#and just fill it with comments about them hating it especially when it's a harmless thing

[ishikawayukis]

the day that people learn to stop interacting with the things they hate will be the day i find peace

[multicohn]

summary: hoseok worries about y/n burning herself out again and jumps at the chance to help improve her dance skills for her groups comeback so she doesn't get sick again

warnings: mentions of burning out, fainting, breakdowns, depression and su!c!dal thoughts

pairing: fem! idol! reader x jung hoseok

genre: angst, fluff

face claim: no one

author note: n/n means nickname. y/n is also a “bad” dancer, so if you’re good, i’m sorry but you’re gonna have to pretend that you’re “bad”.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

y/n breathed heavily while staring into the mirror. she couldn’t remember how long she’s been in the practice room for, but it felt like ages. her members had already left while she stayed back in hopes of improving and not standing out as the groups “dance hole”. in the eyes of her company, she wasn’t bad, but fans think the complete opposite. every comeback, y/n worked herself until she collapsed, she needed to prove to them that she’s just as good as her members; but, every comeback was filled with the same negative comments about her dancing.

“y/n is so bad bro 😭😭 kick her out atp”

“why do they even have her move to the centre when she can’t dance?”

“it’s so obvious they’re only keeping her for her ( vocals / visuals )”

y/n read them all. they thought she wouldn’t see them, but she does.

y/n was broken out of her thoughts at hearing her phone ringing. she tiredly walked towards her bag and sat down with a groan, everything hurt, but she couldn’t stop.

[ incoming call from… ☀️💜 ]

“hoseok?” she mumbled out before answering

they had only been dating for a few months and in order to not get caught, y/n made sure to put emojis as his contact. their companies were aware of the relationship and warned them about being careful, especially y/n as she’s a junior and her group isn’t even close to being as big as his. they were worried about the backlash and thoughts of netizens thinking she had seduced him and was just using him to make herself and her group more popular.

“n/n!” she tried to smile at hearing his voice, but couldn’t bring herself to. she was just so tired.

“hi, hobi” concern washed over him as he heard her voice

“did i wake you?”

“no, no. just practicing, the usual, you know?” she slumped down onto the floor and released a breath at feeling the cold wood on her sweaty body

“you shouldn’t practice so hard. you’ll get sick again” his reminder made her look at herself into the mirror

she had gone on hiatus a while ago because of her deteriorating mental health and he had been the main person that looked after her since her group was busy promoting. y/n didn't want to see her family during it, she felt embarrassed for letting such negativity get to her and make her feel like she should end everything: they were harmless comments, they didn't know better, right? they were just saying things to hurt her, they didn't actually mean it… or so she tried to convince herself. hoseok understood what she felt, though the negative comments about them have been significantly different, he knew how to deal with what she was feeling and y/n couldn't help but fall in love with him even more.

hoseok represented the sun, and she the moon. his bright smile and positive words helped y/n feel better, although it did take her a while to understand that he wasn't doing it just because it might be a requirement due to them dating, but he actually cared about her. a lot of tears were shed and they both had to repeat their words as they couldn't understand the other through their sobbing, but y/n slowly managed to feel okay again.

"can you help me?" she asked softly

"of course!"

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the phrase “practice makes perfect” has always stuck with y/n, but no matter how much hoseok helped her, she just couldn't get certain moves right. her body didn't bend in the same way her members or his did and she hated it — it just made her stick out even more.

"it's alright, you still have time" he eased her worries as she sat between his legs with her back pressed against his chest. they weren't worried about anyone seeing them as the door was locked and the window that was on the door had a curtain that he could pull down

"the others should be here soon, do you want to watch us?" y/n felt rather intimated about meeting the other members and hoseok understood as he was once in her position so he never pushed y/n into meeting them. however, his enlistment date was growing closer and the youngest four were rather noisy about wanting to meet her before he left as they knew she wouldn't interact with them otherwise. hoseok also wanted them to meet her and potentially take care of y/n while he was away in case anything happened and her own members weren't with her

"sure" he perked up and hugged her tightly making y/n laugh

one by one they came into the practice room and each of them froze at the doorway upon seeing hoseok coddling y/n who was embarrassed with showing such affection around others. they were use to him being strict during their own practices, but he was so soft with her.

jungkook felt very offended.

“she’s my girlfriend, of course i treat her better�� he rolled his eyes as jungkook gasped dramatically, y/n looked between the two as they reminded her of two of her own members

throughout the practice, y/n sat against the wall and just watched. she knew they were human and could make mistakes, but seeing them shocked her a little. y/n saw them as bts: her seniors and one of the biggest korean idol groups to ever exist. it was strange yet oddly comforting?

mistakes are made and they laugh it off. y/n remembered when she did that too. once she tripped over herself and fell onto the floor which made her members burst out laughing before asking if she was okay. as trainees, all of them were rather sensitive and wanted to be perfect, but nowadays ( stan ) they didn’t judge her and reminded y/n that she wouldn’t have debuted if the company truely believed she was such an awful dancer like the internet said.

“practice makes perfect” they say. y/n has always been determined to become a better dancer and prove everyone wrong, but this time she’s going to work on doing it without burning herself out and making everyone worried

“hoseok” she called out to her boyfriend softly as he sat beside her in silence, the other boys were spread out and in their own worlds as he hummed and looked at her

“thanks” he tilted his head in confusion before asking what she meant

“for everything” she kissed his cheek softly which earned a loud gag from jimin, but they both ignored him

“i’m going to go home. practice with me, tomorrow?” he beamed and nodded happily before leaning in to kiss her

a shoe was thrown which made them jump apart and a loud; “GET A ROOM” echoed through the practice room. hoseok glared before getting up to chase after the younger members who ran out of the practice room.

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this for @footprintsinthesxnd I hope you like it!

It is a young!Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x female Kazansky!reader imagine.

Thank you @green-socks for proofreading!

Warnings: cursing

You hadn’t intended to fall in love with Maverick Mitchell, especially since you knew your brother Tom would hate you for it.

It wasn’t that he hated Mav, you’d say it was a healthy rivalry, it was just that you had learned long ago that fighter pilots were off limits, because your brother knew first-hand how bad they were.

The locker room talk was something Tom didn’t want to tell you about but he implied its foulness often, every time he lectured you about not ever being allowed to date a pilot.

You understood immediately and didn’t have any intention of going for one of your brother’s colleagues, until you met Maverick.

For you it was love at first sight, and even your brother had to begrudgingly admit that it was clear Maverick felt the same way from the start.

Tom had taken you to a Navy dinner because he had wanted to spend more time with you, and the moment you had met Maverick you were both starstruck.

When you entered the room Tom waved you to move closer, he was locked in yet another bantering argument with his wingman until you stepped next to him.

He wrapped his arm around you as a greeting before he continued to talk to the aviator who usually wore the smile and charm of a womanizer, and who could only stare at you as if you had just offered him the world.

Similarly you were stunned by the dark haired pilot, and the two of you just looked at each other in a deep understanding gaze that your brother broke after it had gone on for too long for his liking.

The moment Tom cleared his throat Maverick gave you a tentative smile, stretching out his hand only to hold yours for a few seconds.

“Hi,” he said softly before his eyes reluctantly returned to your brother and then fell to the ground for a while.

While Maverick didn’t talk to you that evening again you could feel his eyes on you often, and your cheeks turned hotter until you were sure you were glowing.

“I’m warning you,” your brother told you when he drove you home, his hands clenching around the steering wheel in utter irritation at the way Maverick had behaved.

He had seen his wingman try to woo ladies and he was usually flirty, charming and shameless, which was very different to how he had behaved around you.

Tom had never seen that much longing in his wingman’s eyes, and he’d never seen Maverick respect anyone’s boundaries as much as he had done yours and especially Tom’s that evening.

“Pilots are off limits. They’re off fucking limits, all of them,” he told you and you nodded, though the gentle smile on Maverick’s almost angelic face was etched into your mind.

The next day the moment Tom entered the locker room he knew exactly who the pilots were talking about, and they weren’t using nice terminology.

His blood already ran hot and he felt rage fill his chest as he slammed his bag onto his space on the bench, hearing the tactless and just foul comments made about you and various made up scenarios.

Maverick was uncharacteristically quiet as well and acted before Tom could say or do anything.

He moved to grab the guy who was just starting to talk with a dirty grin on his face, pushing him against the locker behind him.

“Don’t fucking talk that way about her or you’ll have to go see your dentist very soon, and that’s if you’re lucky and it’s not the coroner you’ll be visiting,” he growled so that enough people could hear, and the locker room was eerily quiet afterwards.

Tom was surprised to say the least and his confusion only kept growing when he saw how Maverick didn’t flirt with anyone over the next few weeks, while most of his fellow aviators and even his married RIO participated in one or the other harmless flirtation.

It was very unlike Maverick who was generally charming and flirting was in his nature to pull out of something even Tom himself enjoyed, but Tom had the feeling he knew why, and he didn’t know how to feel about that.

On the one hand he felt uneasy because he knew that Mav liked you and Tom had given you one single rule not to date aviators, on the other he had seen the way Mav had looked at you and Tom couldn’t deny that even though you didn’t know each other well at all you were head over heels in love with each other.

Because you too had become more of a daydreamer than you had been before.

You didn’t dare ask your brother about Maverick, you knew better, but the way you stopped listening to him occasionally and stared into the abyss, which you had also done on the car ride home from that fateful Navy dinner, was indication enough.

Tom cared enough about Maverick and he definitely cared about you, which made him decide to act against his instinct when neither of you got better.

He brought you to another Navy event, and the first thing he did was introduce you properly, like he should have done at the first event.

“This is Maverick,” he told you about your pilot, and you smiled at him.

“I’m Pete. Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell,” he responded, returning the smile you sent his way.

Even his best friend Goose only ever called him Maverick, and the vulnerability he showed by offering his first name to you surprised Ice.

You wanted to say that you missed him, despite not really knowing him at all, but you kept your mouth shut until Pete spoke again.

“This might sound crazy but it’s almost like I missed you,” he said softly and Tom stepped away from the two of you gingerly, knowing that you had felt the same and that you were just right for each other.

tagging: @starkleila @mayhem24-7forever @hederasgarden @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bespinnn @softromantist @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @marvelandotherfandomimagines @luckyladycreator2 @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @mavrellover91 @allivingstone01 @rhettabbotts @withakindheartx @trikigirl271 @cherrycola27 @bonitanightmxres @ratcatcher2world @glowingtree @wingmanvenus

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[narratingvoice]

How do you deal with writer’s block?

Ahhh, writer's block. The most relatable and universal of terrors. Is there anything more frightening than staring down at the white abyss of the empty page? Is there any pain more acute than being unable to wrest the words out of your head and into a story? No, surely not. (In fact, you'll never believe why I took several days to respond to this ask.) But I have been a writer for a long time, so by necessity I have devised a few methods of coping with the looming dread. Here are a couple of tips:

Write as if you're talking

One of the most common reasons for writer's block is that you want your writing to be perfect. Of course you do, why wouldn't you? But you keep going over the words in your mind over and over before you even write them down, and that's the problem. You need to think of it like you're having a conversation with a silent companion. When you chat with a friend, you don't look back at the sentence you just said and think "that was rubbish". You just let it be part of the conversation. And I for one am certainly known for my grandiloquence when speaking orally; in fact I'd say it's one of my best features. So just write down something, anything, that says the thing you want to say. Then once you've said it, you can rewrite it over and over again until it's perfect. Don't move on to the next section until you've polished it to a mirror sheen.

2. Have a punching bag

I don't mean a literal punching bag, although you certainly could use one if you so desire. I mean you need to have something harmless that you can unleash your built-up frustration on. One cannot craft a thrilling narrative when one's mind is clouded by self-doubt. My punching bag is a large plush tyrannosaurus I call Muriel. I like to take her to a nice dark out-of-bounds area where no one can see me, and hug her tightly to my chest while I let out an uninterrupted scream for as long as I possibly can. (This is usually several hours.) If I am feeling especially angry, I will punch her, bite her, and throw her at a wall until I calm down. And if that still doesn't work then I will drop Stanley into the void for a quick laugh.

3. Re-read your old stuff

If you ever have doubt about your ability to create believable dialogue and character, all you need to do is take a trip down memory lane. Simply read something you wrote in the past, and if you're anything like me, your heart will fill with a swell of pride and accomplishment. You can write! You've done it before and you'll do it again! I recommend making a binder, file folder, or shrine containing all your past works, so you can easily find them and remember them whenever you want. Oh, and if you published them in a place where you can get comments or reviews, save and print out all the good ones. That way you will know that it's not just your ego; other people enjoy your creative ability as well.

Do not save the bad ones. That will not lead to anything good. Trust me on this one.

If this is your first time writing anything, make up some imaginary good reviews that you think should exist once the work is finished, and look at them.

4. Use spite

It may seem counter-intuitive, but spite is actually a fantastic motivator for getting work done. What you need to do is find an author you really hate and read a bit of their work. In no time at all, you will be thinking to yourself, "I can definitely write something better than this dreck. If this can get published then so can I!" For me, all it takes is a couple of chapters of any Tom Clancy novel. Just be careful you don't read so much that it drives you into a murderous rage; if that happens, revert to tip #2 above.

And that's all I can think of for now! Good luck, and know that I believe in you! You have a story worth telling!

[erodasfishtacos]

could u please do like a harry x youtuber/influencer!reader and like lots of fluff🥺

Hi bubbie! Here you go :)))

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Harry was panicking. His mum and sister were going to be here in less than two hours and he’s burnt the eggplant parmigiana he had worked tediously on. 

He grabbed what he had left in his fridge - ground beef, shredded cheddar cheese, and a little bit of bacon. 

It was the type of foods he usually strayed away from so sometimes when his shopper would bring this stuff home - he’d avoid it and admittedly sometimes it would go bad sitting in the fridge.

The singer pulls up YouTube onto his phone - hoping something would come up when he typed in the ingredients on the search bar.

He clicks on the first video by cookingwithnofucks. A chuckle at the name as an advertisement plays.

A cute, bubbly girl appears on screen in a beautiful modern kitchen. She has a shirt on that says ‘fuck the patriarchy and eat pizza’. A high ponytail and minimal makeup.

“Okay - today we’re making a cheeseburger casserole,” the girl chirps, “It’s a heart attack in a dish but it’s so fucking good.”

Harry finds himself smiling as he crinkles his nose - it sounds absolutely disgusting but he’s intrigued more by the girl on the screen.

“Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hiii, if you’re new - I’m Y/N and I do cooking shit. Subscribe to my channel and all that jazz,” she titters while cutting open her beef package.

Harry follows along step-by-step, shaking his head as she doesn’t describe the instructions nearly well enough and is generally all over the place.

It’s a fucking cooking channel and at one point the meat starts burning. She just laughs and says, “s’just a little crispy!” 

The casserole turns out looking even better than Y/N’s to be honest. It’s done in just the right amount of time for him to shower before his family arrives.

He makes sure to subscribe to her channel - eyebrows raising when he sees that she has 16 million subscribers.

Harry wanted to spend longer, looking at her social media but there was a fixed time so he locked his phone and went to get ready.

**

Anne - always the sweetheart just tells Harry that the casserole is delicious even as a bit of grease runs down her fork from the fatty meats.

Gemma wasn’t as kind, grimacing at the casserole and remarking, “You truly are turning into an American, huh?”

**

Laying in bed that night, Harry swipes back onto YouTube. Going back to the page he just subscribed to - under a pseudonym. He clicks on another video.

“Uh, okay. So I’m cooking...fuck, it’s called unicorn bark. It looks like a magical animal puke but it looks delicious so we’re going to try it.”

Harry realizes he’s been watching this girl cook for nearly an hour. Different videos from desserts to dinners.

She curses like a sailor, fucks up almost every recipe, and makes a mess everywhere. But she’s smiling and talkative which makes him quite memorized by her.

**

“I hate editing,” Y/N groans, letting her head fall dramatically against the desktop. Her best friend and dog looked at her oddly.

“I keep saying you need to hire someone, you stubborn bitch,” Laney retorts, clicking through her Instagram feed.

“Fuck off,” she tells her friend with no real heat. The video was almost fully edited - how to make spicy as fuck jalapeño poppers.

There is a calm silence for a while until Laney gasps, “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, not really caring as she clicks her mouse to trim a segment.

“Harry fucking Styles just followed you on Instagram and Twitter!” Laney shouts, her dog - Rufus popping his head up in confusion.

Y/N looks at her friend to see if she’s really serious and sees no signs of deception. “Oh my god,” Y/N replies. She loved Harry Styles in One Direction and as a solo artist - a fangirl if you will.

Y/N was a well-known influencer and has run in the circles of many celebrities. She’s even met Liam Payne but she’s never been able to bump into Harry.

Her alerts tell her it to be true, she swallows as she looks back up at Laney, “He dm’ed me.”

“Open it! What did he say?” She squeals, squeezing herself on the chair next to her, peering over her shoulder at the phone.

Y/N is a bit nervous, trying not to have a mini aneurysm as she opens the message thread.

HarryStyles: Hello. Just wanted to let you know that your cheeseburger casserole recipe saved my ass last night. Cheers x

“He’s totally coming onto you,” Her friend states instantly, bouncing excitedly - she also had a bit of a crush on the singer.

It takes the two of them a minute to cool their shit before Y/N manages a reply.

Y/N/LN: Well I guess it’s only fair. Your songs have made a few of my nights much better. I’m a bit of a slut for Fine Line.

Harry laughs behind his screen at the cheeky reply he gets back. He’s usually never this forward - especially on social media where he likes to fly under the radar.

HarryStyles: Well if you fancy my music that much, I totally love for you to come to a show. I’m performing in New York City in two weeks.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Y/N sputters to her friend, eyes wide at the invite to a concert she already had tickets to.

Y/N/LN: I’m not going to lie, I already have tickets to the show. However, I don’t have any backstage passes to meet the man of the hour. Do you know someone who can hook me up?

It does wonders for Harry’s narcissism to know that she already had tickets for his concert. Was he really going to do this? He hasn’t met up with some like this since his One Direction days.

He had to remind himself - she may just be friendly and take this as a totally casual interaction. Which would be normal, Harry really shouldn’t be so infatuated with someone he’s watched cook on social media.

HarryStyles: I think I can arrange that. Shoot me your number? I’ll have them sent digitally to you with instructions on how to get backstage.

Y/N is a bit dumbfounded at how fast they agreed to meet up. A harmless backstage tour - he could just be a fan of hers and totally not interested, right?

**

Over the next few weeks, they never really stop texting. Harry sends her pictures of the recipes he copies off her channel - that usually always look better than the original. He sends her clips of him goofing around during tour rehearsal. FaceTimes her when he’s finally home for the night.  

She sends him videos of her watching Harry Styles Best Moment Part Five. A few photos she snaps throughout the city of him on billboards and buildings, in Times Square. YN facetimes him when she’s frustrated with filming or watched a sad movie.

It didn’t make sense to either of them how seamlessly they’d clicked - especially without meeting. They were a perfect balance for each other. Harry - laidback, organized, level-headed. Y/N - eccentric, all over the place, adventurous. 

Jeff had told him that he’s been gaining media attention from his social media interactions with Y/N. They like each other’s photos, begin following each other’s friends, and comment goofy things on their posts.

“Listen, I have a great idea,” Y/N begins - which Harry learned is never good. “You should film a video with me sometime.”

Y/N knew she was going out on a limb and instantly regretted the questions she’d been building the courage to ask for days when it’s quiet on his end. There’s static for a moment and Y/N needs to fill the silence.

“It was - I was just, uh, I know you’re probably too busy. I was -“ She stutters, embarrassment flooding her.

Harry cuts her off, “I’d love to.”

“Yo-you would?” She asks timidly. Was she really going to have Harry Styles in her apartment? If so, should she take down her poster?

He laughs sweetly, “Why do you sound so surprised? I can’t wait to come to New York, love.”

Y/N giggles, “Not the fact that you’re performing in front of a sold out crowd at MSG? I don’t think seeing me will top that.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you in person since I came across your channel. You so lovely,” Harry replies, his voice a little softer but more serious.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admits, picking at a thread in her jeans.

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, despite not wanting to admit it - he wanted her to know this was new territory for both of them. He didn’t want her to think that this was something that he did often. But a little too prideful to admit it’s the first time he’s ever done something quite like this.

“What if you don’t like me?” Y/N whispers, she...well she didn’t compare to the models he’s been seen with before. She’s regretfully fell into the rabbit hole of looking up his past flings and relationships.

Harry barks out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, darling. I’ve been gone for you since I saw you burn that ground beef.”

**

Harry was having a bad day - scratch that. An awful one. He tried to go get coffee at eight in the morning and got bombarded by fans, he left the shop without even ordering. They followed him back to his car and it took him fifteen minutes to pull out.

His favorite Mickey Mouse Gucci suitcase he was bringing along on tour had busted. The zipper unraveling and the trim falling off as a result. It was a one-of-a-kind.

Then he’d been stuck on a Skype meeting about tour merchandise with a group of business partners for the last three hours - all he wanted was a fucking nap.

When Y/N’s contact vibrated across his screen, he’s itching to answer but declines as he needs to give these people his attention.

When she calls again, Harry feels a prickle of annoyance. It’s not even at her - to be quite honest. It’s just the shitty day and everything’s piling up.

He always got like this before he kicked off a tour - stress level maxed out and his ability to handle minor incidents nearly shot.

I’m busy

Okay! Sorry, just have a super exciting surprise for you, bub! 

I really do not feeling like talking. I’d rather be left alone.

Oh, alright. Hope everything’s okay! Do you still want to facetime later?

Harry leaves her on read because he doesn’t want to slip up and take out his frustration on her. He’d been known to do that and he didn’t want her to think he was anything but besotted with her.

**

Y/N feels a little hesitant as she begins the uploading process to her channel. The red loading bar told her it’d be twenty-minutes before it’s going to be posted to her 16 million subscribers - one of them being Harry himself. 

Twenty-minutes for her to back out and cancel the upload. She starts having doubts about it when Harry never replies to her text which is unlike him. 

She takes Rufus out to avoid staring at the loading screen with unnecessary anxiety and uneasiness.

**

Harry is just getting home from a business dinner with the touring company’s management team. The tension and anxiety from today piling up on his shoulders and he just wants to call Y/N and crash in bed. 

