spoke a word of Basic until he was five and we sent him to school. He understood Basic, and he could already read and write it, but, it’s not his language. Shriiyywook is. Han was OK with it. He encouraged Ben. Do you know what Kallaurra, his Wookiee name means? Wild Man. That was Ben. He was a wild man, and he was his own man, from the time he was a little boy. He went his own way, and along that way? He questioned every tradition, and broke every taboo.”

“Do you think he’s just crazy?”

Luke smiled, in spite of himself.

“Look out at the stars, Rey. Why do they move in their orbits? Why do the suns of a planet rise and set? Why do asteroids crash into each other? Why do meteors flash across the sky, and sometimes fall to the ground? Is it from anger? From madness?”

“No, Master Luke. All those things happen because of the forces of nature.”

“And Ben’s actions are like those heavenly bodies. Driven by the forces of nature. Ben is a force of nature. He is in balance with the raw power of the Force, as it exists, untamed, in nature. Keep looking at the stars. Ben used to tell me, look at the stars, Uncle Luke. The stars belong to me. They are cold and distant. But not to me. And he was right.”

“That’s him.” Rey sighed

“Who?” Luke asked.

“The man you just described? That’s the man I fell in love with. What happened to him?”

Luke shook his head, sorrowfully.

“A great many things. First? There were his mother's expectations. She had his whole life planned out. His Royal Highness, Prince Benjamin Skywalker Organa-Solo. He was going to be the perfect Jedi, the perfect young leader, the perfect fair-haired son of the New Republic. He wasn’t supposed to be a giant behemoth of a man, who was too much like his father and his grandfather to fit in any mold. Nor was he supposed to be a funny, cute, smart but very headstrong and eccentric little boy. Han and I pretty much figured that Big Ben would be going his own way in life by the time he was six. His hair was down to his waist, and he’d scream and break the scissors with the Force if you came near him to cut it. We used to braid his hair, before he went to school. And at home? He wouldn’t wear clothes. Just a pair of underwear, if you were lucky. Like I said, he wanted to be a Wookiee. He wouldn’t speak Basic. Just Shriiyywook. We worked it out. But Ben never really changed.”

“I know. He hates clothes. It’s funny, because when he gets dressed, he wears such elaborate outfits. But he never wears clothes in his house. Not even undershorts. He really hates undershorts. He doesn’t like wearing pants, so why would he want to wear another pair of pants, under his pants. And I had to learn Shriyywook.”

Luke sighed.

“As Ben grew to manhood, I started seeing my nephew as a monster. His obsession with his own duality, and that of his grandfather. He began to adopt this outlaw iconoclast persona. Whatever it was? Ben was against it. Then there were his heretical leanings toward the Grey Path. And his vows? Forget vows. Not my nephew, the king of taboo. He would sit, and read copies of the Jedi texts, and understand them. And laugh and ask me, are they serious? Jedi are supposed to take vows of chastity, and honesty. To have control over their emotions. Ben sold cigarillos, wine, and rubbers from his father’s smuggling operation out of my father’s TIE Fighter, his personal vehicle. I remember, once, he was changing the oil on it, and he explained to me why he was a Grey Jedi, and why that was the only thing that made sense, and it almost convinced me. No, Ben was always honest. It was chastity he couldn’t manage.”

Luke laughed, shaking his head.

“I got Ben when he was 13. And he was already girl-crazy. All ready to fall in love and get laid. Because Ben’s a nice boy, he has to fall for a girl before she can have him. Ben lost his virginity when he was 16 to his mother’s Kesshiri secretary, who was 37. Ben was crazy about Minerva. He thought it would be forever. I think Leia should have at least fired her, even though Ben was the age of consent. They had an affair for a year, and then she married a diplomat from her home planet and walked out of Ben’s life. He was crushed. After that? He went looking for love in all the wrong places. Any of my female students who were curious about their resident Rebel Angel? Let’s just say, Ben never failed to satisfy their curiosity. He didn’t listen to me when I tried to stop him. He really thought he meant something to these girls. Especially one he had gone to school with. After all, they meant something to him. He was so crushed when I had to break it up, with his old school friend, and she blamed him because she thought I'd expel her.”

“But it wasn’t all Kylo’s fault!” Rey protested.

“That’s what I told her. It takes two, I told them, and I suspended all three girls. And Ben, too, for a month. He was gone for six months. Even Han couldn’t find him. The betrayal by his fellow student, his girl? It just crushed him. Finally, he showed up shaggy, unshaven, dirty and drunk, with broken knuckles, a dirty shirt with half the buttons gone, sporting a fresh blaster scar on his shoulder, and a black eye. The occasion? His 21st birthday party. He and Leia had a huge fight, and she told him she was going to pull him out of the Jedi Temple and have his father rent him by the hour out of the spaceport garage next to the cantina in Mos Eisley, if all he was going to do with his life was drink, fight, hustle contraband around the Galaxy and lay pipe to more women with less discretion that any cheap spaceport gigolo.”

Rey laughed.

“Master Leia said that to Ben?”

“She did. I was there. He never spoke to her again, after that, but I think he took it to heart. And you made an honest man of him, in the end.”

“He did listen to his mother. I was…well I would have…I was interested in Ben before he let on that he was interested in me. And you know, I was, um, a little pushy about it. And he told me that he was going to treat me with respect, and give us some time to get to know each other, because he knew what it was like to be used. It’s fun at first, and you really think they like you. But when you find out you’ve been used and then you get discarded? It hurts.”

“It hurt him. Badly. I used to get so angry with him about the TIE Fighter, and the smuggling, and the girls. He didn’t trust me to tell me how the Dark Side, how Snoke was stalking him. That he had to get away from the Temple, to get away from Snoke. He had been so troubled. I went to check on him, that night and I felt the Dark Side all around him. I thought he had given himself over to it. That was when I attacked him. But Ben didn’t let Snoke kill all of his fellow students. Guess who he saved? The very women who had thrown him under the speeder bus.”

“Well, he did forgive me for maiming his face, and trying to kill him, seconds after I did it.”

“The boy is a mystery to me. In some ways? He always has been. I never really knew what to do with him. I mean, how do you teach a six and a half foot tall force of nature who has been using the Force since he was a toddler in a crib to open the cupboard and get the cookies?”

Rey laughed.

She put her teacup down.

“You know I’m going to the Supremacy. You know you can’t stop me.”

“I’m not even going to try.”

Want more? Feed me some likes.

[cultofbeatles]

beginners guide to the members of led zeppelin (kind of)

a disclaimer before anyone starts reading: we all know led zeppelin is shady as hell and we hardly ever get anything confirmed or denied around here. so some stuff is up for speculation. everything in this post are things i've read in books, heard in interviews, or got from some other source. when it comes to “facts about led zeppelin” sometimes you gotta take it with a grain of salt. but honestly it’s led zeppelin we’re talking about, anything is possible. also this is all in good fun and giggles. with that being said, let’s get started with introductions to the members themselves.

jimmy page 

james patrick page 

born on January 9, 1944 

he’s a capricorn sun, cancer moon, and scorpio rising so you just know he’s a crazy motherfucker 

was an amazing session guitarist and basically everyone wanted him 

went to art school bc he’s just talented at everything i guess 

if you didn't know already he played the guitar for Joe cocker’s ‘with a little help from my friends’

declined his first offer to join the yardbirds but later decided to join 

was the last member to leave the group

basically was the leader of led zeppelin 

was gifted a telecaster guitar by his friend jeff beck and he adored it 

and he painted a cool dragon design on it 

played on it for the first led zeppelin album 

when he was on tour one of his friends painted over his dragon design and ruined the guitar 

he produced all of led zeppelin’s albums and is responsible for the remastering of those same albums 

paid for led zeppelin’s first album to be produced with his own money

deadass would have whips and handcuffs around with him on tour for the groupies 

but was apparently an amazing lover and cared for the people he slept with

one time he got naked on a food cart thingy, put whip cream over his body, and had john bonham push him into a room with groupies in it 

has such a small and soft voice 

was fascinated in aleister crowley and his work

would collect crowely memorabilia 

even bought crowley’s boleskine house 

had a bookstore at one point so he could get books easier 

struggled with addiction to drugs for most of the seventies 

went on a liquid diet late seventies and refused to eat solid food 

he got really skinny bc of it :( 

miss pamela (one of his girlfriends/lovers) once said that jimmy cried on the phone to her over her playboy photoshoot lmaoo

once flied pamela’s pet raccoon in first class 

allegedly had a relationship with lori maddox who was about 15 years old 

laughed as two of his girlfriends were fighting each other 

was kind of constantly nervous about his and the band’s image

has amazing guitar solos and improvisation but damn sometimes they drag on foreverrrr

deadass scared the shit out of david bowie so much that he had his house exorcised and would avoid jimmy at parties 

we love demons 

zoso

he’ll never tell us what zoso means and I'm mad

had two people die in his home. one was a friend who died from a drug overdose, and the other was john bonham when he died from choking on his vomit.  

has been accused for the deaths of john bonham and robert plant’s son karac bc of that stupid “curse” rumor

deserves critiques for several things but doesn't deserve hate for that 

has been through a lot and come out pretty okay

produced his current girlfriend’s, scarlett sabet, spoken poetry vinyl 

check out scarlett’s work bc it’s amazing

would probably always be down for another led zeppelin reunion 

robert plant

robert anthony plant 

born on august 20, 1948

this is the most attractive man ever. do not argue with me. 

nicknamed percy 

wasnt jimmy’s first pick for a singer 

jerry reid suggested robert to jimmy. and when jimmy asked what he looked like jerry said, “like a greek god.”

jimmy thought something was wrong with robert when he first found him bc he was such a good singer and hadn't been signed yet 

after a practice together jimmy knew he had his singer 

he would call robert “the young guy with the powerful voice.”

he thought about leaving the band early on bc he was so nervous about being in it 

convinced john bonham to join the group bc they were the bestest of buddies 

he’s not credited on the first album bc he was still under another contract 

started song writing for the second album by jimmy’s memory 

it didn't take long for him to gain confidence and start owning the stage 

once when he was performing a dove flew in his hands 

there’s an audio of him singing john bonham happy birthday and it makes me so happy 

he would call himself a greek god 

would party with john bonham a lot 

kind of the hippy of the group 

moans moans moans and even louder moans into the microphone 

would wear women’s shirts and looked amazing in them 

nurses do it better 

not to mention his super tight jeans 

we all know his dick is huge and he’s just showing it off 

has the prettiest, fluffiest blonde hair 

and the sweetest smile 

can you tell that i find him attractive yet?

has a fear of earthquakes 

also supposedly had some sort of a relationship to an underage groupie named sable starr (14)

also has a fear of led zeppelin nowadays 

either fear or amnesia 

it’s likely that he’s the reason we’ll never get another led zeppelin reunion 

though a close friend thinks that if the show went to charity robert would probably do it 

robert loved john bonham too much to play in led zeppelin without him

and i respect that a lot 

no matter how much he’s offered for a show he turns it down every time

in 1975 he got in a severe car crash and ended up being in a wheelchair 

still went on to record zeppelin’s album 

once while recording on crutches and started to fall and jimmy apparently zoomed in to save him. robert never saw him move that fast before

his five year old son (karac) died from a sudden stomach illness while he was in america on tour

absolutely crushed him 

was deeply upset that neither jimmy page or john paul jones reached out to him during that time of his life 

john bonham was there for him though 

robert apparently never forgave them for that 

a car he was working on fell on top of him and crushed some of his ribs as well 

late seventies was not a good time for robert plant 

but he got through it all like a champ

hates stairway to heaven with a passion lmao  

one time he paid a radio station a shit ton of money just to make sure they'd never play stairway to heaven again 

almost didn't sing stairway for the 2007 reunion but ended up agreeing to it after all 

he said he breaks out in hives when he has to play that song 

he and jimmy made their own symbols. robert’s is the feather inside the circle 

in 2007 he won beard of the year 

john bonham

john bonham 

born on may 31, 1948

nickname is bonzo

oh boy, there’s a lot of stories about bonzo 

he was known as the nicest and sweetest guy ever 

unless he was drunk 

he drank a lot :/

denied jimmy’s offer to join the group and continued to deny it until robert convinced him 

once flew the starship (led zeppelin’s plane) even though he didn't have a license to 

hated touring so much 

he always missed his family 

so he drank 

he was so damn crazy when drunk that the other members would book rooms floors above where his was so he wouldn't disturb them

tore about his hotel rooms like no other 

he has a son named jason bonham who he loved a lot 

bought him a nice drum kit when he was younger 

jason is just about led zeppelin’s biggest fan next to jimmy page 

one time bonzo broke a girl’s vibrator when drunk

also punched a girl in the face when drunk once bc she waved at him 

partly responsible for the famous mud shark story where a girl was apparently fucked with a dead shark by him and zeppelin’s tour manager 

liked cars a lot 

really really loved his family. cannot stress it enough

was irked that john paul jones got out of playing shows during the christmas holiday and he didn't 

punched robert in the face once too 

him and john paul jones equals the best rhythm section ever 

jimmy would call it magic how well him and bonzo got along 

bonzo could handle anything jimmy threw at him 

he wasn't really a part of it, but he had to go to jail bc peter grant and two other dudes almost killing a man (long story omfg, but apparently the doctors had to put the dude’s eyeball back into his socket)

was there for robert when karac died 

they were really good friends 

there’s an interview with them together where bonzo is laughing at robert about his little farm 

gave good hugs apparently 

played drums like no other could and knew he was good 

but still sometimes got insecure and got upset when someone he looked up to said his drumming wasn't all that special 

his symbol is the three rings and he picked it out of a book like john paul jones did his 

he died in jimmy page’s house (not the crowley house btw)

he had to drink the equivalent of 40 shots of vodka and choked on his vomit in his sleep 

led zeppelin died on the same day 

nobody can replace john bonham 

his son filled in his role for the 2007 reunion show and did an amazing job of it. the whole show is on youtube, go check it out

john paul jones

 john richard baldwin 

born on january 3, 1946

nickname is jonesy 

was also a session guitarist like jimmy 

they had worked together before 

when he found out jimmy was forming a group he called jimmy and was basically given the spot immediately 

not only was the bassist but also the keyboardist 

and could play the recorder 

insanely talented. put some respect on his name 

he talks in italics i swear to god 

i don't have mainly crazy stories about jonesy bc he wasn't about that life 

deadass he would go on stage, perform, walk off stage and go to a whole separate hotel from the other

he would only tell one person where he was at and told them not to call unless for super urgent emergencies 

pissed peter grant off so much lmao 

wasn't really super close to anyone in the band tbh 

but bonzo was probably his greatest friend in the band 

jimmy and robert kind of leave him out in my opinion 

or they use to 

when he found out that jimmy and robert were making their own symbols instead of picking out of a book like he was he said “of course!”  and laughed 

was pretty much left out of the live aid show 

he had to squeeze himself on the stage and wasn't even able to play bass. he had to play the keyboard 

“and thank you to my friends for finally remembering my phone number” -savage as hell john paul jones 

he was one of the two people who found john bonham dead 

it’s sad to think about

is actually quite funny

he has this kind of dry humor?? idk but it’s amazing 10/10 content 

when john paul jones walks into the room interviewers break into a sweat

managed to look like a completely different person every year throughout the seventies or is it just my eyes?

has an Instagram account now go follow it for cute throwback photos lol

that’s all i really have for generic useless information about led zeppelin members for beginners. i hope it was somewhat entertaining. i'll make some more beginners stuff for led zeppelin. i will make y'all stan them lmao. i'm tagging @babygotblueeyes​ bc i know for a fact you want to get into them <3

[mechmech]

Ok so I know this is like my first post but I’ve been working on it cause a friend did it for their dnd character and I was like this could be fun and give people some insight. Questions wandered as Mecha 1-100

Smell like: oil, sweat, and more recently baby spit-up

Voice: Not many people will understand this fem-V from cyberpunk. Sorta gravely

Motivator: Research mostly. Finding out new things and applying them. More recently though her kid and making a better world for them.

Most embarrassing memory: She doesn’t like to share this story, but when she was younger and moved around with her sister mecha, she was afraid to GO in the woods because she accidentally wandered onto a farmer’s land and was caught pantsless.

How do they react to pain: “ You wanna hit me go ahead, just stay away from the hands and eyes” She can deal with a great deal of physical pain but when it comes to emotions and others she is like a mage named Corren

Wear: Normally throughout the day, she wears her metal armor. Outside of her armor, she wears a simple black dress when relaxing, a work apron while working, and always Always gauntlets and a blindfold

Most positive relationship: THis is difficult because so many of them have done different things, but most probably Corren and her want to be more good like him

The weirdest thing I have ever eaten: Correns cooking

Sleep: “Alister! Corren! Cuddle me!” Yea she will cuddle up with almost any person who trusts and it depends on the person. Alister: Alister is the big spoon and mecha buries herself into his chest and stomach. Corren: Mecha is like a koala to Corren and just hugs onto a single leg.

Favorite food/ kinda food: Vegetables honestly, but also baked goods like bread

Most insecure about: How others see her

Like to wear: adaptable clothing, something that can be used for many different functions and also gotta be able to get dirty and clean when you need it

How do they react to feelings of guilt: Previously they bottled them up, but more and more they are learning to talk to others about that guilt. Ultimately she always feels guilty for something

React to betrayal: Depends on the person buuuttttt, angry, blames themself for part of it, tries to move on quickly

Greatest achievement: MOCHA

Too little sleep: quiet and most likely taking a nap in the skeleton’s arms. That's If she is actually tired. Shel heals fatigue in an instant.

