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missmonsters2 · 3 years ago

Note

today I feel awful... idk my insecurities are taking over me and I just want to curl into a ball and cry. maybe it's my hormones maybe the fact that I weighted myself and found out I gained weight (I can't fit into my jeans 😭) and the fact that I saw my sister in a tight skin dress looking perfect while I'm in my pj's just destroyed my confidence. I need something angsty to read to make me forget about my sad, miserable lffe right now. would you be down in writing sth angsty with nat maybe? you don't have to though. it's fine either way. I really appreciate all of your work and I keep reading on repeat whenever I'm feeling down. makes me cheer up. thank you, van ❤️

It's like we're the same person because I also went to visit my sister recently and my sister has gotten her life together and is living her best hot girl bod while I...let's not go there.

I just want you to know that you're hot as fuck and a body is just a body that we can change with time and effort. We're lit rally in this together. This time next year, we will be rocking the body that makes up happy and we'll be healthy!!! 💘💘

But I will still give you nat angst...but with a happy ending bc I said you deserve a HEA!!

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The Withers of Springtime Bloom

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spring is a time of blooming and when things come back to life. You can't help but notice things that may be causing your relationship with Natasha to wither.

Warnings: self-esteem issues, insecurities about body, relationship with working out and food, seasonal depression. angst with HEA.

Count: 2.1k~

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You're not sure when things changed.

Things change so slowly after all.

Without you noticing, things change and change and change until one day, you do notice.

You notice that Natasha has become quieter, somber.

You notice the lack of date nights and affectionate touches.

You notice that you've let yourself go a little.

You're standing in front of the mirror, staring at your body with a frown. You've gained weight since dating Natasha, but relationship weight gain was normal, wasn't it?

But you remember how Natasha was just as fit as she was before she met you. Sure, she was a superhero, and you were a regular civilian; there was no reason for you to train long hours as Natasha did.

Still...

You turn to the side and peer at yourself in the mirror again.

You can't help but wonder...were you becoming less attractive to her?

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It had been the beginning of fall when you met Natasha. You loved the season of change and when things turned into warm colors before withering away for winter to come.

Natasha had come like a blessing, and in the winter, she was just warm as the colors of fall. Instead of withering away, she bloomed and invested that warmth in your relationship with her.

Despite always being an early riser to work out, weekends were the days she stayed in bed with you just a little longer. There had been so many breakfasts, lunch, and dinner dates. You found yourself moving things around or neglecting to work around her busy schedule.

Perhaps that was when things began to change. Eating out so often and forgoing working out to spend time with Natasha was what led to this.

Spring has arrived, and things are coming back to life. Yet somehow, your relationship with Natasha was withering away.

"Hey," you greet her as you come home, shopping bags in hand. You bought some more clothes when things felt like they didn't fit comfortably anymore. The experience had been upsetting for you, and you didn't end up buying too much, telling yourself you didn't want to spend too much when you were going to lose the weight.

Natasha was working in her office, peering down over reports, and barely acknowledged you other than with a hum.

"Long day?" You ask her as you put your things away and walk over to her.

"Yeah," Natasha sighed. "Trying to get these reports done since Maria needs them tomorrow."

That had been Natasha's excuse for spending long hours in her office every night for the last two weeks.

You place your hand on Natasha's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze, but she leans to the side as if to readjust herself, but still away from your touch.

The sting immediately comes, but you try to push it down, so it doesn't hurt as bad.

"Right," you say hoarsely, but Natasha stares on at the reports. "I'm just going to get ready for bed. It's been a long day and all. Let me know if you need anything."

Natasha gives you a nod as you leave the room. You feel awkward as you lie in the bed you share with her. You wonder if you're taking up too much space.

There's a pang of something as you try to curl yourself to be smaller and only distantly realizing you've skipped dinner before you fall asleep.

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You fall back onto the mat, chest heaving and your lungs burning.

It's been a while since you've worked out, and now you're definitely paying for it with how unfit you are.

The gym is moderately empty with the hour it is. You hate going to a public gym because it always feels like someone is staring, but it's better for strangers to stare than working out at the Compound for people you know to stare at you.

The rational part of you knows that you should just talk to Natasha, but the emotional side of you whispers that you won't like what Natasha has to say, that she might even end it before you've had a chance to change yourself.

When weeks pass, and you weigh yourself again, you almost start crying because you've only lost a couple of pounds.

It's normal, you know it is. You're losing weight at a normal rate, but it's not enough. You know fast weight loss wouldn't make sense for your body but you also feel you don't have half a year to go back to your normal weight.

You sit on the bathroom floor for hours, debating what to do when you hear a quiet knock.

"Sweetheart, are you in there?" Natasha's muffled voice comes through.

You wipe at your eyes furiously as you stand up.

"Y-Yeah," you answer back. "I'm just in the tub soaking."

There's a moment of silence through the door before Natasha answers back, "Alright. Enjoy yourself. Did you want me to order anything specific for dinner?"

"No, it's okay," you tell her. "You order anything you want. I already ate on my way home." You think about the chicken salad you've been eating for the past two weeks and almost sigh.

Natasha answered that she just came back to see if you've eaten, but she actually had to head back to the Compound. You were Natasha shuffling around before leaving through the front door, and you let out the breath you were holding.

You actually take a long, hot shower before putting on sweats and a big hoodie.

The truth was, you were hungry. The chicken salad was okay on the way home, but it had been a couple of hours since.

You knew starving yourself wasn't the answer, so you went into the kitchen to see if you could find something healthy to hold you over until you could go to bed.

But you can't find anything in the fridge except for Natasha's leftovers from whatever she ordered the day before. You can't find anything except frozen pizzas and microwavable foods.

You check the calories on the back and let out a frustrated sigh. Checking your watch, you realize it's too late in the evening to go grocery shopping because, by the time you get there, stores will have closed.

You slump down on the floor, leaning against the cabinets as you let out a pathetic whimper while your eyes became hot with tears.

You miss Natasha. You want Natasha holding you and telling you it would be okay. But you couldn't have that until you were back to what you were when you met her.

The front door suddenly opens.

"Have you seen my—sweetheart?" Natasha started to call before she noticed you sitting on the floor. "What's wrong?"

You use your sleeve to wipe at your eyes as you sit up straight.

"Nothing," you sniffle before you start to stand. "I just stubbed my toe against the edge of the kitchen island. What were you looking for? USB? You left it next to the bedside."

Natasha stares at your back, hair still wet as she takes in your attire.

"It's a little hot to be wearing a hoodie and sweats, isn't it?" Natasha asks softly. "Doesn't seem like you turned on the aircon in here."

You keep walking, but Natasha starts to follow you.

"'m cold," you say quietly so she can't hear the tremble in your voice.

"Are you feeling sick?" Natasha asks with concern as you sit down on the couch, turning on the TV. You pull the blanket over you as if to make your point.

"No," you tell her because you don't want her to worry. "Just cold after a bath."

Natasha sets her things down before she takes a seat next to you. Even in the low lighting, she can see your eyes rimmed red and dampness of them.

You're refusing to look at her as you have your knees drawn up to your chest and stare stubbornly at the TV screen.

Then she hears it.

Your stomach grumbles.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Natasha asks softly again. "We can just order food and stay in tonight."

Your cheeks grow hot. "Don't you have to be at the Compound?"

You don't mean to snap at her, but you can't help but feel embarrassed.

Natasha remains quiet for a moment, quickly thinking over the last few weeks before she feels guilt trickle in.

She doesn't remember the last time she ate with you—doesn't remember the last time she saw you eat.

"Sweetheart," she calls you gently again, and you bristle at the tone. "Is there something wrong?"

The fragile dam you've built to keep the weeks of compiling emotions at bay breaks, and you're hurtling down the stream over the waterfall.

"Are you not in love with me anymore?" You choke out as you begin to cry.

You can't even register to feel horrified at your breakdown because you just need to know.

"I know...I know my body has changed since we first met and I've gained weight but I really am trying to lose it. I just—I feel like you're avoiding me. At first, I thought things at work have been really stressful for you, and I wanted to give you space but you're gone all the time. You're gone even when you're here."

Natasha can barely understand anything you've said after hearing you say the first part. Her breath hitches painfully in the back of her throat, and she legitimately feels appalled at herself.

She starts to say something, but you keep going.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to make this about me because if you're going through something then I want to support and be there for you. But I can't help but feel like you're grossed out by me. I mean—I feel grossed out when I look at myself. I feel like I'm taking up so much space—"

Natasha cuts you off abruptly, pulling off the blanket as she pulls at you until you're in her lap.

"Nat—"

"You're not gross and this is not about the weight you have or have not gained. You hear me?" Natasha says forcefully as she holds you close to her, hand over your thigh to keep you against her.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry if I've been making you feel like you're not attractive me," Natasha's eyes well up as your tears wet her shoulder. "You're literally still the most gorgeous person I've ever met and you're always going to be that to me."

Natasha's hand at your waist dips underneath your hoodie, her fingers trailing up your back as she sighs at your warmth. "I should've told you, but the springtime is just really hard for me. It's odd because it's a time for things to come back to life but some of the worst things have happened to me during the spring and things blooming makes me think about things that aren't coming back. I think it's also just a little bit of seasonal depression too. I'm just the rare percentage that gets it in the spring."

The explanation makes your body sag with relief because while you feel so horrible that there is a reason Natasha doesn't like spring, she's not falling out of love with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I was hurting you," Natasha apologizes again. "I didn't mean to be so distant but I didn't want to bring your mood down as well, which is why I've been working so much to keep busy."

"It's okay," you muttered as your turn your head, forehead pressed against her neck. "I'm sorry spring is depressing for you."

Natasha merely hushes you as she kisses the side of your head.

You begin to feel awkward, thinking about how you must be heavy on her and try to move, but Natasha doesn't let you.

"Sweetheart, I don't know how to convince you that you're perfect to me," Natasha says so seriously as she forces you to look at her. "If you want to lose weight because that is what you want, then I support you. But I need you to understand that I love you no matter what. I don't care either way because you're so fucking lovely to me always. Do you understand?"

Timidly, you reply, "Okay. Thank you."

Natasha presses her lips against yours in a long kiss before she pulls back.

"Now, I'm going to ask again. Are you hungry? We can order in and watch that new show on Netflix I heard was pretty good from Wanda."

You feel lighter. You think you might still want to work out because that would make you happy, but you don't feel the rush like you did just a couple of hours ago.

"Yeah," you say shyly. "But maybe something not so heavy?"

Natasha nods as she presses another kiss into your cheek as she helps you settle onto the couch right beside her to grab her phone.

"Anything to make you bloom."