He tosses his keys in the little bowl in the entry and kicks off his dingy white vans to the side. His phone dings with an alert from Gemma.

You two are the literal cutest ever. It’s quite gross.

Harry slides onto a stool in his kitchen, confused by the text message before she’s sending the link to him.

Fine Line Inspired Cupcakes!

Harry isn’t quite sure why his heart starts pounding furiously in his chest. A sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this was probably the surprise she was excited about.

He clicks on the thumbnail.

“Hiiii, it’s Y/N. Okay, well today we are going to bake some Fine Line inspired cupcakes. And if you haven’t listened to the album - get your ass out from rock you’re living under and stream it on Spotify!”

She has her hair down in long, waves and a loose cropped shirt that says TPWK in rainbow embroidery.

Harrys mouth is dry and he can’t take his fucking eyes away from the screen. 

“Soo, I was thinking the first batch would be cherry flavored? ‘Cause he has a song titled ‘Cherry’. Let’s start there. First - I need to find my measuring cups.”

In true Y/N fashion, she scours her kitchen - cussing and yanking stuff out of her neatly organized cabinets before huffing and storming off to the side.

She comes back into view, a little frazzled but smiling when she holds up the ring of plastic measuring spoons, visible bite marks notched into the material.

“My asshole of a dog had a little snack,” Y/N shows the camera before shrugging, “Let’s get this shit started. Okay, you’re going to need one cup of sugar - no wait, two? I can’t read my fucking handwriting.”

Harry’s absolutely enamored by this scatter-brained, giggly girl who manages to produce cute blue and pink cupcakes that very vaguely resembled his album cover. His heart felt a million times too big for his chest.

He was enraptured for the entirety of the thirty minute video without taking his eyes away once.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt this way since his last relationship which was over a year ago at this point.

It’s not even a thought as he’s requesting a FaceTime with Y/N. 

She answers after a few rings. She has a green face mask painted on her nose, chin, and forehead with gold eye masks under each eye. She is so fucking ridiculous it’s not even funny. 

What is even more ridiculous is how gone Harry is realizing he is for her. She was quirky, unfiltered, carefree. If he was honest - he hadn’t met a girl like that in a very long time - especially a well-known influencer.

“Hi! How was your day, grumpy?” Y/N asks brightly, making a goofy face as the mask begins to tighten and crack on her skin. Not holding the earlier conversation against him and deciding to just move forward. She understood how stressful it can be.

“M’sorry. I was a bit grumpy,” He admits, “I loved your new video, darling. Did you make those just f’me?”

He can tell she’d be blushing if her face wasn’t covered, a bit bashful as she mutters, “You already know I did it for you.”

“You’re too sweet to me, only six days until we meet,” Harry replies, voice taking on a slow, lazy drawl. 

“Six days,” Y/N repeats, eyes crinkling as she smiles with excitement.

**

“Is this outfit too much?” Y/N panics. Even though there’s literally nothing she can do about it - they’re already walking towards the backstage entrance of the massive arena. It’s still about two hours until the show starts but Harry requested her to come earlier.

Laney sighs, “For the millionth time, you look fucking sexy and Harry’s going to want to rail you right when he sees you.”

Y/N shoves her lightly with a faux annoyance as they meet up with a burly man who’s blocking the entrance to the backstage hallway and rooms.

She gives him their names and pulls up the passes on her phone before he’s nodding with any expression and letting them pass.

They’re not quite sure where to go from here so they begin to wander down the long hallway toward what looks to be the main area that people are milling about.

Y/N is nearly on the ground when someone rounds the corner without looking and walks right into her. Both of them let out huffs of air as they collide and attempt to stabilize themselves.

But there are large hands grasping her arms and holding her steady. In typical Y/N fashion she’s already cursing, “fuckin like a brick wall, look out next time.”

Then she’s looking up to Harry staring back down at her with an amused expression. He doesn’t let go of her and instead tugs her against his bare chest. He’s warm and a bit sweaty - like he’d just worked out. He was only in a pair of thin, running shorts, nike tennis shoes, and a little clip holding his hair off of his face.

Y/N can’t help but wrap her arms around his waist, returning the embrace and amazed by how right it feels to be in his arms. Her face tucks right against his collarbone and it’s like they’d known each other for years.

Pictures and videos don’t do this man justice. He’s gorgeous - sharp edges and dark inked skin. Tall and muscular but dimples that are carved in his cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you, m’Harry,” Harry rumbles, removing one hand from Y/N’s shoulder to reach out his hand to her friend.

Laney shakes his hand before asking, “Laney. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Where’s the food?”

Harry chuckles against Y/N’s wavy hair, “Down the hall to the left.”

Laney’s trailing off without another glance, she was very food motivated despite her skinny frame. Also not wanting to intrude of the very personal first moments of their meeting.

The popstar pulls back to look down at the girl he’s fallen for in mere weeks. She’s as beautiful as he thought she'd be - if not more. He can’t help himself, “Would it be too forward to kiss you?”

Y/N smiles widely, running a hand along his jawline, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you stayed up on FaceTime with me until two in the morning as I cried after watching The Notebook - despite me seeing it a million times.”

Harry ducks forward to press his lips softly to her, large hands come to cup the side of her face as they connect. He’s so gentle as he moves his mouth against hers. In true Y/N fashion, she’s bold and has no hesitation slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He’s so fucking in love with her. It doesn’t make much sense - it’s definitely not logical but he’s realizing that’s okay.

“Oii, get a room!” Someone shouts from down the hallway teasingly.

Harry flips them the middle finger and pulls back, pink lips swollen and puffy, dimples on full display, “Let me take you out to dinner after the show, darling.”

“You going to wine and dine me, Styles?” Y/N giggles, unable to contain the pleasant warmness he’s spreading through her body. 

“Mmm, have t’make sure you’ll want to keep me,” Harry murmurs happily against her lips once again, pressing kiss after kiss to her to make sure she’s real, “Definitely want to keep you.”

Y/N bites teasingly at his bottom lip, hand planted on the soft but firm skin of his stomach, “You’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“Was hoping you’d say that, now let me introduce you to my band.”

                                  -- ---- ---- -- 1 year later - -- --- --- --

“Hi bitches! Today is a super special day. We have the one, the only Harry Styles filming with us. I know that’s not really that special since he’s on here all the time with me. But we’re celebrating our one year anniversary!” Y/N smiles, bumping hips with Harry who stands dutifully next to her. 

Anyone viewing can see the absolute heart-eyes and adoration he has for the girl standing next to him. He’s still as lovestruck and gone for her as he was the first time they met. Harry’s fans were thrilled - for the first time in years, he’d opened up again.

They weren’t very public on social media beside’s tagging each other in memes and posting the occasional picture. Y/N was constantly uploading cooking videos from wherever in the world she was with Harry on his tour, she’d also begin making vlogs about different foods she’s been experiencing.

---

“Okay, so here in Peru - they’re known to have this really fucking spicy beef with noddles. So obviously, I’m going to make Harry try it first,” Y/N laughs as she props the camera up on the side of the table on a napkin holder.

Harry - who has a concert in a few hours - frowns at the steaming dish in front of him, “Darling, I don’t want to try it first. It’s going to burn my mouth. Not gonna be able to sing.”

“You’re sucha baby sometimes,” Y/N rolls her eyes, slurping up the noodles with her fork while making a silly face at her boyfriend. She pulls back, straight-faced, “It’s not hot at all. Tastes amazing, though.”

Harry takes that as an initiative to shovel a spoonful into his mouth. It only takes half a moment until his taste buds erupt in fiery flames from the spices, “You bloody little brat, y’tricked me! It’s so fuckin’ hot!”

Y/N smiles widely, laughing much too loudly in the restaurant when Harry chugs the glass of water next to the plate while glaring at his love. “I’m sorry, s’just to easy with you, lovie,” She replies, leaning over the table to press a kiss to his lips. 

He’s a sucker for her and kisses her right back despite his mouth being an inferno. His heart was on fire for her and that burned much more intensely.

---

“No, love. The instructions say baking soda, not baking powder. They’re not the same thing,” Harry sighs, attempting to read her scribbled, sloppy handwriting. She’d already spilled milk on half of the paper.

“S’interchangeable, right?” Y/N hums, cracking an egg into the bowl and Harry automatically knows to look to fish out the eggshells that’d she’d let slip in because she sucks at cracking eggs but always wants to do it.

Harry reaches over her, grabbing the vanilla extract and a teaspoon, “It’s not, baby. Lemme do this real quick.”

“Will you make me a grilled cheese after this?” She asks, nuzzling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as he finishes adding the wet ingredients to their bowl. Harry stopped questioning her thought process a long time ago.

Harry swipes his finger into the mixture of icing off to the side and rubs it right onto her nose, cackling at her pout and squeaking when she pinches at the fleshy skin of his hips. She in turn dips her finger into the sugary cream and pops it right into her mouth.

Harry eyes darken, watching her lips purse as she sucks off the icing. It was a dirty move on Y/N’s part and she knows it. It has her boyfriend dragging an icing-covered thumb along her collarbone before leaning down to slowly lick up the sugary trail with his tongue.

When Y/N slides her fingers into his hair and lets out a pretty moan, Harry’s standing back up, trailing over to the tripod and saying into the camera, “We’ll be back after a little commercial break,” and is then turning off the record button.

It takes little to no time for Harry to have Y/N’s bum on the countertop, mouth on her neck, and hand in-between her thighs.

And when they finally posted a very edited final cut of the video - well there may be a couple of fans who notice the how flushed Y/N is halfway through and a lovely purple mark on Harry’s neck that wasn’t there in the beginning of the video.

[wandsolsen]

Looking at You

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda wants you all to herself, but it's hard when you get everyone's attention.

Warnings: suggestions of smut, jealous Wanda

Word Count: 2.5k

↳ Please, be aware that English isn't my first language, fell free to tell me if there are any mistakes.

How could someone be that beautiful? Wanda thought to herself while she watched you sleeping next to her. She loved every part of your face, in her perspective, you didn't have any flaws.

Your quiet breathing soothed Wanda, made her feel more warm than the blue blanket that covered you two at night.

Wanda just loved watching you sleep, it was almost a daily routine for her to admire you for long minutes until she fell asleep. And Wanda hated it when she, unintentionally, ended up sleeping first than you.

Wanda leaned her head against your chest and wrapped her arm around your belly, she closed her eyes as she felt the rhythm of your calm breathing.

Wanda wished she was able to lie there with you forever, because in those moments you belonged only to her and no one else.

She couldn't stand the thought of someone else touching you, especially knowing that there were indeed, people wanting to get between your relationship.

A quiet moan escaped through your lips making Wanda take off her hand that was on your belly to caress your clumsy hair. Your eyebrows weren't furrowed, so Wanda assumed that you weren't having a bad dream, it was just a harmless moan.

Wanda wondered if you were dreaming about her, and she hoped that you were. Because she dreamed about you.

Every single night.

-----

She already knew that Tony's party would be like this, because it was always like this. You two started the night together, but eventually appeared a woman out of nowhere that wanted to dance with you, and you were too polite to say no, then you ended up on the dance floor with someone who wasn't Wanda.

Wanda couldn't help feeling bothered to see you across the room instead of being by her side.

That's why Wanda loved to watch you sleeping, there was no one around to take you away from her arms.

Wanda left out a breath of frustration as she watched a blonde woman laughing at something you had said. Wanda held her glass of whiskey tightly. It wasn't fear, or right. It should be her getting all of your attention, not the other woman.

Wanda didn't want to be one of those crazy and jealous girlfriends, but it was really hard not to be one when all the girls were about to spread their legs for you. 

However, Wanda didn't blame them, at least not entirely. She understood the reason why everyone wanted to be around you, it was impossible not to feel attracted to you. You were naturally charming, drawing the attention of everyone that was in the room, Wanda knew that very well, because she was one of the people who fell under your spell.

The blonde woman whispered something in your ear as she held your forearm. Wanda's blood boiled with the scene. She trusted you more than anyone else and she knew that you wouldn't do anything to break that trust. But that doesn't mean Wanda wouldn't feel jealous about how women treat you.

Wanda lifted the glass of whiskey to her lips and felt the burning liquid run down her throat, she turned her back to you and ordered another shot to the bartender. Wanda would only be able to survive that night if she was drunk.

"You look terrible." Wanda heard a voice next to her, it was Natasha. She made a quick gesture to the bartender, ordering a cold martini.

"Thanks, Nat." Wanda said with a bit of sarcasm.

"Oh, it looks like someone is going to be a dead meat real soon." Natasha commented while she watched you, Wanda continued with her back turned. "But I'm not sure if it's going to be Y/N or the ginger woman."

"Ginger woman?" She asked, confused. "What are you talking-"

Wanda immediately looked at your direction, her green eyes filled with fury when she saw you dancing with a ginger woman. What happened with the blonde one? 

"Seriously Nat, I think you're the only woman in this room that didn't flirt with Y/N." 

"Not that you know of." Nat said with a playful smile, but Wanda gave her a deadly look. "C'mon Wanda, don't be so grumpy."

Wanda chose to stay quiet, she drank another shot of her whiskey trying to avoid her anger feelings that were running through her veins.

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two women, Natasha could feel Wanda's irritation beside her, and the last thing that the red-haired wanted to do was make her friend even more furious, so she didn't do any more teasing during the night.

After Natasha drank her martini in a hurry, she decided to break the silence."To be fair, if I were in your shoes, I think I'd smash the head of every girl who dared to look at my girlfriend the way they look at Y/N." Nat admitted.

Wanda knew that she could easily do that, she could make a big scene and take you away from all of the women who were trying to touch you. But no matter how much she wanted, she wouldn't do that. Wanda didn't want to seem desperate for you, even if she was.

"Hello, love." Your voice took Wanda by surprise, she didn't see you coming. "Hello, Nat." You greeted them with a smile.

"Look who finally decided to show up!" Nat exclaimed. "Good luck Y/N, you're going to need it." After she said that, Natasha left the bar, leaving you and Wanda alone.

"What was that all about?" You asked Wanda, after ordering you a drink. Wanda shrugged in response, not saying a word. "Is everything alright?" You made another question, after noticing her silence.

You touched her shoulder, and Wanda's body relaxed immediately as she felt your warm hand pressing her skin carefully. Wanda looked at you, her green eyes shined at the moment she saw your face in front of her. Suddenly, Wanda forgot how angry she was feeling, you next to her was all that matters.

"No, things are not alright." Wanda said as she came closer to you, her voice was calm. "I miss you." She whispered while her gaze fell from your eyes to your mouth.

"You miss me?" Wanda nodded as a response, you couldn't avoid the smile that appeared on your lips.

"Yes, I do. You barely spent time with me." She confessed her frustration, but there weren't any signals of anger in her words.

You took your hand off her shoulder to caress her cheek. Wanda held her breath, that's what she was looking for all night, your touch on her skin. Wanda wanted to close her eyes, but she remained focused on you. You noticed that Wanda's body went limp, you loved that you had that effect on her.

"If I remember well, Wanda, yesterday we stayed in your bedroom all day long." You murmured in her ear. "How dare you say I don't spend enough time with you?"

Wanda felt her face blushed when you mentioned the day before. She leaned over to whisper in your lips, in the same tone that you did seconds ago. "It's not enough." She gently took your hand that was in her cheek and kissed the inside of your palm. "I want all of you, all the time."

Even though her face seemed like of a saint, Wanda's eyes were screaming with lust. You opened your mouth to answer, ready to give everything that Wanda wanted, but you were rudely interrupted by a woman.

You had to turn your back to Wanda to see the woman who interrupted you. She asked you to dance with her and you declined the offer as much politely as you could. When you turned to face Wanda again, she wasn't there anymore.

Where the hell did she go?, you thought to yourself with concern. Your eyebrows furrowed as you search for any sight of Wanda. You were only able to relax when you saw her leaving the room in a hurry, you immediately ran out the door to get her, ignoring the people who tried to speak to you while you were on your way to Wanda.

Outside, the autumn chill made your skin crawl. "Wanda!" You exclaimed behind her, trying to reach her. "Wanda, wait for me!" She kept walking in silence, pretending she didn't hear you. As you finally reached Wanda, you grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face you."What's the problem with you today?" You asked.

Wanda quickly pulled away from your hand. "You are the problem, Y/N!" She shouted, her words were harsh, Wanda didn't want to take her angry out on you, but it was almost impossible not to.

"How am-"

"You're always with them!" Wanda cut you off.

"Them who?"

"With those women!" Her voice was louder than before. Wanda was making a scene, something that she didn't want to do, but she couldn't avoid her anger anymore. "You spent so much time with them and so little time with me, it's not fair!"

"Alright, alright I get it." You said as soon as you noticed Wanda's voice trembling, you didn't want her to cry, especially for something that she didn't have to. You walked in slow steps to get closer to Wanda. "You're right, I didn't give you the attention you deserve tonight."

"Not just tonight," Wanda's voice was calmer. "every Tony's party is like this."

You sighed. "Honey, you know that I only talk to those women about business stuff, right? There's literally nothing more than that."

"For you is only that, I'm not sure about them."

"Wanda, that's not true."

"It's so obvious that they're hitting on you and the worst part is that you don't even realize!" She started to scream again, furious because you didn't believe her. "They always show up when you are near me, and laughing at something that you said that I don't have any idea what it's, then touching you, I-" 

You observed Wanda's irritated features, you had to contain the laugh that got stuck in your throat. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Wanda asked when she noticed your expression.

"It's just that..." Wanda watched you walk another step forward, she didn't put you away when you grabbed her waist. "You're so sexy when you're jealous, Wanda Maximoff."

Wanda stayed lost in your eyes for a second, her cheeks singly flushed as her angry expression disappeared from her pretty face. Wanda looked away from you, staring at her high heels. However, you put your hand on her chin, forcing her to look deeply into your eyes again. "You just want me all for yourself, don't you?"

"I don't like to share." Wanda said, her green eyes shining more than the stars in the sky. "Especially things that belong to me."

You leaned towards Wanda's rose lips, but she quickly hid her face on your neck, avoiding your attempt to kiss her. Of course she would make you paid, even if it weren't entirely your fault.

"If this party is like all the other parties, then you know what will happen, right?" You asked quietly, Wanda's eyebrows furrowed. "My last dance will be with you, like always is."

Wanda opened and closed her mouth, she didn't know what to say. She was so lost in her jealousy that this detail went unnoticed by her. Wanda remembered all the parties you went together, even before you both even started dating, you always saved the last dance for her.

With a beautiful smile on her face, Wanda took your arm and guided you to inside the room. You entered right at the moment when a more sensual and slow song started playing.

You closed your eyes briefly when you felt your hand holding Wanda's, her skin intertwining with yours and your fingers fitting perfectly together. In the middle of the dance floor, you gripped Wanda's waist firmly, she lightly caressed the back of your neck before resting her right hand on your shoulder.

You danced in perfect harmony, one knowing all the moves of the other. There were many people in the room, but Wanda's green eyes were the only thing you could see. Your heart raced when she giggled while you spun her around, you watched her mesmerized. 

When you pulled Wanda back, her body was closer to you than before, you were able to hear a low moan that Wanda accidentally let escape when she felt her body against yours. Wanda looked at your lips, her eyes sparkling with desire and, before she could hide her face from you again, you pressed your lips to hers, never stopping dancing.

That moment seemed like one of those romantic movies that Wanda loved to watch.

Wanda's warm tongue inside your mouth made your legs tremble, but you didn't lose your rhythm. Still holding her waist firmly, you were able to feel Wanda melt from your kiss, she could have died in your arms at that very moment. There were other couples dancing, but they definitely weren't so passionate like you and Wanda were for each other.

The kiss ended along with the song, when you opened your eyes, you found Wanda's angelic face in front of you, her cheeks were red and she was trying to normalize her own breathing.

Your eyes never left her, however, you noticed Wanda gaze get lost in the room for a moment. "What's the matter?" You asked as Wanda turned her attention to you. She bit her bottom lip quickly, you two went back to dance, a different song filled the room.

"Everybody here is looking at you." Wanda answered in a whisper.

"Nonsense." You didn't look around you, you were too much lost on Wanda's eyes to do so.

"Y/N..."

"So what if they are?" You spoke as soon as you noticed the tone of jealousy when Wanda pronounced your name. "I don't care."

"Well, I care." Wanda tried not to roll her eyes. "A lot."

As fast as you could, you placed your hand on her upper back and gently lowered her backward, your noses rubbed against each other making Wanda shudder. "It doesn't matter if they're looking at me or not because," your eyes slightly focused on Wanda's breasts, the dress she was wearing highlighted them in a bold way. However, you found your way back to her green eyes. "I'm looking at you."

Wanda felt your breath in her mouth, your words petrified her. Immediately, she forgot how jealous she was feeling in the beginning of the night. Wanda's eyes were closed when you brought her back to her normal posture. You put your mouths together again, this time, a smoother and gentler kiss than the previous one. 

Wanda realized she had nothing to worry about. You were hers, not just when you were sleeping next to her, but all the time. Like she always wanted.

Wanda noticed because you didn't look away from her all night, even on the way home.

[cloudybarnes]

Hidden | C.H

Pairing: corpse husband x reader

Request:  Hi! I saw that requests were open for corpse, so I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to do one where the reader is also a faceless youtuber but she’s been getting some hate recently because people picked up on the flirty dynamic between her and corpse (they’re together, people just don’t know) and fangirls are jealous, so they send her hate. I really love those protective corpse fics and I’d love to see your take on this! No pressure if you don’t wanna write this! Love your work btw :) 

Word Count: 1.1k

Main Masterlist

Corpse Masterlist

A/N: thank you for the request! I hope you like it, even if it isn’t a lot of protective Corpse haha

✰  ✰  ✰

"I like your ears, Corpse." You giggle, as you wiggle your Among Us avatar around his.

He chuckles, "Thanks, Y/n. You should match with me."

You run over to the little laptop and change your hat to the ears. "Hell yeah! This is what I'm talking about." You giggle.

"We look so cute matching like this." Corpse responds.

You giggle, "You look cute, Corpse."

"Oh," he chuckles, "thanks."

You mute yourself in the game, a little caught off guard because you didn't mean to call Corpse cute out loud. Both being faceless youtubers, Corpse and you kind of connected right off the bat. It was a little inside joke between the two of you that faceless youtubers had to stick together, so you did.

What the two of you didn't realize, was that you would fall for each other. Constant texts and hours of phone calls turned into confessions and showing each other what you looked like.