What are they like a drunk: If she drinks and gets drunk and that's a big if she becomes an I love you drunk and we'll just tell everyone what she likes about them before passing out.

Music likes: A lot of Rock and techno music, a little bit of pop only because it fits.

Right or left-handed: She always works with her hammer in her right hand.

Fears: Being completely alone, losing her friends, losing Mocha, destroying the world, the unknown, diseases, being like her mother

Favorite weather: Nice sunny days with a slight breeze

Favorite color: it’s hard because it's between gold and blue

Collect anything: besides random trophies, rocks that she sometimes gives away.

Hot or cold weather: Hot because you can cool down easily.

Eye color: Goldenish/ yellow

Race/ ethnicity: Well Gremlin in Sekrezia, in the real world through it's between Brazilian and Irish

Hair color: Ginger/ red

Happy where they are currently: Nope, not even a little bit. She's upset because she believes she has possibly doomed the world and has actually found someone she can connect with/ has some feeling for and they just keep backsliding her. She also hates that she has to leave her new daughter.

Mounting person: YES!!! Up early to get shit done

Sunrise or sunset: Sunrise is extremely pretty to watch especially when you can but caves are a thing.

Messy or organized: Like myself, it's a chaotic form of organization

Pet peeves: Jumping to conclusions, mistreating machines

Objects of significant importance: Her forge hammer which is like a badge of office saying she is a member of a smithing guild and her evil eye because a really good friend helped her make it.

Least favorite food: The rock she accidentally tried to eat while she was tired delirious one night in a cave.

Least favorite color: Kelly Green. Look it looks like puke, nothing against other greens but this one ugh

Least favorite smell: Decaying flesh

The last time they cried: mhhh a few weeks but it's gonna be soon. Definitely the birth of her child.

Anybody with them: entire party forMochas birth, but other than that Corren and Alistar

The time they got injured: Well getting crushed by a giant cube was bad, the worst injury would probably be getting dragged into lava by her own creation that she loved.

Scars: Nope none so far that are physical. Some mental ones that she's working through.

Mental health issues: Paranoia, Depression, Suicidal thoughts, low self-esteem, PTSD

Bad habits: Shutting everyone else out.

Why might someone dislike her: SHe can be a bit standoffish and definitely hard-headed.

Why might someone love her: He has a big heart for those she cares about, she's smart and also creates a lot of small gifts that aren't for value but personal reasons.

Believe in ghosts: Literally was in a plane of the dead, soooo yes

Anyone they would trust with their life: Corren, Alistar, Torvid, Simple,

Romantically interested in anyone: Spectra, depends on the person. ACE and Demiromantic

Dating/ Married: Complicated is what it is. Yes dating somewhat but it’s not a good relationship

Like surprises: Yes, surprises are nice and add a bit of fun to life. Other than a somewhat surprising pregnancy.

Birthday: I honestly forget but it's their weave day

Celebrate their birthday: Only with those they care about, which is few but some members of the party yes.

Family: Dad is dead, Mom is alive supposedly but she was supposed to be dead, and sister is possibly dead but in a bit of denial about it

Close to their family: Chosen family yes.

MBTI type: ISTP

Zodiac signs: I forget the sekrezian one but in real life Aquarius

Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

Alignment; Chaotic neutral/ good

Nightmares: Losing the entire party in ways that they caused ore were directly a part of.

View on death: CHanged a lot as their questline has gone on but “Once someone has passed from this world and seen the raven queen and chosen their afterlife that is it, they are at peace and will stay there unless the gods dictate differently. Past a resurrection people should not come back. I have learned this the hard way and watched what happens when you play with death”.

Something they always laugh at: Corren getting flustered and digging himself into holes he can't get out of.

When bored, what do they do: Read a book/ tinker with new experiments

Enjoy the outside: yes, especially new areas where there are unexplored places.

Accent: Somewhat of a german accent but I’m no good at replicating it

Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, the first reaction: “Who left this perfectly good piece of cake here?”

If they knew they were going to die what would they do/ say: Alister: Be a good father to Mocha, Corren: Be a good stepfather to Mocha and make sure Alister stays on the right path, Simple Geoff: didn't like you at first but your apart of my family now, Maple: Live your best life and don't let other people tell you what you can be also given up on revenge it's never as sweet as you think, Lautrec: (Opens box) sorry it took a while, Vlog: “you don't like me, I kinda like you, protect your own but never stop learning and exploring.

Feelings about sex: Mecha doesn’t want sex and feels really uncomfortable with it especially around people she doesn’t know, but around friends, she’s willing to talk about it but will also respect preferences.

Sexuality: questioning, but Grey-ace

Squeamish around blood: Nope “ I saved a man that had a lethal arrow through his neck”

Anything they find gross: Living hair/ hair constructs

TV trope: Reclusive nerd with a big heart

Enjoy helping people: Yes she really likes to help those who need it, but if she believes you can help yourself she will leave you to it.

Allergies: Seasonal/ pollen

Pet: Multiple constructs that range from a skeleton to a walking piece of glass

Quick to anger: No, she has somewhat of a calm head that eventually boils over and then causes a big yelling fight/ random actions such as throwing a stick of dynamite in a graveyard.

How patient is she: Rather patient especially when listening, not the greatest responder though

Good at cooking: Hell yea they are, give them a pan and they'll make you a feast

Favorite insult:” I'm coming for your knees” “Don't make me get the fume engine”

How do they act when happy: Huge grin on their face and they start fidgeting.

What do they do when they learn about others’ fears: Tease them slightly in private but keep the information to themselves.

Trustworthy: yes and very loyal to her friends.

Do they try to hide their emotions: Definitely but not always the greatest at hiding them cause everyone has a great sense of motive.

Exercise regularly: We walk and adventure every day while she carries probably over 25lb of mechanical items so yes.

Comfortable with the way they look: Mhh sometimes, but not always. She really doesn't like that she reminds herself of her sister or that she has distinct eyes.

Features they find attractive on others: Not really features, she's more into personality but she does like people’s eyes.

Personalities they find attractive: Protective, Kind, Smart, honest, loyal.

Do they like sweet foods: definitely into the sweeter things in life,

Age: in sekrezia: 204, equivalent age is like 45-55

Tall or short: 3ft pretty short but and on the shorter side of her race

Glasses or contacts: Nope just a cool ass blindfold and no it's not for BDSM

Consider herself attractive: Nope, not at all. SHes surprised if someone likes her in that way.

Sense of humor: Both dark and sexual but at the same time dad jokes as much as possible. Also random improv she comes up with on the spot, which is slightly me

What mood are they in most often: THe mood of trying to figure out how something works

What angers them: Hurting children, hurting the party, destroying art and machines, using others to your own gain, rape, slavery

Outlook on life: “Life is full of twists and turns. There is never bad without good. Take your time and really think about what you do, but don't forget to also just let go and go wild every now and then.

What makes them sad or depressed: THinking of their family/ friends being gone, children with no home, Mocha growing up alone.

Greatest weakness: Turning the mind against them/ lack of belief in herself and that she is not responsible for the world.

Greatest strength: Open mind and somewhat open heart.

Something they regret: not letting them self grieve for pax in a different way than hunting them down and screwing the world.

Biggest accomplishment: Having a kid

Hope for the future: open an orphanage and continue helping the Fucks make the world at least a little brighter.

[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

—chapter eight ; the flapper girl.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing, drinking

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

“TERESA, would it kill ya to quit staring at me? I'm tryna do my work here." He fumbles for the ballpoint pen that fell out of his shaky hand. Even when his eyes were down, he still felt hers following his every move when he picked up certain sheets, watching his lips curl when he read a sentence on a report from his father, or just overthinking if Teresa was judging his appearance. There's nothing on my chin, is there? Food in my teeth?

"Am I making the Italian mafioso Luca Changretta nervous?" Teresa leaned over the desk to trail her finger down Luca's chest where she could tease him by gripping the line of his blazer and rip the buttons off. "The same Italian mafioso that got some amateur in Los Angeles to beg on his knees?"

Luca didn't look up from his work. "He was trying to be sneaky and spent nearly a hundred dollars worth of gin for his mistress."

"Is that something you would do? Spend every dime to make his mistress happy?"

"I spend money on myself, to make myself look and feel good, some for business and for special occasions. But I also save," Luca glanced at her, mostly at her cleavage. "And you're not my mistress. I'm not even married. My mother wonders when I'm ever gonna tie the knot with a woman back home." Luca sighs and takes a break, resting his head for a moment. He grunts, rubbing his temple.

"Want me to take over?"

"No," Luca pulls her closer, using his other hand to set his folders to the side so carelessly. "Come here."

She obeys, allowing him to lift her up and carry her on top of his desk.

Luca kisses her. "Ciao, bella," he whispers to her. He kept going, making his way into the sensitive spot of Teresa's neck, his lips pressing against it so gently.

Teresa chuckles, feeling his hand run up her dress. "Who are you? Dracula?"

"Hm?"

"I mean you sort of look like him. You're about to drain the blood out of my neck, so you need me to be in the right position."

"Dracula draining the blood from a flapper girl, eh?"

The sounds of knocking on the heavy wooden doors made Teresa hop off the desk, thinking it was one of his men, or even his mother. She wouldn't contain the embarrassment of being affectionate and intimate with someone's son. It could possibly be the maids, but not the same ones from the hotel Luca stayed at. He fancied staying at a manor his father bought somewhere up north, his family members occupying the other rooms just a few ways down, but just spacious enough for everyone, even for a Welsh named Teresa.

Luca clears his throat and turns the knob. The servers come in with the trolley cart of a decanter and two glasses. "You ordered whiskey, Sir?"

The Italian watched the servers roll in the bar cart and nodded at him before shutting the door on their way out. "You like whiskey, amore?"

"Love all kinds of poison." Teresa walked over to the cart, picking up the vessel. She lifts the glass lid and brings it to her nose to let in a good smell. "Rich, like you."

Luca scoffs. "Yeah, if you drink out of that decanter, you'll become a part of us."

Teresa scoffs back.

"What? Teresa, becoming a soldier was like striking gold."

"I'd rather stay here and sit in the gardens, or walk around this palace wearing only my stockings."

Luca shrugged, imagining the erotic sight. It's happened before and he experienced it first-hand. "I bought you those stockings," he comments, staring down at her legs.

"I'll become a part of your family when the cows come home."

"Oh, come on! Don't gimme that. My family likes you."

"Seriously?" Teresa makes a face at him, and he responds by rolling his eyes.

"Okay, maybe it'll take some time."

"Your mother called me a brazen hussy the other day. Like what you said, she wants you to marry a woman in New York. She's mentioned a name, the woman is close with your family and she often visits at dinner parties? She came to the wedding." Teresa smirks. "She's Italian."

Luca grunts, knowing exactly who she was talking about. "Viviana."

"Signora Viviana must be the whole package."

"We consider her family, but I can't imagine marrying her," Luca shook his head, pouring himself a glass of the whiskey. "Matteo would be crushed."

Teresa was already ahead of him, nearly downing the whiskey, ready for a refill. She brings the glass to her lips, about to take in the last sip. "Do you want to get married?"

"Someday."

Teresa nodded.

"When we were at my cousin's wedding, as best man, I watched two people who were so in love exchange vows. I really felt the love my cousin had for his wife that day. And I know one day that'll happen to me. I'll marry the most beautiful bride who is my whole world. I'll be able to wake up next to her and remember how she likes her coffee in the morning."

"She'll be the luckiest wife."

"I'll treat her like a diamond."

"She'll come around. I'm sure she's somewhere out there, searching for you. Hell, she could be right on your bloody nose," Teresa jokes.

Well to be fair, the woman named Viviana was right on Luca's nose for quite some time. She shared her beautiful smile with the family, and Luca did admire her, respected her when she paid her contribution to the family. She could be waiting for him to return home as of right now, and throw her arms around the Italian so they could spend a night drinking champagne on a balcony.

Yet, Luca didn't set his lust and attention on Viviana. Not even at his cousin's wedding. Luca was picky when it came to his preferences with people, that's part of being a Changretta. But there was someone he wished his mother showed at least some respect to, a woman whose eyes light up like stars whenever Luca says her name...

Yeah, he answered to himself, watching Teresa refill her glass from the whiskey decanter. Maybe I already found her.

TERESA ran her fingers through her head, thinking about what she told Finn the other day that made the young boy rush back to Small Heath before she could settle down for her lunch break, taking her words with him. The blinds that gaped in between to let in the last bit of afternoon sun into the dark room of her office gave out the blonde locks she styled for yet another casual day. Simply walking down each corridor and back to the departments was a way to wastefully tear down the strands to her cheeks as she kept her head down so carelessly.

See what happens when you open your mouth, 'Resa? She sighs, knowing that revealing her past love to be the man that's after the Peaky Blinders would either cause high tides between her and them, or maybe even her and Luca himself, or maybe more pestering phone calls from Tommy.

Luca. He's a malicious man, she couldn't deny that. He would get his way without an issue, and if someone had to object about that, if someone were to challenge a man with such high power, would they live to tell about it? She would hate having the idea of handing the one thing she has all to herself to a man who would gladly have paintings hung in his gigantic home. The Changretta family distributes gin in and out of America with the exception of handling Alfie Solomons' rum, anyways, so why would he want to claim an art gallery all the way in Wales?

The thought of Luca threatening to put a bullet through hers or any one of her loved ones' heads sent a chill in her body. Would Luca ever do that to her? Would the Italian ever have the thought of harming someone he had a past relationship with? Would he regret it?

What was even left of Teresa's loved ones, anyhow? She wasn't as close to her team to consider them family. Perhaps one time she scolded the manager for not realizing one of their employees smoked a cigar when the gallery has a strict no smoking indoors rule, but she couldn't live with the thought of having them indirectly killed by the New York mafia. Come to think of it, she didn't have anyone, which is just as disheartening as having someone to protect. Maybe if she never got her brother killed that day—

She walks out after setting her teacup in the tiny space left open on her desk. Normally she would hear distant chatters from the tour guides speaking to the guests, or just guests speaking among each other, talking about whatever piece they lay their gaze on. But she frowned when she noticed how empty the gallery was, except for maybe five guests. Given that it's still hours in the early afternoon. Why wasn't it busy?

Teresa approaches two guides, asking the question that swirled her head. "Where is everyone?"

"I believe the gallery is in need of an upgrade." One of the tour guides spoke out, a bit of nervousness in their voice to speak up on feedback to the owner.

"Was deco not enough?"

"Most of it has already been seen, Miss."

The Welsh shook her head. "What does that even mean? The people wanted to see deco, we gave them deco. I provided rum to the guests on the grand re-opening, I made sure this place is clean and shiny from every inch of every corner. How could this place already be dead? At this hour?"

The tour guides slightly shook their heads, shrugging.

Teresa sighs. "Fine. Have any of you seen Mason?"

Mason Miller was hired on the spot when his well pressed suit and love for Rococo struck admiration for Teresa. She saw her younger self in him, almost like she was looking in the mirror of the past. Someone at a young age so passionate, she needed him as extra help.

"With all due respect, Miss Griffith, there hasn't been enough—I would say razzle-dazzle, to the place. We have a lot to catch up on, or guests will yawn and find themselves out the exit."

"Mason, this is a gallery, not a circus." Teresa scratches her neck. "It's been days since the opening. Our blood, sweat and tears shouldn't be a one time thing and dropped down to rubbish."

Her assistant shrugs. "Well, these days people don't wake up and think about visiting a gallery, y'know? You can find art deco everywhere you go; fancy dinner parties, manors. It inspires what we wear on occasions."

Teresa stares at her desk. "If Luca Changretta were to ever own this gallery, would he fix this problem? Make the place go fucking bankrupt?"

"I'm sorry, w-who? Luca Ch..." Mason asks, skimming through his clipboard of names he might have missed pinpointing and scheduling a meeting with.

Teresa looked at her assistant, realizing she spoke out her thoughts. "It's nothing. You're dismissed."

"Thank you." He smiles to himself as he bid an exit out of her office for Teresa to be back with her thoughts. Her jaw clenched. I will not let my team down, and I will not give my gallery to a mafioso.

"Actually, Mason?" the young lad stepped foot inside again, peering in with his full attention on one odd request. "Luca Changretta, that's his name. I'd like for you to find where he is at the moment and set up an invitation via letter. Let me know when he responds at your earliest convenience."

"Miss...?"

She didn't stop rationalizing it. She even settled for it faster than deciding not to ally with the Peaky Blinders. Mason Miller stared awkwardly at his boss as she set her focus back on her notepad laid on her desk. "I'd like to meet up with Luca Changretta."

+ enjoy my scene edit above! my peaky blinders editing account is @/fcknshelbys via ig.

[leiascully]

5 Conversations Between Maggie and Mulder

By @agirlcalledNarelle - I think Maggie and Mulder had a complicated relationship. Here’s my take on a few shared moments between them….

4,7k words. Here on AO3. 

1. 1995

The Glasgow room, otherwise known as events room B, is empty and cavernous when he arrives. Sound bounces off the walls from the other early guests and is presented back to them in an awkward offering.  Helium balloons dance timidly from their weights along the outskirt of the room. Mulder slinks in like a cat and nurses a beer as he watches the room fill. He did not go to the graveyard.