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff oneshot #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow imagine #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #mm: my fics #g.angst #g.fluff

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donald4spiderman · 4 years ago

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Ok hear me out. Spencer is dating Reader and she’s always hated that she’s been more chubby/curvy. And one night in the middle of a case she calls him crying and Spencer just gets really soft and calms her down after a bad nightmare. And his heart breaks cause his loving girlfriend hates her body. So Spencer plans this elaborate date and proposes maybe? You can decide if the team have met her or not. I’d like it to be the original team but if you wanna combine the original and new teams together that’s cool too!

no bc my body image issues have been rampant lately so this is personal as hell to me. I work out a lot and i’m fit but i’ve never been SKINNY like i have thick legs and muscular arms andnnfnfjndjnffn so this is personal.

I modified this a bit but it’s still the same premises hope you like it! ***BTW IN THIS UNIVERSE THE S3-7 CAST EXISTS FOR THE ENTIRE SHOW— SO THE LATER SEASONS HAVE MORGAN AND HOTCH.

also sorry this is a long

TW: body image issues, discussions of food & weight, insecurity, crying, kissing

WC: 1.5k

You know, pragmatically, that you have nothing to worry about. Spencer chose you. And for the past four years, Spencer has worshipped you every day— again and again. He is the most loving, considerate, and tender partner you could ever wish for. He is near perfection.

You’ve met Spencer's friends many times. You’re not close with either of your parents, so the team of profilers welcomed you into their arms with grace and care. Each and every one of them is beautifully amazing and exceptionally brilliant.

Spencer‘s friends are not only badass, but they’re also gorgeous. JJ, Emily, and Garcia are national treasures— so visually stunning it’s almost sickening.

You knew he used to have a crush on JJ way before he met you. You’ve also heard the tale of Lila Archer, the celebrity actress who made out with your boyfriend in a pool. Spencer’s had an eventful life, full of beautiful, sweet, magnificent women— so why does he choose you?

You view yourself as bland in comparison. What do you have to offer Spencer that he can’t find elsewhere? You don’t have toned abs, slim hips, and slender arms. You’re not striking in any way.

Spencer calls you every night when he’s away on a case. He’s never missed a call, even when he got shot in the neck and kidnapped by a murderous cult. He’s reliable and consistent, and that eases your worries a little bit.

It’s eleven pm in D.C. and your phone rings right as your getting in bed.

“Hi, my love,” Spencer says breathily, his voice slightly muffled by the phone. He’s away in Ohio for a case.

“Hey.” You reply, the sweetness in his voice soured by your mood. “How’s the case going?”

“Good. JJ and I are about to pass out in our beds— we’re so tired.”

You can’t help the way your face drops. “Oh. Well, get rest.”

Your about to hang up before he interjects. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?” You know better than to lie to your boyfriend, who happens to be an expert on human behavior.

“Okay, I know a lie when I hear one. (Y/N), baby, what’s wrong?” He pleads.

You can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek. “God, I’m sorry. I just miss you so much. You always know what to do when I’m feeling like shit.”

Spencer knows how much you struggle with self and bodily acceptance. He hates the world for making you feel anything less than incredible, both inside and out.

“I miss you too, so much, (Y/N).” His voice is thick as if he’s going to start crying too. “I love you so much, so fucking much. You have no idea how beautiful and amazing you are.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He laughs through a sob that wrecks his body. “You deserve everything in this world. I promise to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You are the love of my life.”

You wipe the tears from underneath your eyes. “Sorry for keeping you up. You must be tired.”

“Never, if it means I get to talk to you.”

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you too, (Y/N). More than you’ll ever know.”

Spencer wakes up the next day with a newfound determination. The team solves the case as fast as possible, and by the end of the night, they’ve boarded the jet back home.

Spencer has more than enough hours to think about you and how much you mean to him. Hotch is seated directly across from him, rereading the case files.

“Hotch?” The wiser man looks up from his files, raising an eyebrow.

Spencer pauses for a moment. Maybe he’d be better asking Morgan or JJ for advice, considering Hotch’s tragic circumstances regarding Haley.

But no one loves like Hotch does-- sincerely, passionately-- stronger than anything else in the world. Spencer decides there’s no one better to ask.

“How uh did you know that Haley was the one?”

Hotch’s eyes soften for a bit. He clears his throat. “I knew since the day I met her that I would love her for the rest of my life unconditionally. She makes me complete. Do you feel that (Y/N) makes you complete?”

He already knows why Spencer is asking for his advice, steering the conversation in that direction.

“Yes. She’s my world.” Spencer whispers.

“Then it’s simple, really. Love doesn’t need to be complicated and precise. It’s what you do with it that matters.”

“I want to marry her, Hotch. I want to be with her for the rest of my life.”

Hotch smiles, “Then do it.”

Spencer feels the rush of excitement as he gathers everyone on the jet, including the prior sleeping passengers, filling them in on his big plans.

“I need all of your guys’ help.”

There’s a firm knock on your door at four in the morning. You know it isn’t Spencer because he has a key, but who could it be?

You take a cautious look out of your peephole to find Penelope, Emily, and JJ outside.

“What are you guys doing here?” You yawn. “For god's sake, it’s four am.”

“We know, and we’re sorry.” Penelope smiles.

“Is Spencer alright?” You ask, wondering if things suddenly went wrong during the case.

But by the joyous look on their face, you know nothing somber occurred.

“Spencer’s completely fine. But, we need to you to get changed and come with us. FBI’s orders.” JJ chuckles.

You change into warmer clothes in minutes, and the BAU ladies usher you into Emily’s car as fast as possible.

“So, no ones gonna tell me what’s going on?”

They shake their heads, “We’re just... running a quick errand.”

After a few more minutes of driving, Emily parks on the side of a dimly lit street.

“I need you to put this on.” She says, holding up a blindfold.

“Are you guys gonna murder me?” You joke, slipping the fabric over your eyes with little resistance.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” You don’t have time to think about what Penelope means before you’re being yanked out of the car.

You walk, guided by JJ, for four minutes. The grass beneath you crushes below your boots, and the hushed whispers of Emily and Penelope behind you do nothing to calm your nerves.

“Okay,” JJ says, halting to a stop. “You can take off your blindfold now.”

You hesitantly slip the blindfold off, revealing a brightly lit table in the middle of a secluded field. Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi are standing off to the sides.

Suddenly, Spencer emerges from behind a tree, dusting the leaves and dirt off his adorable sweater.

“Hi?” You laugh, utterly confused by this situation. “What’s going on?”

His hands are shaking, and he has to swallow a few times before he can speak. “I-I uh got y-you apple pie— uh your favorite.”

Spencer walks you towards the table, where a small slice of warm pie sits lonely on the table.

“Y-you should um... eat it.” He urges, pointing at the knife and fork next to it.

You glance around, trying to gauge the emotions of everyone around you, but fail. Stupid profilers and their poker faces.

Your fork cuts into the heavenly smelling pie, and you scoop up a bite into your mouth.

“It’s... good? I’ll pretty much eat any pie you give me, Spencer.”

He smiles, “I know that. But t-this is a special pie.”

“Okay...”

“You should t-take a closer look— at the pie.”

You inspect the dessert, completely puzzled until a glinting piece of silver catches your eye. Spencer notices the shock in your face and catches the plate that almost falls out of your hand.

Morgan hands him a napkin, and when Spencer pulls an apple-covered ring from the slice of pie, you almost faint.

“No way.” You gasp; tears spring to your eyes as Spencer wipes the ring clean.

He holds it tightly between two fingers, bending to kneel on one knee.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), I knew from the moment I met you that you were the most special woman I’d have the pleasure of meeting. A month later, you asked me out for our first date, and I couldn’t believe that someone as gorgeous and amazing as you would settle for someone like me.” You scoff at his humility.

“I spend every moment loving every part of you, (Y/N). None of my love will ever stop— ever. I promise to share my heart with you until the very end. There is absolutely no one I would rather be bonded to for the rest of my life. You are better than my dream girl because you’re real. You’re here, and you chose to love me every day— the good, the bad, and the ugly. (Y/N), will you do me the honor and great privilege of allowing me to become your husband?” You silently sob.

“Please say yes.” Spencer smiles.

“Yes!” You exclaim, pulling him up to hug him. “How could I say anything but!”

The dam breaks, and the entire team begins to cry as you and Spencer share a passionate kiss, almost collapsing down onto the grass from the sheer force of your love. He slips the ring onto your finger; it belongs there.

“I choose you, (Y/N).” He repeats.

“I choose you, Spencer, always.” You whisper into the crook of his neck.

Nothing’s ever felt so right.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #sub!spencer #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #dr reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spence #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 4 years ago

Text

i can be your china doll if you want to see me fall. boy, you’re so dope, your love is deadly

summary: sugar daddy series: steve. so, i asked for help and you guys delivered, thank you! anonymous asked for wife/domestic kink. (the rest of your prompt might just be put in a part 2...) anonymous 2 asked for artist reader and a lovely cute meeting at an art gallery. anonymous 3 asked for a respectful, gentleman steve never pushing boundaries and some vintage lingerie (@themaskismyface, I couldn’t put your request in this part bc I was already over 10,000 words in and I seriously had to cut it before I made another 25k word fic, but it was an amazing idea and I promise I am making a part 2 to this fic bc I really want to write that storyline bc I’ve never seen it in any other sd fic either!)

warnings: honestly, pretty vanilla shit in here. steve has a domestic kink for no damn reason (but we all like know he’s that bitch). so sex, vaginal, oral. mentions of bondage. that usual daddy shit that I always write.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: a bit over 12,000 🙄 (bc i have issues)

a/n: guys! i wanted to write an innocent reader bc like when have i ever? reader does not say fuck once so i think i succeeded. an exasperated gif of steve bc a bitch rewrote the beginning of this fic 7 times!

a/n 2: @donutloverxo finally, a steve sugar daddy storyyyy!

You were never reckless. Ever. You never did things just because someone had talked you into them, you never did things if you weren’t 100% sure that it was the right thing to do. Well, that was your attitude with men. Natasha Romanoff had found one hell of a loophole when she asked you to do…this.

You had had no desire to go to some expensive restaurant, so you had a date set—your first date, in nearly two and a half years—at the tiny diner, a few blocks from your apartment. You’d shown up almost a full hour before you were supposed to because you always did that and just watched the diner.

You were already two cups of coffee in after twenty minutes. You always resorted to coffee when you were nervous. And you certainly had reason to be. It wasn’t every day that you were set up on a date with the Captain America, by his trusted friends the Black Widow, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon.

You were working at this casino-themed restaurant when they found you—which had since been shut down, to your great pleasure. (Sometimes, you wondered if Steve was responsible for that.) You were in a bodysuit, pink in a sea of black, red, and white—Bucky said that was what made him see you. Topped this outfit off with miserable bunny ears—and Sam would say that was what drew his attention in, however, everyone was wearing bunny ears, so you weren’t so sure about that.