A relationship was built; a secret one at that. You wanted to keep your private life, well, private. You two tried to be lowkey about it, but it was kind of difficult for you considering how hard you were falling for him.

"Y/n, quit flirting with Corpse, he's with Sykkuno." Ludwig laughed.

You giggle, and take a look over at your chat. A lot of the comments were talking about being nicer to you, which was confusing. You kept watching for a little longer and you soon saw some mean messages.

They were angry that you were flirting with Corpse. You didn't even think what you said was that bad, but apparently this was a regular thing for you. People seem to have picked up on your flirty behavior with Corpse, and they didn't like it.

Making sure you were muted in discord, you decided to talk to your chat. "Guys, I think I'm going to have to put chat on emote-only mode. I'm just going to say that I don't think Corpse or anyone is uncomfortable by how I talk to him, and it's all harmless so please don't be so mean in the chat."

A few minutes later, you get a message from Corpse.

Chat just told me about what yours was saying. I told them I don't mind when you're flirty with me and tried defending you. I'm coming over when we're done streaming, you need a pick me up cause you aren't sounding too happy.

You sighed, and responded back with a simple thank you my love.

Eventually, you did turn your chat back to followers only, and it wasn't too bad. A lot of them were sticking up for you and telling you how much Corpse was sticking up for you. This peaked your interest. At the next lobby break, you decided to check out a clip of him addressing that on his stream.

"Guys, don't-don't flame Y/n. She's done nothing wrong ever. I don't get uncomfortable with the flirty, I think it's actually fun to be playful and flirty back and forth. We love Y/n over here, don't be mean to my friends please."

You turned your attention back to your friends. "I think this is going to have to be my LG, guys." You explained to them.

"Aw," Rae pouted, "Okay, we'll make it a good one. We can find one fill for you."

"Uh, this will also be my last game." Corpse quietly chimed in.

"That's fine," Toast replied, "as long as no one else leaves we can find two fills."

Your last round was surprisingly really short. You were second to die, and the first meeting was called after four were already dead. No one had any information, so they just randomly voted Toast off cause he's smart.

Turns out, it was a scary combination or your boyfriend and Rae who got everyone in one round.

"Alright everyone, thanks for the games!" You smiled, "I had a lot of fun, thanks for playing!"

A chorus of goodbyes followed your leave. You left the discord and the lobby, and just sat for a second.

"Bye everyone. I'll be streaming again tomorrow night playing with the same group, so if you want to tune in again, I will see you there!"

You ended your stream quickly and took a deep breath. Corpse just messaged you he was getting ready to leave him house, so you decided to get up and clean a little before his arrival.

You make your bed, clean up the kitchen, and tidy up the living room. Just as you finish, a knocking on your door starts.

You lightly smile as you paddle over to open the door for him. He smiles at you and pulls you into a hug as soon as he sees you.

"You alright, sweet girl?" He mumbles as he pushes the two of you further into the house, and closes the door behind him.

You shrug, "yeah, I'll be okay. Just some people are really, uh, protective over you I guess."

He shakes his head, and grabs your hands to place a kiss to the back of each one. "They don't need to be protective over me, especially not when it's my girlfriend flirting with me. They have no right to say I don't like it or I don't like you."

You nod, and run your fingers along the side of his face, knowing it eases him. "I know that. I'm trying not to let if effect me because I don't know those people. It shouldn't matter what they think of me or us because they don't truly know us."

He brings his hand up to where mine is on his cheek, and holds them there together. "You're right, baby. What they think doesn't matter, so I was thinking maybe we should tell people we're together."

You look up at him, a little confused. "You really want to?"

He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. "I do. I want people to know I'm taken, and that it's you I'm taken by."

Your heart soars at this, and you let out a little giggle. "Yeah, I like that."

Corpse grins and pulls you into a kiss. Your hand still being held on his face, while his hand moves to cup your face.

He pulls back, and drags you to the couch. You sit down with him, and watch as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

"What are you thinking of posting?" You ask, curious.

Corpse grabs your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. You lightly scratch your purple acrylics across his hand the way he likes.

Your rings match his, and shine as he takes a picture of your interlocked hands.

On Instagram, he posts the picture of them and tags you with the caption "my favorite girl".

[multi-fandom-imagines-stuff]

Smaller Than This

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/daughter!reader, Peter Parker/platonic!reader, Wanda Maximoff/reader

Description: The reader is Natasha Romanoff’s daughter, best friend of Peter Parker, and girlfriend of Wanda Maximoff. Growing up in the spotlight is hard enough, but things cross a line when people start commenting on the reader’s weight.

Warnings: eating disorder, swearing, threats of violence

Word count: 3,282

A/N: I know it’s not easy to deal with eating disorders, but please know that you are beautiful and amazing and you don’t deserve to have to suffer through that. Please, if you are struggling with this, reach out for help. <3

✩❀✩❀✩

Black Widow’s daughter spotted in Central Park with new best friend Scarlet Witch and Stark Industry intern Peter Parker! Could Parker be y/n’s new boyfriend?

You laughed and rolled your eyes as you clicked on the tweet. Stalking paparazzi twitter accounts had to be one of your favorite pastimes, simply because the so-called facts they were giving out were false 99% of the time. For instance, this situation? You had gone out for a picnic with Peter and Wanda when those photos were taken, and the paparazzi completely twisted things. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, he was just your best friend. And Wanda wasn’t your best friend, she was your girlfriend. You chose to ignore the false headline as you went immediately for the replies.

‘Do you see the way y/n’s looking at Wanda? It seems more like there’s something going on between them than there is between y/n and Peter’

You smiled and liked that tweet. You liked messing with people just a bit. Whenever someone would tweet about there possibly being a relationship between you and Wanda, you liked the tweet. It wasn’t enough information to actually confirm the relationship as true, but it was enough to keep people speculating.

You scrolled through several more replies. Most of them were people using the heart eyes emoji or saying how much they loved your mom, but there were a few in there that stuck out more than the rest. That was because they were harsh and hurtful.

‘I don’t understand how someone can live with the Avengers and still look like that. Does she ever even exercise?’

‘She could stand to lose some weight. Instead of going out for a picnic, she should try to skip a few meals’

You read through replies for a few more minutes. Similar comments would pop up now and then, and while there wasn’t an overwhelming amount, there was still enough to make you close down the app and shut off your phone, averting all your attention toward not crying. 

“Miss y/n, dinner has been called,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang through your room.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind, you got off your bed and made your way to the dining room. There, Peter and Wanda were setting the table while Steve and Bucky carried out the food.

You walked up behind your girlfriend and wrapped your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder. You felt her jump slightly before she realized it was you and relaxed into your touch. You placed a kiss on her cheek.

“I love you,” You whispered in her ear.

“Hey! What did we talk about?” Tony directed at you, raising an eyebrow at you and causing you to roll your eyes.

“No lovey-dovey shit at the dinner table,” You mumbled.

“Language!” Steve scolded you as Clint joined the conversation.

“Oh, come on, Tony,” He said. “It’s young love. It’s harmless and adorable.”

“It makes me want to hurl,” Tony retorted.

To onlookers, it may have sounded like Tony was being a real dick, but you knew he was just teasing you. He’d never admit it, but secretly he loved how happy you and Wanda made each other.

“Watch it, Stark,” Your mom shot him a glare. “That’s my kid you’re talking about.”

Your head whipped up at your mom’s voice. She had been on a mission for the past week and wasn’t supposed to get home for another three days.

“Mom!” You yelled as you ran toward her, wrapping your arms around her as you squeezed her tight.

“Hey, kiddo! I’ve missed you!” She said, hugging you back and kissing you lightly on the forehead.

“I’ve missed you, too!”

“As much as I hate to break up this reunion,” Bucky said, causing you to pull away from your mom. “Steve and I slaved over dinner and it’s getting cold, so let’s eat.”

You took your seat at the table—in between Peter and Wanda—and filled your plate with the spaghetti and garlic bread Steve and Bucky made. Everyone was silent as you all dug into your food and, you had to admit, it tasted amazing. 

When Steve and Bucky first moved in, neither of them were allowed near a stove without supervision. They had started too many accidental fires. But after lots and lots of practice, the two of them easily became the best cooks in the tower.

After dinner, you excused yourself to your room. Your phone was still lying face down on the bed, so you grabbed it and opened it up. Right away, you noticed several notifications from twitter. Upon further investigation, you found that the rude comments people were saying about you had extended to your messages. Now, you had complete strangers messaging you about how you needed to ‘lose weight’, or ‘eat less’, or ‘exercise more’. A few of the messages even called you a ‘disappointment to the Avengers’.

You deactivated your account and deleted the app from your phone, but the damage was already done and you knew it. So you came up with a plan and decided to set it into motion the next morning.

✩❀✩❀✩

You woke up in the morning to your alarm blaring. Checking the time, you saw it was 4:30, and you wondered why your alarm was going off so early before you remembered the plan you had made the night before.

You got out of bed and quickly dressed in athletic attire before running out of your room. You knew Steve liked to run in the mornings, so you sat in the kitchen waiting for him.

When he finally sauntered in at 5:00, he was more than surprised to see you sitting there.

“Y/n?” He asked. “What’re you doing up so early?”

“Can I run with you today, Uncle Steve?” You asked him, a pleading look on your face that you knew he couldn’t say no to.

“Yeah, sure,” He said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be sleeping?”

You nodded. 

“I want to start running. My mile time in P.E. class has been slacking lately and I don’t want to fail the class.”

You were surprised yet proud of how quickly you were able to come up with that lie, and you were happy to see that Steve believed every word of it.

So that’s how you spent your morning: running laps with Steve.

The two of you finally called it quits around 6:15 and parted ways. Steve went off to do whatever he did during the days, and you went off to squeeze in a quick shower before school.

By the time you were done with your shower, it was nearly 7:00, which meant you had to rush to get dressed. You finally made it to the kitchen, where Wanda was already waiting for you. The two of you yelled a quick ‘bye’ to whoever was listening before you started the quick walk to the bus stop.

You felt Wanda’s hand interlock with yours and a smile arose on your face as you squeezed her hand. You two didn’t want to publicly disclose your relationship yet, so you knew the minute you reached the bus stop you’d have to let go.

✩❀✩❀✩

At lunch, you sat at a table with Wanda, Peter, MJ, and Ned. You skipped the food line and instead opted to sip at a bottle of water.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Peter asked you.

“What do you mean?” You shot back, not quite sure what he was getting at.

“You’re not eating.”

Shit. You had to think of a lie, and you had to be extra careful since your girlfriend could read minds. She promised you she’d never read your mind without your consent, but you were still wary.

“Uh...I’m just not feeling well,” You said. “My stomach is feeling a little flip-floppy and I don’t want to push it.”

To your luck, they nodded it off and changed the topic, not questioning you again for the rest of the day.

That night at dinner, you pushed the food around on your plate, eating a few bites here and there. It wasn’t hard to pretend you had eaten, especially since your family was so big. Everyone seemed to be so caught up in conversations with other people that they didn’t notice when you got up and scraped your food into the trash.

✩❀✩❀✩

These habits carried on for a few more weeks. You’d wake up every morning to run with Steve, make up some excuse for why you didn’t eat lunch, and you’d have a few bites of dinner before sneakily trashing it. On most weekends, you chose to spend your time training with your mom. You claimed it was so that you could stay sharp with your self-defense skills, and while that wasn’t necessarily a lie, it wasn’t the full truth, either. But your mom never questioned it, and you were glad.

You seemed to fly under the radar, until one Sunday afternoon.

You walked into your room after training with your mom to find Peter and Wanda waiting for you.

“Hey, guys,” You greeted, throwing yourself into a chair and downing half a bottle of water. “What’s up?” 

“We know,” Wanda said, a stern yet concerned look on her face.

“Know what?” You asked her, although you could feel your heart rate rising. You knew what she was talking about.

“That you haven’t been eating,” Peter joined in.

“What’re you talking about? Of course I’ve been eating.”

That was a lie. Your stomach hadn’t been properly filled in weeks and you couldn’t remember the last time it wasn’t rumbling. But that wasn’t important. What was important was the fact that you were finally losing weight. There’s no way you could stop now.

“Cut the crap, y/n,” Peter said, catching you by surprise. “We’ve been watching you. I can’t even remember the last time you bought a school lunch.”

“And you pick at your food at dinner every night,” Wanda added. “I haven’t seen you eat more than three bites. You think no one notices, but you’re wrong. And I can feel you, love. You feel...empty.”

Wanda rested her hand on your knee as you tried to process what was happening. You had been so good at hiding this, how had they found out?

“You guys, I’m—” You started before Peter cut you off.

“Don’t say you’re fine, because you’re not. We know it, and you know it, so please stop lying to us, y/n. We just want to help.”

“I have it under control, I don’t need help,” You protested. “Just...please don’t tell my mom.”

“Y/n—”

“Wanda, please,” You begged. “My mom has enough to worry about as it is. I don’t need to add this to her stress as well. I promise, I have it under control. I’m alright.”

Wanda and Peter shared a look before turning back to you. 

“We’ll keep this between us for now,” Peter said, and you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“But, if things get any worse, we won’t hesitate to bring your mom into this,” Wanda warned.

You nodded and the two of them left, Wanda kissing you quickly before walking out of the room. 

‘I just need to hide it better’ you thought to yourself. ‘This is all my fault for being too obvious about things. I need to do better.’

Wanda and Peter had dropped the topic for the time being, until a week later, things took a turn for the worse when your P.E. teacher announced that your class was running the mile that day.

Thanks to training with Steve, your mile time had improved and you were one of the fastest in the class. However, due to malnutrition, any sort of exercise made you extremely lightheaded. 

You ignored the part of your brain that was telling you to make up some excuse to sit out. You convinced yourself you just weren’t drinking enough water so you drank an entire water bottle and went to class.

You were about halfway done with your mile when the corners of your vision turned black. You blinked a few times, trying to edge it away, but it was no use. By now, you heard a loud ringing in your ears and the world started spinning around you. You slowed down a bit, trying to regain your composure when you felt your knees buckle underneath you, and you were plunged into a world of darkness, not feeling it when you hit the ground.

✩❀✩❀✩

When you awoke, you were still laying on the field, your entire class swarming around you. You were trying to sit up when you felt something attached to your hand. 

You looked to the right and saw Wanda sitting there, looking scared as hell.

“Miss Maximoff, Mr. Parker, please escort Miss Romanoff to the nurse’s office,” Your teacher ordered.

You felt Wanda help lift you to a standing position and once you were up, you felt the world start spinning again. You shut your eyes tight as two arms, you assumed they belonged to Wanda and Peter, wrapped around either side of your waist. Soon enough, the dizziness ceased and you opened your eyes, signaling for Peter and Wanda to start walking with you.

You made it to the nurse’s station where you saw your mom already waiting.

“Mom?” You asked, wondering how she had gotten to your school so quickly.

“Peter called me the second he saw you fall,” She explained.

You, Wanda, and Peter were dismissed from school early, and your mom led you all back to her car. You sat in the passenger seat while Peter and Wanda sat in the back.

“What happened?” Your mom demanded.

The tone of her voice scared you a little bit, but you knew it was filled more with concern than it was with anger.

“I must’ve just gotten overheated or something,” You lied, knowing exactly why you passed out. “I was doing fine one second, and then the next I was on the ground.”

“That’s not true, Ms. Romanoff,” Peter interjected.

You whipped your head around to him and shook your head, silently pleading him to not tell her.

“What do you mean?” She asked. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Peter, stop,” You said, panicking at what was about to be said.

“Y/n hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a month,” Wanda admitted.

You shot your girlfriend a look of betrayal before turning back around to face forward.

“You, what?!” Your mom blared. “Y/n, is this true?”

Your silence was enough of an answer for her to understand that yes, it was true.

“Y/n, baby, why?” Your mom said.

You could tell she was trying to be strong, but her voice was cracking.

“Because I’m not like you guys, okay?!” You finally snapped, letting loose all of your pent-up emotions. “I don’t have a super-human metabolism like Peter, and I don’t have a perfectly in-shape body. I’m not an avenger and it sure as hell shows. Even people I don’t even know were making comments about it on twitter.”

“Is that why you disabled your account?” Peter asked, realization hitting him.

You nodded and looked down at your fingers, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them.

By now, you had reached the tower and your mom put the car into park, turning to face you.

“Y/n, I know it’s been hard for you to grow up in the spotlight, constantly being compared to us but this isn’t healthy,” She said, cupping your chin and lightly pulling your head up to meet her gaze. “If I had known all of this, I never would have let you do all those extra training sessions with me. It’s not safe for you to keep exercising like this when you’re not giving your body proper nourishment.”

“I can’t—” You sniffed. “I can’t stop. I need help.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek as your mom brushed it away, pulling you in for a hug before the four of you got out of the car.

Once inside, your mom told you to sit down in the living room while she left for a few minutes. When she returned, she had the rest of the team with her and you could only assume she had given them the run-down on your situation. 

You were slightly hurt that she had shared your personal life like that, but you knew it was for the best.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Your mom said once everyone was settled. “Y/n, you’re going to help with dinner every night. I know it can be hard once you’ve developed a food phobia, but when you’re in control of what we eat every night it makes things a little easier. No more throwing your food in the trash, okay? As for school, I’ll be making you a homemade lunch each day, and Peter and Wanda will be keeping an eye on you and will be reporting back to me. First thing tomorrow, I’ll call and set you up an appointment with a therapist. Bottling up your emotions will only make things worse, trust me. You need to talk to someone, and a therapist will help to give you healthier coping mechanisms.”

You listened as your mom laid out these new rules before telling you to go lie down. As you got up to leave, you were bombarded with your family hugging you and telling you they were there for you. You honestly had never felt more loved and supported in your life.

You finally made your way to your room, lying down in bed. A few minutes later, you heard a knock at your door.

“Come in,” You said weakly.

The handle turned and Wanda walked in, using her powers to levitate a tray behind her. You sat up and she put the tray down in your lap. On the tray, you saw there was a plate of cheese and crackers.

You looked down at the tray before looking up at your girlfriend. You forced yourself to pick up one of the crackers and take a bite, your mind screaming at you the entire time. But you were sick. You knew this. You wanted to get better.

“I’m sorry for telling your mother,” Wanda spoke. “You were slowly killing yourself and I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. I’m so sorry, y/n. Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t blame you, Wan,” You told her. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I never should have forced you and Peter to keep this a secret.”

Wanda wrapped you into her arms, squeezing tightly. The two of you stayed like that for a long time before you pulled away and, bite by bite, finished the snack she had brought you.

✩❀✩❀✩

You had been in recovery for about a month now, and while things were far from easy, you knew you could do it. Your family was your support system and they were right there by your side every step of the way.

You were sitting on the couch with Peter and Wanda, you and your girlfriend tangled in each other’s arms as you watched your mom on tv. She was finishing up a press conference.

“Oh, and one last thing before I go,” She spoke toward the camera and the audience. “Whoever decided to make awful comments about my daughter online, I am a trained assassin and I will find you.”

[celeste-clearwater-06]

Hi! Could I please request headcanons with the Durins, Bofur, Dwalin, Legolas, Elrond and anyone you'd like to add (or take out, sorry if that's too many characters) with a reader that tics? Like sometimes, random sounds slip out of them and they repeat them periodically for like a minute or so? Or sometimes hand movements or little gestures? I feel kinda embarassed of mine, so it would really help me. Thank you (also I read the nail polish headcanons and I loved them, you're amazing!)!

Absolutely!! And don't ever feel embarrassed! You are amazing, beautiful and perfect just the way you are!! Hope this meets up to your expectations! I'm not very familiar with tics and such, (I did a bit of research) so let me know how I did with the writing!

Tics (Thorin's Company x reader)

Thorin

At first, our king under the mountain doesn't know what to think

Surely he didn't hear you squeak...

To be honest, he thought you were doing it to annoy him, since your first interaction, you might have gotten off on the wrong foot 😅

And it wasn't the easiest to explain to Thorin, knowing he can be a tad thick-headed sometimes

It took a while to help him comprehend and had never seen it in your light

He understands now though, and has the most patience you have ever seen

He's never been more understanding to one person, even with his stubborn and sometimes grumpy demeanor

Thorin knows you can't help it, which is why he's instantly overprotective of you

If anyone dares make one comment, he's on their case like CRAZY

"Y/N can not help it, gilthock!"

"If you improperly console with her/him/them again, you'll face the wrath of my kin."

When the company was being chased down by Beorn, your tics were triggered and the great skin-changer could hear you from inside, clawing at the door with fury

You felt terrible, not able to contain the short exclamations and noises slipping from your mouth

But Thorin sent an icy glare to anyone who tried to hush you or tell you to keep it down

He's constantly reminding you that it's not your fault, and has become like a fatherly figure to you... Or perhaps, something more 😉

Fili and Kili

Unsurprisingly, both are also very confused little princes

Fili seems to have a bit more understanding of the seriousness of the situation, or at least maturity

(He is next in line to be king after all)

It took a while for them to adjust, since they'd never met anyone with tics before

One night, as you all sat down by the fire, the company grew a bit rowdy, which became stressful for our poor Y/N

Your tics were triggered easily by then with short yelps, and lines of curses that even made bofur blush

Ofc, you couldn't control it, but since the company had little idea of what was going on

the two brothers were quick to rush to your aid, rubbing a hand on your back as you let out a frustrated groan

"What's wrong with her, Oin?"

"I'm not sure. Is it a curse?"

"Probably dark magic!" Dori gasped

You just shook your head and managed to explain your predicament through tics that annoyed the absolute shit out of you

and embarrassed you as well >:(

After that, the princes were stuck to you like flies to honey

They would always ride their ponies by yours, offer to carry your bags, spend all day cheering you up

And more often than not, you would become less stressed and the thought of your tics would float away in the wind 😌✨

Hell, they even stood up to their own uncle after he continued to press some stressful questions about your unfortunate condition

Even if Fili and Kili are both very aware of the randomness of your outbursts, they still treat you as a normal part of the company

They'd hate for you to feel "out-of-place" as Kili put it, in their traveling party

You are so important to them both, and they'd never let you get hurt

Bofur

Meet Mr. Comedic relief

Whenever Bofur had first met you, he giggled at your little tics

Of course, he'd never meant to make you feel bad, he just thought they were absolutely adorable

Sometimes he playfully teased you about it, and that certainly didn't make you feel better

One night, he had gotten the others in the company to join him in his seemingly harmless jesting,

You just forced out laughter, hoping to convince them that you too, thought it hilarious

But after everyone had fallen asleep by the dying fire, your quiet sobs and tics were what stirred bofur

He came over and asked what was wrong, apparent worry shining in his deep brown eyes

So, reluctantly, you explained why you had little outbursts

Bofur felt awful

"Oh...oh. Oh I'm so sorry lass/laddie/leddie! I never meant any harm!"