Thankfully the event grows into the space, and the hum of conversation encourages more of the same. There is laughter. Recent friends wear brightly coloured outfits, paisley shirts and ethereal skirts. The family wear black, but wicked humour sparkles through their sad smiles. Scully and Maggie arrive, accompanied by a smattering of aunts, uncles, cousins. It’s strange to see Scully with a support network which excludes him. He doesn’t feel like he can approach her; he will wait for her. They make eye contact briefly, and she moves towards him before being intercepted by someone. Maggie smiles as she speaks, but he sees her glance frequently around the room for her remaining daughter as if proving to herself that she is still here, that she hasn’t lost Dana too. 

There is never enough food at events like this. Out of some misguided sense of chivalry which no one witnesses, he is late to the buffet and picks at the remaining trays. Having made small talk with some cousins from Wisconsin, he sits furtively at a table for two, hoping his vibes deter anyone from making any further effort.

‘Fox.’ He looks up, mid-room temperature shrimp half-way to his mouth, to see Maggie standing at his elbow with Scully behind her. Mulder can see foundation gathering in the creases around her eyes. Her cheeks have has sunk, no longer blooming from happy memories. Mulder stands and wipes his mouth on a napkin.

‘Mrs Scully,’ he kisses Maggie on the cheek. ‘I’m so very sorry about Melissa.’

‘Thank you.’ Her eyes are shiny pebbles from the bottom of a stream, clear and hard. Mulder gulps, his mouth dry, and wipes his hands on his napkin, frustrated he has nothing of value to offer when she suddenly speaks, low and forcefully. ‘Tell me, Fox. Was it worth it? Was what you found worth it?’

‘Come on, Mom, let’s go say hi to the Denman’s. I see them over there.’ Scully puts her hand on her mother’s arm and pushes her gently away. He watches them, relieved to avoid further interrogation, and considers making a quiet exit when Scully turns and mouths ‘don’t go.’ Damn. Suddenly no longer hungry, he pushes his plate to the opposite place setting and waits. He watches.

Scully and Maggie work the room, sometimes together, sometimes apart. They are the only members of the immediate Scully family representing Melissa to her mourners. The extended family, comprising of short women and tall men, make sure that Scully’s wine glass never fully empties. Maggie favours brandy. She remembers the names of Melissa’s childhood friends and greets her adult friends with generous hugs. Laughter abounds as family reacquaints and friends rediscover commonalities.  Each table hosts a framed photo of Melissa, and on this table, there is a photo of the Scully children in front of a big fish that Bill Junior has caught. Melissa is tall, beautiful with early-teen self-consciousness, smiling without teeth. Dana is at least 6 inches smaller, her face chubby and framed with bangs, and excitedly pointing at the fish with her two index fingers, her mouth open in a perfect ‘o’.

The sun takes polite grief with it as it sets, and the mood of the room shifts towards a more frantic, unrestrained celebration. Ties are loosened, music starts to play, and voices grow louder as the guests realise their hours for remembering Melissa together will soon draw to a close. Scully sits opposite him, pushing aside the remaining plate of food. Her eyes are glassy, her cheeks pink. A tissue peeks out of her cardigan sleeve, and her mascara is slightly smudged under her left eye. She smiles languidly and rests her chin in her hand. They hear Maggie laugh across the room with the cousins from Wisconsin. They are both taller than her, and one wraps her into a bear hug. She has the effusiveness of a dinner party host, eager to inform everyone where the food is and to help themselves to drinks. In the gap between conversation, Mulder sees Maggie staring into the middle distance, steeling herself to share the next anecdote.

‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Mulder remarks.

‘This is the fun part,’ Scully says, her s’s slightly stretched. ‘Remembering Missy with all her favourite people. And some of her not-so-favourite people.’ They watch Maggie take another brandy from the waitress. ‘She’ll crash later once we’re in the cab. I’m staying with her tonight.’

‘Can I take you both home?’ Mulder asks, suddenly wanting to do at least this for Scully and her mother.

‘Thank you, but that’s not necessary, Mulder.’

‘Please, I’d like to.

Scully appraises him, draining her wine. ‘She’s not herself today, you know. Don’t give it another thought.’

No apology, Mulder notes.

‘I know. She was right to ask. She has the right to ask, I mean. She should ask.’

‘She does. She should.’ Scully gazes lovingly at her mom, eyes misting with tears before someone else catches her eye, causing her to giggle into her hand like a schoolgirl. ‘Oh no. Missy would be devastated to know that Sam Charleston is here. She had the biggest crush on him when she started her first job, and he kept her well and truly in the friend zone.’

‘Go say hi. Go mingle.’

She leans on her knuckles to steady herself as she stands. ‘If that offer is still open…. That would be nice. We would love a lift back.’

‘Of course.’

‘Oh, and Mulder,’ she says as she starts to totter away. ‘We’re Irish. This is going to be a late one.’

‘I’ll be here.’

2. 1997

Mulder wakes to the shadow of someone standing over him. Blinking, his back burns as he sits up in his plastic chair.

‘Go home, Fox,’ Maggie says. ‘You should get some rest. In a proper bed.’

Her eyes are bright, too wide, like a child who has eaten all their Halloween candy in one sitting, twitchy and hyper. The hall is quiet, the bustle of the day replaced with a cloak of calm inevitability as some patients gather their strength for another day, and some succumb to the everlasting sleep which floats through these rooms like a genie, offering to grant the most desperate wishes.

‘Uh, I can’t seem to leave.’ He rubs his neck. ‘Is Scully ok?’

‘She’s just fallen asleep.’ Maggie sits beside him. She rubs her hands over her face and reaches for his hand. It’s an intimate move, but a hospital at 3am is an intimate, almost holy place and those who witness it are bound by their understanding of this. He covers her hand with his, a silent gesture of solidarity.

Maggie, Bill and Mulder haven’t slept properly in days; Scully sleeps too much for all of them. She can’t smell, can’t taste, doesn’t eat. Her headaches are sudden and vicious, the only respite being ever-stronger painkillers and sleep. Suddenly her teeth start to grind. She loses track of conversation, eyes, fingers and face all clenched, and Mulder presses her painkiller button in frustration that this is all he can do. All the road signs are pointing towards morphine. No one mentions it explicitly, knowing it will likely be the last landmark for Scully.

‘Where’s Bill?’

‘He’s gone back. To pick up some clothes, pick up my copy of Little Women for Dana.’ Maggie rests her head against the wall and closes her eyes. ‘When she’s awake I’m worried that she’s not getting enough rest, and when she’s asleep I just want to wake her. It’s like she’s 2 weeks old all over again.’

Mulder stays quiet.

‘She’s stopped arguing with me, have you noticed? She doesn’t have the energy. I just want to see her eyes flash at me again, I want that ‘here we go again’ feeling one more time. I’m trying to remember the last time we did that. I’m trying to remember.’

‘Mrs Scully, you can’t give up hope, not yet.’ Mulder teeters of the edge of acceptance but hasn’t fallen into that hole just yet: its depth is too deep, too dark, and he’s not sure he would recognise the man who comes out the other side. He needs his anger to stay on track for Scully, to keep going, and more importantly in this moment now, to stay awake.

‘Fox, I haven’t given up hope, far from it,’ Maggie’s voice is tired and resigned. ‘But you can’t deny what we’re seeing. We can’t expect things from Dana that she can’t give us. Then it’s not fair on her.’

Mulder feels this new perspective like a splash of cold water on his face. He hadn’t considered the impact of his unending fight on Scully. Did she feel like she had to perform for him? Did she gather her strength every time he entered the room to protect him from what was happening, to allow him his little charade? Does the energy needed for his visits mean more frequent headaches, more pain? His shoulders slump further as more guilt settles across them.

Maggie’s head suddenly brushes his shoulder, and she looks up in surprise, blinking. A microsleep.

‘Mrs Scully, you should take your own advice.’ He squeezes her hand where it still rests in his. ‘Get some proper rest.’

Maggie shakes her head. ‘There’s the meeting with Dana’s doctor first thing. And then the Priest is stopping by.’

The meeting is to learn the consultant recommendation after examining the chip that Mulder had offered him like frankincense. They had scanned it, taken photos, made notes, but the chip itself remained in Mulder’s pocket at his insistence.

‘I hope you know I respect the work of the priest.’ Mulder clears his throat, not sure of his next words. ‘I’m not exactly what you’d call a good disciple, but I’m willing to try anything at this point. And I know what it means to Dana.’

‘I won’t lie, I don’t like the idea of this chip, Fox. But you’ve earned the right to an opinion here. And anyway, Dana will do what she thinks is best: she won’t have anyone else make this choice for her.’

‘I know. I just wanted you to know that … I just want to make sure we’ve tried everything.’

Maggie stands and puts a hand to his cheek, her hand soft against his stubble. It’s a move he’s done to Scully before, but he had underestimated how much comfort it brings. He wants to nuzzle into her hand, to close his eyes and rest in the warmth.

‘I know you love her, Fox. You love her as she deserves to be loved. I do wish you might show it with roses instead of computer chips,’ she smiles ruefully. ‘But there aren’t words to convey how grateful I’ve been to see your love for my daughter over these past few weeks.’

He watches her go back into Scully’s dark room. They both wait, in different rooms, for the sun to rise on the day when Scully’s holy trinity of faith, family and work will entwine around her like the roots of a tree in a final attempt to nourish her back to health.

3. 1998

It is still dark when they pull up outside the house, but someone has clocked their arrival and the front door flings open. Maggie waves, wrapping her cardigan around her, and gestures inwards.

‘You have to come in now, you realise,’ Scully says as she unbuckles her belt.

‘Oh, no, Scully, I don’t want to do that. You be with your family. It’s 6:30am.’

‘Come on, you’ll offend her. You don’t want to offend my mother on Christmas morning, do you Mulder?’ Scully teases. ‘Or do you? Is that what you want?’

He sighs and walks with her towards the house. Modest fairy lights twinkle on the porch, and the Christmas tree glows from the front window. Mulder can see tasteful, coordinated ornaments and the outline of people in the front room. Already the Scully Christmas is in stark contrast to Christmas at his mother’s house: a quiet affair with two lonely presents under a tree that never seems to stand straight, decorated with all Fox and Samantha’s homemade decorations from over the years. A roast chicken that would invariably burn as Teena became engrossed in a Christmas movie and Mulder slept on the couch. They would end the day with a quiet game of Scrabble. He feels a protective pang in his chest: it’s not much of a Christmas, but it’s their Christmas. Teena is never outwardly demonstrative, but he knows he is loved. She has saved all his crafts, every homemade Mother’s Day and Christmas card. I’ll call her later, he promises to himself as he walks to the porch, swallowing the bitter taste of treachery as he crosses another mother’s threshold on Christmas morning.

‘Come in, come in! Merry Christmas!’ Maggie exclaims as they stamp the snow from their shoes. They are her first gifts of the day as she unwraps their coats and scarves. ‘Fox, what an unexpected surprise.’

‘Uh, Scully’s car didn’t start, so I gave her a lift,’ he said lamely, hoping the explanation doesn’t lead to more questions.

‘Well, you can at least stay for breakfast.’ She stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He is uncomfortable, unused to meeting Maggie outside of a crisis. He doesn’t have anything to offer her, not even a Christmas card, and he almost regrets offering Scully a lift this morning. He had been high on infatuation, waking after their late-night ghost hunt to find Scully snuffling under the covers next to him like a grumpy guinea pig, her scruffy red hair poking out from under the covers.

‘Thank you, Mrs Scully, that would be great. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything.’

‘Please, Fox, it’s a last-minute invite. It’s enough that you’re here.’ Mulder smiles, and sends a thought remembering his mother at the Vineyard on her own. It might be called a prayer, if he was a man of any sort of religious faith.

‘Sorry we’re late, Mom.’

‘Don’t be silly, Dana, I don’t know why we have to meet at such an ungodly time anyway.’ She ushers them into the living room. Bill sits in front of the tree wearing a Santa hat, his son perched in his lap lifting and shaking any gift in his proximity. Scully hugs her sister-in-law affectionately, and Mulder notes that something has thawed between them since San Diego.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Bill asks in surprise, quickly removing his Santa hat.

‘Hush now, Bill,’ Maggie says easily, entering with a tray of mugs and a cafetière full of coffee. ‘It’s too early to be so contrary.’

‘I just think it’s odd that her work colleague is in our living room at 6:30am.‘

‘Bill, please. Fox is Dana’s partner, and they get to decide the context of that. Not us.’

Mulder glances at Scully. He’s not sure what Maggie has just insinuated, or what Scully has been saying to make Maggie to make her think that way. They’re still walking this path cautiously, and yet Mulder feels like Maggie has just confirmed something fundamental that neither had fully acknowledged yet.  Scully reflects his surprise, raising an eyebrow before looking back at her brother.

‘Admit it, Bill,’ Scully says, ‘you’re just embarrassed that Mulder’s seen you in your jimmy jams.’

There is a pause in the room before Bill spreads his hands and laughs.

‘Guilty. Grab a seat, Mulder, let’s see if there’s a lump of coal under here somewhere for you.’ Scully squeezes his arm in solidarity. Mulder sees the steel under Bill’s smile and nods, accepting the tentative olive branch.

‘Excellent.’ Maggie sits beside the tree and pulls Matthew onto her lap, who desperately reaches towards the tree. ‘My grandson has been patient enough. Now that we’re all here, and caffeinated, how about we open some presents?’

4. 2001

Mulder stares through the nursery glass at the eight babies wriggling in their little beds. It’s like a very small and very strange zoo exhibition. I’m sorry guys, he thinks, visiting hours have just started for you. His baby is back row left, wearing a blue hat and sleeping with his mouth slightly open, oblivious to all the motion and emotion surrounding him.

Scully needed stitches. The doctors were not happy with her delivery in general, and Mulder felt them glance suspiciously in his direction when he wasn’t looking. They had also given Scully a sedative: she had been shaking with shock and exhaustion, having had no sleep during the 16 hours since the delivery. In the helicopter she had gripped her son with a haunted look in her eyes, only reluctantly handing him to the nurse when the desire to have him checked over outweighed her instinct to hold tight. Go with him, she’d begged, the force of his hand squashing his fingers, don’t leave him alone. Make sure he’s ok. Please, Mulder. He’d wanted to stay until she slept, but his continued presence only made her more anxious. He had left her, weak and weepy with her legs in stirrups, as exposed and vulnerable as a person could find themselves. The nurse had offered to bring the baby to Mulder to hold, but without Scully it feels like a betrayal somehow. He is satisfied just peering through the window, admiring his perfect lips and nose.

‘Fox,’ he turns to see Maggie standing at his shoulder. Her face is tight, her clenched teeth barely restraining her anger. His stomach drops as he feels himself ride over the crest of a rollercoaster.

‘Mrs Scully. Did you just arrive?’

‘I tried to visit Dana but they said she’s sleeping.’ Maggie has yet to put her overnight bag down, her knuckles white as she grips the handles. ‘Do you mind telling me what happened? How my daughter got to Georgia?’

‘Scully, uh, she was in danger and so we thought it safest if she left DC.’ Maggie purses her lips. Mulder’s palms are sweaty. What had made perfect sense at the time was now sounding reckless and stupid.

‘I see. And why Georgia?’

‘We needed somewhere unexpected, somewhere that no one would know.’

‘How exactly did she get here?’

‘One of her colleagues drove her. Special Agent Reyes, you may have met her, she’s been working with Scully for the last, well really for the last 6 months now.’ Mulder felt with each answer Maggie was coiling tighter and tighter, preparing to strike.  ‘Scully likes her, trusts her, so it seemed like the best choice.’

‘I see. Where were you?’

‘I was trying to make sure that the people who were trying to get Scully didn’t. Couldn’t.

‘And did you succeed?’

‘No, no I didn’t. But they didn’t get her, thank god.’

‘You didn’t succeed,’ Maggie says, shaking her head slowly. ‘You sent my little girl to some abandoned town in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity, running water, or even any antibacterial spray, to give birth on her own with only a colleague she’s known for 6 months for support. Is any of this inaccurate?’

‘No, it’s not.’ Mulder’s voice is quiet in contrast to Maggie’s increasing volume.

‘Do you mind telling me what on earth you were thinking?’ Maggie finally shouts, throwing her jacket at him. He catches it clumsily. ‘How could you do this, Fox? In what possible way was this the best solution?’

The tiredness, anxiety and fear which Mulder had been suppressing for the last 72 hours bursts forth, and he is suddenly possessed by rage.

‘Excuse me, Maggie, can I call you Maggie? I think it’s about time, don’t you?’ His voice is quiet but violent. Maggie blinks in surprise and takes a step back. ‘This is my son we’re talking about here. My –‘ he falters as he thinks of Scully in the third room down the corridor, sleeping while her injuries are stitched. His chest hurts with the ferocity of his love for her. ‘This is my whole world. I didn’t just send them away for a jaunt down South. It wasn’t for the fun��of it. If we hadn’t have sent them away, in all likelihood we wouldn’t have either of them right now.’

Maggie presses her fingers to her lips as tears slide down her cheeks. Mulder immediately hates himself for shouting at her, she who has already lost so much as a result of Scully’s dogged insistence to stay by his side. He too blinks away tears as he realises what is about to happen next: Scully isn’t going to see her mother meet her grandchild, Scully’s miracle son. She will miss their introduction.

‘I daresay you’re right,’ Maggie mutters. ‘Everything you’ve said matches what Mr Skinner told me. I know you had no choice. But, my god Fox, another phone call, another panicked rush to a hospital, this time in Georgia. I don’t know how many more times I can do this.’

‘I know, Mrs Scully,’ Mulder rubs her shoulder tentatively, taking her bag from her.