Natasha hadn’t originally been with Bucky and Sam, but she would later tell you that they had called her before they spoke to you because they didn’t want to seem like creeps. Bucky and Sam then liked to argue who saw you first, and who knew you would be just perfect for Steve. You couldn’t say, but it was Bucky that was bold enough to speak to you first.

You noticed when Natasha arrived because there were few women around who didn’t work there. You saw her red hair but forced yourself not to stare as she went to join them. Besides, they weren’t even your table.

Well, not for a while, at least. One of your coworkers came to you in a huff, anger slightly quelled by the two hundred dollar bills she was holding. “That table wants you.”

You were confused. No one traded servers like that. You were all naked, it was a dimly lit room, and everyone was always drunk. It made no sense that they wanted you, but you rushed over. If they had tipped you like that, you might have been able to pay all your bills for the next month.

They ordered a round of drinks from you and said nothing else. You were relieved. Though the switching thing had never happened, you figured in a place like that, there was only one reason it would happen. And it made you wish you were wearing a lot more than a stupid bunny costume.

As you were bringing them out their food, you felt them all watching you. You didn’t want to cower, but you certainly didn’t look as confident as you had wished you could. You stepped back after setting their plates down and asked if they needed anything else.

Bucky took that cue. “How old are you?”

Oh, you dreaded those personal questions. “Why?”

“Because you’re working in a place like this, so legal, I assume. But you don’t look as bitter and cynical as your coworkers, so I’m assuming there’s probably about an average 7-year age difference.”

“You’re correct.” He was, but you tried not to be thrown off by that. You glanced off to your other tables. No one was calling for you? You turned back. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Are you single?”

Natasha and Sam both sighed.

You started wringing your hands, clearing your throat softly. This would probably be at the cost of your tip. “I don’t think that’s relevant, sir.”

“Not for me,” he claimed. “But you know who we are, don’t you?”

You knew. You weren’t sure anyone else did. You babysat for your sister and her daughter was currently going through her superhero phase. If not for Natasha, however, you would probably be just as in the dark as everybody else.

You nodded.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Natasha asked. “You acted like you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

They all smiled immediately.

“My friend, Steve,” Sam began, “would love a girl like you.”

Steve, as in Captain America? You scoffed. “Now I’m cynical.”

Natasha smirked. Mouthy, she always thought Steve needed a woman like that. Someone to keep him honest and on his toes. He would like the challenge, and she knew how much Steve liked his time, but loved women who were very much not of that time.

Later, after she decided that she officially liked you as her best friend’s girl, she would tell you the reason she thought you were perfect for Steve was because of the way you moved on the floor. You didn’t want to be touched and it seemed that you were the only one cunning enough to not let it happen. Your coworkers did so at the risk of not getting tipped. You played on your naive and innocent look, so when you skirted away from men with that sweet smile, they never suspected that you’d done so intentionally. You seemed smart. You seemed like a girl who could take care of herself. She reasoned, to be in Steve’s life, you had to have both those qualities.

Bucky tilted his head. “Now I’m more convinced. I think you should let us set up a date.”

“I’m not dating right now.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just not.”

He turned to his friends on his right. “Bad liar, Steve will like that.”

“I should get to my other tables—”

He faced you again. “We are going to stalk you if you don’t say yes.”

At first, you were sure, utterly hopeful, that you had heard him wrong. You checked with Natasha and Sam who looked as horrified as you felt and realized you hadn’t.

“You’re not in any danger,” Bucky promised. “We just have to figure out how to set Steve on the same path as you.”

“Okay, you didn’t need to say that, you blockhead,” Sam told Bucky.

“I didn’t want her to be scared. Don’t call me a blockhead.”

“Mission failed,” he hissed back before looking at you again. “But…he wasn’t lying. We think you two would hit it off.”

“I’m gonna go.” You didn’t wait for a response that time and told your floor manager that they were creepy and had been served. Your coworker would give them the bill, but that you were not going back to that table. He didn’t much care if there was no scene caused.

When your shift was over, you walked outside in the freezing New York weather in nothing but a trench coat and your stupid costume. Waiting for you was Natasha, and she saw you hesitating to move further out of the building.

“Can I walk you home?”

You wanted to say no. Not in a million years, but she smiled, and you didn’t want to be rude to her. You didn’t want to be rude to anyone, ever. It was a flaw.

“Look, I won’t tell my friends where you live. And I’m sorry about earlier, but if I could just explain, I think you’ll understand their social awkwardness. Besides, I’m an Avenger. You’re safe with me.”

That was true. “Okay…thanks.”

She scoffed. “You don’t have to thank me.”

You felt compelled to explain as you both started down the sidewalk. “I don’t usually walk home dressed like this. I was scared so, thanks for being here. That’s what I meant.”

“Why are you dressed that way now, then?”

“Someone stole my clothes.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“They always turn up eventually, but some of the other girls don’t like me too much. I’m quiet, so they think that I don’t like them. That’s not true. I don’t judge anyone for working here, and some of them are strippers as well. I don’t mind that at all, but they’re used to a lot of hate, so I understand.”

“Are you always this nice?”

You scoffed. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“No, that’s just not something I’ve seen a lot of. You know, except for Steve.”

“Right, so…?”

“Ever since things have calmed down for us—wait, did you get snapped?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“And you’re still this nice? Did anyone you know?”

“Yeah, my whole family, basically. Except for my dad.”

She eyed you for a moment. “Well, ever since things have calmed down, Steve has been on edge. He seems restless, like…like he needs something to take care of. We thought you were perfect for that. An arrangement. Kind of.”

“An arrangement?”

“He doesn’t like the exact terms; he’s disgusted by this concept. But basically, a sugar daddy.”

You stopped walking. “You want Captain America to be my sugar daddy?”

She smiled, linking her arm in yours and pulling you down the sidewalk again. “I know it sounds weird—”

“It sounds more than weird. I’m sure he doesn’t need to pay someone to spend time with him.”

“No, of course not. We only just talked him into this. Our thought process is that he’s a tad cynical. He doesn’t like modern dating, but you don’t strike me as modern. I bet you’ve never even been on a dating app.”

You made a face. “That’s how women end up dead.”

She smiled. “You’re adorable, I think he would adore you. But my thought was also that if he had even just one bad date, he would throw in the towel. See, he’s kind of insecure. Hasn’t done the whole dating thing since he got out of the ice…and he still remembers how things used to be. Before he was Captain America, and skinny and weak, and in his words, a burden, and how all the women just wanted Bucky. I think he still feels like a burden, so the money is kind of an incentive. That makes sense to him.”

“Well…it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Well, I hope this will. You could quit that job. Come on, you know you hate it.”

“It’s good money.”

“This is better.”

“I don’t want to take Captain America’s money.”

“That’s why you’re perfect for this. I’m not worried about you leaving after getting some expensive diamond that you’re just going to sell off later. Please consider it.”

You were silent for a while, until you reached the crosswalk and had to wait for the signal to turn. “Was he being serious when he said he was going to stalk me?”

“He loves Steve so much,” she explained. “He hates to see him without a partner, without someone who sincerely appreciates him and knows how great he is. We honestly just think the two of you would hit it off.”

“I’ll meet him,” you decided. This was Captain America, it wouldn’t be the worst date you’d been on. Besides, you doubted he would be interested in someone as quiet and soft as you, he was a superhero. But what was the worst that could happen? You figured there would be no chemistry, and then Bucky wouldn’t have to stalk you. “But I’m not quitting my job.”

“No, of course. That’s totally up to the two of you to discuss.”

Three mornings later, and there you were. This was stupid, and you were never stupid. At least, not often. You weren’t sure that this could all be explained away by being scared of Bucky’s threat. Maybe you were tired of being single, too.

When Steve showed up, you didn’t immediately recognize him as the man whose face had been scattered across magazine covers and all the news channels. No, you had seen this man a mere three nights prior.

He looked surprised when he saw you at the table, but pleased. Very pleased.

You stood up immediately. “I’m sorry, what?”

He smiled and held his hand out to you. “Steve Rogers. Nice to see you again.”

You didn’t take his hand. “What the hell is going on?”

He gestured for you to take your seat again and after staring one another down and realizing that he wasn’t going to budge first, you did so. “I’m not overly romantic enough to believe in fate, but this is a little coincidental.”

“You look like you need a shot.”

You needed probably at least four. This was your first official showing, with your paintings in a real art gallery. There were so many people walking all around, staring. Judging. So yes, you needed a shot.

The unfortunate part of your life was that you had to go to work soon, and you couldn’t call in. There was undoubtedly already someone waiting to replace you on Friday nights. Your manager wouldn’t hesitate for a second. If you weren’t a person who relied on every cent of a paycheck, then maybe you wouldn’t care so much.

But that was not your story. You were a broke art student, struggling to pay for anything. Well, that was the case before this job. Now, at least you had money for coffee a few times a week, meaning you couldn’t lose this job. Finding something else like this would be impossible.

Your friend honestly was trying to help. It wasn’t her fault that you couldn’t drink to get rid of some of these nerves. But she never had to deal with this. Her parents supported her career path and helped whenever they could. She didn’t have to work while she was in school.

Now, she had her gallery and tried to help as much as she could. You were a sophomore and she practically forced you into handing over some paintings so she could sell them. You were immeasurably grateful, but still, she just didn’t get it sometimes.

“I have some in my office.”

You shook your head. “No, thanks.”

“Fine, how about just a glass of champagne?”

“That’s okay,” you declined. “I don’t think alcohol will make me any less nervous. And I have to work.”

“Really?” she frowned. “I wanted to go out to celebrate after this.”

“I’m sorry, there’s no way I can get out of it. Friday is good for tipping. On average, I make $564 these nights. And I need every cent of that.”

She sighed. “You told me you would be fine.”

“I will be,” you assured. “I just can’t miss work.”

“What if you got sick?”

Your eyes widened. “That cannot happen.”

“That’s not fine, babe. Look, you need to start selling your work here all the time. It was an open offer, okay?”

“I know, I will,” you promised. “I’m just a little busy with finals right now. I promise I’ll settle in for the summer and I’ll paint something that I won’t make you put in the back.”

“Fine, but then I must kindly request that you stop looking so nervous. No one is even looking at your stuff because you made me put it in the back. Just that one,” she gestured off to the wall at your side. “And I’m pretty sure they can all sense that you are looking at it and they are too scared to go over there.”

That did make you feel better, somewhat. You were a bit of a perfectionist when it came to your art, but you were also a people pleaser. It was on short notice that she told you that she wanted to sell some of your work in her gallery and you had absolutely no time to do anything new, but you didn’t want to tell her no because you didn’t want to disappoint her. So, you said yes, but asked her to put it in the back, and now you were sure you were about to have a heart attack.