He wrapped his huge arms around you in a big bear hug

Bofur never wanted to make anyone feel bad about themselves, especially you (his favorite member of the company 🥺)

"It's okay Bo. It's not your fault that they happen."

It takes a while for you to convince him he's not at fault, and once you do, he's never reluctant to approach you and spark up a silly conversation 😊

He has THE BEST stories

Is very good at keeping your thoughts away from your tics and cheering you up during stressful or upsetting situations

You call him "Bofur-Bear" 🥺

And he adores you so much

He doesn't really know how to react when you have ongoing outbursts, that go on for a minute or two

So he makes really corny jokes and stupidly hilarious innuendos that extract giggles from you while your having an episode

He will never let you go 🥴👉👈

Dwalin

(This Gif is so GOD DAMN FUNNY 💀)

Dwalin is, in some ways, like Thorin

Except 10x more grumpy 🙄

That's okay though, because we still love him 🥰

SUPER confused

At first, he was kinda rude :/

Said it was "disturbing to his duties"

tHAT HURT-

But one night, in the quiet of Rivendell, after everyone else had fallen asleep, you walked around the kingdom to enjoy the peace and tranquility of the elvish land

Dwalin had followed you, and when he called your name, you jumped in surprise, and it sparked a string of swearing

His eyes widened in shock in first, and then some incredible happened

He smiled :)

Just a tiny little grin, that was hardly noticeable under his thick mustache, but a smile nonetheless

"I didn't know ya' could use yer mouth like that."

You grumbled and turned back to the balcony, trying to rid yourself of his company

Regardless, he took heavy steps next to you, and slapped a thick hand against your back, as a friendly gesture

"Why are being so nice to me all of a sudden?" You asked incredulously

Dwalin sighed, but before he could answer, you yelled and slapped your hands against the marble railing

"I hadn't meant ta upset ya' that much."

You just shook your head, and proceeded to describe to him what was really going on

After that, Dwalin was silent, but gave a quick nod

He still needed time to really let the information seep through his thick head

You thought you had scared him off at first, but as your journey continued on, Dwalin actually grew closer than before

Whenever an enemy was nearby, he would look for you first, and place you behind h, out of harms way

Extra dinner? Dwalin made sure you were the first to get second portions, despite your humble protests

He gets teased by the rest of the company, and though he'll never openly admit it, he's grown very fond of you 🥴

He's not really the best at picking up on your social cues, like if he's being way overprotective

Though he tries his best, he also won't can't treat you like a regular person, more like someone who's physically injured

"Come on, Y/N let me carry ya'"

"Dwalin, seriously, I'm fine, I know how to walk-"

*picks you up anyways*

Overall, very sweet, just a bit excessive sometimes 😅❤

I just decided to stick with these few characters if you don't mind, since I have a lot of other requests to fill out, but I hope these are okay!! Thank you for your request, and I hope these were accurate enough 😅🥰

You're amazing, beautiful and never feel ashamed or embarrassed for something you can't control!! Stay strong!! ❤

[bluefirewrites]

not sure if u are still taking this but, celebrity/fan au for JUKEE 🤭

Okay this one's a little involved but I got you!

Rated T for mentions of sex and maybe some language

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

******

Julie tugs against the rather short dress Flynn had squeezed her in, not caring for how much she looks like a glorified candy wrapper in the shimmering gold.

She feels like she's some Ferrer Roche, waiting to be devoured.

Which seems to be her intention for tonight because she's insane, and so is her bestie Flynn, because she's supposed to grab the attention of a certain someone in this club.

Her motives for tonight sound like they come straight out of a Wattpad story, but her boyfriend- or well maybe an ex boyfriend now'- forced her hand.

So a year ago, right around the time they started dating, they both disclosed their 'hall passes'. Just a list of celebrities they were both 'allowed' to cheat on their partners with. It was fun. Just to see who the other person would pick. 

It was harmless because the whole point is that these people are so famous, so far out of reach, that the odds of hooking up with them would be essentially impossible.

Nick's was the lead singer of the world famous pop group Dirty Candi. And Julie remembers drunkenly applauding the choice ("She's pretty! Wowww you like them Bubblegum Pop girls?")

They had a laugh that night and Julie doesn't really consider that hall pass conversation all that much since then-

-Until fast forward to last week when Nick disclosed to her that he ran into Carrie Wilson at an event. And then promptly disclosed to her that he invoked his 'Hall Pass' rights.

His rights?! She had exploded at him, and he claims that its no big deal. That he thought she would understand that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, a crazy set of circumstances, and that- 'Holy shit Jules, she was actually into me. Like what?'

Understandably, Julie stormed out and has been staying with Flynn for the time being. And it must have been the haze of crying and watching a lot of true crime series to cheer herself up that she and Flynn concocted this... plan.

One fueled by spite and pettiness.

Get back at Nick, make him jealous, make him feel how she did- by invoking her own 'Hall Pass' rights- 

-which so happens to be Sunset Curve frontman, Luke Patterson... 

"There he is" Flynn whispers from their corner of the club and Julie gulps.

"I don't think I can do this," Julie hisses at Flynn, when they spot him at the bar, nursing a drink with his bandmates like he usually would (they did their research). 

See, Julie’s been a fan of Luke’s for a long time. Ever since she heard ‘Now or Never’ in freshman year of high school, she’s been hooked onto their music- especially Luke and his voice and playing. 

She had their posters on her bedroom wall and had been that girl who would (when no one’s looking) press her fingers to her lips then press them against Luke’s image before going to bed. 

It was that bad. 

And Julie had probably fantasized on more than one occasion of meeting him and all the other scenarios you would picture in a typical Celeb x Reader scenario. 

And she’d like to think she grew out of it, now she’s in her mid-twenties and just casually listens to Sunset Curve, following up on their careers every now and then. 

But you can never really shake your first major celebrity crush. Hence he had been on her so called ‘Hall Pass’ list. 

(”You into rockstars, Jules?” Nick had teased her that night.)

Seeing him there, in the same place as her, is so surreal, but Flynn’s continued pinches to her arm remind her just how real this is. 

“This is ridiculous,” Julie crosses her arms, ready to bow out because what is she thinking? Why would Luke Patterson pick her up, of all people, at the bar? It’s like a supermodel runway in here, filled with girls more accomplished and famous. Her confidence is shaken a bit and she rethinks everything. 

"Nick didn't seem to have a problem when he did it," Flynn points out, “And girl, you look great. He would be blind to not want you.” 

The mention of Nick still boils her blood, which only reaffirms her plans for revenge. She’s still nervous but they both stand up from their booth and walk over to the bar. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend,” 

“No. You’re musician extraordinaire, Julie Molina! The world may not have heard about you, but they will one day. I bet that’s something you can talk to him about. Music? Lyrics?” 

Julie could use her songwriting credentials to her advantage, “I mean I guess-” 

“Quick, he’s getting up!” 

“Flynn, wait I’m not-” 

With a forceful push, Flynn sends Julie into the path of Luke Patterson, colliding into him and effectively spilling his drink all over her dress. 

“Oh my god,” Luke gapes at her, “I am so sorry-” 

Julie fans herself, shaking slightly from the fact she’s drenched and also that her freakin’ high school celebrity crush is looking at her, actually talking to her. 

But she recovers quickly, and she speaks, “It’s fine. Really. I guess I’m just... clumsy.” She shoots a glare at Flynn, who merely winks and retreats to their booth. 

Luke grimaces and takes her by the hand, leading her somewhere, napkins in his other hand, “Here, let’s get you cleaned up. Again, I’m sorry. Hate to ruin a pretty... dress.”

It’s the way he eyes her that catches Julie off guard. He’s... not talking about the dress, is he? 

Julie reels it back in tries her hand at a joke, “I wouldn’t call this a dress. I feel like fancy leftovers in this thing.” 

Luke stifles a laugh, “Okay, I mean I wasn’t gonna say anything but yeah. I guess it’s a bit tin foil-y.”

“Not your style?”

His gaze drifts over to her one last time, “Well, any way to take a meal back home is fine by me. I mean-” Luke scrunches his nose, wincing, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. Shit. That was too... much. Are we-” he laughs nervously, “Are we still... talking about food?”

“Unless you just called me a meal. Then no.” 

The look in his eyes say that he’s absolutely mortified, “...yeah. I think I did. I was hoping that was a nightmare.” 

“Nope, it definitely happened,” 

“Feel free to slap me,” 

Julie giggles, somewhat delirious because she hasn’t tried to flirt with him but here Luke is, flirting with her. Or trying. And failing. Like a far cry from the suave rockstar she had pictured him to be. 

“No need. Just, can you-?” she points to the napkins he’s holding hostage. 

“Oh yeah. Here,” They stop in front of the coat check, and he hands her the napkins so she could try herself off with the best she can.

Suddenly, a weight falls onto her shoulders, she looks up and sees Luke draping a jacket over her- his presumably. 

“You looked cold,”

Julie wraps the jacket tight against her, relishing in the warmth, “Wow, thanks.”

Luke smiled and stepped back, “Just so you know, if I made you feel weird in any way, I’d like to throw out my third ‘sorry’ of the night. Nothing has to happen though. So, just say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Whew. Um, okay. Julie stands there, faced with this decision. 

The compliments aside (she will revisit those later), Luke’s giving her an out. Any reservations she has about moving forward with this plan, this is her chance to leave. 

She could just treasure these amazing few minutes for the rest of her life. This could be a story to tell friends at a dinner party, about the time a rockstar lent her his jacket. Would be up there with the time Jack Black passed her on the street and said “Nice hat!”. 

But-

Maybe she wants to see where this goes. 

“All this talk about food is making me hungry though...” she says and Luke lights up, “I could go for a bite to eat.” 

Luke snaps his fingers, “I know just the place.” 

*******

Half an hour later, Julie and Flynn are in a smelly alleyway with the guys from Sunset Curve, in line for a street dog cart just a couple blocks away. 

“An Oldsmobile?” Julie gawked after hearing Luke and the guys describe the delicacy, “Are you trying to poison me?”

“I swear by it,” Luke insists, taking her hand and moving them up in the line. Flynn sees this and doesn’t comment, but Julie’s starting to get used to Luke doing that, “You have to try!”  

Julie doesn't know when she got over her initial starstruck, but by now its so easy to treat Luke like a regular person.

Well, celebrities are all regular people in the end, but more so now that he and his friends, have their sleeves rolled up, smiles wide, ready to dig into what may be the most disgusting hot dog she has ever seen.

Julie takes a bite out of hers and her eyes widen. Wow. It's not terrible.

"Ayy! We got another one, boys" Reggie laughs, noting her reaction.

"Told ya" Luke needles her sides and she giggles, ticklish. Her knee jerk reaction is to playfully shove him, but in the process accidentally smeared some mustard onto his face.

Luke goes to lick it off with his tongue, making funny faces as he did which amused Julie even more.

"Here," she takes a napkin and wipes at his cheek, "Now we're even."

The whole group gets to talking over by the couches, while Flynn chats up the other boys, Julie and Luke are sequestered in their own corner, and yes, eventually the topic switches to music.

"Wait, so you know Rose and the Petal Pushers?" Luke chokes out, "Like everyone I talk to hasn't heard of them!"

"Yup. Have their record actually" Julie beams proudly, censoring out the part that its her mom's band and hence she has one of the few records ever released.

Luke is floored by that and continues to poke her brain for music and Julie finds that their spiels go on naturally, that she could probably talk with Luke for hours and hours.

Which ends up happening. Flynn had already made her escape, having texted her to come home safely, the boys had gone too, leaving them in the nearly empty lot.

When the food truck closes down for the night, they end up taking a stroll down the streets of L.A, talking and getting to know each other.

Julie learns so much about Luke, things she's never heard about from the press- like his songwriting practice, that he cries at Finding Nemo, and that he can do a cartwheel only when drunk.

And in return Julie shares with him her crazy college stories, how she misses her mom sometimes, and that she is encyclopedia of commercial jingles (a fact Luke exploits by rapidly quizzing her at random moments)

Somehow they end up near the beach, with Julie pointing out the different stars she could see, but finds that Luke isn't looking at the sky.

"Hey, Julie..." He gets her attention, "I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too"

"So... would it be alright, if I kiss you?"

Julie's mouth parts, speechless. It happened. Holy shit it happened or... is happening. She has Luke exactly where she wants him.

She could only nod and Luke takes it as the sign to lean in, but just as his lips is about to brush against hers, she freaks-

"Wait" she steps back. Luke opens his mouth, "No. No more 'sorry's from you. This one's one me. I'm sorry but... this- this" She sighs, "I have to be honest with you."

Then she tells Luke everything- Nick, The Hall Pass, her plans for tonight- basically admitting to using him.

When she's done, she expects for Luke to get angry, to leave in a huff and never want to see her again.

That's not what happens.

"This Nick guy sounds like a piece of work" he says.

Julie nods slowly, "Yeah... I guess he was. So maybe that's why I did it. But I don't think I could have gone through with it. Like I don't think we're together, me and Nick but-"

"You wouldn't want to do what he did. Because you don't want to hurt people," Luke surmises, understanding, "And by doing that, that means you're a better person than he is."

"I guess"

"No Julie, you're a good person" Luke insists, "Man, I think that makes me like you even more."

Julie laughs, "God, if my high school self could see me now..."

"You were a big fan?"

"I'm not having this conversation right now with you,"

"Okay cuz now you got me curious-"

Julie swats his shoulder but it doesn't deter the guy from snickering.

On a more serious note though-

"I think..." Julie hums, "I think this means that I got some stuff to work through. Before I could start considering... this."

"I understand"

"But thank you... Luke. For tonight"

"It's been real, Julie,"Luke smiles and pulls her in for a half hug, "And you should keep the jacket. Looks better on you anyway."

****

Julie goes back to Flynn's that night and her bestie's still awake, wanting all the deets. But there's not much to tell. Nothing happened.

She shrugs off the jacket and resigns to the couch, not caring that her makeup is still on. She's about ready to pass out.

Her phone dings.

She pulls it out and sees two notifications.

luke_patterson is now following you

luke_patterson is requesting to message you.

Curious, she accepts the request.

'here if you want to talk, Tin Foil :P'

Julie rolls her eyes and collapses onto the couch, sleeping with a smile on her face.

She doesn't know it now, but the oncoming years would be filled with more messages back and forth, meetups with their friends for more shady street food, building a solid foundation of friendship and eventually, when Luke asks again if he could kiss her, Julie would eagerly prop herself on her toes to close the gap.

Yeah, Julie's high school self would definitely be screaming...

[dinpascal]

No Good Deed — Din Djarin

No Good Deed — Chapter One

➥ There’s an unconscious Mandalorian outside your door, along with some tiny, green thing clutching at his cloak. There has to be some sort of manual that tells you what to do in this situation... Right? 

There were many things to hate about Nevarro. The miles and miles of just-barely crusted over magma, the Rebels that tended to brush through every now and again, acting all high and mighty and as if they were too good to set foot on such a planet. However, without a single doubt, the thing you hated the most was the damn Guild.

You had never been the type of person to judge another for their method of survival. You had done many... unsatisfactory things in your lifetime, just to see another day. A few of those still kept you awake at night, debating whether you were deserving of what you had, no matter how miniscule. The Guild, however, was an entirely different thing.

Perhaps it was the mere fact that at least seventy percent of the people you served were hunters from the Guild. And if not already in the Guild, aiming for opportunity to be. They were a cocksure group, always carrying themselves with an aura of arrogance and as if they were allowing you the privilege of surviving. As if your little, insignificant life was balanced between their fingers, because they were all so skilled in the art of bounty hunting.

A lot of mudscuffers, in your opinion.

You wiped your palms down your apron, which did little about the stickiness that was present from hours of drink-making. The hairs were no-doubt spilling from your braid, hardly remembering to breathe in-between each order and the chaos that surrounded you. Creatures of all kind called out to you in many  different languages, some you understood and others you required your “partner” to translate. The droid was good for nothing apart from that, perhaps apart from being perpetually in your way. It reached the point where you no longer felt guilty for bumping it out of your way. 

Today, evidently, was Greef Karga’s awaited return from some mission, leading to the assembly of many (impatiently) awaiting their next bounty. In other words, the bar was way past its capacity limit. Many patrons were shoulder-to-shoulder, filling the building with endless, buzzing chatter that made the ache that much more present at your brow.

“C’mon, I’ve been trying for months. Why don’t you let me take you out? Just one night?” You eyed your suitor as you collected empty glasses and bottles, eyeing him with a thoroughly practiced smile that gave him the impression you enjoyed his company. It was something you were forced to learn early in this occupation, if you were even remotely interested in tips. Customers, males especially, enjoyed feeling wanted. As if they had any semblance of a chance with the “pretty thing” that served them drinks behind the counter.

“Cardon, you know I don’t date bounty hunters.” You replied, taking a moment to take another order and busying yourself with making it. Luckily, very few (if any) frequenters drank anything complicated, often preferring spotchka and even simple shots of hooch.

The dark-skinned hunter smiled, moving to brush his hair back with a gloved hand. “And why not? Don’t think you could handle one?” If you had to decide, Cardon wasn’t the worst of the bunch you could choose from. He had ebony hair that touched the top his shoulders, the top half often twisted into a bun. He was tall enough, but quite lanky compared to many of the other hunters that frequented the cantina. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing. If you had to guess, the majority of the hunters you served only had one head. Instead of commenting further, you motioned towards his glass. “Want another, Cardon?” He waved a hand in silent agreement, seemingly coming to terms that he was, yet again, striking out with you. 

“I think I’m your relief for the night.” You turned, positively beaming at the sight of olive skin and black eyes. “Alejad... My savior.” He grinned wickedly and threw a rag over his shoulder, lightly tsking at the mess you’d made of the bar. 

“So very messy. Have I not taught you a thing?” 

With a roll of your eyes and slight scoff, you began fingering the knot of your apron. “We’ll see how lucky you end up tonight. Karga isn’t even supposed to be showing up until second sundown.” You brushed your hand over his shaved head as you passed behind him, an act of affection you’d picked up in the time you’d worked together. Alejad had been the one to train you, considering no one else apart from the two of you seemed to want to work in this hunk of junk somehow considered a “proper establishment”. 

Stepping out of the back entrance with your day’s tips firmly shoved in your pocket, the silence of the alley was almost dizzying compared to what you’d dealt with for the last seven hours. Despite the distant sounds of the hustle and bustle of the market, it was much more preferable. Almost anything was preferable to being cat-called and yelled at all day. 

With a sigh and a brush of the back of your hand across your forehead, you finally made your way home. It wasn’t a far walk, just a few twists and turns that made it a comfortable enough walk to and from work. Your home was nothing exciting, nothing more than what you absolutely needed — the absolute bare essentials. It had once served as some kind of building for the Imps that were once stationed on Nevarro and eventually separated into two, unconnected homes once the Imps were chased (or killed) out. A little family had moved into the home above yours, made up of a young Twi’lek couple and a little, rose-colored girl you doubted had seen more than five cycles. You often found her crouched outside your home, digging through the dirt to find new additions to her rock collection. On the rarest of days, when you’d either be leaving or just returning from the bar, she’d already be outside as the first sun was rising and would offer you a toothless smile that made your heart warm. 

However, given the first sun was only just beginning to set, there was no young girl parading about the property. Hopefully, she was busy eating a plentiful dinner with her parents and had a nice, warm bed to look forward to tonight. 

The door creaked as you stepped inside, double-checking that you’d locked it behind you before making your way (all three steps of it) to the kitchen. With a quick look in the conservator, it seemed for the fourth night in a row now, you were having broth for dinner. With a sigh, you discarded your dirty apron aside and flipped the oven on to reheat your soup. It seemed you were in dire need for a trip to the market. 

There were a dozen and a half things you needed to do around the house, including a deep clean of your floors, as well as stripping your bed and washing the linens that you’d ignored for much too long. Taking the trash out was sufficient enough for the night, right? Right.

The evening air was cool against your skin, the first emergence of the first sunfall of the night beginning to appear. In a matter of hours, the cool air would soon become too cold to bear without some kind of protection. It was an interesting contradiction. While the ground beneath your feet was warm, almost hot to the touch because of the molten lava beneath it, the air was often cool and bleak the moment the suns began to sleep for the night. 

A soft noise behind you drew you from your thoughts, nothing more than a gentle, sad coo. You immediately turned, worrying a young babe had dodged their parents and was now exploring with no supervision. While Nevarro was now exponentially safer now that the Imps were gone, it still was no place for a child to be roaming at first sunfall. 

The last thing, actually very last thing you had expected was the sight before you. A Mandalorian slumped against your home with a little, green creature clutching at the frayed ends of his cloak. It regarded you for no longer than a moment, big eyes quickly returning to the hunter and cooing softly once more, as if urging him to get up. It tugged at the cloak again, its free hand bumping against his shoulder as if the tiny jostle would wake him.

You stood there a moment, almost afraid to take another step towards the pair. Though you’d never met a Mandalorian yourself, their reputation was enough to make your legs shake a bit under your weight. None too long ago, one had caused the entire town to burst into gunfire and killed dozens of other hunters. Undoubtedly, he (was it a he?) knew more than a dozen ways to kill you. And the creature? While it looked harmless enough now, how could you know if it would begin spewing venom at you the moment you took two steps towards it? If you’d learned anything growing up, it was to not trust a species you didn’t know. And you’d learned that lesson the hard way. 

As if aware of your thoughts, its eyes turned towards you once more and made another sad sound. It pulled at something deep inside you, something dormant and untraveled. Whatever it was, it urged you to move your damn feet and make the poor thing stop giving you those big, sorrowful eyes. 

“Okay...” Hesitantly, as if standing eye-to-eye with a Nexu, you braved a step forward. When it didn’t abruptly move or hiss, you took another. “Hey... little guy,” you murmured, eyes flickering from gleaming silver to the little one’s, “What happened?” 