‘Please, you’re right, you should call me Maggie,’ she huffs, wiping her eyes. ‘I know you did what you thought was best. But I can’t pretend I understand or agree with it. I think I have to ask you for a little more time before we’re in the same room together.’

Mulder nods. ‘I understand, Maggie. I want to check on Scully anyway, make sure she’s ok. Before I go, let me show you your grandson. There he is: he’s the champ in the top left. See him?’

Mulder sees her face soften, and she places her fingers lightly on the glass window, drinking in every detail of the baby.

‘Oh Fox…’, she murmurs, ‘he’s beautiful. Look at him. He looks like you, you know.’

‘You think?’

‘That bottom lip, there’s no doubt.’ She sighs. ‘He’s wonderful.’

‘Do you want to hold him?’

‘Can I? Have you?’

‘No… no. I’m going to wait for Scully… But you really should. You know how angry she’ll be if she wakes up to learn that neither of us held him this whole time. She would want you to.’

Maggie nods. Without speaking, without eye contact, she holds his hand briefly in thanks. Mulder recognises her resolve; he knows Maggie is happier now she has something practical to focus on. Her face betrays her excitement as she flags down a nurse. He carries her bag with him and opens the third door down the corridor where he is greeted by Scully’s pale face, her anxiety having vanished in sleep.

5. 2005

Mulder hears the gravel crunch under the car as Scully pulls up into the drive. He turns on the grill but stubbornly keeps his back turned as Scully and her mother enter the house. This is Maggie’s first visit to their unremarkable house, their little haven. For the last six months, Scully has met her in the city, at neutral settings or at Maggie’s place. They told each other it was for safety, that it was better for both Mulder and Maggie that they didn’t put Maggie in a position of consorting with a fugitive, but they both knew the truth: they were scared of what Maggie might say. Of how she might react to seeing Mulder again, after so many years on the run.

Scully arrived home from her first meeting with Maggie with red eyes and a stuffy nose.

How was it? Mulder had asked.

It was great. Amazing. It was so good to see her again.��Her replies were short, and Mulder heard her unspoken words. They had gone to bed without speaking any further that night.

After six months, Maggie had finally asked to see where Dana and her outlaw partner were living. A Fourth of July barbeque seemed like a good occasion, the external focus distracting from any tension. Scully bought fireworks and s’mores ingredients; Mulder built a bonfire ready for the evening.

He hears footsteps on the deck and turns to see Maggie. They study each other quietly: her white hair, wrists tightly covered by crepe-paper skin, his lined face and wider jaw. He’s been waiting for this moment since Scully floated the idea with him. Now it had arrived, he realised how many lost years sat between them. Maggie stands a metre away, but the distance is a metal spring that stretches wider and wider and wider.

‘Hello Fox,’ she says, and her voice takes him back to hospitals, to phone calls, to missing people and conversations haunted by death.

‘Hi Maggie.’ He doesn’t move, and neither does she. He wants to tell her he’s sorry, but he doesn’t want to accept sole responsibility. He wants to ask for forgiveness, but he isn’t afraid of defending his choices. He wants to ask how she’s been, what their absence felt like for her, but surely the hole they left in her life is too great for him to think about patching up now. Behind him, the barbeque hisses as the fat drips from the meat.

‘Dana tells me you built this deck.’

‘I did, yes. It was my first project when we moved in. Where is Scully?’

‘She’s getting the potato salad ready.’ Mulder looks towards the house and cringes inwardly when he sees no sign of her. ‘It’s lovely out here.’

‘It is.’ Suddenly he’s sick of this dance. ‘Maggie, I want you to know –‘

‘Fox, I think we’ve had enough.’ Her assertiveness catches him unawares and he stops. ‘Don’t you agree? Enough anger, enough apologies, enough guilt.’

He nods cautiously.

‘What did Scully say about our time away?’ He asks. Maggie sighs and looks at her hands.

‘She didn’t say a lot. She mentioned motels, some kitchen work. You know how she is. She stopped talking before she got in over her head.’

‘Are you…. Mad?’

‘Oh, I’ve been mad alright. Father McCue can attest to that.’ Mulder turns back to the meat, and Maggie stands beside him. She looks so like her daughter out of the corner of his eye; there’s a familiarity between Mulder and Maggie that he’d forgotten about. All the fear they’ve shared together sits within a current of energy between them. ‘But I don’t want to be mad anymore.’

The spring suddenly snaps back into shape.

‘That’s good to hear,’ Mulder turns the meat. ‘I was afraid I was going to get my ass kicked.’

Maggie chuckles and Mulder suddenly sees that their bonfire, fireworks and s’mores will be genuinely delightful.

‘Just stay, though, please?’ She asks tentatively. He realises that their détente is quick but delicate, in need of nurture. ‘Stay here. Let me visit occasionally. Maybe there’s a room that I might one day come to think of as being mine. Just let me see you both.’

‘Maggie… Of course we will. You’re welcome here any time. At any time.’

‘What are you two talking about?’ They both turn to see Scully approaching with a tray of salad and iced tea. Her small smile is cautious and there’s apprehension in her eyes.

‘I was just about to ask Fox why the deck slants to the left.’ Maggie takes the tray from Scully and kisses her cheek.

‘Maggie, I’ll have you know this is excellent craftsmanship. It slants so the water can drain off effectively.’ They sit at the table together, with Scully looking from her mother and her partner. Her face glows in a way he hasn’t seen for years, and he squeezes her hand under the table. He is pleased to have brought her back, happy to have given her a home. She is starting to thrive. She looks at him, her eyes shiny with tears.

‘Look at me, I’m being ridiculous,’ she laughs, wiping her eyes.  ‘I’m just so glad we’re all here together.’

[yououghtaknow]

15 + 24?

hi!! thank you so much <3

15. introduce us to your version of william

oh BABY!!!!

okay. so. the thing about william is i have always hated him. as someone who has been in a manipulative situation similar to noorhelm, just hated the man. so, i decided to create a new man. a good man. complex, but good.

enter JAMES ABRAHAM COHEN!!!!! he’s introduced to the song teenagers by mcr and is wearing a trenchcoat over his school uniform, not only because he’s edgy, but because he’s cold because he immigrated to the uk from the middle east. he is, at the beginning, a manwhore, yes. but he’s a party boy, a guitar boy, who rori sees and thinks Yes. My Future Husband. meanwhile he’s just having a drinking contest with his Boys and then talking about his favourite comic book character. he’s not a bad boy TM. he’s a Dumb Teenage Boy.

he's a genuinely nice guy. he apologises to rori as many times as he can, and only stops because she asks him to, and they become friends. he falls madly in love with liz as soon as she starts roasting him. he’s just an Understanding guy who’s made mistakes and is always trying to get better and be there for his friends. he literally let jake live in his flat for a good while. 

and, my favourite thing about james is that he forced his friends to audition for a production of grease with him to see the girl he Loves So Much and ends up getting the lead role???? TWICE???? this man is danny zuko and roger davis. 

also, in my personal opinion, i think james is kind of a superior arthur skamfrance. both have a disability (arthur is hard of hearing, james has autism/adhd), both have abusive family, both are in a love triangle with two beautiful girls (one of whom is a wlw chris b). and also a surprise member of the boy squad starting in season 3. 

also, in a way, my william is a william/jonas/eskild combination??? which is very fun. i just love taking all these different skam dynamic, cutting them up and throwing them in a pot and seeing what looks nice.

also, ONE LAST THING, i think my william has the most reasonable reason to go to london. as it is an hour away from brighton by train and he can come back before the day’s over. because he’s a teenage boy. and we will be seeing a lot more of james in season 5. get ready for it.

24. tell us about a ship that is endgame.

i’m going to be real with you all on tumblr dot com on this night. i honestly don’t know what romantic ships are going to be endgame, because i plan the seasons i’m writing as i’m writing them, so i only have the vague framework of what i want for the endgame of skambr as a whole. so i’m just going to talk about the 3 main romantic ships that are canon as of the end of season 4. and i’m gonna Go Off.

esther/sandy:

OKAY. taking sandy’s story as a whole. she’s kissed her best girl friend. she started dating a guy she doesn’t like. she’s desperate for something new to come along. and esther has just moved back from germany. she just wants to meet someone to talk to because she’s so lonely. and boom. they run into each other one night by chance and it’s “oh my god she’s so pretty” at first sight. and then they start talking and become friends so quickly (and esther introduces sandy to the keysmash). also, nooreva should’ve been canon. i have rectified that.

but god. the way they have their conversation in s1 e4 and almost kiss but get interrupted by sophie??? god. and when they actually kiss in s1 e6 and suddenly everything’s Good until they get caught. and sandy Runs because what else can she do? she’s terrified. and esther stays. and when they see each other again, esther doesn’t say anything because she knows sandy can’t talk about it. until sandy gets outed and attacked by the football team, and esther instantly goes to protect her and puts her own feelings aside to make sure sandy’s okay. and sandy just Needed a safe place to land like esther for so long. and when they finally kiss at the christmas fair as “girls like girls” plays????? god.

and their relationship in all of the later seasons GOD. i love them. their fight and reconciliation in season 2. them just being together casually, with sandy healing from her past and learning to truly love herself, and esther opening up and having someone there to comfort her when she needs it. and the fact that they’re still friends throughout it all, because it;s not just friends to lovers. it’s friends to friends AND lovers. also when esther sang “boy problems” by crj at sandy..... ICONIC

liz/james:

GOD. okay these two are really one of my favourite dynamics i’ve ever written. because they start as “oh you’re the annoying guy my best friend’s got a crush on”. and go to “oh you’re the ASSHOLE who broke my friend’s heart”. to “oh she may have forgiven you, but i Have Not”. and james is just like “I Am Being So Nice And She Still Hates Me”. but then we see liz seeing james’s art piece at the end of s2 e1. and she connects with it so deeply. and then they have their first real conversation in the next episode and they have a lot in common. they get each other. and he sings “perfect for you” from n2n to her. and she gets so overwhelmed by the fact that her mind might be changing that she just Runs Away.

and then we get the sleepover scene and GOD. one of my favourite scenes to write. james being a good cook??? james smoking out the window and liz making fun of his guitar. and then liz beginning to play james’s brother’s piano and james making it a duet as they sing “falling slowly” from once together. and then they share a bed and instead of saying something creepy, james just says “i think we might be becoming friends”. and she texts him immediately after the prank on the holiday episode. and their first kiss. GOD. with him always calling her elizabeth and the pride and prejudice parallels and “bad idea” from waitress...... and then them spending the next day together. also, in the first kiss clip liz says that she “hates one direction”, and in the next morning clip, one direction plays as she walks with james. it’s a metaphor baby!!!!!1

and their whole political dynamic GOD. it’s actually based a lot on how my politics have changed from when i was 14, beginning to write the series, and now. with going from the centrist-liberal ideas of “all violence is bad :) racism isn’t that bad guys :)” to liz using her privilege as a rich white girl to fully bail james out of jail for assaulting the man who’s been racially harrassing him for months. and the scene where liz has her meltdown at school and james takes her home, puts her to bed, and sings her to sleep. AND THE SCENE WHERE HE COMES OUT TO HER AS TRANS GOD. also them just being nice in the background of season 3 and 4. delightful.

bree/rori:

THIS RELATIONSHIP IS LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVOURITES TOO GOD. their DYNAMIC in the scene where bree is introduced and rori is all starry eyed over her and bree will already do Anything for her. it’s about the “i want to be her friend so bad” kind of crushes. and bree and rori getting closer and closer as the season goes on, and they get the “i bet i can make you horny” scene because i just think it’s really fun.

and GOD. the evilde plot in skam og makes me. so Mad. but here...... it’s about the internalised homophobia. it’s about the wanting one good movie kiss. it’s about the them making out to one direction in the middle of a school event. AND THEM DOING THE PRANK TOGETHER ON THE EASTER HOLIDAY EPISODE. QUEEN SHIT! and the scene where bree is drunk and talking to liz about how it feels to be in love...... that was about rori!!!! and when they played sandy and rizzo in grease together. the homoeroticism, the best friendship.

and in season 3 when nick and rori get together and bree is just standing there, jake talking to her and she looks into the camera...... god. and SEASON FOUR RORIANNA. WHICH IS THEIR SHIP NAME IN MY HEAD. GOD. them just being best friends and bree being silently in love with her because she’s happy that rori is happy with nick (who is also her friend). the scene where they “practise kissing” because rori is scared to kiss a girl onstage (we love internalised homophobia), and how bree also ignores it because she’s scared of conflict. and they’re always so there for each other. rori being there to support bree so hard when bree’s at her lowest point. bree being there for rori and ready to fight for her. bree going from waking up next to josh, to waking up alone, to waking up next to rori. them going from slow dancing to daylight by taylor swift to laughing and dancing on a crowded stage in la vie boheme.

quite genuinely? they have it all. evilde. sana/chris b. eva/chris b. noora/chris b. noora/vilde. it’s about girls supporting girls and also them kind of being cut from the same cloth as sandy/esther. one of them having internalised homophobia and running away from the kiss, and the other silently loving them until they get a yes or a no. 

anyways every relationship i write is about having clear consent and respect for your partner at all times. and also about friends to lovers. and also the tenderness of musical theatre couples. oh shit now i want to talk about jake/al. well. this is my tumblr blog and you all have to deal with me.

jake/al: jake and al are currently Not Together as of skam brighton season 4 but god. i love writing their relationship so much. it’s about them meeting when al is in a manic episode and jake is deep in his depression and grief. about the nothing and the everything. it’s about the jason and peter secret gay lovers, the tony and maria falling in love on the balcony and having their first kiss at a pretend wedding, the romeo and juliet whirlwind romance that ends in tragedy. it’s about the bright orpheus al with his music and his bright life and sad, bitter jake, hating everything about himself and holding his own, but then falling in love and finding a way to build himself a new life, while al is falling down into a deep depressive episode. and then jake picks al up and gives him the tools he needs to help him step back from the ledge. and then al, who’s spent the entire season chasing after jake and the joy he gives him, turns around and walks away to better himself. and jake is okay with it, because he also needs time on his own to get better, and they agree to stay close friends, and they do!!! it’s about the gay experience of falling madly in love and then going back to be friends.

[isolctions]

y’all ain’t really ask but i’mma talk abt it anyway.

i’ve already started to tag things for them bc i had the idea formulated in my head since...the literal inception of the vaughn siblings, but being that bakari is the most reckless of them all, it kinda felt weird that one day i could potentially write his death (which, by the way, i will.) & feel like there’s no one set in stone in his life like with the rest of the siblings. so before any of bakari’s current ships, relationships, or any connections gained through writing him on my blogs, bakari has one other person as his confidant — nikita simms.

bakari met nikita the way he met a majority of the people in his life that he considers close friends, people outside of his family members that know him best, people that he treats as if they were his own blood: on the playground of a church down the block from the two bedroom project apartment that the vaughns were living in. they played together, sure, but he didn’t actually come to know nikita until the passing of cartier led the siblings to enter the public school system for the first time.

since bakari was six, he, nikita, and zay attended the same school, even if they didn’t have the same teachers as grades progressed. and while at first, bakari tried to pull the tough act by stealing nikita’s things on the playground, she essentially beat his whole ass during recess for trying her too many times and he respected her for it. zay included, they were a team, all throughout sixth grade — until, as they grew up and developed their own interests (zay with art, bakari with putting katya & damon’s drug dealings on a pedestal, nikita with writing clubs afterschool), they drifted apart. it didn’t officially start until the summer of seventh grade when she admitted, rather awkwardly after their first kiss, that she wouldn’t be going to school with him anymore.

from then on out, their relationship had been rather similar to the characters from the movie ‘the wood’, ronald & alicia. yeah they saw each other from time to time on the block...but not often. as for zay’s perspective, being that she’d been part of his first real friend group, felt so betrayed by her leaving suddenly and doing her own thing that he took to calling her ‘sugar hill harlem’ — when in reality, she’d still been living in harlem with her grandmother at the time, who sent her to a catholic school further uptown. but because bakari knows this, he defended her without looking ‘soft’. and yeah, they kissed that one time over the summer, but they don’t talk abt that! nor do they talk abt how irritated they get with the other while discussing their crushes or anything. just casual friend things.

their tenth grade year is when shit got tough for them. she hadn’t known, and had inadvertently found out from zay, that bakari chose to drop out of high school in favor of selling drugs. so at that point, their friendship had been low blows, arguments, and passive aggressiveness. they didn’t fully talk about this either, until one night at a house party where nikita got waaaaasted. and when she confronted him, she ripped into him. all his potential gone, all the hope to move in footsteps away from his father’s, and instead he went to sell drugs. she’s crying, he’s fuming, they’re upset — but he still got her home safe. cause, y’know...that’s his home or whatever.

and the next morning, they talk abt their lives now again. how this changes shit. bc no matter how mad she was at him for his decisions, she’s still in his life & still wanted be. that’s what friends are for, right? and through this vulnerable ass discussion they have, they happen to kiss...again...and again...and again...then they just ask: ‘what are we even doing?’

and so they have sex.

they both have done it before, so it was just whatever. life went back to normal. they still hung out and got dollar pizza every now and then. nikita still sat with zay, despite their differences, to help him study for shit he wasn’t planning on applying. and when she graduated high school, nikita got a full ride at spelman. bakari hadn’t seen nikita since 18, and that was just how it was.

fast forward to the tail end of 2017, october to be specific, when nikita finally graduated from spelman and took time off before starting her internship at a writing company in atlanta to come home to harlem — or, back to earth, as he’d call it. and they changed. he had a tattoo shop now, and the first thing that nikita does is get herself inked with her first tattoo at swavey’s. then, bakari invites her out to celebrate down at damon’s nightclub, 92nd’s. she’d only been in town for a few days, so why not? they dance, they smoke a few, they share a few drinks and memories and life stories since she left, and it felt just like they’d been on the block again, chasing after the ice cream truck and splitting their quarters for a sundae.

and then, when he drives her back to her hotel room in a damn porsche, they have sex. again. and they text in the days afterwards, and off to atlanta she goes.