You were probably about to apologize, worried that you were getting on her nerves with your anxious behavior. You were naturally a nervous person, which wasn’t exactly a quality that made you a lot of friends.

But before you had the chance to say anything, a man was standing right next to you both. He was speaking, not that you could process his words after you saw his face. He had longer blonde hair and a dark, trimmed beard that did not hide how chiseled his jaw was. Who looked like that? Why was he here? And not that you had a lot of experience with expensive clothing, but his suit was expensive. It was odd because he didn’t look like the rest of the men at the gallery in these suits, he was just a tad more…rugged.

Your friend cleared her throat and you looked at her. She arched an eyebrow, and your stomach was immediately twisting. Oh, god. He’d said something and you, like the idiot you were, had no idea what it was.

“I’m sorry?”

“I was asking about a painting,” the man answered. “I believe I just heard that you’re the artist.”

Oh, no. No, no. You were seriously about to have a heart attack.

“She is,” confirmed the person that everyone knew was the gallery owner. You couldn’t even accuse her of lying.

You turned to the wall where your painting was. Why hadn’t you just said no when she asked? You should go to therapy and learn to create boundaries for yourself.

“I really like it,” he elaborated.

And just like that, you were sure your face was literally on fire. “Thanks.”

“Are you an interested buyer?”

Your eyes widened at her. He looked rich, so no, he was not interested in your incoherent assignment from last semester that you’d completed under the influence of a lot of NyQuil. You’d been sick all week and art professors were surprisingly unwilling to give extensions.

“I am,” he claimed, reaching into his jacket pocket.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

He pulled out his card and handed it to your friend.

She smiled as she swiped it away. “Great, that’ll be $564—”

“No, please, it’s not that much.”

“It is,” she asserted, sauntering away.

“I’d pay more,” he promised, gaining your attention once more. “Trust me when I say that you’re underselling your work.”

Unlikely. “You don’t have to pay that much. I’m a second-year art student. My friend is just…trying to look out for me. I’m going to tell her that is too much.”

He caught your arm before you could move. “I was an art student once. Time at a university means nothing when you’re talented, and you are.”

That was nice to hear, even if you didn’t necessarily buy it. “Thank you… I felt completely invisible here tonight.” Oh great, this was the part of your nervous process where you were going to start talking and not stop. “You’re the first person to ask about anything I’ve done.”

“I was standing there for nearly half an hour, I’m sure I scared everyone away.”

You doubted that someone who looked like him would scare anyone away, you couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed him before.

“Do you have anything else here?”

“Oh, no, please. You’ve already spent so much. She charged you nearly three times what I was selling it for. And she talked me into that high of a price in the first place, she’s very pushy when she wants to be.”

He scoffed. “Something tells me you respond to that better.”

Before you could ask what that meant—and you would, your mouth currently had absolutely no filter—your friend was walking back with his card. “She does.”

He never took his eyes off you as he tucked it away, smiling when he got his answer.

“She made me hide it away in the back of the gallery in a terribly lit hallway so no one could see it.”

“Will you show me?” he asked you.

How could you say no to him after what he just did for you? But you hoped he wouldn’t try to buy anything else. Clearing your throat a little, you nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He held his arm out to you and you linked your arm through his. He was a little pushy, but not in any way that had you wanting to call the police or anything. Admittedly, that might have just been his eyes tricking you. They were so blue.

Like a proud mother, your friend watched with a huge smile as you led him toward the back of the gallery.

“I’m Steve,” he informed.

Oh, right. Normal people introduced themselves when meeting someone new. Especially if that someone just paid all your bills. You told him your name back, even though you were sure he knew because it was on the stupid painting. You were just talking for no reason at this point.

“Well, here they are,” you gestured down the hall, pulling away from him. If you went to look at your paintings, you would notice one billion flaws, and then you would make a fool of yourself probably.

He walked along the row of paintings. “Why paint things you don’t like?”

It wasn’t judgmental, it seemed like something he could sympathize with given his understanding tone. “Assignments… I didn’t have time to paint anything new. She kind of just threw this on me, and I have this bad habit of not wanting to disappoint people. I think she knows that by now.”

He hummed.

“I don’t hate them,” you promised. That probably wasn’t a good selling point. “This just isn’t what I want to do. I like…darker colors, less…pastels.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I see they still prefer their pastels.”

“You were a student here?”

“It was quite a while ago,” he confirmed. Abruptly, he turned to you. “Would you like to get coffee with me? I have a business proposal, sort of. But to be clear, I am asking you out on a date.”

“Coffee?” you repeated. “Me? With you?” Why was someone who looked like that asking you out? “Oh, um—” Your phone started to ding like the clock in Cinderella. The ball was over, it was time to get in your pumpkin carriage and go straight to hell. Or work if you were being technical.

He moved closer to you, still glancing at the paintings along the way.

“I’m sorry, I would like to…but I have to go to work.”

His eyebrows pulled together slightly. “Right now?”

And this was why you didn’t date. When they asked what you did, that was usually when the conversation was over. “Yeah…I’m a server at a bar, late hours. But thank you for asking. And thanks for the painting.”

He smiled a little. “No problem.”

You had had no idea who he was that night. All the things you’d seen or known about Steve Rogers did not match the image of the man that you met at the gallery opening or the man standing in front of you. His hair was longer, a tad blonder than you had thought. He also looked older. At the time, you weren’t even sure Captain America could age.

“You said you worked at a bar…” he reminded.

“I don’t normally tell people that I just met where I work.”

He hummed.

“I didn’t know…you didn’t tell me, at the gallery, who you were.”

“I don’t normally tell people that I just met who I am before I ask them out.”

You narrowed your eyes. Wow, Natasha wasn’t lying. Who wouldn’t want to date Captain America? Well, you could list a dozen reasons, but you were not normal. He probably didn’t even know that all the people in their right minds would kill to date him if given the chance.

“I apologize if I’m late…” he began, eyeing the mugs in front of you.

“No, I’m just always early,” you informed. “Like, always. I don’t know why.”

He smirked, showing the time on his phone. “Yeah, that makes two of us. I’ve never met someone who is earlier than me, though.”

“Yeah, it’s just a weird habit of mine.”

“No, it’s…it’s okay.” He didn’t want to be too forward, but Natasha was right. You were cute.

You noticed that he had folders in his hand then. A lot. That had you thinking back to the gallery and his phrasing when he asked you out. “Wait, was this the business proposal that you had for me when you asked me out the other night?”

“Yes.”

“So, you just meet someone and then immediately ask them to do this…like, arrangement…thing with you? But you had no idea that it was me when Natasha set this up. So, not even 5 days later and you were already going to offer your “business proposal” to someone else?”

“You are correct. Why?”

“That seems so fickle.”

He scoffed. “Well, I—”

“And okay, that whole ‘I look like I respond better to pushy people’ thing is so condescending now.”

“I did not mean it in a bad way, and I apologize for coming off condescending.”

“How did you mean it?”

“You just look like a sweet girl, that’s all. You look like you like to be…helpful. To whoever, however you can.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Well, I’m not sweet.”

“Natasha thinks you are and what Natasha thinks, I tend to agree with.”

“I’m not sweet,” you insisted.

“I disagree,” he countered easily. “If not a tad bratty, but that’s okay. That’s how I like my women. If I wasn’t worried about scaring you off by being too forward, I would tell you exactly how I intend to make you behave.”

Okay, in your defense, it had been a very long time since you had sex. You crossed your legs and he smirked, he knew why. No, this couldn’t happen. You wouldn’t let it. You knew exactly how to put a stop to this. “Well, I’m possessive. You can’t be seeing other women.”

“I’m not interested in an open relationship. I’m interested in you.”

Or not.

He noticed that you no longer looked completely argumentative and gestured to the folders he’d set on the table. “So, I’ve done quite a bit of research on this.”

Oh. Right. Should you have done research? You were too mortified to even google “sugar daddy”.

“I don’t want to waste anyone’s time,” he elaborated. “I think we should talk about a lot of things before we decide to proceed with this. If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” Still, this would not be the worst date you had ever been on even if it did turn into an interrogation. You weren’t sure why you were so bothered. You weren’t even here for serious reasons. You just wanted to prove that nothing could come of this so Bucky wouldn’t stalk you.

“Have you ever done something like this before?”

“No, never.”

“And what are your expectations from this?”

“I honestly don’t have any. I know that’s weird, and I know I’ve had time to think about it, but I don’t expect anything from you. I just told Natasha I would meet with you. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.”

“Okay. That makes sense.”

“Have you? Ever done this?” You figured Natasha wouldn’t share that detail with you.

“Uh…I went on a date. Once. It was a learning experience. I kind of just jumped into it, that’s a bad habit of mine. And I don’t expect anything from you, to be clear. I don’t expect you to act a certain way, dress a certain way. You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to do. Okay?”

Well, that was relieving. You nodded. “Okay.”

About an hour in, the table was covered in papers. You both had had too much coffee and you were simply too nervous to eat. He insisted on at least ordering you some toast, and you’d eaten most of it, so at least you knew he was a considerate person.

He’d asked about your family. You figured he didn’t want an unstable partner just trying to work out her issues with her father. Your parents were…something else, but you certainly weren’t trying to date anyone like your dad, or anyone that was going to try to fix all those insecurities courtesy of your mother. Your answer must have pleased him because he continued.

He wanted clarification on your job, exactly what you did. Natasha told him the other girls didn’t like you, so he wanted to know why. He also wanted to know if you ever did anything about it. You could tell he was amused, if not also confused, by the fact that you hadn’t ever sought out any type of revenge.

“Do you like working there?”

“I hate the outfits, the people, the staff. But I’m able to pay my bills, so I don’t like to complain.”

“Can I ask why you said yes to this?”

“Um, well, partially because Bucky told me he was going to stalk me if I didn’t.”

His mouth dropped slightly.

“So, I just said yes…to save him the trouble. You know, I’d hate if he went out of his way and there was no connection. Or whatever.”

“He said he was going to stalk you?”

“At least he was honest about it. He didn’t want me to get scared, like, if I noticed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you scoffed. “It’s not something any woman wants to hear, but at least you know he cares about you.”

“He’s…”

“Antisocial, Natasha said.”

“To put it lightly. He’s…had some problems in the past. That’s not as public as the rest of our lives.”

“It’s okay,” you promised.

He sighed. “Bucky is kind of my top priority, sometimes. Sometimes…I have to be distant because he needs my complete attention. Could you handle that?”

“With an “I’m not dead” text every now and then, yes.”

“And what are you getting out of this? What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Your friends made a compelling case. I’m just a little confused.”

“Yes, sorry. Please, I’ve asked a million questions and you’ve hardly asked any. Whatever you want to know.”