It whined pitifully, turning towards the Mandalorian with a three-fingered hand as if motioning towards him and saying, ‘help him, will ya?’. 

If it were any other situation, you may have found the little creature amusing. It didn’t seem to be able to speak, but its body language and big, bug eyes were expressive enough. 

Once you were close enough to touch the Mandalorian, you slowly kneeled and made sure it stayed in your peripheral. You doubted it would suddenly sprout wings at this point, but you could never be too sure. Maybe it enjoyed playing with its food. 

“I’m gonna... Take him inside, okay?” Much to your surprise, it nodded and backed away a couple paces to give you space. Okay, so the green thing was intelligent. Good to know. 

With a steadying breath, you maneuvered your way around the Mandalorian so you could (attempt to) lift him. You imagined his armor couldn’t be light by any means, meaning you were going to have to carry a man already twice your weight, along with that much more in armor. “Knew I should have bought those weights...”

Sliding your arms under his armpits and securing your hold through intertwining your hands over his chest, you figured this was the best chance you had. There was no way you were getting him up over your shoulder and you figured dragging him by his feet wasn’t the best method, in case of a possible head injury. 

The breath immediately whooshed out of your lungs as you straightened, using gravity to your advantage and using the force to drag him backwards, instead of back down like it wanted. The little rag-covered bean waddled after you, apparently not willing to allow the Mandalorian out of his sight. 

The helmet lulled forward as you mostly-dragged him into your home, most certainly and unquestionably out cold. 

In the middle of your kitchen, you paused. Where the hell were you going to put him? The kitchen certainly wasn’t spacious enough for him. It was hardly enough room for you to comfortably move about. 

That left your bedroom.

“Just a little farther, alright?” You huffed, suddenly very keenly aware of the heaviness in your shoulders and triceps. The creature stumbling after the Mandalorian’s feet cooed in response, seemingly more content now than before. 

It took you much longer than you would’ve liked, but eventually, you somehow managed to get the damn guy on your bed. His feet hung over the bed and no doubt was coating your sheets in dirt and blood and who knew what else. At least they already needed washed.

After taking a moment (minutes, really) to catch your breath and watching the bean climb its way up your bed and back to the Mandalorian’s side, you once more found yourself at a loss. What the hell do you do now? 

Checking him for injuries was probably the best next course of action. You didn’t want the guy to die right here, on your bed, right?  

With your hands on your hips and a sweat breaking out over your brow, you looked in the what you now mentally referred to as the bean’s direction. “These guys have something against taking off their helmet, right?” Your response was a sound you couldn’t quite differentiate between amusement and agreement. Nevertheless, you nodded. “That’s what I thought.” 

After another few minutes of heavy consideration, you decided starting from the bottom-up was probably your best bet. If you were lucky, he was just incredibly sleep-deprived and absolutely nothing else was wrong with him. 

The little bean at his shoulder watched as you methodically undressed the Mandalorian, beginning with the armor as his shoulders and then moving to his chest plate. You made a small stack of it just beside your bed, being careful to not add any dinks or scratches that weren’t already on them. 

With shaky fingers, you began lifting his shirt to inspect any possible torso wounds. You were met with caramel skin etched in paler, puffier skin in various places where he’d been wounded and scarred over. A trail of dark, nearly black hair drew your gaze below his belly button and disappearing into his trousers.

You swallowed. This was not the time.

“Stomach looks good.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself. You pushed the fabric up further until it was under his chin, fingers delicately brushing across an angry, red line just below his left clavicle. It didn’t look serious and most likely just a result from his armor pressing into his skin, but it gave you an excuse to feel his skin beneath your fingertips. His chest was faintly dotted with hair, nipples pebbling at the sudden exposure to the air. “Chest looks good too.”

That left on more thing to check, the one thing you were hoping you wouldn’t have to do. 

You sank back onto your haunches for a moment, teeth anxiously worrying at the inside of your cheek as you considered your options. You didn’t have to do anything — you’d already given him and his... pet? Child? Friend? Somewhere to rest and checked him for any serious, deadly injuries. On the other hand, however, what if he did have a head injury? Without aid, a head injury could easily and quickly result in death. And you certainly didn’t want a dead Mandalorian on your hands. 

“Second option it is.” You murmured, brushing your palms down your trousers and taking a soothing breath. “But,” you began, pointing a finger in the air as you looked towards the bean. “I am not being that person.” You disappeared out of the room for a moment, quickly returning with a clean rag and making a show so the bean could see it. “See?” 

The bean, seemingly content, made an inquisitive sound. With one hand, you curled your fingers under the helmet’s edge and searched for the locking mechanism. Once you felt the tiny button, you nudged it and released a breath as it unlocked. “Okay, okay... Just gotta do this quick...”

With one, shaky hand, you gently tugged the helmet free from his head, immediately snapping your eyes shut the second you no longer felt the weight of his head. Discarding the heavy thing aside, you took the rag and, as efficiently as possible with your eyes firmly shut, placed it over his face. Though it wouldn’t make breathing especially easier, it at least would preserve some of his modesty. 

Once finished, you took a deep breath and regarded your work. You turned towards the bean with a triumphant smile. “Not bad, yeah?”

The bean regarded the rag with something akin to distaste but you couldn’t be sure. It was difficult to distinguish every emotion with its tiny face. The majority of your basis was just on its eyes.

You maneuvered your way around the pile of metal on your floor, as well as your own things to the head of the bed, eyes settling on the head of brown, presumably thick hair that stuck out from under the rag.

When was the last time someone so much as had seen a strand of his hair? Had anyone ever? Yet there you were, looking at not only it, but nearly everything else aside from his face. 

You eyed the creature currently tracing a three-fingered claw up the Mandalorian’s arm. It seemed... Conflicted. As if the whole world rested on its little shoulders, now that the Mandalorian was no longer protecting it. Its tiny features were pinched in worry, shoulders slumped forward and ears drooping at the corners. 

You wanted to console the little thing, except you still weren’t completely sure it wouldn’t nip at you if you got too close. 

Turning your attention back to the man (because at the current moment, he seemed to pose less danger), you cautiously slid your fingers around the back of his head. There was nothing but thick, course hair, even as you rounded the back of his head. At the very least, there were no external injuries. 

Until you looked down. 

And found that his foot was twisted at an angle that it most definitely wasn’t supposed to. 

“Well, kriff.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself. You regarded the said appendage for awhile, unsure quite what to do now. It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do, but moreso the fact that you weren’t sure you wanted to go snapping a bounty hunter’s leg back into place. It was usually something a person informed another of before doing. 

With a sigh, you turned your attention back to the little bean. Though you had little to no clue if it was capable of understanding you (though it had somewhat shown it could), it made you the teensiest amount less nervous to talk to it. “Maybe it’s better to do it while he’s out. What do you think?” The bean babbled something incoherently. You nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.”

✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ 

Surprisingly, the Mandalorian hardly flinched when you snapped his ankle back into place. Most surprisingly, he hadn’t woken up either. Hours later and he was still completely dead to the world. Numerous times you had to check to make sure he was still breathing. 

After about hour five, the bean decided to venture from his side. It appeared at your feet just as you were elbow-deep in washing, first inquisitively watching you scrub at your clothes, as if you were doing something it had never quite seen.

“Hey, little... Guy,” you finished lamely, pausing to eye the green creature as its head tilted to the side and those big eyes blinked. It made a soft sound, as if expecting you to easily understand. When you didn’t immediately react, it’s features pinched and it threw its arms up as if it were exclaiming something as it spewed into further coos and babbles.

You stared blankly.

What would a small, green creature want? A new, preferably clean rag for clothes? For you to throw something so you could chase it? Something to sink its little teeth into?

You faulted for a moment in your thinking. “Are you hungry?” It nodded immediately, fingers touching its belly and watching you with a look that clearly said ‘that’s what I was saying!’. “Okay, well, what do you eat?” It blinked as you stood from your washing, little feet tapping against the tiled floor as it followed you. “All I really have is broth, so it’s either broth or nothing.” It didn’t make any sound of disagreement or disappointment, so you took it as enough agreement and poured the still-warm broth (which you’d forgotten about until the stove beeped indignantly at you, still preoccupied with snapping a literal bone back into place) into a bowl. When it took the bowl you offered it, it blinked at it for a moment. Then it blinked up at you. 

“What? It’s all I got, little guy so I—,” It cut you off as it set the bowl down, before lifting its arms up that very plainly was uppity arms that babies were known for doing. It left you to stand there for a moment, mouth falling open and eyebrows shooting upwards. “You’re a kid?”

It babbled impatiently, big eyes looking at its meal before back up at you again. “Okay, um...” Slowly, still not completely sure you trusted it, you picked it up and then its bowl of broth. “You need... Help?” It cooed in what you assumed was agreement.

That was how you found yourself sitting at your table, some kind of child creature sitting in your lap as you spoon-fed it broth and occasionally pausing to let it babble something or burp. 

It was quite the character, you were learning. 

And quite the conversationalist. If only you could understand a word it was saying. 

Then you felt the atmosphere change... Shift. Where calm once sat, something you could only describe as charged replaced it. The child seemed to notice as well. Its head turned toward your bedroom, softly squealing and clapping its hands together. The Mandalorian was awake. There was a moment of silence as the dread pooled in your belly and a chill ran down your spine. 

This was the moment you hadn’t really considered. Many people, especially a Mandalorian, wouldn’t like waking up in a strange place with their armor stripped and their damned helmet off. 

Dank farrick, you just had to go and get yourself involved.

The seconds stretched as complete silence filled your home. Not even the child made another sound, though it was evident its feelings were a stark contrast from your own. Of course, it hadn’t dragged a Mandalorian into its home and practically stripped him bare. 

There was a flash of silver at the doorway of your bedroom. 

No good deed goes unpunished indeed. 

[cherienymphe]

Too Good (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, CLASSISM, a surprise crossover

{IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI}

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary:  you’ve worked for the Thrombeys for years and your professional, borderline detached, attitude has always led Ransom to take you as another low class citizen who hates the rich. A surprise run in at your engagement party proves that isn’t the case at all: it’s just his family you hate.

~

“You staying for the soiree tonight?”

You paused in your cleaning, glancing up at Meg as she pulled from her juul.

Winter break had been well under way for a few days now and the entire Thrombey family had been trickling into Harlan’s home one by one. The famous writer always welcomed his family during the holidays, and while you admired his generosity, you hated that it put you face to face with the rest of the snobbish bunch.

Walter Thrombey was spineless and his wife, Donna, wasn’t much better. His wife at least had the tendency to steer clear of drama while Walt, on the other hand, was always trying to tell Harlan how to run his business. These were things you could overlook if it weren’t for the fact that they’d managed to raise a Nazi in the making. Some of Donna’s comments during politics talk told you that this wasn’t exactly a case of a rebelling teenager.

Joni was harmless but annoying at best. It wasn’t surprising that she and Meg were the only ones you could tolerate. They were far less snobby than the rest, but there was still something about them that didn’t make you completely comfortable around them. Meg loved to refer to Marta, Harlan’s nurse, as family, but occasionally you found yourself wondering how sincere that really was. You often told Marta that she shouldn’t have told Meg the truth about her family, but Marta was a trusting girl.

Linda, Harlan’s daughter, walked around with far too much self-importance all because she considered herself to be self-made. You chose your words carefully because you were positive anyone could be as successful as she was if they too got a small loan of a million dollars from their father. Her husband, Richard, was a racist who would balk at such a label. He’s full of micro aggressions and sometimes just downright aggression. He loved the money that came with being married into the Thrombey family, and considering he’d signed a prenup, it was no secret that the man lived in fear of losing everything with one wrong move.

Perhaps you were a bit harsh in how you looked at Linda and Richard, but they gave you more than enough reasons to think negatively of them, and the biggest reason of all was due to drift in with the wind any moment now. Joni had reached some milestone in her business that was apparently quite a big deal, and so Harlan had offered to throw a celebration. You were invited, not as help, but as a guest. You were still undecided and that was what you told Meg.

She exhaled, the sickly-sweet scent filling your lungs as you slid the rag along the kitchen counter.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a better night planned with that boyfriend of yours?”

You chuckled, throwing her a small smile.

“Maybe I do,” you coyly replied.

She took another drag before replying.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t blame you if you ditched us for a hot date. Ransom is gonna show within the next three hours or so, and you know he can barely stand the sight of you,” she said.

“The feeling is mutual,” you murmured, turning to face her as you finally finished.

She laughed, offering you the juul. With a sigh, you accepted it, figuring that you deserved it after your day. You’d been cleaning along with Fran nonstop all day in order to prepare for tonight.

“Why does he hate you so much anyway?” she wondered out loud.

You pressed the plastic to your lips and handed it back to her just before exhaling.

“Because I think he’s a piece of shit,” you answered.

She rolled her eyes with a crooked smile.

“We all do,” she deadpanned.

“Yeah, but…you’re family. It’s kind of expected…especially in your family. Besides, I disliked him the very moment I met him. I never even gave him the benefit of the doubt because I saw right through him, and he knows I see right through him.”

You gathered your cleaning supplies.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure why that gets underneath his skin so much. I know I can’t be the only person he’s met who feels the same way, but maybe it has something to do with his pride or whatever. Who knows? I should get ready to go, anyway.”

There was a smirk on Meg’s red lips.

“I knew you had a hot date.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I wouldn’t call it a hot date or anything, but spending time with my boyfriend does beat the alternative,” you told her.

She followed you out of the kitchen, pouting as you threw on your coat and grabbed your purse.

“You hardly talk about him that sometimes I forget you have a beau waiting at home for you when you leave here,” she complained.

“Meg, you know I like to keep my work life and personal life as separate as possible,” you reiterated, looking for your keys.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re so uptight about that,” she waved you off.

You threw her a look.

“You know how your family can be,” you told her matter-of-factly.

Meg playfully scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she followed you to the door.

“Are you ashamed of us?” she questioned as you walked out.

You stuck your head back in, hand on the doorframe as you smiled.

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You’ll be back first thing tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” you chirped. “I can’t leave Fran to clean up the mess that will no doubt be left in the morning.”

“Drive safe,” she called as you descended the steps.

You were nearing your car when the purr of another sounded from the long driveway. You paused as you realized just who was making their way in and you wasted no time in unlocking your car. His light-colored vintage one slid in beside yours, and you sank into your seat just as he hopped out.

You didn’t spare him a glance as you started your vehicle, but you could feel his cold blue gaze boring into you. Your suspicions were proven right when you went to close your door only to be thwarted. His large hands pressed down onto the top of your door, and when you looked up at him, there was a mocking smile on his pink lips.

“Y/N,” he greeted. “Leaving so soon?”

You couldn’t see his eyes for his dark shades, but you just knew they were mocking you too.

“Yes,” you tersely replied, pulling on your door.

You huffed when he, and your door by extension, didn’t budge.

“That’s a real shame. I was looking forward to seeing what you look like when you’re not on your hands and knees…scrubbing, that is.”

“I have a prior engagement,” was your simple answer, pulling on the door again.

“Ah. I think I did hear Meg mention a boyfriend once. Let me guess… You’ve got a homecooked meal waiting for you in whatever rundown apartment you live in? Maybe you’ve got a date planned. Feeding the homeless? Singing to less fortunate children?”

You clenched your jaw, just waiting for him to back away.

“That is more up your alley, right? You’ve got to do something to make up for hanging around us snobs all day lest we wear off on you.”

You stared through your windshield, looking away from him with so much dismissal you were sure you heard him growl at you.

“Are you finished?” you wondered.

He scoffed, staring at you for a moment longer before eventually backing away. You slammed your door shut and locked it without hesitation. With a sigh, you finally backed away, pushing all thoughts of Ransom Drysdale out of your mind as you drove home.

Soft music littered the air as well as the aroma of food as you stepped inside of your house. You dropped your purse and keys onto the table beside the door and peeled your coat off as confusion filled you. You didn’t recall having planned anything for the evening, but you shouldn’t have been too surprised. Your boyfriend was always going out of his way to treat you.

You looked around for him as you approached the kitchen, confusion growing when you saw no sign of him. You had just opened your mouth to call for him when familiar arms wrapped around you. You jumped a bit before relaxing into his embrace, a smile on your lips as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“Welcome home,” he purred.

“…and what a nice welcome it is. Is there some occasion that I missed?”

He inhaled, humming as he thought.

“Mm, no. None that I can think of. Can’t I spoil you? Especially after the day I’m sure you’ve had?”

At the mention of work, you groaned, and he chuckled.

“How was work, by the way?” he wondered, massaging your shoulders now as he walked you through the house.

“Tiresome,” you honestly replied. “They’re having some celebration of sorts tonight, so it was up to me and the other housekeeper to make sure the entire place was in tip top shape.”

He paused.

“You weren’t invited?” he asked, an iciness in his voice that was familiar to you whenever you talked about work.

“I was, but…”

You shook your head as you trailed off.

“You know that I don’t like to be around those people any longer than I need to be.”

You weren’t exaggerating when you told Meg that you liked for your work and personal life to be completely separate. The Thrombeys knew absolutely nothing about your personal life, including your boyfriend, and the reverse was the same. While your boyfriend knew that you worked for a rich family on the side to help with graduate school, he didn’t know what family it was, and that was how you liked it. Especially considering how tight knit elite circles were, there was always a chance he knew them.

“It’s almost over, hun. You’re almost done with your degree, and soon you won’t have to go back there ever again,” he murmured. “Of course, you wouldn’t be there in the first place if you’d just let me…”

You scoffed as he trailed off, and you turned around in his arms just as you two reached the stairs. You rested your hands on his shoulder, gazing into his blue eyes as he fought a smirk. You playfully narrowed your eyes at him before running a hand through his dark hair.

“Charles Blackwood… How many times do I have to say it?”

“Providing for you will hardly make a dent in my fortune, Y/N,” he sighed.

“I don’t care. There’s no reason you should pay for my tuition when I can do it myself. We barely compromised on me living here instead of my old apartment,” you grumbled, still miffed about it.

“It’s been what, 2 years since you moved in? Don’t tell me you’re still sour because I made more sense than you did during the argument,” he said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes.

“That’s not important. You are not paying for my tuition. Like you said, I’m so close. I only have to put up with that family for a few more months and then…”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his.

“I’m all yours,” you whispered.

“You’re all mine anyway,” he haughtily replied, deepening the kiss. “…after you get cleaned up.”

He gently pushed you away.

“I’ve run you a hot bath and its waiting for you,” he said.

You threw him a confused smile.

“Seriously, what’s the occasion?” you wondered.

“I’ll tell you later. Go on,” he urged, shooing you up the stairs.

With one last skeptical look thrown over your shoulder, you followed his demands. You didn’t think twice about getting undressed when you entered the lavish bathroom. Rose petals floated along the steaming water and the lighting was low, candles lit all over the room. You sank into the tub with a low moan, relieved to finally be off of your feet.

You did your best to enjoy the moment, doing everything you could to keep tomorrow off of your mind. Like Charles said, it was almost over. You only had a few months left, but you were sure that you’d murder Ransom before then. You scoffed at the thought of the dark-haired prick.

Hugh “Ransom” Drysdale was the embodiment of everything you hated. He was selfish, obnoxiously arrogant, spoiled, and there was a complete lack of reality that surrounded him that made your lips curl. Him being blissfully unaware of matters of the real world wasn’t the problem at hand. It was his contentment in his ignorance that was the problem, and Linda and Richard had raised him that way.

It was why you could never understand their displeasure with his attitude. Their annoyance and grievances with their son never failed to confuse you. Ransom was the way he was purely because of them. The spoiled brat did not raise himself. Forcing the blue-eyed devil out of your brain, you finished washing up. When you exited the bathroom, a gorgeous, and no doubt expensive, nightgown was waiting for you on your bed.

It kissed your feet as you descended the stairs, and you brushed your hands over the wine-colored garment as Charles faced you. He was placing your plates on the table when you entered the dining room, and his eyes lit up when he looked at you.

“You look a thousand times better now that you’re more relaxed,” he said, kissing your cheek as he pulled your chair out.

“I feel a thousand times better,” you agreed. “I really needed that. Thank you.”

Dinner was a talkative affair. You only discussed work for a short while longer before asking Charles about his day. He told you about some clients, one of them a bit of a pain, but nothing he wasn’t used to. You found yourself smiling at him as he droned on, just basking in the sound of his voice, and eventually, he stopped when he noticed.

“What’s the matter?”

You shook your head at him, finishing your wine.

“Nothing. I just…like hearing you talk,” you confessed.

He rolled his eyes and stood, approaching you.

“You’re so sappy,” he complained, leaning down to press his lips to your cheek, taking your empty glass.

“More wine?” he asked, grabbing the bottle.

“Please,” you said.

He placed the refilled glass before you, moving into the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me you have dessert planned too,” you called over your shoulder, bringing the glass to your lips.

With the day you had, you emptied it in no time. He didn’t respond and you were going to say something else, but your mind went blank when the light caught something at the bottom of the glass. Your mouth parted as you eyed it, blinking a few times, wondering if you were imagining things. Shakily, you stood up, turning to call for Charles when you nearly tripped over him.

He was kneeling…on one knee, blue eyes gazing up at you as you gaped at him. Startled, you dropped the glass, and before you could shout, he caught it, preventing a mess to clean. You fought to say something.

“Charles…”

“You’re mine just as I am yours, and I want to make it official…”

You softly exhaled as he continued.

“I know you hate it when I spend money on you,” he continued, pouring the ring into his hand. “…but it’s just how I know to show I care. I would buy you the stars…if I could…”

He held the ring up to you.

“I know you want to be a lawyer and rule the world, so let me rule it with you…”

He took your hand, pressing his lips to your fingers as he looked at you from beneath his lashes as your full name fell from his pink lips.

“…will you marry me?”

It was insane how quickly you answered, how smoothly the ‘yes’ fell from your tongue. Marriage had come up maybe once during the entire relationship, and it’d been so long ago that you’d forgotten how the conversation went.

Once the ring was on your finger, it took no time at all for him to sweep you up into his arms. It appears that you had spoken too soon, because there was indeed a mess to clean when Charles cleared the table in one sweep, depositing you on it before attacking you like a man starved.

You didn’t keep count of how many times he fucked you that night, on every surface he could possibly lay you on. He loved the feel of your hands pressing against him, the cool band of the ring pressing into his skin. You didn’t feel guilty at all for calling in the following morning, opting instead to spend the day in bed with your fiancé.