2018, he gets the text from nikita that she’s pregnant. they’re both stubborn and hard headed, though, so he takes the first flight to atlanta despite her telling him not to, and they just...figure it out from there. and although he’s still working and moving weight and attending meetings for and with katya, and while he’s still the most reckless fucking sibling out of all of the vaughns, he tries his best! he keeps this mostly under wraps from the rest of his family though, bc he prides himself on being the only one aside from ni’kyah to not have kids yet. cause he’s just a lying ass bitch.

july 31st, bakari & nikita had themselves a little leo!! amari marquel vaughn came, with bakari in the room to witness the birth of his son and be with his best friend. he may be a piece of shit, but he still a good dad!

these days, their son is now one and a half, and they still maintain that same close ass friendship. nikita has considered moving back to new york just to make the distance between them bearable, because she really does hate him not being around his son although he surprises her with visits often to make that happen. he used to think that his death wouldn’t mean much of anything to the small circle of people he keeps close to him, but now there’s amari he has to think about. imagine finally growing up at a whole 23, almost 24 fucking years old.

and when does his family, namely his mother, find out about this? fucking thanksgiving dinner, when nikita surprises him with a visit for once with amari in tow.

and like i said...the relationships that are established for the vaughns in canon (aka my head) kinda come first to me. it’s what i immediately think of with certain things. so just know that i’m not invalidating any ships that he may have within indie, but nikita is a presence in his life that is seldom going away any time soon. so there’s that.

[lets-talk-appella]

i’m nobody’s but yours

Chapter 2/25 - Chloe’s Prologue

Summary: Beca is straight as an arrow. 100%, totally, completely straight. Except for one problem that 100%, totally, completely changes everything: Chloe Beale.

Title borrowed from Calum Scott’s “If Our Love Is Wrong.”

Word Count: 3k

Rating: M (for dark themes, homophobia, masturbation, and eventual smut in later chapters) 

AO3 and FFN and below the cut

Chloe has no idea how many people she’s crushed on. It feels like a lot. It is a lot.

 There are both boys and girls in elementary school. Eric Sutherland, D’Shawn Johnson, Tyler Robinsdale, Chi Lor. Kayla Henn, Veronica Applegate, Meghan Corothers. She remembers each of them; holding hands with the boys, even “dating” D’Shawn for a while in the second grade. She mostly admired the girls from a distance, but she knows what she felt for them.

She tells her parents and her older brother, Chris, about each and every one of them, which makes them laugh and smile. Her dad calls her a “heartbreaker” even at that young age. She doesn’t quite know what that means, but he smiles when he says it, so she knows it can’t be a bad thing. 

Middle school passes much the same way. Ryan Gabour, Eric Sutherland (again), Jerome Zettler. Kylie Brenna, Courtney Johnson, Kendra Fink, Cady Morgan. Each hold a special place in her heart. She has classes with Ryan, Jerome, Kylie, and Courtney; she joins volleyball with Kendra and Cady. Everything is very simple.

She doesn’t care that she has feelings for both boys and girls. For her, that’s how it’s always been. She sometimes wonders why she never hears other girls talking about their crushes on girls, or why she doesn’t see it in movies or on TV, but she doesn’t let it bother her. All Chloe knows is that she likes both boys and girls, and that’s okay. She figures that she’ll fall in love with a person’s mind, personality, and soul, rather than the body they happen to come in.

She says this – that she’ll love a person, not their body – to her parents and Chris one night at dinner. A small pause comes over the table, during which her parents exchange the briefest of glances. The moment passes quickly, though, and her mom nods like she’s said something glaringly obvious (which, maybe she has). Her dad smiles at her crookedly and tells her that’s a wonderful way to fall in love. Chris, ever the teenager, continues eating his peas, utterly indifferent to his little sister’s proclamation.

She’s pretty sheltered, so it’s not until she’s almost a teenager that the word “gay” even enters her vocabulary. When it does, it’s jeered by Vincent Stridenger at two boys hugging in the hallway. It makes everyone around them turn and look, laughing and jeering. The boys break apart, red-faced and awkward.

Chloe asks Chris about it after school that night, figuring that at 16, he’d understand. His face twists when she asks, transforming into a mask of distaste she’s rarely seen before. He tells her what it means, but she still doesn’t understand why someone would use that term as an insult meant to embarrass others. Chris only pulls her close (she’s amazed; hugs from her teenage brother are becoming few and far in between) and tells her, “It’s okay that you don’t understand why. It just means you wouldn’t do something like that.”

Chloe’s first kiss happens when she’s 13, with Danny Nuck at the local burger place. He’d asked her there on a date and she’d happily agreed. It had gone well; they had a lot of shared interests in books, music, and movies. He even paid for their dinner, then had walked her outside. Because they were both too young to drive, their moms sat in their respective cars in the lot to pick them up.

Before Chloe goes to her mom’s car, though, Danny nervously asks if he can kiss her. Butterflies (the good kind) erupt in Chloe’s stomach and she nods. Danny closes the space between them and places a very small, quick peck on her lips. It’s nothing groundbreaking, but she likes how warm and happy it makes her feel.

Her second kiss is with Emily Kosma. She’s 14 and at her first high school party with actual alcohol. She doesn’t drink very much, only two cups of UV Blue mixed with lemonade, but it’s enough to fill her with a happy buzz.

Emily Kosma is in choir with her and she’s very pretty. She winks at Chloe from across the room as Chloe refills her second cup, and it draws Chloe over to her like a magnet. They talk for a bit about classes, then music, then books they both like. Chloe notices that Emily doesn’t mention boys, which is a good thing; it seems like all the other girls their age talk nonstop about boys, and that gets boring.

They end up dancing together when the music starts. It’s all innocent, until suddenly Emily’s face is close to hers – so close, that she can feel warm puffs of air against her lips. That, Emily’s looks, and the second cup of alcohol spurs Chloe to lean in and kiss Emily on the lips. She thinks about how soft Emily’s mouth is against her own, and how nice her shampoo smells.

They break apart to wolf-whistles and cheers from their tipsy peers. Chloe ignores them in favor of looking into Emily’s eyes, making sure she hadn’t embarrassed her. As it turns out, she doesn’t need to worry; Emily grins at her before reaching to pull her into their second kiss, and their last.

She doesn’t really keep track of who she kisses after that. A few different people, both boys and girls, like always. She’s not overzealous with it; she knows what high schoolers say about girls who kiss (and more than kiss) too many people. But whenever Chloe likes someone, she makes a point to kiss them, as long as they want to kiss her, too.

At 15, she realizes she should probably formally come out to her parents and to Chris. She waits until Thanksgiving, so that Chris is home from college. She’s only a little nervous to tell them because she knows they’ll love her no matter what, but she also doesn’t want them to treat her any differently because of who she dates.

She eventually squeaks it out over the dinner table in a voice that only quivers just the slightest bit. As soon as the words are out, her mom’s brow furrows. Chloe’s stomach drops, only for her mom to ask, confused, “Didn’t you already tell us that?”

Her dad shakes his head and answers for her, “Kinda, but this is the real deal, Cheryl.”

“Oh. Okay,” her mom answers, then adds, “We’re thrilled for you, honey. We want you to be happy. Right, Eric?”

“Of course,” Chloe’s dad smiles at her.

It’s that simple. Chloe grins her thanks and returns to her dinner. She’s lighter than air, filled with love for the people she cares for most in the world and their unerring acceptance of who she is.

As always, Chris continues eating, totally unfazed.

Chloe’s grandparents on her dad’s side both pass away when she’s 16. Her grandma from cancer, and her grandpa three days later from a broken heart (at least, that’s what her dad says). Chloe struggles with it; she’d loved her grandparents very much, having been especially close to her grandmother.

Their funeral is hard, and it’s the first time she can remember feeling so miserable that it actually makes her chest ache. It’s utterly appalling to her, that she can feel something like that.

She talks to her dad about it, though, and that helps. He wipes her tears and tells her that’s what love feels like, and that she’s lucky to be able to feel so deeply. Her mom and Chris help too; they hug her, hold her, bring her Kleenexes when she cries. With every day that passes after that, she can feel the ache in her chest lessening. She knows it’ll never go away completely, but she believes that it makes her a stronger, better person.

She finishes high school ranked 3rd in her class, proud of her accomplishments and full of excitement for her future. She’ll miss her friends desperately, but she already can’t wait for what Barden University will have in store for her.

Moving out is hard, but her parents and Chris (though he’s going to be a senior at his own university) help her get settled into Baker Hall. She meets her random roommate, Rachel, who seems nice, even if she is a math major (Chloe doesn’t trust people who like math that much). Chloe’s family part after countless hugs and what feels like a gallon of tears, but Chloe can’t remember ever feeling so happy and excited for the future.

Joining the Barden Bellas is the best decision she’s ever made, she’s sure of it. Well, she’s sure about her passion for singing and team bonding. She’s less sure about joining a group whose sophomore leader – Alice – is constantly rude to her and the other freshman member, Aubrey Posen.

Chloe is desperate to get to know Aubrey. The blonde is quiet, closed off, and serious in demeanor, but the occasional smile she sends Chloe’s way makes her think she’s not all stone. Still, it’s not until almost a month into Bellas rehearsals that she finally breaks through that hard exterior.

Feeling encouraged by an unusually good rehearsal, Chloe cracks her favorite joke for the group at large.

“Hey, guys,” she starts, getting their attention. “What did the janitor say when he jumped out of the closet?”

She’s met with several blank stares. Alice looks like she’s chewing the inside of her lip to keep from saying anything.

“Supplies!” Chloe cries happily, raising her arms for emphasis. “Get it?”

Only one person laughs: Aubrey. Chloe latches onto that instantly, sending her a beaming smile that Aubrey tentatively returns. She ignores the indifferent looks Alice and the other Bellas send her way in favor of moving to stand next to Aubrey while she gathers her things. They walk out of the auditorium together and Chloe practically forces her phone number into Aubrey’s reluctant hand because, damn it, she wants at least one friend among the Bellas.

Aubrey texts her that night to set up a time to hang out outside of rehearsal. In her dorm room, Chloe breaks into her happy dance in full sight of Rachel.

 Alice’s rudeness turns out to be a blessing in disguise. She and Aubrey bond over it, though Aubrey has a hard time speaking against Alice’s authority at first. Chloe learns that Aubrey comes from a military family that is filled with both love and discipline. She learns that Aubrey is capable of feeling just as much as she is, but isn’t always able to express it.

They spend many nights talking over large cheese pizzas they have delivered either to Aubrey’s room in Kennedy Hall or to Chloe’s in Baker. Friendship has always come easily to Chloe, and what she has with Aubrey is no different. It’s not long until, during a goodbye hug after one of their pizza nights, Aubrey whispers in her ear, “You’re my best friend.”

Chloe dates in college, though not often seriously, as her classes and her Bellas schedule keeps her busier than she’d like. She goes on dates with both men and women, which seems to bother Alice. Chloe doesn’t see why it should bother anyone; it’s her life, she should be able to be happy with whomever she wants. Alice doesn’t get that message, though, and near the end of Chloe’s freshman year, she tries to kick Chloe out of the Bellas. They’re all sitting down in the auditorium, Alice standing at her whiteboards when she says crudely and in front of everyone, “Chloe, if you’re going to be such a fucking slutbag, you can leave the Bellas.”

When that happens, Aubrey immediately stands up for her – literally. She rises from her chair and gets right in Alice’s face, actually forcing her back a step. Chloe can only stare in shock and awe as Aubrey snarls, “Don’t you dare say that to her. It’s none of your business if she dates girls. And you can’t kick her out. That’s discrimination, and I. Will. Tear. You. Down.”

Alice glares back but doesn’t say anything. Chloe’s not sure whether she should cry or cheer; Alice’s words had cut deep (she’s never been called a slut before) but Aubrey’s support of her means the world.

With one final huff in Alice’s direction, Aubrey moves stiffly back to her chair next to Chloe. Chloe glances over to say thanks, but Aubrey seems too angry to notice. Her hands are shaking pretty badly, with one resting on her stomach and the other gripping the side of the seat of her chair.

They never really talk about it beyond Chloe’s whispered, “Thank you,” following the rehearsal. Aubrey acknowledges it with a nod, and that’s that. Alice doesn’t bring it up again, but Chloe notices that Alice doesn’t make eye contact with her anymore after that.

Chloe falls in love with Tom Martineau at the start of her junior year. They’ve been dating for almost six months by that point, so she’s not surprised when she realizes she loves him. He’s kind to people and animals, loves music, books, and travel. He holds doors for her and always walks between her and the road. He’s considerate and good in bed (not that she has anyone to compare him to) and he loves it when she sings to him.

She loves him. That’s why it’s hard to acknowledge that their time together is drawing to a close. He’s set to graduate, while she has one year left at Barden. Even though he promises to visit during her senior year, she knows things won’t really be the same. More than that, they want different things out of life. Chloe isn’t really sure what she’s doing after college, but Tom has his next 20 years planned out. He’s planning on joining the Peace Corps and will probably spend the next five years across the world helping underprivileged kids. After that, he wants to work toward an environmental law degree, then settle down and have four kids of his own. While that all sounds amazing for him, Chloe doesn’t see herself in that picture.

They mutually break up about a week before the Bellas finals at the end of that year. Chloe needs to focus on their performance; Tom on graduation. They both cry when it ends, but they agree it’s for the best.

Chloe’s more upset than she lets on; again, she feels more than she maybe should. Tom is the first person she’s been in love with, and while they part on good terms, it still stings to know she won’t wake up with his arms around her anymore. She calls her mom that night and cries into the phone. From the next room, Aubrey hears her and brings her a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream to make her feel better.

Chloe feels so, so loved that night.

The finals are a disaster. They lost the Bella win, but more than that, it feels like she’s lost her best friend. Aubrey is inconsolable, even though it isn’t really her fault. Chloe spends almost a week after the incident smoothing her hand between Aubrey’s shoulder blades as she dry-heaves into a toilet from the stress.

It’s easier once Alice moves out of the Bella house, leaving them with the keys and a cruel, “You two slutbags can’t fuck things up more than you already have, so you’re captains now.”

Chloe isn’t sorry to see the last of her.

Unfortunately, Aubrey takes Alice’s parting message to heart. She stops heaving only long enough to look up and say, “We need to win next year. We have to.” Chloe tries not to let it bother her, tries to remember that that’s Aubrey trapped in the body of some possessed, angry, and ashamed girl. She hopes the summer helps.

It doesn’t. If anything, Aubrey’s thrown herself into co-captaincy with a renewed vengeance. It’s a little scary.

Chloe knows her senior year is going to be a hard one. With the combined stresses of her classes, finding and training new Bellas, making sure Aubrey doesn’t lose her lunch, and her still relatively recently-ended relationship (though Tom still says he’d like to visit for the occasional hook-up), Chloe decides not to date anyone for a little while. Maybe even for the rest of her college career.

Then, at 21, against Aubrey’s will and recovering from a Bellas failure, Chloe meets Beca Mitchell.

[jjeangrey]

Sorry For Writing All The Songs About You (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: Tony accidentally found out about the little secret you’ve been hiding under your bed.

A/N: Inspired by the song “Sorry For Writing All The Songs About You” by Clara Mae.

Warnings: angst, cussing, and just a very sad story oops

“Y/N?” Tony calls as he enters your room. The door’s locked but since he basically made the avengers tower, he can easily come inside any room he wants and when he wants to. You hate it when he’s being a snoopy asshole.

“Hmm, look’s like our little princess slept late last night.” He says as he looks over your bed and sees you sleeping peacefully, with saliva dripping on the side of your lips. He chuckled and took out his phone to take a picture. “Oh, you’re for sure gonna hate me for this, but that’s what you get for waking up late.” He puts his phone back in his pocket and looks around your room.

“JARVIS?” He called and the speaker of your room spoke.

“Yes sir?”

“Wake Y/N up in an hour and let her know there’s gonna be a party tonight for celebrating the success of our last mission.”

“I will, sir.”

He started walking over to your bed when he accidentally kicked something underneath. “Ow! What the hell?” And him being the snoopy asshole that he is, he kneels to see what it was and pulled a little wooden box from under your bed. He slowly opens it while chanting, “Please don’t be drugs, please don’t be drugs, please don’t be drugs.” And when he successfully opens it, it didn’t reveal drugs but a bunch of papers with words in it. “Yay?”

He reads a few of the papers and a grin slowly formed his mouth. “Oh, Y/N. You sneaky, talented, little brat.”

———

It’s 6 pm and you’re getting ready for another one of Stark’s parties. JARVIS informed you after he woke you up by blasting one of One Direction’s songs so loud on the speaker, you basically fell of your bed because it was vibrating.

You put on the last part of your tonight’s makeup, which is a red lipstick, matching to your glittery red dress. You brushed your hair to the side one last time and turned to Wanda who’s sitting on your bed, busy playing a game on her phone. “What do you think?”

She looks up and smiled. “Wow, red really is your color.” You chuckled and walked over to her. “Well, I control fire, so obviously.”