“Why would you ever need me?”

“Well, that has to be answered after I ask one more question. I know you said you’re possessive, but I think you thought that might be a deal-breaker for me. So, honestly, do you want no-strings, or could this possibly be a relationship?”

“I’m not exactly a no-strings person.”

He smiled crookedly. “That’s what I need. I want to be with someone, I guess. I never have been. Thought it was time I tried it.”

“But why an arrangement?”

“I thought it would make me feel better. I feel like I’m not great in a relationship. I’m asking you all these questions and I can’t imagine what I could possibly provide for you. Except for money. You hate your job, I would pay for everything. You could quit. You could work on your art. Whatever you want.”

“How often would I see you, Bucky-times aside?”

“Regularly,” he assured.

“Dates?”

“Stark has his parties. I would ask you to be there.”

“How available do you need me?”

“That might…change after some time. It might also fluctuate. We can always reevaluate.”

You eyed the papers. “Are you going to have me sign something?”

He smiled. “No.”

You turned your attention back up to him. “So?”

“So, if you’re willing, I’d like a trial. Three months. You can take time to think about it.”

“I don’t need time.”

“No?”

“You seem nice. Where I work, I rarely meet nice guys.”

He scoffed. “Okay. I do feel the need to inform you, I am possessive. I will ask you not to date anyone else. Are you okay with that?”

You had actively avoided dating up to that point, but that was a choice. The idea that someone else would be in control of that made you hesitate. “I’m not sure.”

“You ever had a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Anything else qualified as a relationship?”

“Yeah. A boyfriend. It was a while ago.”

“He wasn’t possessive?”

“No. He never had reason to be.”

“I find that hard to believe. Someone as beautiful as you, you must get attention.”

Your face felt hot, and you hoped you didn’t look as caught off guard as you felt. “I guess he just didn’t care.”

“His mistake. From the looks of it, he made a few…”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you were okay with that. He was looking at you differently now. More critically, not in a bad way, but in a serious way. Something changed. Something made him want to proceed.

You wouldn’t lie. Month one had you wanting to throw in the towel often. It wasn’t so difficult to speak to him, to text him any chance you got, and you genuinely did like his company. He was nice and funny, and smart but it seemed like he was completely unaware of that. He just wasn’t like other men.

But the first snag was the credit card. See, first, he needed to know where you lived. That was a huge compromise itself, you didn’t like men knowing where you lived. Your experiences had been made up of pushy men with no respect for consent. You had an alarm system and were on a first-name basis with campus security and many police officers that worked in this area.

The moral of the story was that you were secretive. You didn’t like to jump into relationships, but Steve asked you to be open. You agreed to this trial just the same as he did, you could at least match his energy. So, you showed him your apartment.

Before he was about to leave, he handed you his credit card. You were blurting out refusals for at least three minutes before he got you to calm down enough that he could speak. That was also non-negotiable on his part. He promised it was only for emergencies. For now. But it was a requirement that he knew you would be taken care of even if he had to be out of town or tend to Bucky-related issues.

He would be depositing money into your account otherwise. What he felt was a necessary amount. You checked once, really fast, and felt sick for the rest of the day. You’d told yourself that you would never see that much money, so for it to just be there, was unsettling. Sometimes. Not exactly in a bad way. It just took some getting used to.

The second month was easier. There was a shared level of comfort there. That was why he started to accompany you on these shopping sprees. Every Tuesday. He didn’t try to push you into going to the more expensive stores but insisted that you buy everything you even glanced at. You were frequenting your usual spots and spending until he was satisfied.

He took you to dinner at least once a week, those were mostly the Bucky weeks where you didn’t see a lot of him. But at least one evening, he was all yours. His phone was turned off and he was very present. That was what made you start looking at Steve differently.

You still weren’t sure why you were in this. The money was great, but because you were on trial, you were still working. Essentially, nothing in your life had changed, but the closer you got to Steve, the more you thought you could end up liking him.

Was that allowed? He was your sugar daddy, or he would be, and you just weren’t fully aware of what that was supposed to mean. You certainly didn’t want to ask him out of fear that you would sound like you were getting way ahead of the plan, so you simply took it day by day.

This was a plan that was getting increasingly difficult the more you realized how genuinely beautiful Steve was. And what was the extent of your physical relationship with him? Kissing. And never even long enough that you would classify it as making out. He put his arm around you, he held your hand, you sat very close to one another when you were spending the night at your apartment.

But obviously, no sex. You’d gone extended periods without sex before, that wasn’t new, but you had never been in the constant presence of a man that looked like Steve. It was confusing also, no man you’d ever spoken to this long hadn’t already tried something.

By month three, you were worrying. Sometimes.

On one hand, he was talking to you a lot more. About him, his life. Work. Bucky. He’d even opened up to you about Peggy a little. In return, he did want to hear about this former boyfriend of yours. That was when you realized he hadn’t been exaggerating about being possessive. You were on his lap during this storytime and his hands lingered, he kissed your lips, your face, your neck. It was meaningful, meant to convey something. What, exactly, you were not sure.

But that was it.

You went to the first Stark party with him around two weeks before it was time to reevaluate whether this was going to last. That put a lot of pressure on you. You knew that if you couldn’t hang out with his friends, that this was going to be over.

Sam and Bucky were nice, the most talkative. They kept insisting the entire night that Steve thank them, and that would prompt the argument of who saw you first. Steve promised this would be a fight that he wouldn’t hear the end of until the day he died.

Wanda was sweet. Steve warned you that she could read minds. That made you doubly nervous, but she smiled enough that you were sure your internal ramblings weren’t making her dislike you.

Peter was there for a while before he had to get home to his aunt, super sweet and made you feel a lot less out of place due to his apparent nerves. Clint was with Natasha for a couple of hours, he never came over to see all the fuss surrounding Steve’s date before he had to get home as well.

And Tony himself wasn’t too bad. He thoroughly enjoyed poking fun at this entire situation, which you had not been prepared for.

Steve stayed close and you felt protected, his arm around your waist almost the entire night, so a few jokes from Tony weren’t too unbearable. Besides, he didn’t mean it in an unkind way, that was just his sense of humor.

You were most surprised by Natasha. She had greeted you, but that was it. You felt the rest of the night that she was eyeing you and Steve. There were no conversations, and she didn’t get too close to the group.

When you asked Steve about it on the drive to your apartment, you wondered if you had done something to make her dislike you—that was your biggest worry of the night, that you would do or say something stupid. It was so unlike the way she spoke to you the night she had convinced you to meet Steve.

He assured you that Natasha was simply protective of him and you didn’t want to be annoying, so you let it drop.

You invited him into your apartment, but he had things to do back at the office. He promised to take you to breakfast, so that was enough for you. You were just insanely insecure for a long time after that, and it didn’t help that he wasn’t touching you.

The final two weeks sped by and there was a lingering heaviness in every single conversation you had with him.

Was this about to end? He mentioned it only once. He wanted to go out to dinner that night to discuss how you both felt. With that approaching conversation, you analyzed just about everything he did and said. You looked for any hints that you could get, which were nonexistent but kept you up until 4 in the morning all the same.

The morning of, he had a dress delivered to you. It made you smile, but you did stop to consider that it might be the last time you experienced that. Steve was so kind and spending time with him didn’t make him seem any less perfect than the media had convinced you that Captain America was.

He was genuinely perfect, and you couldn’t imagine a single reason why he would choose you over all the women who were throwing themselves at him. You saw how everyone stared when the two of you went out, you noticed the flirting staff and you didn’t blame them at all—you would probably do the same if a man looking like that walked into the restaurant.

But you had resolved that you weren’t going to let him dump you without sex. It wasn’t fair to judge an entire relationship without the physical aspect. He should know the entire story of you before he made any huge decisions.

So, you put on the dress. It was a tight, long slip with cutouts at the waist in a dark wine color. Underneath was the lingerie set that you had all but scoured the entire internet for in the entire past month. The lingerie from Steve’s time wasn’t particularly beautiful, but lingerie inspired by his time was.

In nude satin with black lace detail, the bra, the panties, the garter belt, and the stockings. You felt like you were a burlesque dancer, but hey, if that was what he was into. And if he wasn’t, you were going to cry. You had never used a garter belt before and you were running late—long story short, you had snapped your skin several times.

When Steve picked you up, it was just like any other time. It wasn’t his fault; he wasn’t doing anything wrong. You just wished he would give you some idea about how he was feeling. However, he didn’t.

By the time the food was brought out, you felt like a pile of nerves. He filled the silence, told you about his day, his entire week since you’d only seen him twice. It was a Bucky week, and you didn’t mean to sound insensitive, but it was the most inconvenient week it could have happened.

Dinner was nearing its end and he hadn’t said a word about the arrangement. You realized then that he was searching for something. From you. An indication that you wanted to continue. Of course, always the gentleman.

“Are we doing dessert tonight?” he questioned.

If you did, you would talk yourself out of this. You shook your head.

“Oh…okay…I’ll get the check the next time I see our server.”

“Okay.” You moved your purse onto the table so you could slide around the booth seat next to him. He had the booth for the Avengers usually, but he liked bringing you, too.

He looked confused, but then you moved closer. You grabbed his arm, both hands wrapping around one of his. He smiled then, assuming this was the end of it. “You’re beautiful, and in that dress…”

You glanced down. “I like it, thanks.”

“Knew you would look perfect in it.”

“I like the high slit,” you informed.

“Yes, I enjoy the view.”

You hummed, dragging his hand in yours up the opening of your dress. You felt him tense up the second he felt your stockings.

“We should probably discuss a few things first.”

“Or we could wait.”

He shook his head firmly. “No, we should do this first.”

You figured you knew why and let him go. “Yeah, okay—” You were just about to slide away back to your seat when he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“A new contract is in my car.”

You were surprised that he had already done this on his own. Normally, he waited for your input on everything, that was why, you assumed, that he had yet to have sex with you. “Now you want me to sign something?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t follow the agreement that you signed to, I get to creatively punish you.”

Your eyebrows shot up and he smirked. Steve Rogers had you at dinner, in a dress that wasn’t the most revealing thing he’d ever put you in but certainly wasn’t modest, and was talking about punishment. Like…sexual punishment. That quickly took a turn.

“Drop the innocent act. I have it on good authority,” he settled his hand on your thigh, thumb teasing the skin under the slit of the dress, “that you’re not that innocent.”

You felt your face get hot and he smirked at your silence.

“I want to change a few things. First, new apartment. I don’t like how far yours is away from me.”

“Fine, but I’m paying for rent with my allowance.”

“Fine, then I’m raising your allowance.”

You gave him a flat look and got a smirk as a response. “What else?”

“Second, quit your damn job and spend this weekend with me at your new apartment.”