You walked out of Harlan’s office with a small smile. He’d taken your abrupt resignation better than you’d hoped, but then again, Harlan always had been a kind man. The months you’d originally had left had been shortened to a week. When asked why, you simply showed Harlan your ring, watching his crinkly eyes widen at the sheer size before a youthful laugh left his lips.

“Well, congratulations,” he’d said.

You’d thanked him, telling him that the next few months or so would be spent planning the wedding. Neither your or Charles wanted to waste any time. Harlan respected how private you were about your personal life, so he didn’t press for information, only saying that your fiancé was a lucky man.

Harlan’s voice carried, you’d always known that, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to find Meg and Fran waiting outside of the door when you exited. Their eyes sparkled in anticipation, and with a playful sigh, you reluctantly lifted your left hand.

Embarrassment flooded you when they shouted, gasps and ooh’s and aah’s leaving their lips as they admired the ring. It started to attract the attention of the rest of the family, and you shrunk in on yourself. Meg suddenly took your hand, lips parted.

“Y/N, this…this cost a fortune,” she breathed.

You cringed.

“Please, please don’t tell me how much. I was kind of hoping that since it’s one of those big diamonds its really more show than what it’s worth,” you said.

“Not likely,” Meg scoffed, running her finger over it.

“You sure know how to pick them,” Fran said, lighthearted jealousy coating her tone.

“Oh my God,” Joni dragged out as she took your hand, mouth gaping as her eyes flickered between you and the ring. “This is from the new-.”

She cut herself off when Meg nudged her, signaling that you didn’t need to know.

“Please, I’d sleep much better at night if I didn’t know how much this cost. You can speculate amongst yourselves, but leave me out of it,” you laughed.

You ran into the rest of the family, sans Ransom, as you walked away. They immediately pulled you into hugs, congratulations on their lips. They all took turns admiring the ring and telling you how lucky you were. When you finally broke away, you got started on your job. You were much happier to do it now that you only had one more week left.

You were upstairs, cleaning a spare room when you finally ran into Ransom. You had turned to exit only to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. A light blue sweater adorned his frame, making the color of his eyes pop even more.

“Hugh,” you barely acknowledged, moving to get past him.

The asshole that he was, he pressed his hand to the other side of the frame, blocking you in as he smirked down at you. Before you could react, he was gripping your left hand in his own, holding it up to his face as he looked down his nose at your ring. He let out a low whistle.

“I suppose Meg wasn’t kidding. That’s an expensive piece you’ve got there,” he murmured.

You snatched your hand out of his when he brushed his thumb over your skin. You pursed your lips as you glared at him.

“Thank you,” you curtly replied.

When he didn’t move, you heaved a sigh. It seemed that he was determined to make your last week as miserable as possible.

“Judging by your taste in men, I do have to wonder how he can afford it,” he said, just shy of an accusation.

You scoffed.

“…and how would you know my taste in men? You don’t know anything about me,” you argued.

He smirked down at you, disdain in his eyes.

“I know that you wouldn’t be caught dead with…let’s say, a man like me. I’m simply curious is all. I would hate for you to find yourself in an embarrassing situation all because it turned out to be stolen,” he quietly replied, lips curling over his teeth. “…or fake.”

You clenched your jaw, tempted to slap him at his insinuation.

“You’re right. My fiancé isn’t a man like you, and that’s how I know it isn’t stolen…or fake, so you don’t have anything to worry about,” you snidely replied, shoving past him.

You could feel his eyes boring into your back as you descended the stairs.

“Sweetheart, you look amazing,” Charles purred, hand tightening along your waist as you adjusted your strap again.

“I just… I feel so out of place,” you murmured.

You and Charles had rented the most extravagant hall to host your engagement party. It was just a taste of the life you were marrying into, and you’d accepted that when you said yes, but it was going to take some getting used to. While you were familiar with some of Charles’ friends, it had never occurred to you that everyone who was anyone would also be invited. Wealthy business partners and elite families alike were in attendance, eager to see who the Charles Blackwood had popped the question to.

Your friends and family seemed to blend right in though, much more receptive to this lifestyle than you were. It was your own mother who’d picked your dress and shoes, and a close cousin who’d done your hair and makeup. You decided to entrust them with the task more often the minute you saw Charles’ face, eyes darkening as he took in the golden number you had on. It swished around your feet as you walked and tastefully clung to you in all of the right places.

“Relax,” he murmured, kissing your cheek.

You laid your hand on his as you did just that. The two of you stood on the spiral staircase near the entrance, greeting everyone as they came in. A greeting was already on your lips as the next set of guests entered, but your words died in your throat as you eyed them.

You turned your head away, back almost completely to the entrance as you looked down. Charles laid his hand on your shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Why are the Thrombeys here?” you wondered.

He frowned.

“They’re old friends of the family. We hardly speak, the last time being years ago, but I felt it polite to invite them, nonetheless. How do you…?”

He trailed off as your eyes met his, realization bleeding into them.

“Ah,” he quietly said, blinking. “I feel silly for not connecting the dots sooner…”

“Don’t,” you said, placing your hand on his chest. “I wanted to keep my personal life private from them and the same goes for my work life with you. You know how stressed I get talking about them and I just…”

“No, I get it,” he murmured. “Let me guess… The ‘asshole’ you often refer to is none other than Ransom. He hasn’t changed at all, I see…”

He nodded over your shoulder as he said this, and you nodded. His lips thinned into a line, but he simply pulled you closer as you turned back around. Your smile was strained as the familiar faces got closer.

“Y/N, you never told us that your fiancé was none other than Charles Blackwood himself,” Joni cried out, kissing each of your cheeks. “When we saw the names on the invites, well, I just said to myself there’s no way!”

You let out an awkward chuckle as Linda did the same.

“It never really came up, I suppose,” you lamely replied.

Meg pulled you into a hug, making you swear to tell her everything, and you could hear Richard and Walt congratulating Charles as Donna hesitantly hugged you as well. Ransom was quiet, and you found that odd. He never ran out of insults to hurl at you, but then again, you supposed he was saving face.

Walt and Richard extended their congrats to you again, and you swallowed when the questions started. How did you meet? How long have you been together? How did he propose? Deep down, you knew what they really wanted to know. How had you bagged him? What did he see in you? How did you even meet, what with your differing social circles and all? Charles was more than happy to answer all of them for you, sensing your discomfort, and you found your eyes connecting with a familiar blue pair.

Ransom was dressed as impeccably as everyone else, black suit adorning his fit frame as he gazed at you. Unable to hold his heavy stare, you glanced away, relief flowing through you when they finally departed to go partake in the festivities. Charles pressed his lips to the side of your head when they finally left, breathing you in.

“I won’t invite them to the wedding,” he offered.

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“No, it’s fine. It’d be odd not to, I suppose. Like you said, they’re old friends of the family, not just my employers…”

“Former employers,” he corrected with a smile.

You happily sighed, smile widening.

“Ah, yes. It feels good to be reminded of that,” you replied, squeezing his hand as he pulled you along.

Yesterday had been your last day which was why you were gutted to see them again…and so soon. Your farewells the previous day seemed silly now. Embarrassing even, since you’d been so sure that would be the last you’d see of them. Ransom had just made your last week so unbearable that you’d been overeager to leave the house.

Every sly comment he threw at you was meant to get under your skin, to make you uncomfortable. You suppose that had been his goal ever since you started working for his family. The dislike was mutual sure, but at least yours was valid. Ransom treated people he viewed as less than like garbage. He was a classist prick, and there was no doubt in your mind that his sour mood had everything to do with a low rate citizen like you joining his world, so to speak.

After having too much to drink, you slipped away from your fiancé with a kiss on his cheek.

“Where are you off to?” he wondered.

“I have to use the little girl’s room,” you whispered in his ear.

He chuckled, urging you along.

“I told you to slow down,” he whispered back with a smile. “Hurry back.”

“Will do,” you sang, leaving him with a peck on the lips.

The two bathrooms downstairs were all full, and considering how full your bladder was, you had no other choice but to climb the stairs to the second floor. You’d made a deal with the owners that all of the festivities would be held downstairs, upstairs off limits, but you were one of the renters and you had to pee. Badly.

The elaborate hallways were a bit confusing, but eventually you found a bathroom. You hurried as best as you could, not wanting to keep Charles waiting. You took longer than you intended to when washing your hands, distracted by your ring. It gleamed at you in the light, and you found yourself absentmindedly smiling at it, still in disbelief that you were getting married.

A yelp of fright escaped you when you finally opened the door, almost running into a chest. For a brief second, you thought that it was Charles, thinking that maybe he’d come after you, but the dark hair and blue eyes did not belong to him.

“What the hell, Hugh? You almost gave me a heart attack,” you complained, hand pressed to your chest.

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he hummed.

You blinked, fully realizing that he was upstairs when he shouldn’t be.

“What are you doing up here?”

He didn’t answer you, instead stepping forward, causing you to stumble back as he entered the bathroom. Before you could say anything else, he slammed the door closed behind him, and your heart jumped in your chest. Alcohol may have been coursing through your system, jumbling your mind a bit, but you were coherent enough to understand that something wasn’t right. You looked him over, somewhat concerned, and noticed that his tie was missing.

“Hugh-.”

“You know, all this time, I just thought you were the typical jealous bitch,” he casually started, making your eyes widen as he glanced around with a sigh.

“Excuse me?”

“You looked at me like something you find on the bottom of your shoe the very moment you met me,” he quietly spat, eyes meeting yours. “What a shame I thought it was that you were another one of those ‘eat the rich’ types. I thought we could have had some fun together, but you wouldn’t look twice at me. Hell, you hardly looked once.”

“Are you drunk, right now? Is that what this is?”

He stepped closer, and you stepped closer to the sink, trying to get around him.

“You always have a grand time with Fran and Marta, giggling with them and any other staff member we temporarily hire, but you clam up the minute any of us comes near you. I always hated how obvious you were about it, how unashamed you were to broadcast your disgust with our lifestyle-.”

“I think you’re drunk,” you finally decided.

“Little did I know that it wasn’t the money that disgusted you. Otherwise, why on earth would you be getting married to Charles Blackwood, of all people?”

He said your fiancé’s name as if it were the vilest thing in the world, and you frowned at him. His expression was unreadable, and your frown deepened.

“Are you telling me you’re shocked that my hatred of your family has nothing to do with your wealth but instead, oh…I don’t know, your personalities?”

“As if Charles is just a beacon of generosity,” Ransom sneered.

You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him.

“Are you upset with me because I don’t like you? Is that it? I refuse to believe that because, believe it or not Hugh, a lot of people don’t like you,” you mockingly told him.

He leaned one hand on the sink, officially trapping you as he looked down his nose at you.

“That usually stems from some level of envy, but not you it seems. Why would you be envious? You’ve been dating Charles…Blackwood…”

He chuckled, but it lacked humor. His other hand gripped your left, and he sneered at your ring.

“It was easier to write your rejection off when I thought it was shallow and unfounded, you know. That isn’t the case though, is it? Hell, soon you’ll be richer than me,” he murmured.

“Are you jealous?” you chuckled. “Charles doesn’t exactly seem your type…”

“Didn’t think he was yours either,” he threw back.

You scoffed.

“I don’t care about the money. That’s not why I’m with him. If I wanted to bag any rich guy for tuition, I would’ve slept with your father a long time ago,” you told him.

His jaw ticked, and he backed you into the wall. Ransom was definitely drunk, that much was obvious, and you found yourself growing nervous the longer he stared at you.

“What does Charles Blackwood have that I don’t?” he slowly questioned.

The question confused you, throwing you off, and you huffed, looking away from him. He was so close, body heat mingling with yours, and you cringed when he rested his hands on the wall. Fed up with his games, you pushed against him.

“My fiancé is waiting for me,” you hissed.

He pushed back, pressing his chest against yours as he pinned you to the wall.

“You wouldn’t look twice at me, but you’ll marry Charles Blackwood?”

“He has class!”

He glared at you.

“…for one thing,” you continued. “…and unfortunately for you, that is something money can’t buy. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

He gripped your wrists when you tried to leave, and you winced.

“Let go of me, Hugh! Charles will start to look for me,” you warned him.

His lips curved upwards into a smirk.

“Then I guess I better be quick…”

You opened your mouth, but he swallowed whatever you were going to say with a kiss. You fought against him, but he wrapped his arms around you, pinning you against him as he moved his mouth against yours. You gasped for breath when he pulled away only to sharply inhale when he shoved his tie in your mouth.

Your screams were muffled as he spun you around, hand pressing into your back as he pushed you against the counter. The sound of his belt buckle caused your struggle to increase, and your fears were confirmed when you looked in the mirror. Tears skipped down your face when he pulled up your dress, and you reached back, but he simply grabbed your hand and pinned it to your back.

He was pressed so firmly against you that you could hardly move your legs. His chest was firm as it grazed your back, and your heart dropped to your stomach when you felt him reaching in between you, the head of his cock grazing you moments later.

You tried to call his name around the fabric in your mouth, to try and talk sense into him, but it was no use. His lips grazed your ear as he leaned over you.

“You think I’m not good enough for you?”

You pushed back against him, and he chuckled.

“You think you’re better than me? You think your fiancé is better than me?”

He thrust into you, and a choked yelp escaped around the tie. One hand clasped around the back of your neck, pressing your forehead against the mirror as he forced himself into you again and again.

“I can have any woman I want- I do have any woman I want. I’m not going to let you walk around thinking you’re the exception,” he purred, rutting into you.

Your core burned at the forced entry, his hardened member dragging against your walls. You stomped your foot, sobs escaping you now as he had his way with you. You squeezed your eyes shut when he would groan, his labored breathing coinciding with the rhythm of his hips connecting with your butt.

“You walk around that house like you’re better than us. Looking down on us like you’re too good. You’re not. No one’s too good for me,” he moaned. “Not even the future Mrs. Blackwood.”

Somewhere upstairs, you could hear your name being called. You knew it was Charles, and there was no telling how long it’d take for him to find you. You yourself had almost gotten lost looking for a bathroom. Ransom’s thrusts grew erratic, his harsh breaths in your ear.

“That sounds like your lovely fiancé… I wonder what he’d do if he walked in here? You think he’d still marry you? Hmm?”

His hand slid around to the front of your throat, cutting off your breathing.

“He’d probably throw you out of that big ole house…you’d have to come and work for us again…”

He pulled you away from the sink and pushed you up against the door. His hand that was on your back moved up to turn the light off, sliding into you with ease now. You reached up to claw at the hand around your throat, vision blurring. You moved to bang against the door, but his arm snaked around you, pinning yours to your side.

Your head lolled back to land on his shoulder, and he let out a low moan in your ear. You shook as he came inside of you, his thrusts slowing down, lazily sliding his cock in and out of you now. You heard Charles getting farther away, his voice distant now. Ransom gripped your chin, finally allowing you to breathe and forced your head towards him, tears in your eyes.

His blue eyes were cold, nostrils flaring as he glared at you.

“No one is too good for me,” he quietly told you. “Remember that when you walk down the aisle.”

~

tags: @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @notyourtypicalrose @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan​ @coconutqueen21​

[sarcasticfina]

Fic Writer Tag Game

How many works do you have on AO3? 263

What’s your total AO3 word count? 4,901,188

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? including the fandoms on FFnet, that haven't yet been moved over to ao3, that'd be a total of 37. separating the larger fandoms (marvel, dcu) into their individual parts: Thor; Arrow; Smallville; The Vampire Diaries; Glee; Captain America; Supernatural; Teen Wolf; Iron Man; Life with Derek; Firefly; Friday Night Lights; X-Men; Fantastic Four; Harry Potter; Sons of Anarchy; Girl Meets World; Batman; Daredevil; From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series; Transformers; Lost Girl; Game of Thrones; Banshee; High School Musical; The OC; One Tree Hill; CSI: New York; Degrassi; Gossip Girl; NCIS; The Unusuals; Criminal Minds; iCarly; Secret Life of the American Teenager; Twilight; and The Listener

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. and I wonder (if everything could ever feel this real forever) - darcy/bucky - Steve tells him that Darcy's harmless. Bucky imagines, on paper, Darcy is harmless. HYDRA wouldn't give her a second glance. But he does. He can barely keep his eyes off her. He's not sure he wants to. | Kudos: 5576

2. I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me) - darcy centric | darcy/steve - The path to self-discovery, including becoming Coulson's assistant-slash-liaison-slash-bff, Captain America's lady love, and rating fourth on the SHIELD BAMF scale, was like the yellow brick road; it was chaos and confusion around every bend. | Kudos: 3973

3. Take a little piece of my heart (and keep it for yourself) - oliver/felicity - A collection of Olicity prompts on Tumblr posted here for easier access/reading. | Kudos: 3498

4. You put your arms around me (and I'm home) - darcy/bucky - A collection of Darcy/Bucky oneshots, drabbles, and prompt fills. | Kudos: 3293

5. you (anchor me back down) - darcy/bucky - "I'll be right back." Famous last words. | Kudos: 2747

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? not all of them. i do try to keep up on them, especially on longer stories when there's been significant wait times in between chapters, or when a reader is asking a question or is unclear on something. and especially when someone writes a really indepth comment/review, i like to respond to those and talk about motivations and character growth.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I've written a number of fics that either had suicide or major character death, so i'm not sure if one outranks the other in terms of most angsty... hmm... i remember "be still and know that I'm with you (be still and know that I am here)" and "light a match, burn the world to ash (I will watch it die, and hold your hand as I fly)" both got some pretty intense reactions when they were posted. And "It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Go On)" was basically just angst from beginning to end. buuuuut, i think i'll say "so you think you can tell (heaven from hell" was, only because there's a build up of everything going so right, only to pivot at the end, so it feels very bittersweet.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? i loooooove crossovers. i find writing in the marvel fandom makes things quite easy, but also smallville. as long as i can find a common thread, i enjoy finding a way to overlap two shows. i'll say the hardest one to write was "ruby red slippers (unavailable in her size)." I'm not sure why, but i found writing each personality together just felt strange. i liked the idea behind the story, but i definitely remember feeling like i was really forcing myself to keep going, like something just didn't fit right.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? oh, definitely. you cannot please everyone, it's impossible. for the most part, hate comes and i either argue back, take the criticism for what it's worth, or just ignore it when it's baseless. i think the hate that bothered me the most was a homophobic PM someone sent me re: "you know I will adore you ('til eternity)," on FFnet. i actually went and searched it up. they've since blocked me so i can't read our whole thread back and forth. but i did put part of it on tumblr so i could rant on it a bit, so you can see that here.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? ha. yes. depending on the story, it can be really detailed or really flowery. it depends on the ship, the plot, and how graphic i feel like being. i've definitely become more comfortable over the years with my writing. that said, i think everybody likes something different. i once had a reviewer tell me a sex scene was too much, just too intense. it was a stefan/caroline story and to be fair, that entire oneshot was just them fucking, lol, but it is what it is. to each their own.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Multiple times.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! for the record, i am always happy to have my stories translated and shared. i just like having a link sent to me and to be credited.

What’s your all time favorite ship? i have a list of OTPs, because interests change and as shows come and go, my love for a ship can be shelved for a while before it pops back up at random. currently, i can't get enough of buck/eddie from 9-1-1. and, historically, chloe/oliver (smallville) and felicity/oliver (arrow) have been two of my top OTPs. but i think i'd have to go with bonnie/damon. they had all the potential and the show dropped the ball by not exploring it. at the same time, that's kind of a blessing, because i don't trust those writers to properly explore what they had without eventually destroying it for the likes of de/ena. it means a treasure trove for writing where it could have gone and all the what if's.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? the intention is always to finish. but given how i feel about allison mack and how that impacts my feelings re: chloe sullivan, pretty much anything with her as a main character is not something i see myself returning to.

What are your writing strengths? What are your writing weaknesses? i'm putting these together because my strength is my weakness. i love to write. when i get an idea, i go all in and i will skip eating and sleeping to just write write write. but i also eventually hit a wall and i get so many ideas that i hyperfocus on one until the steam is gone and then i hyperfocus on the next one to maintain that need to keep writing, accidentally leaving the last story in the dust for entirely too long. i also have clinical depression that comes and goes, which hasn't been super great mixed with covid and isolation, so more often recently, i find myself overly exhausted and despite wanting to write, can rarely get motivated to do so. so, pre-covid, wrote so much i left entirely too many stories dangling. during covid, i've just been reading and struggling to get myself focused enough to do what i love.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i appreciate the authenticity when possible, but i've recently been reading more about how native speakers of other languages feel when a) their language is butchered by google translate, or b) it's just not genuine in terms of how bilingual speakers act or speak.

What was the first fandom you’ve written for? it was smallville, but i remember adopting it out to someone else because i wasn't going to finish it. so if you look at my ffnet, the first fandom i wrote for appears to be x-men: the movie, but i remember writing a chloe/oliver story prior to that.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? i have a lot. i mean, on ffnet, i have 576 stories, many of which were transferred over to ao3, with a lot of oneshots and drabbles getting joined together into collections. so there's a ton to pick from that span a 14-ish year timeline.

"you know I will adore you ('til eternity)" and "let me break (the walls that surround me)" hold a special place in my heart.

honestly, each story is important in its own way. there are bits and pieces of each that i love. every time i write something new it feels like my favorite. my best. and then a new idea comes along. there are scenes i've written that i loved more than the whole of what they became. lines that stand out that are almost too good to be a part of the larger picture.

one of my all time favorite passages i've written was bonnie's thoughts on damon and herself in 'if you love me (let me go)":

He is far from perfect. He is a novel of red, corrective ink. He is frayed pages and torn binding. His life, his choices, his mistakes leave lasting effects on everyone he meets.

She is a lifeboat with a hole in it. An anchor that drowns in the sea while everyone else remains steady above. She is both the calm and the storm, and while she screams that she will not be tamed, she cries. Bittersweet tears that go unnoticed and uncared about.

there are other stories, other pieces of dialogue, that i've been proud of. that make me laugh when i re-read them. that make me cry. and i love them. there are others that make me wilt and cringe and regret. it's a process. love and pride and growth, all bound together.

Tagging: @absentlyabbie, @anonymous033, and anyone else who'd like to fill this all out, haha

[regrettablewritings]

Can I request a Love head canon with Geralt please? I just read the pre-relationship one you did for Jaskier and I absolutely loved it!!