You have been an avenger for about a year now. You started as one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s best agents until everyone discovered that you’re not a normal human being and Fury appointed you to join the Avengers team. You didn’t like it at first, but the longer you stayed, you loved saving people even more and you became attached to the other members. Especially to one particular member, Bucky Barnes.

You met him on your first day being an avenger, and it wasn’t because you were introduced to him. You were running late and you accidentally spilled coffee on his white shirt. Since then, you had a huge crush on him. After a while, you two started secretly dating.

Everything was going great for a few months until you had a big fight, and the next day he went with Nat for a two-week mission. When they came back, they were dating.

You didn’t react, of course, because nobody knew you two were a thing, so you just kept it inside. You didn’t know how to express your feelings without anybody knowing so you started writing songs and kept it in a box underneath your bed.

——————

The party’s over and the guests have gone home but Tony asked the team to stay for a bit more. They talked about the mission, the past, and laugh about the stories and jokes everyone would tell. You feel a little weight lifted out of your heart as you spend time with the avengers, your friends, your family. You love this. You wanted to stay like this forever.

Until Tony said those words.

“Guys, you know, Y/N has a talent she hasn’t showed us yet.”

You looked up and turned to Tony who’s smiling from ear to ear. You gave him a confused look and he just winked at you.

What talent?

“Really? Well, show us!” Sam said and the rest agreed with him.

“Um, besides creating fire out of nowhere, I don’t have anything else. Sorry to disappoint you.” You shrugged.

“Liar.” Tony stood up and took out a a long brown envelope underneath the couch. He opened it and pulled pieces of papers you are very much familiar with. Your eyes widened and you immediately got out of your seat and snatched the papers from Tony’s hands. “Where the fuck did you get this?”

“You were sleeping late so I went to your room, and found those.” He chuckled and went back to his seat.

“I am going to kill you, Anthony Stark.” You said in rage and you were about to get out of your seat again to punch the motherfucker but Clint pulled you back. “Woah, woah, woah. Before anyone gets murdered here, can someone tell us what happened?”

“He snooped, again, into my things!”

“She writes songs.”

“Wait, what?” Said everyone else.

You can feel yourself getting heated and you might burn this place to the ground if you don’t control your powers so you went to the bar to get yourself a drink. You’re so angry but also embarrassed because the words on those papers were your feelings and someone just read them.

“You write very depressing songs, Lady Y/N.” Thor said as he scanned the papers with Clint and Rhodey around him. You were about to go after them but Sam stopped you. “Nah-uh, killing team members is prohibited.”

You rolled your eyes and slumped back in your seat. God, how you wish you have the power to make the ground swallow you right now.

“You really do write songs, Y/N?” Natasha asked.

“Oh, y-yeah but not really. They’re just... n-nonsense.” You stuttered.

“Nonsense? These are amazing, doll.” Steve said as he looked over the lyrics you wrote.

“Yeah, I can’t believe you’re a superhero AND a songwriter.” Bruce chuckled and messed your hair.

“I got an idea.” Tony stood up.

“Sit your ass back down, Stark. Your ideas are always fucking bullshit.”

He continued as if he didn’t hear you.” What about, we let Y/N sing one of her songs to us right now?” He walked over to the piano and opened it.

“No no no no. That’s where you draw the line.” You growled as your cheeks get red and you feel flames started making their way to your fingers.

“Oh, come on! I haven’t heard you sing once, even in the shower.” Wanda teased and you just shot her a deadly stare.

The team started cheering you on and you just felt so shy. You want to run back to your room but they’re for sure not going to let you, since you already see Sam standing on the doorway.

“Go do it, Y/N. I want—I mean we want to hear you sing.” Bucky said out of nowhere. You looked at him and you saw him staring at you intensely.

It’s been a long time since you two said a word to each other and you missed his low, raspy voice talking to you. You just missed him so much.

You walked over to the piano and sat on the little stool. “Fine, but just this once.”

Everyone started yelling and cheering, and you can feel the love and support. Maybe finally expressing your feelings to other people is a good idea.

“Well, I haven’t written a song in a while so i’ll just sing the very last song I did.” You said and you started playing the piano. Everyone got quiet and went back to their seats to listen to you. You took a deep breath and started singing.

I can't help myself I put it down on paper

All the different stages, memories of us

That's the only way I know that I can shake it

Writing all our pages, every single thought

You smiled as you remember all the happy memories with you and Bucky. When you fell asleep in his room after you just puked all over him and confessed your feelings to him. And when he confessed his feelings for you in the morning after that.

Your first date on this small coffee shop he only knows about, your first kiss when you were watching a movie, and the first time you did it after you went home from the movies.

Everything about you two was perfect, and it sucks that all that was just gone.

And you didn’t talk about it or say proper goodbyes to each other.

You looked over to Bucky and he’s staring at you right back, listening to every word you’re singing. Natasha looked uncomfortable. Maybe she knows about you and Bucky’s past. Maybe he told her.

Sorry for writing all the songs about you

I know that you hate that I got more to say

Sorry for writing all the songs about you

But I had to, oh I had to

You looked at everyone else and they look confused. Trying to figure out who the song and the rest that you wrote is really all about. And you just wanna tell them, scream that it’s for Bucky. All of this is for Bucky.

Swear no one will know that every moment was true

All the mistakes and why you ran away

No one really will know. You wanted to tell Tony and Steve and Clint and everyone else about your relationship. The fight you had the night before the mission. You wanted to tell them you two never really broke up officially, but actions speak louder than words. And you respect Bucky and you know he wanted to keep it private. God, even after all this time, you still fucking love him. After all the songs you wrote, you still couldn’t forget him.

Sorry for writing all the songs about you

But I had to, oh I had to

The only way for you to not die because of the pain you’re feeling is by writing songs. These songs are what gave you the strength to face Natasha and Bucky everyday without having to have a mental breakdown in front of them. These songs kept you sane. And now that everyone knows about it, you don’t know what to do.

You feel your eyes watering, and you saw Wanda ready to stand up and pull you away from everyone but you just gave her a smile to tell her that you’re alright.

But you’re not alright, not even close.

I can’t wait for you to recognize the stories

Like when you said you loved me, or that time at the rooftop

You remembered that night at the rooftop. No one really goes there except you and Bucky, because that’s your hiding spot.

“Marry me.” Bucky said out of the blue and you almost choked on your drink.

“I’m sorry, what?” You blinked a few times to understand what he’s trying to say.

“I said,” he pulled you closer to him and rested his forehead on yours. “marry me, doll.”

“Buck, we’ve only been dating for two months. The team don’t even know about us yet.” You said as you put down your drink and wrapped your arms behind Bucky’s neck. He plants a kiss on the tip of your nose and smiled. “Then we’ll tell them. Just... just say you’ll marry me.”

“Are you really... proposing?”

“Uh, well I don’t have a ring right now but yes, I am doll. I love you and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” He knelt down on one knee and held both of your hands.

“You don’t need a ring to make me say yes.” You smiled widely. “Yes, Barnes. I will marry you.”

Will you act as if you haven’t even heard it

Nothing of it really matters

Bucky was listening. He was listening and understanding everything. He wanted to go run and hug you, but Natasha’s beside him and now he doesn’t know what to do. He loved you. And he still loves you, but he’s afraid.

Just to get over what we lost, what we lost

I put it in words to clear my thoughts

And just to get over, over us

I had to, I had to

Sorry for writing all the songs about you

You finally finished the song and you started bawling your eyes out. Everyone was speechless. You stood up, glanced one last time at Bucky who’s looking very concerned, and ran back to your room.

You heard Wanda muttered, “Bucky.”

And you never looked back.

~*~*~

Here’s the part 2, as requested!

[kairiofknives]

The S Word (TftTG Ch. 2)

Summary: For almost two years, Futaba and Akira's relationship has been...rather tame. But one well timed innuendo sends the house mates into a spiral of assumptions and jokes that starts as amusing, but ends up being a source of stress for our young couple, especially Futaba.

Advisory: Contains discussion of body insecurity and sexual themes. (Nothing too major, but still something to prepare for.)

Read on AO3

If Makoto tried hard enough, she could probably pin point the week in which this whole debacle started. It was probably late in June, in their fourth month of officially living in The Guild, when the assumption first brewed in the minds of their members and started spreading like wild fire. Honestly, as much as she would like to remember it being Ryuji who started the whole thing, it could have been anyone. All parties were interestingly enough on the same page back then.

Futaba and Akira recall what most do not: that the topic of their sex life was first brought up by Makoto herself during a movie night.

Life in the Guild changed a few things for everyone. Now, there was constantly someone doing something interesting and worthy of their attention. Spontaneous trips to Central Street were common place. There were frequent video game tournaments in The Den, which was what Ryuji and Futaba referred to their bedroom as. Akira hadn't argued so the decision was decided to be unanimous. (Akira had also been asleep, but no one mentioned that part.) The most scheduled events were family meal times and the Saturday night movie.

With seven different movie preferences, it became obvious that a rotation of movie selection privileges was required for this to work. They had installed a large white board on the wall, indicating such important things as who picked the movie that week as well as who was doing dishes (the most despised chore) and an open slot where any plans for outings could be formally announced. This particular week, Ann had chosen Leap Year. From Makoto's perception of the cover, it was your typical Rom Com. Still, that was perfectly fine. Two weeks ago, Yusuke had offered up A Dog's Purpose as their movie, which had brought every single person to tears and prompted Morgana to take a pilgrimage to tell all dogs in the neighborhood they were good boys. It seemed no one had yet to recover their full range of emotions, so sure, a Rom Com was fine.

By the climax of the movie, most people were asleep, including Akira and Futaba who were curled up on Makoto's lap and snuggled against her shoulder respectively. Ann and Ryuji, the only other two conscious beings by the time the credits rolled, looked over and cooed affectionately at the display.

"Hey, Mom, look. You're cuddling an entire relationship," Ryuji snickered.

Makoto giggled good heartedly. "So it seems. On the topic of our family designations, doesn't that make this," she gestured to the sleeping beauties, "kind of weird? The Dad of the family is dating the cute little sister?"

Ann stood to stretch, laughing. "Yeah it's pretty weird, but those are the most accurate family titles. I mean, when any of us have problems, we literally just wander the house until we find you or Akira. And you guys were the leader duo of the Phantom Thieves too. So yeah, you're our parents. And Futaba is...Futaba so she's our littlest sister."

"Literally and figuratively," Ryuji pointed out.

Makoto smiled, stroking Akira's hair. Futaba snuggled in deeper to her shoulder and added groggily, "You forget that Akira is basically Sojiro's adopted son so he is also my brother."

"Oh my God, that's so true," Ann muttered. "He's Phantom Dad and Coffee Son."

Akira finally joined the conversation, flopped from his side to his back and yawning, "The family that stays together gets together. What is life without a little incest?"

Makoto rolled her eyes. "Well, I suppose the one silver lining is that you aren't blood relatives. Congratulations. Your children may not have horrific birth defects."

Ryuji burst out laughing, "May not?! Holy crap, Makoto."

Futaba finally sat up, wiping at her eyes. "Well, I'm kind of hoping we are all still least tangentially related because my line of the family is a curse to all daughters."

"What?!" Ann demanded, indignantly. "What's that mean, Futaba?"

The girl simply blinked and cupped on small breast in her hand pointedly. "As the one girl in this group without bombshell tits or a tabloid worthy butt, I feel justified in this assessment."

Akira made a very unhappy grumble from his spot, still not opening his eyes. Futaba smiled a bit and kissed his forehead. His frown remained present.

Makoto shook her head in amusement, "I agree with the others on this one, Futaba. You're lovely just as you are. Besides, Akira seems to have no complaints about your body."

Akira's eyes shot open and met Futaba's. They passed a look of "whut" between them, that was drowned out completely by Ryuji's added, "Yeah! I mean, come on, Futaba. How many people could Akira have conceivably ended up with? He picked you over all of those "bombshell girls". Your sex appeal may not take the same form as Ann's, but it landed Akira freaking Kurusu in your bed, didn't it?"

"Wow Ryuji, way to make it seem like the only reason she should approve of her body is if a guy does," Ann scoffed, heading into the kitchen.

Makoto ushered Akira off her lap and patted Futaba's head before following Ann. "Good try Ryuji. We will work on it."

Ryuji grumbled, swiping his drink off the table and headed upstairs.

Akira and Futaba sat in the silence of the living room, listening to Yusuke and Haru's deep breathing. Akira was the first to speak up. "Do you think we should have said something?"

"Meh. I mean, it really isn't any of their business."

"I feel like they're making it their business anyway. And with inaccurate information at that."

Futaba stood, stepping between Akira's spread legs to wrap him in a hug. Her still tired boyfriend hummed happily, wrapping his arms tightly around the girl and nuzzling against her chest. "I don't see it being a big deal. It might even turn out being kinda funny if they think we're always sneaking away to bone at all hours of the day."

Akira laughed into her stomach. "You derive amusement from the strangest things."

"Guilty as charged."

~~~

In truth, Futaba expected to never hear about the conversation post movie night ever again. Surely, everyone else had better things to talk about, right?

Evidently not.  The references to her private life started out rather timid and vague.  Ann complaining about guys who were taller than her and Makoto sweetly pointing out that she and Akira got along just fine.  It was cute and harmless and Futaba liked the feeling of being the referenced source material for "successful relationships".

Then, things got a bit weirder.

Haru and Ann had convinced Futaba to let them paint her nails.  She liked having her nails painted and liked being pampered even more so she agreed.  That's how she ended up with her hands on her thighs and her legs comfortably in Haru's lap.  The girls chatted on and off about various things, mostly Ann's modelling gigs, when suddenly, Ann turned on her.  "Hey, Futaba, I was wondering...ya know, Akira's a pretty tall guy.  How does he not like...crush you when you do it?"

Futaba.exe is not responding.

"Uhhh, what?"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I was just curious."

Haru shook her head, shooting Futaba an apologetic look.  The youngest girl struggled to keep up.  "I-I mean, it's not that big of a deal. He lays on me all the time. He's not that heavy."

Ann beamed, feeding off the power of "girl talk" like it was a consumable resource.  "Yeah, I guess he is kind of a string bean.  Not the same way Yusuke is, but, you know what I mean."

Futaba really did not want to think about Inari and sex in the same sentence.

Uncaring of Futaba's lack of response, Ann carried on, "I guess I've just been thinking a lot about the physicality of it, ya know.  Porn makes it look so easy, but I just can't imagine sex with a super tall guy being comfortable.  Where would his legs go?  Where would your legs go?"

Haru huffed, putting the cap back on her bottle of nail polish.  For a moment, Futaba hoped that maybe Haru was going to spare her poor soul and end this strange conversation.

"You haven't been watching the right porn if you think missionary is the only way to do things, Ann-chan," Haru chirped pleasantly, before placing Futaba's feet carefully in her chair and strolling out of the bedroom.

She wasn't sure who was more shocked: her or Ann.

Luckily, that embarrassing endeavor ended there.  Akira had also been falling victim to gratuitous sex talk.  He pulled her aside one night before dinner.  "Can we please tell them they're misunderstanding the situation?  I feel like all I hear about anymore is other people's opinions of some made up version of my sex life.  It's making me pretty uncomfortable honestly."

Futaba felt for her poor boyfriend, but was still sort of having fun listening to the weird conversations that were prompted by this whole situation.  She laughed, "Oh come on, Akira, lighten up.  You're not embarrassed are you?"

Akira's gaze darkened a bit.  "Honestly, yeah."

With a scoff, she muttered petulantly, "Well I'm sorry I'm not who you want people to joke about you rolling around in the sheets with.  Geez."

The silence following her quip was heavy.  Futaba cautioned a look up at Akira to see him staring at her with an almost emotionless expression.  Uh oh.  Before she could say anything, he turned and walked down the hallway, up the stairs.  She heard his door close heavily and sighed.  She didn't see him again that night, but he responded to her to good night text.  So, he was mad, but not completely avoiding her mad.  She could work with that.  She vowed to try to make it up to him the next day.

~~~

When she got to the house the next afternoon, she had absolutely no plan for how to approach this conversation with Akira, only knew that it had to happen.  She had spent a good deal of the day trying to get the thoughts in her head to condense into words, to almost no success.  Nothing would help though, so Futaba planned to politely ask that Ryuji chill in the living room for an hour and hash it out with Akira.  That probably would absolutely not make the "our friends think we're having sex but we're not" issue worse, but she could only battle one thing at a time.

That was the plan anyway.  When she climbed the stairs, she was instantly spotted by Ann.

"Futaba! Hey! Can we talk real quick? I need your advice."

She sighed.  One quick diversion wouldn't derail her plan.  "Coming."

When she entered Ann's room, she honestly had no idea what to expect.  Ann loved to chat with her, but very rarely ever asked her for help unless it was about her laptop.

"Ok, so you know how I've been talking with this male model I did that shoot in July with?"  She nodded.  "Well, we've been flirting. A lot.  And it's been getting a little....intense. Anyway, he offered to send a pic and I figured, eh, why not, and...well, just look."

That...was certainly not a part of the male anatomy she planned to see today.

"He sent you a dick pic?"

Ann nodded, looking completely casual about the extremely explicit image on her phone.  "Yeah. He said I didn't have to send anything back, but now that I have this, I don't really know what I'm supposed to do with it.  It's sort of...weird to look at without the rest of the body to also look at, huh?"

She had to get the hell out of here.  Like now.

"Uh, I don't know.  I've never gotten a dick pic before, I guess."