You scoffed. “It’s extremely unprofessional to quit without giving two weeks. I think I’m going to need more incentive.”

His hand moved up as he leaned in close, lips at your neck and fingers sliding over your cunt through your panties. You shuddered and he kissed and licked your skin. “I have a small proposal, what if I just took your underwear off now, no one would even know—”

“No,” you whined, pushing him away with the side of your body before you leaned away. “You have to see what I’m wearing.”

His hand had slid back down to your thigh. “Why? What are you wearing?”

“Lingerie.”

“Obviously.”

“Took me forever to find.”

“Why?”

“’Cause it looks a little 1940s inspired—”

He stood up, pulling you out of the booth with him. He moved around to pick up your purse and placed it back in your hands along with the keys. “Wait in the car, I’m going to pay the bill.”

Steve was speeding. You had never seen him drive even kind of recklessly. He was completely focused on the road and getting to this new apartment as quickly as possible. You would have laughed, if you didn’t have a reason to do just the opposite.

You were in the seat next to him, looking over the contract. It was one terrible thing after another. It was a major compromise in terms of your independence and autonomy. “You want to hire me a driver?”

“For safety.”

“What kind of safety?”

“Are you familiar with Princess Diana?”

You made a face. “Why are you familiar with Princess Diana?”

“Sam and Bucky were watching the Oprah thing, never mind that. It makes sense. You’re going to be spending more time with me if you sign, people will see us together. I’m not always going to be here. I just need to know that you’re safe.”

“Steve—”

“So, you haven’t made it to that point yet,” he muttered.

You briefly narrowed your eyes at him before turning back down to the page and skimming madly. He wasn’t only giving you a higher allowance, but a minimum of what you needed to spend monthly. You were going to argue that.

He gave you a list of prioritized emergency contacts. If he was unreachable for some reason, the list went Natasha, Sam, Wanda, Tony, Bruce, try the list in order again, then Peter, try Bruce one more time, and still, if none of them were available, he wanted you to try to reach him through Bucky. He needed your approval to give his friends your number, and you hated that anyone would think of you as weak or fragile. Was that what being in a relationship with Steve Rogers reduced to?

He wanted holidays with you. After discussing your family situation, he realized quickly that you wouldn’t be going home for those days. New Years’, Valentine’s, the 4th—you accidentally snorted when you read that—Halloween, and Christmas. He left open the opportunity for more days if you celebrated something that he did not. And though he did not require the day of your birthday, he would get one weekend that month to spoil you as he saw fit.

He wanted your acknowledgment that these rules were mostly for your safety and if you didn’t meet them, after signing this contract, that was a violation. He would then be allowed to punish you. Below that was a small list of punishments that he preferred, and you needed to check off which ones you were okay with. Spanking with his hand, belts, or paddles, bondage, choking, edging, orgasm denial for extended periods, forced orgasms/overstimulation. This meant that a safe word was needed, and he wanted it documented.

If he happened to mess up this relationship, for the remainder of the contract, he is allowed to try to convince you to give him a second chance. If he failed by the end of the one-year mark, he would willingly let you go.

Well, that one was odd, but typical Steve. He was always so concerned with how he would ruin this by not being available, not keeping you interested. These insecurities were completely unfounded.

The last rule, he wanted you to call him daddy. Non-negotiable in the bedroom, encouraged outside the bedroom but not if it made you uncomfortable. That one was… Yeah, okay. You hadn’t given that much thought before.

You set the contract on your lap and glanced out the window. He was taking you closer to the tower, but Steve didn’t stay there full-time, so you could only assume his apartment was nearby. You were rarely ever around this part of town, but there were several gyms, several cafés, and many shopping centers.

“Problem?”

You turned back to him, just watching. He continued to stare at the road. His hands were tight around the steering wheel, you worried it would break in his firm hold. He was nervous, not meeting your eye but pretending that the reason was that he was driving.

“Blueberry.”

His eyebrows pulled together but he didn’t voice his confusion.

“That’s my safe word,” you asserted. “And I’m into all possible punishments, but I’m hesitant about the bondage part. I want to feel like I’m close to you, and I’m not sure how I can do that if I can’t touch you.”

“We’ll take that one slow. But, I must point out, if you follow the rules, you’ll never have to find out.”

You snorted. “Cut my spending requirement in half.” He opened his mouth to argue but you quickly cut him off, “And you can buy me anything you want, I won’t complain.”

“Okay, fine. Anything else?”

“I want to spend one week a night at your apartment. We will stay in, just a calm date night. Once a week. Minus Bucky weeks.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

The apartment was huge and cold, exactly what you thought of most over-priced living spaces. He turned on the lights for you but then he was off scurrying about the entire place. You were left alone to explore.

The floors were hardwood, that was why you could hear every step he was taking. The windows were ceiling to floor, at least ten in the living room alone. You knew it would look beautiful in the fall and winter, whenever it rained or snowed. He hadn’t bought any furniture, of course, he would want to make you consciously pick things out and spend his money.

The kitchen was massive, enough room to cook, enough room to spend time in. There was a fridge, a microwave, and an oven all in black. You wondered if you could talk him into buying new ones in different colors.

He had disappeared down a long living room to the right. Off to the left was a bathroom. You made your way to it, turning on the light. The countertops were marble, the tub was big enough for the two of you, which you were looking forward to.

You heard him moving again. “Steve? What are you doing?”

“There has to be a pen here somewhere!” He made his way back out to the kitchen and started looking in drawers. “I set you up an art studio, I know I bought pens, too. Everyone needs a pen, you know?”

“Why do you need a pen?” You turned to the mirror, eyes moving over the length of your dress. You wanted him to tear the stupid thing off, but you were now starting to wonder if you were going to have to do that yourself.

“I want to sign it before we do anything.”

“You think sex will change my mind? Or your mind?”

“No, no changing minds… Look, call me old-fashioned but I want to sign before we have sex.”

You sighed as you yanked your dress down your body. You kicked it off to your side and reached into your bag for your red lipstick. You rarely ever wore lipstick; it was so hard to get off yet smudged easily. Next, you grabbed the pen you kept stashed there. Your heels clicked loudly as you made your way back to him.

“Here.”

He quickly turned to you, determined expression immediately going blank. He blinked several times before he cleared his throat and took the pen. “Where did you find this?”

“I always carry a pen. And paper. I’m a terrible driver and I’ve had to leave people notes after I hit their car.”

“You’re not allowed to drive anymore,” he blurted out. “I’m adding that to the contract right now.” He turned away, brow furrowing as he looked over the contract again. You could see how tense he had suddenly become in the hard line of his shoulders and his clenched jaw.

He scribbled his name over the pages several times before holding the pen out to you. Once you took it, he stepped aside several feet. He was trying to keep his distance, worried he might not be able to wait if you got too close.

“I don’t know…” you began.

His eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know? You don’t know what?”

“Maybe I want to negotiate on a few things.”

“Anything you want, just tell me.”

You laughed a little. “Are you only saying that because of what I’m wearing?”

“Probably, yeah. Take advantage of me, I’d do anything you asked right now. Just please sign the god damn contract.”

“A year?”

He nodded quickly. “Just a year.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll talk. We’ll reevaluate again.”

“Okay.” You turned forward and signed the point acknowledging you were giving yourself to him for a year. A few things were the same, no dating anyone other than him being the most important. That had seemed like such a heavy commitment originally, and that was only three months. Now, you were happy to give a year of your life to Steve.

The next page questioned your safe word, you tapped the pen to your bottom lip.

“What?”

“Safe word.”

“You said blueberry,” he reminded. “Not sure why.”

“It does seem odd. What if I forget it?”

“Who would forget a safe word like blueberry?”

You shrugged. “What do you think it should be?”

“Please just write blueberry.”

You smirked as you wrote it down.

“You’re being mean,” he accused.

“No,” you scoffed, “I’m just making sure that this contract represents my best interests.”

“No, you’re trying to push me. If you continue to push me, I’m going to have to push back.”

You looked back over your shoulder at him, arching an eyebrow. “And what are you intending to do to me?”

“I haven’t decided yet… Admittedly, I’m having problems thinking straight right now.”

You laughed and looked back down at the contract. You checked all the boxes next to punishments. “How, exactly, are you planning on ruining this arrangement? Do you have another arrangement on the side?”

“No, of course not. I don’t know, okay? I promise I had no specific examples, I just wanted to be sure.”

You turned back to him and he sighed, groaning your name. “You are going to have to work on your patience.”

“I have wanted to fuck you since the day I met you,” he asserted. “Please, sign the contract.”

“First, I want you to acknowledge something.”

He huffed. “What?”

“I like you.”

He waited, then his brow furrowed once more. “What?”

“That’s it, I just want you to tell me that you know that, that you believe me when I say you’re doing a lot better than you think you are. I’m very happy, Steve, I like spending time with you, I like the arrangement that we have. You haven’t messed up yet and I doubt you ever will.”

“Okay, I believe you,” he assured. “But I’ll believe you more if you put me out of my misery now.”

You smiled, turning back around. “All right, my name here.” You signed underneath his. “And then what—”

He grabbed your shoulders and spun you to him, lips crashing down on yours. He held you tight, his hand spread out on your back to keep your chest pinned to his, his other hand on the side of your face. He didn’t mind that your lipstick was getting everywhere, smearing over your skin and his.

When he pulled away and looked down at you, you were both breathless, panting, staring into one another’s eyes. It was the most intimate moment the two of you had shared yet. He allowed you to push off his jacket and yank open his dress shirt, buttons scattering all about. His belt was next, and you remembered that it was one of the items listed on the contract.

“Out of curiosity, what does a girl have to do to get spanked with a belt?”

He grabbed your ass hard, pulling you forward to kiss you again that he didn’t pull away from until your lips were swollen and his were stained thinly in red. “Don’t worry, sweet as you are, I know you’re a brat. You’ll find out soon enough.”

You smiled and pulled his pants open as you lowered to your knees.

He gripped the counter with both hands and stared down at you, lips parted, chest moving with his deep breaths.

“Daddy?”

Surprise flickered across his face and he was stunned silent.

“Don’t damage my counter,” you joked.

“See? Bratty as hell and the ink hasn’t even dried.”

You scoffed, pulling his pants down. You’d noticed the sizable bulge pressing against you when he was kissing you, but you hadn’t anticipated how big he was going to be. His cock was right in your face as soon as he was free from all layers of clothing, and you wasted no time opening your mouth for him. He pushed his cock in slowly, only pausing when you gagged, until he was sure you couldn’t take any more of him.

This color of lipstick did something to Steve. Seeing your red lips wrapped around his cock was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. “Baby, you are so fucking pretty like this.”

He used your mouth, but he really was the sweetest about it. He kept cooing praises at you, petting your hair, pulling away quickly any time you were choking on him. He didn’t intend to finish like this, and the moment he worried he was too close, he was pulling you back onto your feet.