I mean... I can try 😅 Though, I think it should go without saying that Geralt isn’t exactly synonymous with love and affection as we relatively human beings interpret them . . .

Who said “I love you” first?: Assuming we’re sticking strictly to the verbal expression of the phrase, I believe you already know the answer to this. After all, it’s simply not in Geralt’s nature to be the most talkative person, much less vulnerable and affectionate. And that’s referring to his nature as being Geralt of Rivia and not specifically his nature of being a Witcher. You could wait an entire run of three human lifetimes and still potentially have to wait just a bit more to hear Geralt willingly say, “I love you” in this manner. It’s nothing against you, of course, but it’s better for you to recognize this and accept it than force otherwise. Besides, it’s not as though he doesn’t appreciate it: Deep down, Geralt is beyond startled that you would willingly apply such affection and devotion to him of all people, and a Witcher at that! Though, if you’re willing to stretch the expression one uses for “I Love you”, then it’s arguable that Geralt said it first, in some way, considering that . . .

What are their primary love languages?: Geralt is a very . . . sexual being. Physically aggressive. And considering his complex relationship with Yennefer, it therefore would stand to reason that his primary expression of “love” comes in the form of physical touch. Hell, if love languages were a thing acknowledged of the period (and if Geralt ever even cared to acknowledge them), he might’ve grunted and agreed so himself, even if only to get the conversation over faster. But the longer he spends having you as his companion, the more evident it becomes to him that this may not be the case. The thing is, physical touch can be more than just sexual release -- but for him, that’s all it ever was, simply because it was easier for him to do when Yennefer was still around. But since then, he’s come to recognize that perhaps he has more to offer than he gave himself credit for: Geralt operates through acts of service. Geralt is never going to be the most openly expressive one of the bunch, even when it pertains to you. But he’s always going to show his care for those whom he has a soft spot for by assuring their safety and well-being -- in odds and ends, so to speak. He’s never going to write you sonnets or wax poetically to you; he will rarely hold your hand just for the sake of doing so, or be the best at offering words that could technically be comprehended as affectionate. But when he notices you’re tired, he won’t hesitate to place you on Roach’s back -- an absolute honor, considering his protectiveness towards the mare. He’ll make sure that you’re warm and sheltered when you break camp, even if it comes at the cost of his own comfort (not that he feels much of a difference after this point anyway). If he thinks you may be doing something or even considering doing something that might put you in harm’s way or cause you mental or emotional pain, he’s unafraid to shoot that shit down (he loves you enough to let you hate him, so to speak). It may be the bare minimum that he saves you from a death of cold or starvation or hazardous encounters, but for him, it’s a way of showing he at least respects your right to continue living. He doesn’t really expect anything back besides respect. And perhaps some . . . physical comforts. But, once again, to his surprise, he’s not solely focused on physical touch when it comes to you. At least, not as intensely as he normally would be. What Geralt specifically appreciates form you is words of affirmation. But only from you: None of that showy, obnoxious nonsense that Jaskier calls music. Geralt likes feeling recognized as a person, questionable as that sort of title might actually be. He just likes being talked to to a degree, over small things. The affirmations come where you openly appreciate him for his efforts and bravery, and even when you thank him for taking care of you. Being a Witcher is a thankless job. But hearing you appreciate him for everything, big and small, and acknowledging his more humanistic traits at the same time? It does him more good than both you and he ever thought it could.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: The closest you get is when the two of you are either in a very crowded market place or are running and you’re having trouble keeping up: He’ll hold your hand to assure you don’t get separated or left behind. There’s also, of course, the preservation of body heat when the both of you wind up breaking camp on a particularly cold night.  But other than that, I wouldn’t expect much in the ways of affection.

What are their favorite things to do together?: The lifestyle you both lead (well, that Geralt leads -- you simply adopted it by association) doesn’t exactly lend itself well to couples’ hobbies . . . But the two of you haven’t bitten each other’s throats out yet, so clearly you’re doing something right, no? You aren’t quite sure what it is, but you heavily suspect that it might be when you ask Geralt to tell you about the creatures he’s encountered. Not in the “Tell Me Stories of Your Amazing Feats” kind of way, but more so in a manner of “Please Make Me Aware of the Weird, Strange, and Horrific Beings Lurking in This World and How To Combat Them”. Which suits Geralt well enough, as he tends to skimp on the details and doesn’t care to describe battles or anything of the sort. He knows that you’ll never be a Witcher, but it surely couldn’t hurt you to have an awareness of the world around you. Besides, he’s witnessed far too often the slaughtering of perfectly harmless creatures due to ignorance -- he feels a sense of relief when you express an interest in learning how to differentiate beasts with intentions of harm and beasts that simply want to be left alone unless provoked.

Who’s better at comforting the other?: Neither of you is especially great at it, but for different reasons. Though it should at least be said that you’re better skilled at comforting than Geralt is: You by far are the more emotionally available and intelligent one between the two of you, so the efforts you put forward are at least more overt. However, given that Geralt is a rather standoffish person and not especially prone to expressing vulnerabilities of any kind, it’s hard for you to know if you’re getting through to him. He won’t make it blatantly obvious if something is bothering him unless it’s bothering him in a way that earns his aggression -- and even then, he doesn’t need comfort, he needs you to gently chide him and calm him down as one does to an agitated horse or dog. Or a wolf, in this case. Meanwhile, Geralt . . . just isn’t the best at comforting people. At least, not in the most traditional sense. When he tries to be, it comes off very awkwardly, the words not filled confidence as much as they are hesitancy. It’s only made worse by the fact that his gruff, barely-used voice just isn’t compatible with the words he tries to use. Which is why he feels the best he can really offer to do is just say nothing at all. He won’t reject you or even flinch if you were to bury yourself into his side, instead just slowly placing an arm around you and trying to give a consoling, if stiff, pat on the back. Please know that this is him trying his best, and that he’ll be far more relieved than you’ll be if you actually do find some semblance of comfort in his seemingly low-effort efforts.

Who’s more protective?: Geralt wouldn’t consider what he does protection -- it’s simply what he, well, does. He’s always fighting creatures (and people) in self-defense or for a cause of some kind. And whenever Jaskier joins the two of you, or once Ciri becomes a part of his life, the job only intensifies. Him keeping you alive is simply common decency, lover or not. But if one were to ask someone who’s more emotionally observant like, say, a certain bard who occasionally accompanies the two of you, then he would beg to differ: Geralt is fiercely protective of you, he just does so quietly. Contrary to his stony nature,he does value your well-being. And even if you’re a commendable fighter, he acknowledges that it’s not as up to snuff as his own, making him feel more obligated to assure you come out of encounters alive and well. This is more obvious in the wilderness, of course, but when it comes to civilization he tends to become a bit more lax. He trusts you enough to measure your options when, say, some men at a pub are making particularly bawdy comments about you. He also trusts you to know when to whip out that knife you always keep on you. However, you needn’t worry about him turning a blind eye, should things threaten to escalate: Whether you’re at a marketplace buying some necessities, or paying for your meal at a tavern, Geralt is never so far away that he can’t keep a close eye on you or be unable to step in, should the environment intensify.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: Geralt likes verbal affirmations, yes, but don’t discount physical: At least he doesn’t have to talk or respond when at the end of a long day, you sit next to him and nuzzle your head up to the crook of his neck. Plus there’s the whole intimacy he experiences for the first time in its true form when you and he finally decide to take that step.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: Hm. It’s hard to say, especially considering that Geralt is a hard person to apply music to, much less music with a narrative or one that actually sounds like anything he might listen to, particularly in a romantic setting. I had to push past that mindset just to pick anything, and what that got me to conclude was something along the lines of “Love Like You” by Rebecca Sugar or "Resilience” by Thomas Newman. Maybe “My Blood” by Twenty-One Pilots. I can’t place exactly how or why, especially sound-wise, but these just stood out to me in particular . . .

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: You two don’t really resort to nicknames, actually. “Geralt” isn’t exactly an easy name to harvest a nickname out of, and he doesn’t do anything that particularly warrants one in reference to an idiosyncrasy. The closest you ever got was trying out “Wolfy” in reference to his title as “The White Wolf” but the look the attempt received, coupled with your own realized distaste for it, made you drop it in an instant. And Geralt just isn’t the sort to apply nicknames in the first place.

Thank you for requesting this! I hope I did okay . . .

[yaimlight]

Part 3 - No

Rating: older teen (swearing and mild sex references)

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x female reader / Todoroki Shoto x female reader / Bakugou Katsuki x female reader x Todoroki Shoto

A/N: part of the Twos Company series but can be read on own. Rest of series can be found on AO3 here.

Part 1

Part 2

———————————————————————

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” you exclaimed loudly as you flung the door open, arms thrown wide and beaming. Shinso looked up from his book, his tired eyes narrowed and a bored look on his face. He rolled his eyes, huffing at you and then turned his attention back to what he was reading. Laughing you closed the door behind you, kicking your shoes off before making your way over to the bed.

He didn’t even look up at you as you climbed onto his bed, eyes fixed on the book in his hands. “Shinso,” you said teasingly, slowly crawling up towards him. His eyes briefly darted up to you before going back to his book. Smirking you crawled over him, settling over his lap and plucked the book from his hands. Huffing he finally looked up at you, folding his arms over his chest. “I was reading that,” he said flatly but you could see his lips curling up into a small smile.

“Well that’s just boring” you said dismissively, not even looking at the book as you closed it and dropped it onto the floor. His small smile fell back into a frown and you knew he was about to have a scold you so you got there first, shuffling back onto his thighs. “I have something much better,” you shoved your hand into your jacket pocket, letting out a triumphant cry as you pulled the lollipop out. You held the heart shaped sweet out to him, ‘be mine’ printed on the front of the glossy red lolly. He looked at it in utter disgust, arms remaining folded and refusing to move. “It’s a thank you, for getting rid of all those letters for me before Katsuki and Shoto got to class this morning,” you stated, wiggling the lolly at him in an attempt to get him to take it.

He had been a reluctant coconspirator this morning, getting rid of all the confession letters and cheap nasty chocolates before your class had arrived, leaving your boxes behind instead. He had bitched and moaned about the whole thing, trying to get you to do it yourself but you had wanted to spend the morning with the two other boys. Plus you had wanted to see the looks on their faces when they realised they didn’t have all the gaudy crap cluttering their desks like they normally would. You hadn’t been counting on there being more idiots trying to confess throughout the day and there had been a slight wobble, well more a cataclysm at how you had handled that situation but thankfully it was all smoothed out, all parties happy again.

You sat on his thighs, spinning the lolly between your fingers and smiling brightly, waiting for him to take it and finally he gave in. Huffing he snatched the sweet off you, unwrapping it quickly and shoving it into his mouth. Beaming you darted forward, placing a quick kiss on his bulging cheek before rolling off of him and flopping down onto the bed. He huffed at you, sucking noisily on the lollipop as you made yourself comfortable on you back, arms folded behind your head. “Honestly Shinso, thank you,” you spoke earnestly, tilting your head so you could look up at him.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled around the sweet though he still managed to sound just as grumpy. Smiling you let your eyes close, letting the gentle quiet and calm wash over you. Today had been annoyingly exhausting and you were happy for the reprieve, letting everything fade apart from the gentle hum of Shinso’s quirk. It was familiar and calming and didn’t inspire the same sort of hunger as Shoto and Katsuki’s did.

“I can’t believe how much shit those two idiots got though,” Shinso grumbled around the lollipop. Suddenly alert you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, eyes snapping open as you turned to look up at him in excitement and hope. “Did you keep them?” He frowned down at you, lips pursed but you just grinned back at him, barely keeping your excitement contained. Sighting he pulled the lolly from his lips and used it to gesture toward his desk. “Over there,” he sighed but you were moving before he had even finished talking. He let out a pained groan as you clambered over him, your knee digging into his stomach and nails catching on his chest but you didn’t stop to apologise.

How you had missed the stack of vibrant envelopes was beyond you but now that you had it in your sights you couldn’t see anything else. You practically flung yourself into his desk chair, snatching a hot pink envelope off the top. You were vaguely aware of Shinso grumbling as he pushed himself round to sit on the edge of the bed but he was not your priority right now. You quickly ripped the envelope open, glancing at the front only long enough to see Shoto’s name before you cast it aside and fumbled open the letter. The sickly sweet smell of roses filled the air, the cheap perfume filling your senses.

Ever since Ashido had brought up how bad last year’s Valentine’s Day had been you had been obsessing over these, desperate to see if they really were as bad as the others had lead you to believe. As your eyes darted across the page you were not disappointed. “Oh my god” you gasped, your voice shaking as you tried not to laugh. Clearing your throat, you sat up a little straighter and proceeded to read the poem out in a clear and melodic voice. “I think I was searching for treasures or stones in the clearest of pools when your face…when your face, like the moon in a well where I might wish…might well wish for the iced fire of your kiss; only on water my lips, where your face…where your face was reflected, lovely, not really there when I turned to look behind at the emptying air…the emptying air*”.

Letting the last word trailed off you finally looked up at Shinso, raising an eyebrow at him as you smirked. His face was scrunched up in a look of disgust. “Was that for Todoroki?” he asked, the judgment clear in his tone. Scoffing you held you hand over his small bin and set the thing up in flames, letting the ashes fall into the bin. “What gave it away?” you said sarcastically. It was well written and you got the sense that whoever had sent it wanted to convey a sense of longing but you also thought that the only reason they had picked it was because it mentioned both fire and ice. “Well at least it made some sort of sense,” Shinso mumbled before sticking the lolly back in his mouth and leaned back on his hands, legs splayed wide.

Snorting you went back to the pile, taking the next one off the top. This one was a soft pink, Katsuki’s name across the front. The letter you pulled out was heart shaped, the same shade of pink as the envelope and the writing in a glittering silver. It looked like something Katsuki would hate, blowing it up before he even looked at it and complaining the whole time. You were expecting it to be just as cringe as the last one but as your eyes flicked over one line to the next you found yourself smiling.

“What?” Shinso mumbled but you didn’t answer him, just looking up at him with a grin and holding out the letter towards him. Huffing he reluctantly pushed up off the bed and trudged over to you, hand held out for the letter. He slumped against the desk and snatched it from your hand. “Whose it for?” he mumbled around the lolly. “Katsuki,” you couldn’t keep the amusement out of you voice, eagerly waiting for his reaction and to your delight he actually read it out loud, his tired and deep voice muffled around the lolly still in his mouth. “Roses are red, and they are thorny. How ‘bout some head, cause you make me horny”.

The look of absolute horror on Shinso’s face had you laughing, your sides aching from it. “That’s disgusting,” he grumbled, going to throw it in the bin but you quickly moved forward, snatching it out of his hands. “No it’s amazing. Do you think they want to suck Katsuki’s dick or want him to suck theirs?” You asked as you reread through the short but amusing poem. “Oh god I do not need that image,” Shinso looked sick, one arm wrapped around his stomach and the other rubbing at his temples as he glared at you, as if this was all your fault. Well you suppose in a way it was but regardless of if he had taken the Valentine’s cards or not he still would have heard about them. Especially this one.

Shrugging you folded the letter back up, put it back in its envelope and tucking it into your jacket pocket. “Why are you keeping that?” he hissed in disbelief, looking down at you like you had gone crazy and in all honesty he wasn’t far off. “I’m going to tape it to Katsuki’s door,” you grinned up at him, eyes alight with mischief. Katsuki was bound to be flustered and angry and if anyone other than Shoto found it first he would have to spend all day with his friends teasing him. He would be angry, frustrated and defensive. It would be a perfect opportunity for you to be crude and teasing just to see that perfectly delectable blush on his cheeks. You could already feel how much amusement you were going to get out of it. “I thought you were supposed to like him”. You ignored his snarky comment, instead grabbing another letter and shoving it at him. He huffed as he took it off you but he still opened it.

The two of you spent the next twenty minutes reading through the letters, you taking great pleasure in setting them alight. Some of them were truly awful, not even rhyming and sickly sweet. You and Shinso would share the occasional one that you knew would make the other laugh or feel sick. Most of them were harmless, just girls and a surprising amount of guys gushing generic words of love but there were the odd few that were just a little worrying. One of them went into great detail about Katsuki’s chest and how his muscles glistened with sweat whilst another described how pretty Shoto looked whilst training. You didn’t like it one bit and you made a mental note to pay more attention to the people who hung around the two up and coming heroes whilst they were training.

“Listen to this” Shinso called, snapping your attention back to him and away from your plots of how to get rid of the other boy’s stalkers. At some point he had gone back to his bed, lounging across it with a stack of letters next to him, read ones discarded on the floor. He was sat up now though, a small smirk on his lips and instantly you were suspicious of what would have him looking so happy. He cleared his throat, his voice low and clear and his smile getting bigger with every word he spoke. “I watch from afar, your burning light calling to me like a flame calls a moth to its demise, but you do not see me for your heart beats for another. You can’t see how she hurts you so, her cruel intentions hidden behind her charming smile. You follow her blindly even though she so openly flaunts another’s affection before you. If you were mine I would cherish you like the shinning diamond you are. My devotion to you would know no bounds, my love a constant amongst the chaos but you do not see me, my love cast in shadows as she breaks your heart once more. So I watch from afar, craving your light as you follow blindly, the girl who would see you fall”.

The room feel into silence.

Shinso was grinning madly now and all you could do was stare at him dumbly with your mouth hanging open, the letter you had been holding falling to the floor forgotten. “The actual fuck,” you mumbled in disbelief. “Seems someone thinks you’re a bit of a bitch,” he teased, clearly amused at your dumbfounded expression. “I mean they’re not wrong”. Narrowing your eyes you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and slumping back into the chair. “That’s rich coming from you,” you grumbled. Where the hell did these people get off? Making assumptions like that, treating you like trash to make themselves seem better. Suddenly all the humour you had found in reading the love confessions was gone, leaving a bitter and sour taste in your mouth and all you wanted was to set the whole lot on fire.

Shinso laughed at you once more, his smirk easing into a teasing smile and he chucked the letter onto the pile of discarded letters on his floor. “You can’t really blame people for thinking your stringing them both along though. Considering how you are with them,” he said offhandedly but his words made something twist in your chest. Was that really what it seemed like? Did people think you were leading them on for what, fun? Because you could? Did Katsuki and Shoto feel the same way?

It wasn’t your intention to make it seem like that, it’s just that you liked them both and it had all just kind of happened. It had never occurred to you before now that what you were doing could be considered cruel and the thought left you feeling sick, guilt twisting in your gut and making you second guess everything you had done today. Shoto knew it was you that had sent the chocolates but would he think they were just another meaningless flirtation? “I’m not stringing them along,” you mumbled, frowning sadly down at your socked feet. Your purposely mismatched socks that Momo had gifted you for Christmas, one to look like Katsuki’s hero costume and the other to look like Shoto’s. You had thought your feeling had been obvious, your genuine affection for the two would be heroes clear for everyone to see but apparently not.

Shinso sighed, the bed creaking as he shifted. The atmosphere had changed, the light and teasing air of things becoming serious and honestly a little bleak. And you had been having such a good day. “You know all this could be avoided if you just asked one of them out”. Your eyes went wide, head snapping up at Shinso’s exasperated words. He was frowning at you, tired eyes filled with a mix of emotions that you didn’t really care for. “No,” you growled out angrily, narrowing your own eyes as you glared at him. “Why?” he snapped, arms crossed over his chest.

This wasn’t the first time the two of you had had this conversation. Not even the first time this week. Things would be so much easier if you were the one to do the asking, to put aside the flirting and teasing and take the initiative. You could just pull one of them aside and say ‘go on a date with me’ and they would say yes. Hell you could probably get away with just telling them you were dating now but there was one important thing you would have to do before that and that was an impossible thing to do. Because for you to ask one of them out you would have to choose witch one you wanted to go out with the most and you couldn’t do that because you simply didn’t want one of them more than the other one.

It had been bad enough having to suffer through that broken look on Katsuki’s face when you had had to turn down spending New Years with him. You didn’t think you could stomach how he would look if you chose Shoto over him. Nor the look on Shoto’s face if you bushed him aside for the angry blonde. It wasn’t lost on you how lucky you were that the normally distant and oblivious teens had taken an interest in you, Ashido having told you that most people had given up trying to date them as they were so oblivious or against it. So you knew that for them to act the way do with you was nothing more than a small miracle but it also left you spoiled. You had spent so long without people touching you that now you had two people who seemed to crave it as much as you did it left you desperate, so enamoured with both of them that you couldn’t bring yourself to choose between the two.

Oh god this was hopeless.

Deciding to try and deflect Shinso’s questions you sighed dramatically, looking down your nose at him and levelling him with an unimpressed look. “That’s not how these things work Shinso. The guy asks the girl out not the other way round,” you said condescendingly, waving your hand between the two of you as you spoke. He arched an eyebrow at you, arms still crossed over his chest and making his arm muscles seem even bigger as they strained against the short sleeves of his t-shirt.

He really was good looking and not for the first time you thought about how much easier things would have been if you had fallen for him instead of Katsuki and Shoto. He knew everything there was to know about you and accepted it, despite all the horrors you had been wrapped up in over the years. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that if one of them actually grows a pair of balls and asks you out then you don’t have to make the decision of witch one to hurt”. You physically flinched at his words, his knowing and chiding tone making you feel guilty for trying to hide the truth.

Perhaps he knew you to well at this point, able to call you out on all your bullshit. Sighing you slumped back into the chair, arm flung over the back rest and legs dangling over the arm. “Exactly” you mumbled as you tipped your head back, flinging your other arm over your eyes in a childish attempt to block everything else out.

There had to be an easier way to do this that didn’t involve you having to choose between the two of them. You were running out of time. Finals were literally days away and you barely had a month before everyone graduated and you were shipped off to the next safe house. You scoffed at that. Safe house was putting it lightly. Where you were going was a newly built high security underground prison designed to be completely impenetrable and for the worst of the worst. This thing hidden so far out in the wilds of Alaska that no matter how hard people looked they would never find you.

You had a handful of weeks before your time ran out and you lost your chance forever.

Shinso huffed, the muffled sounds of him moving around and muttering to himself bringing a small smile to your lips. You would miss this when you were gone and it was a shame that you hadn’t gotten to spend as much time with him as you had hoped to, what with Katsuki practically frothing at the mouth every time he was so much as brought up in conversation let alone you brought him with you when you spent time with the blonde. You got that he was jealous but you couldn’t really see the problem he had with Shinso. Sure he could be rude and loved nothing more than to get under Katsuki’s skin but couldn’t he see that you were just friends?