Ann giggled, "Yeah, but you've see a dick though.  That's much more helpful.  So, reason I called you in here, in your opinion, how...sizable is this?"

Oh my god.  "Sizable?"  Could her face get any redder?

"Yeah, like...do you think it would hurt?  I mean, you could just compare it to Akira's I guess and tell me if that hurt."

Futaba squeezed her eyes shut.  Ok, no way.  Uh uh. Nope.  Akira was right, this was actually the worst.  "Ann, I don't really feel comfortable talking about that."

When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to see Ann looking a bit, panicked.  Ann shook her head quickly, frowning.  "No, no, I'm sorry that was super untactful."  She was speaking pretty quickly.  Even for Ann.  "I...guess I'm just not sure what to do here."

The younger girl smiled to herself.  Ann was quirky and could sometimes be far too blunt, but she never meant to make her uncomfortable.  Still, Ann's behavior ever since she starting talking to his guy had been...a little bit off.  The level of boy crazy the blond had been recently was just a bit too drastic to be normal.  It almost felt fake.  Futaba's eyes widened a bit.  Maybe it was.  "Do you even like this guy, Ann?"

The blond blinked, bit her bottom lip and then shook her head. From the troubled look on her face, Futaba knew she had hit the nail on the head. "I mean, kinda?  He's cute.  But, we don't click super well."  Ann sighed, picking at her nails. "But, ya know, it's not like I have anyone else lined up. And he's not that bad. I could maybe start to like him...if I tried hard enough..."

Futaba frowned, tone stern.  "The Ann I know and love would never just try to make it work with a guy just for the sake of it."

Ann groaned and dug her palms into her eyes, "Ugh! I know! I'm just...ugh."  For a moment, Futaba was worried Ann would start crying.  She was not well equipped for that sort of comforting.  Eventually, though, Ann lowered her hands, looking more defeated than Futaba had ever seen before.  "I guess I just wanted something."

"Something like what?"

"I don't know," she whined, "Like what you and Akira have, I guess."  That one, Futaba did not expect.  She had been half viciously enjoying how envious everyone had seemed of her apparent experience on this matter.  Unsurprisingly, watching one of her bed friends actually acting out due to jealousy that she was making worse...didn't make her feel too great.

"Ann, no. You're wonderful, and gorgeous, and driven and a fantastic catch.  I'm honestly jealous of you.  How...effortless everything seems to you.  And even if you don't have everything all figured out, you sure look like you do, which is even more impressive."  She paused, holding Ann's hand.  "I'm not single, so I can't exactly relate to how you're feeling.  But, I do know that you're worth a hell of a lot more than settling for some guy, who is willing to send out dick pics rather than connecting with you like a normal person, just because he's pretty to look at."

Ann's smile started small but grew larger the more Futaba talked.  Finally, she decided, "Ya know what, you're right Futaba."  She stood, hands on her hips and a determined shine to her eyes. "Ann Takamaki settles for no one!"

"Here here," Futaba agreed, glad to see Ann back to her normal fiery self.  "Now if you don't mind..."

Ann blushed, "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry I dragged you in here just for this. Enjoy your evening with Akira!"

Futaba fled before any more innuendos or attempts at long emotional conversations could be made.

~~~

Futaba wandered down the hall in a daze. She loved her friends dearly, but sometimes they could be a little bit...exhausting. Also, she never wanted to think about another penis for as long as she lived.

Ok, well maybe not, but it would be at least a few hours. Maybe even days.

As she approached the end of the hall, she ran into Ryuji who was dressed in a ironed button down, nice jeans and holding his pillow and blanket. What?

"Going somewhere, Ryuji?"

The boy grinned at her.  "Hey Futaba!  Guess what?  No actually, you'll never guess.  Or just be mean about it.  Anyway, I got a date tonight!"

"Huh, really?  You look like you're headed to a business casual slumber party."

Ryuji puffed his chest out, "Nope, your sarcasm cannot hurt me now, Futaba!  I've just scored some expert advice so I may not be home until late."

Futaba's brow raised at the idea of "expert advice". So Akira had gotten grilled too, huh? Damnit. She'd be giving him back rubs and head scratches for weeks to make up for this mess...

"And you have your pillow with you because...?"

"Oh I'm gonna. Ya know. Give you guys some alone time. Sleep out on the pullout tonight. Figured it's the least I can do."

The girl groaned, "Ryuji."

"No no. I get it. Couples gotta do the do sometimes. If this date goes well, I'm gonna need to be kicking you guys out. It's all good. Equivalent exchange."  He snickered to himself.  "See what I did there?  That was totally an FMA reference."

Futaba blinked but let him run his mouth. She was far far too tired to argue at this point. What the ever living hell had she gotten herself into? Maybe she'd take advantage of Ryuji's generous offer. To hang herself quietly in the privacy of their quarantined "sex den". Geez.

"How kind of you. Alright. Well, gotta run. Lots of carnal relief to be had. See you later. Good luck on your date," she replied mechanically, shuffling to the room and shutting the door firmly behind her. She leaned back against it with a sigh.

When she finally opened her eyes, she spotted Akira wrapped in the large blue comforter, face down in the bean bag chair she insisted they buy for the room. She observed him idly for a few moments before sighing again and grumbling, "Ok. You were right. I was wrong. We should have told them right away. This kinda sucks."

Akira unburied his face from it's cloth tomb and looked up at her, looking utterly unamused and just as exhausted as she was.

"Oh, don't give me that face. You know I can't deal with that sort of emotional blackmail," Futaba groaned, slumping against the door a bit. Akira continued to stare at her, blinking occasionally. He didn't even seem mad at her. Or even annoyed or disappointed. Just tired. Her heart squeezed, unable to just leave him looking like that even despite her own crabbiness. "Oooh. Damnit! Alright. Fine, you win."

She threw herself down on the bean bag with him, assuming Akira's favorite position of her on her back, arms spread wide open, waiting to cuddle the hell of him. It took him a minute. At first, he only looked at her blankly from his blanket cocoon. But eventually, he huffed, untangling himself to flop down on top of her chest, face hiding in her neck. She took some time to tug at the blankets, arranging them to fit over her as well. Futaba arranged her legs so he was trapped between them and pressed her face into his hair. There. Finally comfortable.

They laid like that for awhile, one of her hands scratching at his scalp, the other buried under his shirt, running her nails softly up and down his back. By the amount of happy rumbling and sighing she was getting, she imagined he had forgiven her. Still, didn't mean they shouldn't talk about it. "I'm sorry, Akira. When you said you were uncomfortable with how much everyone was talking, I should have immediately corrected them. I wasn't thinking about you at all. All I cared about was what I was getting out of it. I'm an A tier jerk. And a trash tier girlfriend. And I'm really really sorry."

Akira huffed against her neck. "I wouldn't go that far." He planted a kiss on her pulse point, sending pleasant shivers through her. "What were you getting out of it, out of curiosity?"

Closing her eyes, Futaba grimaced. "In reality, nothing. But. I guess. In my mind, I thought I was being adult." Akira made an inquisitive noise, nudging her with his nose. It was such a feline thing to do, she made a mental note to buy him a black cat onesie for Christmas. Morgana would probably love it. "I don't know. It's like...hmm. You know how Ann and Ryuji call me the little sister? Well, suddenly, I was better at something than them. They wanted to be in my shoes for once, not the other way around."

"Futaba, you were already better at something than them. Than all of us. How many times a week does someone ask you to fix their computer or teach them how to use a program? You're a genius and the only tech savvy soul in this building."

"Not like that though," she mumbled. "Ok, fine, maybe it was more so Ann than Ryuji. Almost entirely Ann actually. And Makoto." Futaba sighed, biting her lip. "I guess the whole thing about the other girls being more...womanly than me wasn't just a joke. I'm only a year younger than Ann and look at the difference between us. She's literally a super model and I'm...just me."

Akira adjusted his weight, trying to get his arms underneath him and push himself up. Futaba tugged him back down her chest. She needed to say this and knew the moment their eyes met, her train of thought would be derailed. Once he stilled once more, she continued.

"It's not just physical looks either though. It's. Ugh. Ann is so confident in herself. And maybe it's because she looks the way she does, but part of me feels like if we traded bodies right now, she'd still have this aura of utter sexiness and I'd still be a wreck. I know you're the one who suggested we go slow. You've said multiple times you're content with just kissing. But. I guess I wonder if that's really true. It's been almost two years after all. And I've...felt you get excited while making out but you never push me. Which is so sweet, but..."

Futaba paused, drawing in a breath, then releasing it slowly.  "I know you want to go further. I'm worried that you're holding back for my sake and not enjoying it as much as you could. And as much as I wish it weren't necessary that you hold back...it is. I do get overwhelmed easily and that frustrates me. Because if I were Ann or Makoto or Haru, I probably wouldn't have any trouble jumping your bones and not feeling like...I was about to explode even thinking about it. And I guess I just feel like...you deserve someone you don't have to hold back with."

She stopped and listened to the combined sounds of their breathing. Akira's was a bit faster than normal. She knew he was probably clenching his fists a bit. Maybe she had made him mad. But, she thought, looking at the ceiling as if it contained the answer to the meaning of life, she wasn't unsatisfied with how the words have come out. She wasn't sure exactly what outcome she wanted. What did she want him to reply? Her breath hitched in her throat at the idea of Akira actually agreeing with her. Eyes squeezed shut, she tried to convince herself that would be ok.

It wouldn't be, though.

"Are you finished?"

Sweet boy, always careful not to overstep his bounds. Even now. Futaba loosened her hold on him. "Yeah."

Akira sat up and scooted backwards a bit. His eyes were trained on the his crossed legs, a dark gleam to them that she simply couldn't decipher. The distance he was putting between them, in both the physical and emotional sense, made her heart constrict painfully. She was not the biggest fan of having these tense, seemingly life or death type conversations.  But, despite the obvious discomfort of having to drag all their shadows into the light and look them in the eyes, they had never had a rough heart to heart of his nature that didn't immediately and thoroughly clear up misunderstandings and provide plans of attack for the future.  They were good at this, she and Akira.  They were on the same team, she reminded herself.  Oracle and Joker.  If she just honestly conveyed her thoughts and trusted in him, everything would be fine.

Didn't mean it wasn't nerve-wracking though.

She mirrored the boy's stance, maintaining the distance he had purposefully created.  As soon as she was settled, Akira let out a loud sigh.  "Does what I want not matter at all in this situation?"  Futaba stayed quiet.  The unspoken rule between them was that if the other wasn't meeting your eyes, they were still thinking.  Akira pointed watched his fingers fidget with the hem of his pants.  She would wait.

"People use the word 'deserve' a lot. 'You deserve better' or 'I don't deserve him'.  As if the only things worth having in life are that which we are somehow derived to deserve.  Never mind how subjective the idea of deserving something is, but if everyone got what they deserved...well, Shido and Kamoshida would never have even met me, in all likelihood."  Akira shook his head, clenching and unclenching his fists. "My father is no sage, but he has taught me a couple interesting things. One of them was that the word 'deserve' is usually never directed at the right person. It usually reflects the speaker's own desires.  I don't think that's always true." Akira spared a glance up at Futaba, eyes roaming over her face before flickering back to his lap.  "But I definitely think it is true in this case."

Both hands came up to run through his hair roughly.  His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, his gray eyes stormy in appearance.  Whatever idea he had rolling around in his head spun and spun, until he finally lowered his hands again.  "Whether I want to go further is irrelevant.  This wouldn't be bothering you if you weren't discontent yourself." Akira clicked his tongue against his teeth, "When we first tried getting you acclimated to being outside of the house, I pushed you.  We threw you into different social environments head first and expected you to swim or me to save you.  We very well could try that here too, but..."  Akira wrung his wrists in agitation, frowning.  "This is so different though.  This isn't just coaxing you out a room that you thought of a prison.  This is more like...trying to coax you out of the assessment of your body as a prison."

Futaba inhaled sharply. Akira's eyes flew to meet her own but she closed them defensively.  She remembered with striking vividness what being a prisoner of her own heart felt like.  The constant desperation, echoing self hatred.  No, this wasn't quite like that.  This type of discontentment settled in her stomach, akin to the feeling she got before the panic when she first got separated from Akira in Akiba.  She opened her eyes again, and saw that Akira had placed his hand next to hers, palm up.  An invitation.  She met his anxious eyes, smiled just a bit, just enough to show she was ok.  "It's not a prison," she corrected, tone soft, almost a whisper.  "It's more like...an unfamiliar place. It's...my body, but I don't feel like...I completely own it.  It's like a stranger sometimes."  She grimaced, shook her head, met his eyes.  She needed help.

Akira wet his lips and offered, "So a bit like a new house, maybe?  Your name is on the sign out front and the lease, but the inside doesn't quite look like home yet.  Is that it?"

Futaba ruminated over the analogy for a bit, tried to picture it.  Her time as a shut in meant she ignored her body, in multiple ways.  Didn't eat always.  Slept too little or too much, no in between.  The loathing and self hatred made emotions like arousal and lust just as useless to her as happiness and hope were.  The most time she ever spent naked was in the shower, which she admitted to herself she didn't do often enough.  She supposed, in many ways, it was a lot like a new house.  She hadn't spent time in it, didn't try to decorate or make it hers.  Yet, was shocked or upset when it felt alien to her.

...And if she didn't even feel content in this house, why would she feel comfortable inviting guests over...?

She nodded, slowly at first, then more firmly.  Akira's eyes lit up a bit, pleased.  "Yeah, that's exactly it.  I'm not completely comfortable looking at my own body naked yet, so it kinda makes sense that I'm jittery about letting someone else see."  She sighed a bit, slipping her hand in Akira's outstretched one.  She liked the way their fingers slid together, nice and snug.  In a weird tangential way, that was what she really wanted out of physical companionship.  Feeling a secure connection.  Being close for the sake of closeness.  As close as two people could possibly get.  Futaba met Akira's eyes once more.  "I want to be with you.  Closer than anyone else.  I want to touch you and make you feel good and not be scared for you to return the favor.  I just...I want you."  A bright red blush spread across Akira's cheeks, bringing a smile to her equally red face.  Her mood dampened a bit as she admitted, "I want that so much, but...I don't know how to get there."

Akira squeezed her hand and declared, "I do."  Futaba's eyes widened.  "Same way we got you used to being out in the world again.  You just need to get used to it.  Much slower this time, probably, but same basic process.  We can give you assignments to get you more comfortable being naked or being touched.  Work our way up to whatever end point you want to reach."

Futaba's smile was soft, but excited.  "Another promise list?"

"Exactly.  We'll go at your pace.  You write out the steps you want to take, and we can get there however or whenever we please."

Her optimism made her bold. The smile slowly spread to a smirk.  With mischief in her eyes, Futaba leaned in right next to Akira's ear and purred, "And if my end goal happens to be 'fuck Akira Kurusu absolutely senseless'?"

Futaba felt the body underneath hers shudder, a hand coming up to hug her close to him.  His voice was a bit raspy, "Well, first I would ponder where on Earth you got so disillusioned as to think you're not the sexiest woman living in this house." He planted a firm kiss on Futaba's cheek, and nudged her gently back a bit to look into her eyes.  "And second I would say that Akira Kurusu must be a pretty lucky guy."

Futaba snorted in amusement, obviously blushing, "Stop fibbing, you nerd.  Didn't we just agree my body is like an ugly house or something?"

"Hey, don't insult that house.  I happen to like it a lot and would be honored to become intimately acquainted with it, should to invitation arise," his hands rose up to cup her face, pressing kiss after kiss to her hairline, soaking in the sound of her happy giggles.  Akira pressed their foreheads together and waited until Futaba met his eyes before whispering, "I love you, Futaba."

"I love you too, Akira.  I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"Would you like the mystical Chinese fortune cookie answer or the dry simple answer?"

She giggled, "The latter, please, sir."

"It doesn't matter what you did or didn't do.  I wanted to be with you and you apparently want to be with me, so we are together.  Now, no more of this deserving or undeserving bullshit please?"

"Deal," Futaba nodded.

They decided that it was late enough that getting home might be a stretch for Futaba, even if she left immediately.  She anticipated that Sojiro would be livid with her, but as soon as he answered the phone, he immediately barked, "Just stay at their house tonight, Futaba. I'd rather begrudgingly trust Akira not to do anything stupid than risk you missing your connecting train in Shibuya and getting stuck out there."

Futaba smiled, "Alright. Thanks, dad."

Sojiro sputtered, as he always did when she threw down the Dad Card unexpectedly.  "Well, just...," he sighed, "Just make sure you get to school on time alright? And you can thank me by having dinner at the Cafe tomorrow with your poor dad.  Both of you."

"Okie dokie, artichokey."

"Alright.  Good night, Futaba."

"Nighty night, Sojiro."

Akira was dressed for sleep, sprawled out on his bed like a content cat.  She giggled to herself.  The resemblance between their wonderful Trickster and dear old feline guide was sometimes uncanny.  The usual post important conversation exhaustion hit her immediately.  She knew she was free to use Ryuji's bed, or even ask Akira to take Ryuji's bed, if she so chose, but they did just decide to start pushing her comfort zones again...

"Hey, Akira," she got a hum in response. "Can my first promise list item be to sleep in your bed with you?"  Akira smiled sleepily at her, patting the bed and waggling his eyebrows.  She grinned.  "And would I be able to borrow a shirt to sleep in tonight?"

"Only a shirt? Damn, girl. You'll be jumping my bones in no time."

Just to spite him, she did indeed jump into bed without pants, relishing his surprised squawk when his hand landed on her bare thigh.  It took her awhile to fall asleep, but Akira was warm and she fit quite nicely tucked against his side, one leg thrown over his hips and head pillowed on his chest.  The gentle up and down motion of his breathing was soothing and when she did finally drop off to sleep, it was the deepest and most comfortable rest she ever remembered having.