He picked you up to drop you back down on the counter. His fingers pulled your underwear aside, feeling through your folds to check if you were wet enough to take him. Of course, you were. Of course, you were such a good girl, just so eager to take his cock that you would get wet just from having him in your mouth.

He kept the material of your panties out of his way and pushed into you. His free hand gripped your hip hard, it was almost unbearable how tight you felt around him. You laid back, propped up on your elbows because you wanted to watch him.

The panties were a lost cause, your arousal mixed with his would stain the delicate material, and when he finally finished inside you… His hands touched you everywhere, through the material of the overpriced set that you now were happy you had worked so hard to find. He looked entranced by you, like he was lost in your existence. If some ugly 40s themed clothing did that, you would make this a habit.

Shameless noises poured out of your parted lips, moans, gasps, mewls, and he loved every single one. Steve wasn’t huge on verbal praise, ever since he’d been having sex, he much preferred the uncontrollable praise. He preferred the babbling, the crying, the coming. The things that only he could pull from another person, and he knew that was the case with you. He knew you’d never been appreciated like this, worshipped. And he would, every day you let him, he was going to devote all the time, money, and energy he could on you.

You reached out to him when you were coming and he pulled you up, arms wrapped tight around your waist. You set your forehead in the curve of his neck, hands gripping his biceps desperately.

“Who’s making you feel good, baby?” he urged.

“You, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Wanna come, gorgeous?”

You nodded quickly. “Please, daddy. Please make me come.”

When you fell apart, your nails dug into his skin, and he didn’t mind one bit. The way your entire body tensed up, the small noises tearing from your throat, and the way you got even tighter around his cock were indescribably beautiful. It didn’t take long for him to follow you, and like the good girl you were, you continue to grab at him, plead with him to come inside you, and your hips always angled up just right to get him in even deeper.

It took him several minutes to come down, and you were patient the entire time. You ran your hands through his hair, or down his arms, his stomach, appreciating the muscle there. You started to kiss his neck, along his collarbone, up his throat and to the underside of his jaw.

He pulled back to look at you, sighing. “This was very poor planning. There’s no furniture here.”

You laughed. “The tub is pretty big.”

His eyebrows rose. “The bathtub? You want to sleep in the bathtub?”

“I just want to sleep with you. Location isn’t that important.”

He hummed. “We can try it until it drives me crazy, then I’ll drive us to my apartment for the night.” He pulled out of you carefully, kissing you as he did so. He pulled his pants back up and then picked you up again. He carried you to the bathroom and somehow managed to get both of you in the tub without ever letting you down.

“I think it’s comfortable,” you insisted.

“That’s because you’re laying on me,” he pointed out.

You smiled up at him, very happy in your place on his chest, curled up with your legs reaching the middle of his thighs. He was right, the only reason you liked this situation was that you were using him as a body pillow.

One thing you had quickly learned about Steve Rogers was that he had this insane domesticity kink. It had started with just cooking, it was one of the most natural actions you could think of. Nope, Steve felt much differently. He never let you finish, he always had to have you right there in the kitchen. Cleaning was similar, you never managed to finish your task before he had you bent over the edge of the bed, the couch, the table.

You would admit, you started to take advantage of this when you had finally put your finger on exactly what it was. Before that, it had seemed so random, it seemed that he just wanted you every day, at least three times a day—that took some getting used to, having sex that much. You’d never been with someone who wanted you like that, so unconditionally, so pure.

Three more months flew by without a single issue. The two of you easily fell into this pattern. He was at the apartment more often than not, and when he couldn’t be, you worked on your art. And when he came back, he never failed to bring presents.

Steve liked to spoil you with jewelry, and he liked you drowning in diamonds. He liked watching you moved around the apartment without a scrap of clothing, but covered in necklaces, rings, bracelets, that one pair of diamond rose earrings he got you after you let him tie you up the first time—not punishment, just experiment.

He obviously liked to dress you. He liked watching you put on whatever it was that he bought you. Depending on how the following date went, he would either peel your outfit off slowly or watch while you did it. He loved you in white and pink, but there was just something about red and blue that did it for him. Seeing you in colors that everyone related to him, seeing you marked even if it was subtly, was heaven.

He liked to give you bags because you liked getting bags. You had just about every color by now, he was starting to bring home patterns. He usually brought those to you when he had to leave the country, which didn’t happen often, but enough that you decided you wanted a collection.

And the shoes, that was all him. He could pretend that it was for you, and you obviously loved when he brought you shoes, but it was mostly for him. The only evidence you needed to prove that was that he liked to have sex with you immediately after you opened the shoes. He tried to be discreet about it, he would want you to try them on, “to make sure they fit”, and then you would be naked underneath him.

So, three months later, you decided it was time to spoil him a little. He loved eating you out, but you didn’t always let him. The only reason being that he was utterly insatiable. There was a behavior mishap, it was completely unimportant what you did, but either way, you ended up on the bed with his mouth at your cunt until you were pushing him away. Then, because he was not done, he had to tie you up. Your wrists were handcuffed to the headboard and he went back to devouring you. In the moment, it was overwhelming and painful. When you woke up the next day and couldn’t walk right because your legs were still shaking, you knew you liked it a lot more than you let on.

You made dinner, and you started early enough that he would not be able to come home early and interrupt your plans. The outfit for the night was a floor-length nightgown with long puffy sleeves, a faded yellow shade, completely sheer. Steve had appreciated the 40s gesture, and you were waiting ever since for the opportunity to do it again.

When he came home, he had a shopping bag for you. Typical.

“No, put it away,” you protested before he set it on the kitchen table. “It’s about you tonight.”

“You can either open this bag now, as you know how much I enjoy giving you gifts, or I’m going to have to take pleasure in something else. Which, hint, includes me ruining your elaborate plan and fucking you right now.”

You sighed. “You’re getting less and less patient by the day.”

“Maybe because you’re getting more beautiful by the day.”

You tried to give him a flat look as you approached the bag, but he still gave you that fluttery feeling when he called you anything of the sort. Gorgeous, stunning, the words just fell from his lips so sincerely that you were starting to believe him. In conclusion, Steve Rogers was not doing your ego any favors.

“What is this even for?” you inquired.

“Three months.” He beamed. “Great minds, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agreed. Sighing, you turned back to the bag and peeked inside. You were never surprised when you saw a flash of pink, it was his go-to whenever a Stark party was coming up. The thin slip you pulled out of the bag was the glitteriest piece of clothing he’d ever brought you, made complete by diamond straps. “Daddy, what could I possibly need a dress like this for?”

He got closer to you, arms snaking around your waist.

“Behave,” you warned. Carefully, you set the dress down and grabbed both arms to keep them from wandering anything strategic.

“Well,” he kissed your cheek, then nuzzled his face into your hair, “I was thinking we should take a trip.”

“Where?”

“Paris. Every artist needs to see Paris.”

Yes, everyone who went to an American art school had had that fact hammered into their brain. The art around the city, the museums, you’d wanted to go to Paris since you were 16. You quickly turned back to him, eyes wide. “Paris?”

“This weekend?”

You nodded, throwing your arms around his neck. “Yes!”

“Good, don’t pack any clothes, I’m just going to buy you whatever I please anyway.” He pushed you back with his hands on your waist. “Now, baby doll, what did you have planned for me.”

“Dinner.”

“Hmm. You mean you?”

“No,” you scoffed. “Dinner, actual food—”

“I think I’d prefer you.” He picked you up only to set you back down on the table, pushing the bag out of your way.

“No, you should eat first! It’s going to get cold!” But he was already sitting down, and you were already pulling up the sheer skirt of your dress over your legs. You laid back as soon as you were exposed to him and he finished adjusting his chair. “Honestly, I slaved over a hot oven all day for you.”

He scoffed. “We can reheat it.”

“Well, fine.”

He grabbed your calves where they dangled over the edge of the table and placed them on the table, spreading your legs wide. He started by kissing your thighs, teasing you by getting within centimeters of your cunt. His mouth laid open, wet kisses all along your skin until you were squirming. “What do you want, baby?”

“Eat my pussy, daddy.”

He smirked. “Remember when you were such a good girl that even getting you to say that was impossible?”

“I’m still good,” you pointed out.

“You are the sweetest, baby, but I like to think I’ve corrupted you at least a little.”

And wasn’t that a hilarious concept? Captain America corrupting someone? If you weren’t living it, you wouldn’t believe it. He had given you such a shameless, wanting attitude about sex. It wasn’t that you were ever ashamed of your sexuality, but you had never been so reliant on it. The two of you, since signing that contract, had a record high of eleven hours without sex.

He woke you up in the middle of the night hard, and sometimes you would wake him up after a particularly vivid dream. He joined you in the shower when he could, and sometimes you got up early just to meet him after his run. You would separate most days because he had to work, but he was always home for lunch and dinner. Like you said, insatiable.

Finally, he buried his face in your pussy and your hands pressed to the back of his head. He kept his hands around your thighs just in case you tried to pull away from him, he wasn’t taking it easy on you tonight, he rarely got to do this, and he was going to taste you until he was satisfied.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @kleohoneyao3 @cevans-fics @gotnofucks @sweet-pieces-of-nothing @dbnightingale24 @first-jumper-tris46

#steve rogers x reader #sugary4kchallenge #my writing

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jujutsu-headcanons · 4 years ago

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Fushiguro Megumi Headcanons: Visiting a haunted house with his s/o

For the sake of this headcanon, the Shibuya arc never existed

Megumi kinda forgets Halloween even exists most years. He only remembers its spoopy season because there's always an influx of curses born at the beginning of October in anticipation of the holiday.

In all honesty, every day is Halloween to him with the stuff Shamans have to deal with. So when Yuji proposed the four first years visit a haunted house, Megumi's first thought was "Really? Just wait until Gojo-Sensei gives us a mission. Same thing."

But oh God, the way his s/o's face lit up at the idea, it kinda made his chest tighten and he just stared because oh God they're beautiful

He agreed.

Gojo decided the kids needed a break and gave them a night off a couple of days before Halloween (because, sadly, Halloween night is the busiest night of the year for Shamans) and the four headed off to town.

The only people who are allowed to dress up at these things are the scare actors, but that didn't stop Nobara from spooping everyone up a tad. Megumi was given fake vampire teeth, much to his disliking, with that weird fake candy blood dabbed on his lips. His S/O was given nothing more than two bloody dots on their neck, resembling bite marks. Nobara was supportive like that.

Megumi couldn't stop staring at his s/o's neck the entire time. He loved everything about them, but their neck was God tier. The candy blood was strawberry and he knew it would taste twice as sweet if he licked it off of their neck-

But PDA isn't really his thing. The others know about their relationship, but they rarely show it around them.