Like a lightbulb going off you found your answer and you jolted up, startling Shinso with you sudden action. You smiled widely at him, eyes alight as you leaned forward. “What?” he asked hesitantly, eyeing you suspiciously. “Katsuki absolutely hates you and Shoto can only just about stand you,” you exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement. His hesitance vanished, eyes narrowing and lips twisted into a frown. “Is this going somewhere?”

You pushed up and out of the chair, almost tripping over your own feet in your deprecation to get to him. You threw yourself at him, his tired eyes widening in panic as his arms shot out to grab hold of you. The two of you went tumbling back, Shinso ending up sprawled across his bed and you practically laying on top of him. You pushed yourself up onto your hands and knees, hovering over him and still grinning a little manically. “If they thought that you and I were going on a date it might encourage them to actually do something”.

You shifted your weight onto one hand, quickly tapping him on the end of the nose. It was a brilliant idea and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t thought of it before. It was probably wrong to deceive them like that but desperate times call for desperate measures and you were truly desperate at this point.

“No. Absolutely not,” he snapped, hands gripping at you tightly as he shoved you off of him and onto the bed before he stood, shoving a hand through his already messy hair and going to walk away from you. Groaning you sat up, hands darting out to grab at his arm and keeping him in place. “Shinso please. I haven’t got long left before I get shipped off to fucking Alaska. Please for me?” you begged him, eyes wide and pleading even though he wasn’t looking at you. It was a low blow, reminding him of your impending return to prison but you knew he wanted you to have memories to take back with you and though he was against it he would give in to you. Just like every time before.

Groaning he lifted a hand to his face, rubbing it over his eyes. The room fell into silence as you waited for his answer. You could feel the hum of his quick under your hand, almost pulsing like another heartbeat. It was slow and steady and strong, tempting and familiar though not in the way Katsuki’s and Shoto’s were. Your hunger for their power would probably never leave you but after having them at your disposal almost every day since you had arrived it had become less all consuming. Shinso’s was still some sort of comfort though and you would miss his gentle purple glow and the open ease in which he let you touch him.

“Fine but you owe me” he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing as his hand fell and he turned to look at you with a sad almost smile. “Anything,” you promised and you were not surprised to realise you meant it. Shinso could ask you to move mountains and topple empires and you would, just so he knew how much you appreciate him and everything he had done for you in the last year.

Huffing out in laughter Shinso returned to the bed, slipping his arm from your as he went. He sat back against the headboard, arm slung over it and looking at you expectantly. Smiling softly you crawled up the bed, slotting against his side and wrapping an arm around his middle. His own arm draped across your shoulders, pulling you closer and you went willingly, soaking in as much of the physical contact you could get before you went god knows how long without it.

You fell into silence again, Shinso absentmindedly playing with your hair. At some point he had retrieved his book from the floor, holding it in one hand and using his fingers to awkwardly flip the pages. It was nice, relaxing even and you were content to stay there for a while. “So is there a plan for this or you just want me to go taunt your little guard dogs into action,” Shinso’s casual tone threw you, having thought you were done talking for now.

Tipping your head back you were surprised to find him already looking down at you. Nervously your eyes darted off to the side and to the now rather small stack of envelopes on his desk. As much as the idea of Shinso just storming up to you whilst you were with the other two teens seemed funny it was also a sure fire way for him to end up with a broken nose and either frost bite or third degree burns. Plus you didn’t want him to actually ask you out, you just wanted the hint of it. Wanted Katsuki and Shoto jealous and panicked enough to act quickly and without giving it to much thought.

Sighing you turned back to him, patting him gently on the chest and giving him your best look of fond exasperation. “I think we can be a little more subtle then that”. He huffed out a little laugh, lips curling up into a rare soft smile. Not as rare as either Katsuki’s or Shoto’s but still infrequent enough that you would cherish it for years to come. “No pink unicorns and picnics on the moon then,” he teased, his words startling your own huff of laughter out of you. “Unfortunately no,” you smiled, turning your gaze away from him and looking down at the book that now lay open and forgotten on his lap. Your eyes darted across the page, taking in the small snippet of story and you recognise it for what it is, a bloody and gruesome tale designed to leave the reader not only horrified and scared but haunted by the possibilities of what lurked in the dark.

If it was nightmares he was after you could give him that, no fiction needed just the story of how you had come to be here at U.A. It wouldn’t be much of a tale, no happy ending to speak of. Just a small glimmer of hope before bleak despair took over. Max would scream until he was red in face if you told Shinso everything, he was already angry enough when he found out how much the perpetually tired teen knew but there had been no point lying after he had forced the first truth from your lips and the subsequent beat down he had received afterwards.

Sighing you glanced at the clock that sat on his bedside table, the neon red numbers glowing brightly. “I should go,” you mumbled, reluctantly pushing away from Shinso’s warmth and shuffling off the bed. You had been due in Evans’ office almost an hour ago now and he would only give you so much time before he went looking for you. Normally you wouldn’t care but you had told Shoto where you were going and he and Katsuki would be the first people Evans went to, not even bothering to turn your tracker on and just assuming you would be with them like always.

Shinso didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes on you as you headed towards the door, shoving your shoes back on with a pout. He seemed to sense the shift in your mood, something that was getting more frequent the closer the end of the school year got and thankfully he allowed you the time to gather your wits before heading off to the mandatory meeting with Evans’. Things had been rather tense between you and the detective since Christmas and you were not looking forward to another hour or so of the awkward and stilted small talk that would proceed him telling you what you really wanted to know.

Your father hand been spotted in South Korea not even a week ago, rather brazenly actually, even smiling at the security camera before leaving the bank he had just robbed. He wanted you to know he was coming for you, was dragging it out as probably some kind of punishment, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs behind just so you could see as he got closer and closer. It was worrying everyone, even the teachers were tense and on edge. Plans had been brought forward in reaction to his ever tightening grasp, your departure for Alaska now set to happen whilst the graduation ceremony took place instead of afterwards like it had been planned originally.

You, the detective and a select few heroes would slip out amongst the commotion and fan fair, using the whole thing as a diversion. It would be a shame you wouldn’t get to say goodbye, wouldn’t get to see your friends happy faces as they transition from heroes in training to actual licensed and fully qualified heroes but it was probably for the best. If you actually had to say goodbye to Katsuki and Shoto you didn’t think you would make it, braking down before the words even made it past your lips.

Shinso opened the door for you, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and watching you intently as if he was looking for some sign that you were about to break and he would have to catch the pieces. Turning you offered him a smile, trying to make it as wide and playful as you could muster. “Lunch tomorrow?” you wiggled an eyebrow at him, tongue pocking out from between your lips. He huffed in amusement rolling his eyes at you but he was smiling softly again so you counted it as a win.

His smile turned into something wicked and you groaned at his next words, “sure you can help me cram for finals”. That was the last thing on your mind right now. Even if you did have to take the stupid tests, they didn’t change anything for you and at this point it all seemed like a gigantic waist of everyone’s time but not for Shinso, so if he wanted help you would give it to him but you wouldn’t be happy about it. “Fine but I will do it reluctantly with a lot of complaining and a fair amount of inappropriate comments” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him a pointed look. “So no different to normal then”.

You stuck your tongue out at him, his laughter low and rumbling. The whole exchanged had lifted your spirits slightly and with a mumbled “night” you blew him a kiss and headed on your way, the gentle click of his door closing sounding before you had even made it to the end of the corridor.

The common room was full as you made your way through, people turning and calling out greetings as you passed and you made sure to smile back brightly, wishing them all good night as you went. Class B had gotten used to you coming and going months ago and they hardly payed you any attention now when you came breezing in like you lived there. You were lucky Vlad King didn’t kick you out on your ass every time he caught you despite how often he told you off for disappearing into Shinso’s room for hours at a time. The only reason you could think you got away with it was because they all knew that you and Shinso weren’t doing anything other than studying or sleeping. Well not sleeping in Shinso’s case.

The night was cool as you stepped outside, the sun already on its way to setting. Sighing you contemplated just saying fuck it and head back to the dorms and barge your way in to whatever Katsuki or Shoto were up to but Evans would just come looking and ruin all your fun. As if on queue your phone dinged loudly, signalling at text and you quickly retrieved it, already knowing who it was from and sure enough the detectives name was showing in a little text bubble. You huffed at his words, the threat of having only five minutes to show yourself before he went looking for you a real one that you had ignored many times before and had ended up almost being dragged to his office. You sent him a quick text, telling him you were coming before shoving the phone back into your pocket.

You shot your dorm a longing look as you hurried past, eyes darting up to where you knew Shoto’s room to be and finding the light on. You wondered if he had told Katsuki yet that you had been the one to gift them the chocolates or if he had kept that little bit of information to himself? Either way it didn’t really matter, you didn’t think it would make either of them suddenly want to ask you out. You could only hope that whatever you and Shinso ended up doing worked.

You had never been on a date before and rather liked the idea of your first one being with either Katsuki or Shoto. It would be a good memory to take with you when you left. You could only hope that it would end up being a good memory for them as well.

*Echo by Carol Ann Duffy

[onelastbreath-writes]

I’ll Meet You There (Part 3)

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Wife!Reader (AFAB, no y/n) 

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Talks about loss of spouse, loss of child, medical conditions/inaccuracies, grief/mourning, manipulation/brainwashing (subtext/implied, but we’ll get into it later *winkwink*)

Tags: Hurt/No comfort (for now), ANGST, eventual happy ending, one really sad man for whom I just keep making things worse, #sorrynotsorry, and now I’m just making stuff up as I go along

Summary(lite): You are Marcus’s wife, and you’re definitely not dead. No one is having a great time right now, but like hell if there's a force on this earth that’ll keep you apart forever. This is not a goodbye, its just a see you later. And the interim is going to be everyone else’s problem, you’ll make sure of it.

A/N: Hello dears, welcome back to my twisted mind story,,, guess who showed up like 2 weeks late with a smoothie! So things about this new chapter: I am a criminal with italics and someone needs to stop me, hello switching scenes and perspectives because I just want to fast forward to the good stuff but y’all don’t live in my head and don’t know all the stuff that happens to get us there so here we are taking the slow lane, and I keep brainstorming new and horrible things for my characters because I am A Lot, All The Time, and will not be stopped. Also hey, Marcus the Simp is here for you, so much. I hope this is acceptable to be a reader fic still, because I am giving you some serious personality traits... ehh, it is what it is. Tell me if you spot any of my various references, there’s a lot of ‘em. Thanks to everyone who has liked/reblogged/commented, y’all are gorgeous and I’m so grateful for the love <3 Drop me a message/ask if you want a secret about one of the characters (specify which one), I need an outlet for my endless b.t.s. plotting >;) Please enjoy p3!

AO3|Masterlist

[Previous Part]

---

There were more casseroles in his fridge that Marcus knew what to do with, and more sympathy and “thinking of you” cards stacked in piles around the house than he could count. He appreciated everyone’s gestures, but he could recognize the difference between people who were kind in the interest of helping others, and those who were kind only to help themselves. It was quite obvious which type were flooding his mailbox.

Hell, most of the people sending him cards, his fans, didn’t even know his wife, never spoke to her, didn’t feel the empty Her-shaped-space in their very souls. They just wanted the clout, the prestige, of being ‘involved’ and sympathetic to a grieving superhero. It was exhausting, but no one seemed to empathize with him on that.

The Heroics upper management, and the director specifically after his press conference and the publicity the attack had brought the organization, had insisted on Marcus taking an undetermined amount of leave from the team so he could “process and mourn his loss in the comfort of his own home.” Like he didn’t look around and see every piece of himself and his wife over the years; the Home they built for their family, filled with all the hopes and dreams of two starry eyed lovers ready to take on the world together. Like her absence wasn’t slowly killing him. 

And it wasn’t like she was gone gone.  

Dead.  

She wasn’t dead.

No way in Hell.  

Whether it was because she worked with superpowered people, her experience as a medical professional, or if she was just more paranoid than most, his wife was a planner, and she was prepared for this. “In the event of my death...," like she just knew it would be necessary.

Truthfully, she had schemes and contingencies and all manner of reactionary plans prepared for if (and when) the worst happened; terrified to be blindsided or caught unaware, unable to help those she would have been able to, if only if she had the time to think. Unpreparedness costs lives in both of their careers, and she refused to leave anything up to chance if possible. And so, she’d plan, and he’d listen.  

All throughout their relationship, from before they’d even gotten serious enough to discuss marriage, to when they heard their unborn child’s heartbeat for the first time, and just on random weekday afternoons when they would take Missy for walks around the neighbourhood to show her the beauty in their lives, his wife would paint her theories and ideas like artwork. She’d tell him a story, full of action and mystery, humour and theatrics, tragic romance and harrowing adventure; she could spin a tale like she had a silver tongue, but she never lost herself in her own narratives. In the end, they were messages, lessons, for him to remember when everything was going wrong.    

“It’s all about momentum, babe. Bleeding off energy and taking a bad hit instead of a fatal hit. You can’t just full stop; you’d absorb all the kinetic energy, and the resulting trauma will turn all your squishy internals into, like, body soup, which is just super unpleasant. And of course, head is always number one priority. Bracing for impact works better at giving you fewer serious injuries, especially for your neck and head. Muscles should absorb as much of the energy as possible, instead of letting it fall to your ligaments, discs, and nerves to take the force. So, tense up and roll in the case of a low air evacuation.”

Low air evac... she was concerned he was going to have to jump from an aircraft without a parachute at some point in his life. Which was probably accurate he’d admit, but still, he wasn’t hoping to actually need that plan.

Thankfully, it wasn’t always fire and brimstone with her, and she had many strange and terrible schemes to keep the common, everyday superhero family on their toes. Always carry at least two lip balms... never tell someone you don’t have plans for the evening... don’t smile in your mugshot... no clowns. Ever.

She was so weird, a total nerd, and so completely the girl of his dreams.  

He loved teasing her about her unending train of thought, the brain that never sleeps, how she’d go on tangents while on tangents but always circle back around; even nicknamed her (quite cheekily, and because it made them both laugh) Doctor Batman, which was usually saved for when she was being particularly dramatic and gloomy. Turn the supercomputer off for a second, Bats, come see what Missy’s doing!  

He was her anchor, always ready to pull her back to earth when she started drifting off too far from them, but he never asked and never wanted her to change. He adored her, silly or serious, or when she woke him up in the middle of the night to make him promise that he’d never get their kid(s) a pet owl (because they’re “scary”, and “our kids would be too powerful, Marcus. Promise me!”), or that in the event of them inviting a third to their bed, it would “absolutely never, ever, ever be Miracle. No way!”  

He thought it was quite entertaining most of the time, listening to her plan for zombies and old gods and what to do if everyone just started hating cheese one day, but if it was all so important to her: having him remember this or agree to that, he’d accede to her requests in a heartbeat. Most of it was cute, harmless stuff he didn’t think would even happen, but sometimes she would hit him with serious stuff. Entirely out of left field, she’d go for his heart, and ask him for things that would hurt him, destroy him inside, if he ever had to follow through with it.

“Marcus, if it’s a choice between my safety- my life, and Missy’s? I’m always going to choose her. Kids come first, okay?”  

She wasn’t superpowered, didn’t have a shred of anything other than pure, normal human in her, but she was easily the strongest person he knew. Fearless and brave, kinder than this world deserved, she’d do anything for the people she cared about. And she’d promised him, maybe as a way to repay him for all the things he’d agreed to over the years, that she’d move heavens and the earth to return to their family. That nothing in this world, or beyond, could keep her away. “Eventually,” she’d stared into his eyes, glossy with tears from how forcefully she believed, “I will find my way back to you. I swear it, so keep a weather eye on the horizon.” See? A whole-ass nerd, and he couldn’t have loved her more.

So, she wasn’t dead. Pure and simple. She was somewhere, somehow, and he was going to find her again.  

---

“Marcus, the grieving process is different for everyone, but it is always unpredictable and painful. You will have days where you will feel like you haven’t made any progress, or even lost the progress you’ve previously made, but please know that this is natural; it's something everyone experiences, and that it doesn’t mean you’ve failed in your objective. Healing takes time, and a major part of recovery is learning to forgive yourself when you slip up. No one expects you to be back to normal tomorrow, or next week, or next month. Healing from grief is not a race, so we will go at your own pace, and we will work together to accomplish your recovery goals. You aren’t alone in this journey, and you don’t need to handle everything by yourself.”

The grief specialist he was seeing was someone he would describe as an “old soul”. She exuded the patience and peace of someone who had watched empires rise and fall, seen the turning of the wheel of time and drifted along with the current. Her voice was deep, rich in emotion and empathy for those who needed guidance, calming and intriguing with a soft lilt on her vowels. Timeless and ancient all in one, and even if he wasn’t actually mourning the death of his wife, he did find himself deeply grieving being without her. They were two halves of a whole, and though his soul was at a loss without its partner here, he still had their greatest creation, their pride and joy, their baby girl to raise.  

He would do whatever he had to do to be the best parent he could for Missy. And so, if meeting with a physiatrist every week was something that would help, then he would be here, every week. He'd learn to live with his grief, his sadness and loneliness, with just the memory of his Everything, and he’d help their kid with all hers too.  

It’s what he promised to do, after all.

“If anything ever happens to me, you’ll just have to love her enough for the both of us.”  

---

There was nothing they could recover of the people closest to centre of the explosion. No remains, no blood, nothing. Like they hadn’t been there at all.  

Suspicious.

Upper Management had brought in a team of private investigators to handle the case, people who would keep the details quiet and the public appeased with what little information they’d choose to release.  

Marcus was a superhero, and sure, his job was to hit things until they weren’t a problem anymore, but he couldn’t understand why all the highly trained professionals didn’t question the sheer amount of evidence that just wasn’t adding up.  

He tried to bring up the inconsistencies once with the lead investigator, but they had just given the distraught, widowed husband, so lost in his own denial and grasping at straws, a sad smile and told him they would do everything they could to find the truth for him and the rest of the victims’ families.

Typical.

After being brushed off without a second thought, he decided to keep his ideas quiet, and since they’d proven their unwillingness to listen, he’d just have to solve the mass disappearance himself.  

“Have you ever thought about how to commit the perfect murder, mi amor? I have. First: If there’s no body, they can’t prove the person is dead. No evidence of death? No murder. Simple. But of course, completely vanishing a full human would be a challenge. Short of having the superpowers necessary to, like, erase someone from reality in their entirety, there would be a lot of chances to leave evidence. Ordering suspicious chemicals leaves a trail, driving out to a pig farm in the middle of the night is shady as hell and all neighbors are professional narcs, and fires? Hah! Do you have any idea how hot the fire needs to be to cremate human remains, and how long they would need to grill for? Huh, maybe the perfect murder isn’t a murder at all...  

Hey babe...  

Always doubt a body, but always doubt no body, more.”

---

You tended to lose time when there was no one else in your room. It was hard to tell when your eyes were open because you started dreaming about the only things you could see since you first woke up: drop-ceiling tiles, white walls, and pale blue curtain dividers. And it was easier that way, in the end. Your heart didn’t hurt when you only dreamt of the room. You couldn’t mourn the things and people only your soul could remember if you thought of the room. Drifting in and out of consciousness was how you were coping.  

---

You had been here, left in this room alone, for ages. You had agreed to help the man who had saved you from the explosion that killed your family, but apparently you couldn’t help him until you had recovered enough. You’d read your charts, grilled your nurses and doctors more and more the longer you were kept here. What were they all waiting for? There was nothing wrong with you except the mild post traumatic amnesia, and the whole not-remembering-much-(or anything, really)-about-your-personal-life-and-family-of-the-recent-few-years thing you had going on. It was nothing compared to when you first awoke and could remember nothing. It killed you to be without the memories of your husband and child, to know only of them instead of actually knowing them, but there was nothing you or the doctors here could do. The brain was a tricky thing, and you had to accept that your memory loss might be permanent.  

That just meant that you had to put all that you could remember to good use. You could help people here, and work towards getting justice for your family. Years and years of school, practical experience and training, you had gained it all back; re-read textbooks and studies, wrote papers on your re-emerging knowledge and jogged your memory about long nights and early mornings, surgeries and follow ups... it was all still in your head. It had returned to you easily, like diving into a cool pool on a hot summer day. It was like coming home and taking off your shoes; it felt good, freeing, as-it-should-be.  

But still they weren’t letting you leave. So: what were they waiting for?  

“Ah, Doctor, it’s lovely to see you, as always. How are we feeling today?” Okay, so the guy who “saved” you (read: paid the people who actually saved your life)  gave you the heebie-jeebies. He looked like a classic pompous asshole bigwig, like, oil tycoon or something. And he definitely had some sort of thing for you. Gross.

“I’m doing as well as can be expected, trapped in a room with nothing to do, you know, brain rotting, et cetera. Thanks for asking.” The sass was a choice, probably not a great choice, but your choice none-the-less. You really hadn’t had many opportunities to choose anything for yourself in a while.  

Well...

You were bored, and that was going to be everyone else’s problem.  

“Ah, well, good news then! You have been cleared from observation and you’ll be able to be discharged soon. Isn’t that just delightful!” Mister Craig (“Please, just Greg is fine”), was some sort of horrible group hallucination, you were convinced. No one was that cheery, that animated, unless they were on something, or you were on something. “I’ll have someone bring you your personal effects shortly, and then I can show you to your new apartment. The complex isn’t in the best neighbourhood unfortunately, but it's got some real charm, very vintage! You’ll love it!”

“I’ll look forward to seeing it then; sounds like it’ll be a real interesting place to stay. You can also explain what it is I’m going to be doing with your organization. Because you haven’t specified yet. And I expect a proper contract and wage agreement. Legally binding preferably, for your sake, of course, Mr. Craig.” Even if you weren’t the most physically intimidating person around, you knew how, and more so, when, to assert your dominance in a conversation. Especially with men like him. He was the type of guy who would pinch a nurse’s ass and then accuse them of not being able to take a joke.  

“You wound me, Doctor, I am a man of integrity! I promised you an opportunity to make a difference! To get justice for the loved ones so cruelly torn from you! You have nothing to worry about!”  

Sounds legit. Totally above board. Can’t wait.

---

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