~~~

She woke up on her own, about twenty minutes before her alarm was due to ring, based on the LED clock on the bedside table.  She had obviously done some tossing and turning at some point because her face was squished against the mattress, which she found to be sopping wet.  The culprit was likely the trail of drool dried on her cheek.  Gross.  Futaba shifted her body, trying to account for all of her limbs.  As she became more aware, she realized there was an arm trapped beneath her rib cage and a hairy leg shoved snugly between her thighs.  When she turned her head to look at her bed-mate, she very nearly burst out laughing.  Akira's face was perhaps the most calm and adorable she'd ever seen it.  She'd seen Akira sleep before, but this was the deep, lost to the world type of sleep.  Long eyelashes and gorgeous relaxed facial features.  He really was one of the most attractive men she'd ever had the pleasure to meet.

The large amount of her hair trapped in his mouth sort of detracted from the angelic image though.

Trying hard not to laugh, she slowly pulled her hair, watching with gross fascination as Akira attempted to chew it as it slide by.  Like a freaking cow.  She pressed her face back into the bed, body shaking with her mirth.  Falling asleep with another person was a bit difficult, but soothing.  Waking up with another person was actually pretty disgusting and slightly uncomfortable.

She loved it.

The arm under her suddenly curled around her and jerked her against Akira's incredibly warm body.  She squirmed for a minute, giggling.  The sleeping beauty crackled one gray eye open and slurred, "Wh's so funny?" which caused her to laugh even harder.

"You uh, probably don't need breakfast I guess.  Your stomach must be pretty full from all the hair you were munching on."

Akira hummed.  "Your hair?"

"Who else's hair could you eat?"

"It wouldn't be the first time Morgana's tail ended up in my mouth."

"Oh my god, that's soo gross."

Akira simply hummed again.

Her alarm going off was what finally pushed them out of bed.  When they got downstairs, Ryuji and Ann both had large grins on their faces, no doubt overly invested in the fact that Futaba had spent the night. Makoto was quietly sipping coffee and petting Morgana, who looked to be half asleep.  Haru was long gone, headed to her morning shift at LeBlanc.  Yusuke was buttering toast in the kitchen, but not so subtly throwing glances their way every now and then.  What a bunch of idiots, she thought.  Akira looked like he was going to say something, but Futaba put a hand on his arm.  She started this mess.  She would end it too.

Akira didn't argue, instead went to heat her up some curry, portioning out the rest in a container for her lunch.  As she waited, Ryuji and Ann kept giving her looks.  Fine, if they didn't want to make the first move, she would.

"How'd your date go, Ryuji?"

Ryuji blinked, then grinned at the invitation to blab about his evening.  Idly, Futaba noticed that Ann's grin visibly dimmed at the mention, but she promptly filed this information away under the category 'things to absolutely not butt her nose into' along with following up on their...enlightening conversation from last night.  "It was fantastic!  We really hit it off.  I don't know what it was about Akira's advice, but no matter what I said to her, she was eating out of my hands.  We've got a second date coming up soon."

Makoto smiled, "That's wonderful, Ryuji.  Glad it worked out."

Ryuji nodded, chest puffed out proudly.  "Yep!  Man, who would have thought my best friend getting some would benefit me?  Like this weird spiritual wing man thing."

"Well," Futaba started, getting right to the point, "I'm happy the advice helped, but you do know that the only 'some' Akira has gotten has been a pretty stellar amount of making out, cuddling and long heart felt conversations, right? Well...at least from me."

The room was quiet for a moment before Ann and Ryuji both muttered, "huh?"

Akira chuckled, placing a plate of curry and rice in front of Futaba before sitting down himself.  "It's true. We never indicated that we were in a sexual relationship.  That was something you all suspected all on your own."

Makoto squinted at the pair, "You never denied it either."

"Yeah, you're right," Futaba acknowledged around a mouthful of rice.  "That was mostly my fault.  Didn't see a reason to correct you because I didn't think it would be much of a conversation topic.  That was until...well, it was the only conversation topic."

Morgana stretched and launched himself into Akira's lap, nuzzling his best friend in greeting.  "I'm surprised none of you dumb asses thought to ask me.  Not only do I often sleep in that room, but I'm the one with heightened smell and hearing.  If anything were going on, I would have probably known about it."

Ann smiled awkwardly, "I think the real issue is that we just didn't ask anyone. We all just rolled with the assumption.  I'm sorry, you guys."

The other guilty parties murmured apologies as well.  Silence fell over the group once again, everyone sitting there awkwardly and not looking at each other. It was surprisingly Yusuke who chimed in, "Damn. I was so hoping that you'd agree to model for me.  I'm close to perfecting the artistic portrayal of lust, I just need about an hour of reference material."

Various screams of indignation and laughter broke out and just like that, the weird tense atmosphere was shattered.  Their morning moved along as normal then.  They all rode the train to Shibuya, Futaba still muttering to herself about "that pervy Inari."  As empties out into the underground walkway, Ann timidly pulled her aside.  She motioned to Akira to wait and went with Ann to a slightly secluded corner.

"Futaba, I am so so sorry about last night.  And how obnoxious I've been in general. I can't even imagine the sort of pressure all that talk must have been putting on you. I promise that I at least will try my best not to let something like that happen again."

Futaba shook her head, amused.  "It's fine, Ann.  I could have said something at any time.  You couldn't have known."  She gave a weak laugh and joked, "And see?  Not so much to be jealous of between Akira and I, now is there?"

Ann blinked at her, stunned.  "No, Futaba.  If anything, I'm more jealous.  Our whole society thinks of sex as the pinnacle of development in a relationship.  It's like some weird milestone people rush off to reach and let control their whole relationship.  You guys have gone two years just enjoying each other's company and going against the flow."  She grinned, rubbing her neck awkwardly, "That's the sort of dynamic I'm going to strive for now."

Futaba felt pride bloom in her gut, pride for her relationship that relied on healthy conversations and pride in her partner, who constantly pushed her to be the best version of herself she could be.  "Thanks, Ann."

When she met back up with Akira, Ryuji and he were having one of their bro hugs.  Maybe even Ryuji could have important heart to hearts when the need arose. She sidled up to her boyfriend's side and tilted her head curiously.  Akira merely smiled and flicker her forehead playfully.  When they all went their separate ways, Futaba assured Akira that she'd just meet him at LeBlanc for dinner after school let out.  

Speaking of school, she had to seriously haul ass to make it on time.  She felt like her lungs were about to pop as she sprinted up the stairs and burst into her classroom just before the final bell rang.  She very narrowly restrained herself from fist pumping in joy and made her way to her seat so the teacher could start.

Everything was back to normal.  The group chat was filled with senseless garble, mostly courtesy of Ryuji.  (She certainly helped though.)  Classes were as boring as ever and the window was just as lovely to distract herself with.  At lunch, her friends were discussing the idea of living in the dormitories at college.  "Can you imagine living with like all of your friends though?  I can't tell if that would be amazing or absolutely terrible!"

A smile crept over her lips at the thought.  So far, living with the Phantom Thieves was hectic.  Everyone shoved their noses into everyone else's business, there were more weird quirks to get used to and deal with than ever before in her life, and everyone had their own issues that all slammed into each other when they got home.  But for all of that mess, Futaba knew there was only one thing she could say on this topic.

"I think it sounds like the best thing ever."

[jacksgreysays]

Hail To The Queen, 5/? (2017-01-05)

(five: she who marries the heir)

They come for her in the morning.

7:28 to be exact, the hospital clock tick-tick-ticking alongside the monitors beep-beep-beeping Kakashi's proof of life.

She and Sasuke and Sakura are all but camped in his room, notes strewn with extra blankets, hair ribbons mixed with whetting stones and arm guards.

Except for missions and hospital rotations, quick trips home for showers and changes of clothes, the three of them--four of them, to Kakashi's continued reluctance--can be found in his room.

It's an ignoble setting, but that's where it begins.

A royal messenger from the Land of the Moon with full retinue--including the familiar stoic face of Captain Korega--come for her in the morning.

"Shikako Nara?" they ask, finery and coiffed hair so different from her research frenzied muss.

She uncurls from her spot on Kakashi-sensei's bed, getting slowly to her feet. Sakura, blinking sleepily in a visitor's chair, sits up; Sasuke, leaning against the wall, straightens out and readies his stance.

"Yes?" she says, before spotting Shizune beyond the cloud of silk and embroidery. Shizune nods, and so Shikako repeats more firmly, "Yes."

The contingent exchange glances amongst themselves before, in unison, kneeling and bowing--bright flower petals falling to the ground.

She takes a step back, confused. Unnerved.

The leader looks up, meets her eyes, and intones,

"Long live Queen Shikako, first of her name, sovereign of Land of the Moon!"

---

A scant hour later, barely an eye blink, she finds the nightmare has relocated.

Shikako can hardly count the number of times she's been in the Akimichi clan compound's ceremonial hall, but it's only ever been in two contexts: as her father's daughter, or as Chouji's friend.

The reason this time around is distinctly neither of those.

Chouza puts a hand on her shoulder, huge and warm and gentle even through the layers of borrowed kimono her mum hastily stuffed her into. It's a welcome gesture of comfort in such an awful situation; Shikako tries to smile at him even though it's the last thing she feels like doing.

The ceremonial hall can reliably contain dozens of Akimichi, Nara, and Yamanaka. Birthdays and receptions and memorials, the hall full to bursting; the parties spilling out to the courtyard where huge tables of food are spread. Music and laughter and chatter, children playing and elders gossiping. Noise and bodies and family coming together.

This is the exact opposite.

Silence ringing loud and the vast hall, strained and tense. Including the contingent from the Land of Moon, they are less than fifteen total. The royal messenger and his retinue, the Hokage and the three council members, Chouza and herself.

She feels her age keenly, borrowed finery weighing down on her heavily. Crushed beneath layers of silk and the realization that she has very little say in any of this.

And she's supposed to be queen?

What a joke.

---

Technically, technically, technically. Everything comes down to technicalities.

Technically, Land of the Moon was in the middle of a revolution when she and her team stumbled into the mess.

Technically, King Kakeru had been overthrown--had been murdered--had lost sovereignty.

Technically, the monarchy follows the Tsuki bloodline.

Technically, Prince Michiru--and his son Hikaru--had abdicated by fleeing the castle.

Technically, Shabadaba--as minister and nearest kin to the Tsuki family--had inherited the title of king.

Technically, she had waged a one woman coup against Shabadaba.

Technically, she had won.

Technically, she had only turned over Shabadaba's judgement and castle security to Prince Michiru and Captain Korega respectively.

Technically, she is queen.

And yet, the monarchy follows the Tsuki bloodline.

---

Her dad had rejected an arranged marriage to be with her mum. Had defied his elders, had given up leadership of the Nara clan to do so.

That was his prerogative, as man and heir both, to sacrifice his clan membership for the future he wanted.

Of course, events transpired such that he could have both, but still. That was his decision. He had a decision.

But clan matters are one thing. International relations are another:

Not even Chouza's fierce support can match the will of the Konoha Council. No loyal Konoha shinobi can disobey an order from the Hokage. The contingent from the Land of the Moon do not even understand what it is that's being argued.

There is no choice for her to make when there is only one option offered.

---

The farce of a negotiation ends.

The royal messenger and his retinue leave, returning to their lavish rooms in Konoha's finest inn. Trailing at the end, Captain Korega had drawn near, murmured a quiet, gruff apology and, perhaps, at a later time she would appreciate it.

The Council had tried to speak to her, lecture her on the political opportunity available to her, but Chouza had waved them away, voice near to a growl. She has lost a battle on his turf, he will not let the scavengers pick at her bones.

Tsunade, last to leave, stands in front of her kneeling form, Hokage robes and hat ominous. She is silent for a moment, eyes sharp and searching, before nodding once at Chouza and exiting.

Even as Chouza draws close--protection and stand-in comfort until her parents can come--Shikako can feel a pang of betrayal. She thought Tsunade would be on her side. Would fight for her freedom. She knows she isn't Naruto, darling and dear, but some arrogant part of her had assumed that she was worth a measure of special treatment as well.

But Tsunade is a good Hokage, a good leader, and Shikako is just one of her many soldiers.

No loyal Konoha shinobi can disobey an order from the Hokage.

---

Engagement party is a bit of a misnomer even if it is, technically, correct.

Her family weren't the only ones waiting for the verdict.

Somber and silent and far too stilted, but the Akimichi clan are quick on their feet for this, and soon enough food is prepared for the gathering of her family and friends.

It might as well be a wake.

"Queen Shikako," Ino says, teasing smile about a third as bright as it might be in any other context, "at least it's not princess."

Sakura, romanticism tempered by social acuity, nods with a shaky attempt at a smile herself.

Together with their help, Shikako is able to wriggle out of several layers of borrowed kimono. Mum was going to do it properly, but she had taken one look at Shikako's face, hugged her tight, and stomped off to where Dad and Chouza and Inoichi were conferring.

Less encumbered, Shikako returns to the main hall where so many people turn and stare at her entrance.

This is hell.

For a widening, maddening moment, she can see this as her future: endless silks and constant stares and the crawling, impending feeling of being trapped.

Then her stomach growls, and if it didn't break the tension so easily, she'd die of embarrassment.

"A hungry stomach at an Akimichi party?" Chouji calls out, diverting attention away from her. He's standing by her brother, not too far from their dads, and she wonders how much of it they know.

"We can't have that," he finishes, prompting everyone to move around. Free food is enticing to any hardworking shinobi, but free Akimichi food is like winning the lottery, and she sighs in relief. She'd play second chair to food any day.

A plate is assembled for her, both not enough and far too much for her hungry, nauseated stomach.

It feels like a last meal, lavish and resigned.

---

Technically, she is queen.

And yet, the monarchy follows the Tsuki bloodline.

To resolve this dilemma, the cabinet of the Land of the Moon proposed an engagement.

Hikaru is the last of the Tsuki line, royal in blood if no longer, technically, by law. If she were to marry him, then that would reunite the halves, and their future child would be once more monarch in full.

She is lucky he is only a child, and that their's will be a long engagement. With the engagement confirmed, Prince Michiru... Lord Michiru... as her future father-in-law can rule as king regent in her stead leaving her free to continue her career as a shinobi.

Until Hikaru comes of age.

It's a neat solution for an untenable political problem, and she'd probably admire the efficiency if it weren't about her.

As is, all she can see is the countdown looming in front of her, an additional set of tracks beyond her already railroaded life and hey, there's a thought:

Maybe she won't have to deal with any of this because the entire world will be too busy being caught in a massive genjutsu by a megalomaniac to care about one measly little kingdom.

She sighs, gustily, and someone helpfully refills her sake cup.

Shikamaru eyes it, glares at whoever poured it for her, but stays silent as she takes a swig.

It's her engagement party and apparently she's queen: she can do whatever she wants.

---

She has no idea how so many people have today off or aren't away on missions, but with all of them around she can barely hear herself think. And, regardless of the reason why, she does appreciate having her friends and family around.

Shizune shows up a few hours into the party which has gone from awkward to giddily, desperately drunk. Or maybe that's just her.

It makes playing Shinobi's Rest difficult, but she's actually doing pretty well. She'd suspect everyone was going easy on her except her friends are far too competitive to do that, and she's not the only one who has been drinking.

With the alcohol and noise, she almost doesn't catch Shizune's arrival. If it weren't for the determined stride directly to where the dad version of Ino-Shika-Cho, Shikako might have just dismissed it as Shizune coming late to the impromptu party.

But she comes bearing a scroll and, after handing it over, doesn't leave despite the tempting array of food and drinks or the fact that Shizune is too busy and skilled for a mere delivery.

The dads look over the scroll, confer with each other once more, glancing her way every so often and now Shikako is more than just curious.

Wobbly, she gets to her feet, laughing and grateful for the help. "No, no, keep playing," she says, waving them off, but Sasuke stands up to follow her and, spotting their trajectory, so does her brother.

Dad accepts her sideways hug and understands it for what it is, shifting so that she can see what is on the scroll, too. Shikamaru, less one for plausible deniability, just leans heavily onto Dad and looks over his shoulder. Sasuke, not exactly keen on cuddling, stands off to the side.

A missive from the Hokage's desk, burn after reading.

---

No loyal Konoha shinobi can disobey an order from the Hokage.

Spoken or written.

By law, the Hokage and the Daimyo are separate entities--it's why the Twelve Guardian Ninja exist, after all, to prevent conflict of interest. Too much power for a single person to hold.

Shikako has less than a decade to fulfill these orders, but if she can succeed...

It will be trading one throne for another--a crown for a hat, a kingdom for a village--but at least she'll have a choice.

~

A/N: Hrm... For this anon from many months ago who wanted Shikako as temporary daimyo for a foreign country and @jay345sal28 who asked about Shikako becoming Hokage after the Moon Country arc, and I was unable to meet either of those requests as they wanted but this is all I could come up with so...

I wanted to play around more with the political ramifications of the Moon Country arc and ended up basically writing about Shikako's deep-seated dislike of arranged marriage instead? :/

Also, since SQ posted Chapter 124 as I was writing this, I suppose the first bit is kind of... outdated.

(Also, which characters do I even tag for this, wth self?)