Alas, they have arrived.

It looks surprisingly well put together despite being a pop-up thing. Idk how to describe a haunted house so please, let your imagination run rampant.

Megumi buys two tickets. It's obvious who they're for. Yuji rlly gets offended. It's a mess. Yuji loves all of his friends, but ever since Megumi and his s/o started dating he hasn't been getting enough attention and this displeases him.

Nobara, Yuji, and s/o are chatting happily while waiting in line to get in. Megumi hangs back slightly, scrolling through his phone while they chat away. This is a common occurrence. Those three drag Megumi around to a lot of places he doesn't want to go to. As compensation, he kinda just does whatever he wants. His partner understands.

The haunted house allows two people in at a time so Nobara and Yuji opt to go in ahead of the couple. After yelling at the person directing them not to lose her fucking hammer (she rlly thought weapons were allowed in the haunted house), Nobara marched in with Yuji in tow.

This was the moment Megumi was waiting for, really. Pda around total strangers in the dark was so much better than around his classmates. It's not like they even teased him or anything, it just felt weird.

He slips his phone in his back pocket and grabs his s/o's hand, intertwining their fingers.

But?? They jump??? And their hands are kinda clammy???

"Hey, sweetie? Are you okay?"

Megumi is seriously debating turning around and leaving the other classmates behind; is his baby sick??? Is something wrong??? He'll hurt someone-

But they have such a big happy smile on their face. They explain that they're super stoked for their turn to arrive and it's just nerves from the anticipation.

This confuses Megumi. His s/o faces grotesque monsters every day. What makes this special? Are they really scared? What the fu-

Oh hey, it's their turn now.

The first couple of scares were nothing but cheap jumpscares. Megumi was more caught off guard by the fact his s/o was caught so off guard by it and actually screamed. He instinctively went to pull them to safety, but they laughed. They giggled as they grabbed onto his arm. Megumi froze for a split second before turning the brightest shade of red.

Maybe this was why he didn't do PDA

They ventured onward

Sometime later there's this scare actress dressed up like a doll sitting in the middle of a corridor

It's pretty straightforward; Megumi watched two couples walk by while the doll pretended to grab their ankles. By the way, where’s Nobara and Yuji? He knows for a fact if they came this way Nobara would have kicked the shit out of her-

S/o hides behind Megumi while clinging to his hoodie and it's SO CUTE he almost forgets he has to move toward the creepy doll woman.

They move forward.

The doll, naturally, doesn't frighten Megumi at all, but what happens next does

There's a scream, followed by an "Ow! Hey! Let go!". Fingernails are digging into his back and not in a good way.

S/o almost fell over because the doll lady has their ankle in both hands and is holding it above the ground. S/o is obviously pulling as hard as they can to get their leg back. They aren't smiling anymore. Those are tears from fear, not laughter.

Megumi kinda loses it for a minute

"Get the fuck off of them, freak" His very large foot connects with her very tiny jaw. She flies backward.

"Hey! What the fuck bro? I'm trying to tie her shoe!"

Oh dear, their shoe really is untied

"Run."

"What?"

"R U N"

There is now a woman, who actually is kinda doll-sized, dressed in a frilly blue dress with a matching bonnet chasing the young lovers through the haunted house. It's a riot.

Doll lady has anger issues so this is common. A hefty butcher man just kinda wraps his arm around her middle and carries her off.

But Megumi and his s/o don't know that, so they keep running until they make it out.

S/o rlly did manage to get out without tripping until the vERY last minute, y'know, for plot reasons

Megumi catches them bc he's a strong boy ™

He runs his fingers through their hair and tries to get a good read of their face. "Are you alright babe? They didn't hurt you, right?"

S/o bursts out in... Laughter. They double over laughing, with Megumi's strong arms around them to support them.

"You should have seen the look on that loli bitch's face omgggg Meguminnnn"

Megumi can't help but burst out laughing too. This night has been so surreal for him. This is so out of the ordinary for him, he didn't even want to be here. He hasn't attacked a civilian since middle school. What even is this-

And he did it all for them

He cups his lover's face in both hands and pulls them in. He kisses them roughly. He doesn't give a shit who's watching. The teeth get in the way but neither of them cares. Megumi was right, the blood really is strawberry flavored, and they love it.

There's a wolf whistle. Catcall? What are they even called?

Its fucking Sukuna, guys

Nobara and Yuji were there the whole time, just outside the exit, waiting for them

Yuji is busy slapping each of Sukuna's mouths as they pop up because he's making some very naughty remarks. Nobara is squealing because finally, her ship is sailing. Well, she means, it's been sailed, but still.

Megumi is officially the brightest shade of red you have ever seen. His lover is giggling again.

Fushiguro Megumi will never live down the night he kicked a midget doll in the face and made out with the love of his life in public, and despite protests, he wouldn't have it any other way.

#jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk spoilers #jjk fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro x reader #long post

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jeogiyall · 4 years ago

Text

Betty; H.HJ

Word Count; 1.9k

Genre; Hyunjin x Reader, Highschool AU, Song Fic

Warnings; Angst, Cheating

Find the rest of my Stray Kids Folklore series here!

A/N: sooo i obviously never think that hyunjin would cheat on his partner, i only used this song and circumstance for him bc he’s mentioned that he likes it and ever since i can only think of him as i listen to it lol. i do not think that he’s a bad person by any means so pleasee don’t take it that way!! i felt the need to clarify that,, i sincerely hope that you enjoy!!

I won’t make assumptions about why you switched your homeroom

There were many things that caused your eagerness to start senior year, but the greatest of those was wanting to see Hyunjin again. It wasn’t exactly ideal to spend a summer apart after a mere three months of dating, but through the hundreds of phone calls and thousands of half finished letters you managed to enjoy yourself. Even still, you missed him like a bad habit that couldn’t be shaken. The last week of your separation you swear you dreamt of him.

When you first reunited keeping you apart was like trying to untie a double knot. That first night he held you so desperately in his sun kissed arms, as if you’d slip away. You had pressed your lips to his temple and whispered ‘I’m with you now. I’m always with you.’

And for the following weeks you were, the two of you attached as though it was necessary. If you were making breakfast sandwiches, Hyunjin was there. If he was taking his dog for a walk, you were there. Even when you walked into homeroom on the first day and slipped into your desk, Hyunjin was there right beside you.

But I think it’s cause of me.

People do say all good things must come to an end, so you suppose that means that all wonderful things must crash and burn. At least that’s what it meant in terms of your story. Suddenly you weren’t in homeroom next to Hyunjin, and you weren’t at his house helping take care of his sweet dog. Instead you were alone in your room with your tail tucked between your legs and looking obsessively at the same picture.

It’s a heartwarming image, two lovers in front of a neon lit diner exchanging a farewell kiss. Except one of the lovers has black hair falling to his chin and skin that's been embraced by the sun. One of the lovers has a face that you’ve kissed a hundred times. One of the lovers is Hyunjin.

And you so badly wanted to blame anyone but him when your desk partner in English showed you the picture. You wanted to blame the other girl, you wanted to blame Hyunjins friends that appeared frequently on the opposite ends of your phone calls, you wanted to blame yourself. But there was no doubt when you asked him. He did this. And he couldn’t give you an explanation past, ‘I don’t know why.’

You wanted to know why. You wanted to know how he could say that he loved you on your fifth date and still do this, you wanted to know what she had that you didn’t. You wanted to know if the tears that he had shed after your confrontation were for yourself or for him.

The worst thing that I ever did, was what I did to you.

Hyunjin didn't have a single answer to offer. He thought about it for months, he thought about it with that other girls skin beneath his hands. He thought about it while he was greedy for your company in the closing weeks of summer, because a small part of him knew that you’d find out. He knew that you’d find out, and then that you’d leave him. He deserved it. He wishes that he didn’t.

As the months without you marched onward Hyunjin found his evenings to be sleepless. He would toss and turn for hours, but it was all useless. It’s impossible to sleep in a room where every piece of furniture and every shirt that’s hanging in the closet reminds him of you. He almost wishes that he’d never dated you, because something was always going to end up hurting you. If not in this way he would’ve found something else. Hyunjin’s still not even sure he’s worthy of hurting you.

It’s not that he often hurts people, either. Most of his friends would say he’s a relatively kind person, he has his moments but it’s mostly just a joke taken too far that's followed quickly by apology. His eldest friend, Chan, was beyond shocked to hear about his summer mishap.

You’re just so good, and you loved him so dearly. He remembers the way that your eyes would hang onto his every word as if they’re worth something, or how you would stick your head out of the car window every time he rolled them down, or the time that you cried over a Pixar movie and then apologized profusely for ruining the date. You’re the girl they talk about in love songs, who smells of candy and whimsy. He’s nothing but a boy who would give you his entire heart.

He wanted to call it quits before this Summer, but you swore that this could work. He was going to object before you said that you loved him and looked into his eyes with sparkly hopeful ones of your own. He could never say no to you. That was always an issue.

It’s been months since he’s had that problem, or talked to you at all. Late Summer became early Fall, followed by Halloween and then Thanksgiving break. He spent every day missing you. He spent every day regretting his mistakes.

The only thing I want to do

You deserve an apology. He was so dumbstruck when you confronted him that no words would come out except for ‘I don’t know.’ He couldn’t even say sorry, despite the fact that he desperately was. He’s been thinking in the past two months that you deserve an apology, he’s been thinking in the past month that he doesn’t want to be with anyone ever again.

He knows that he should’ve considered that before ruining this. He knows that it’s a shot in the dark, but he also knows that he’ll never be able to forgive himself if he doesn’t at least try.

Is make it up to you.

So he’s on the way to your house. It’s eleven thirty at night and the early winter breeze is nipping at his nose, and he’s rounding your street corner with a million apologies bouncing around his head. He thinks that he could tell you that she meant nothing. He thinks he could say that he never once deserved you or your love for him. He thinks that he could say that he loves you more deeply than he ever thought was possible. He thinks he could say a million things, but then you open your front door and suddenly there’s not a single word to say.

You look the same as you did the last time that the two of you talked. Pieces of your hair are falling into your eyes, which glass over as they take in the sight before them. He thinks that he hears your breath hitch, but he also thinks that could be the sound of his own breath doing the same. You look so enchanting.

“Hyunjin?” You ask quietly. He looks so pretty beneath the light of your front porch, his summer tan gone and replaced with the natural honey tone of his skin. He looks similar to the last time that you saw him too, except for the fact that his hair is a bit shorter. It looks nice on him. Everything looks nice on him.

“(Y/n.)” You step out of your doorway to join him on the porch while he clears his throat, “I-I-“

Would you have me, would you love me

It’s probably the way that you’re looking to him with the same loving eyes as always, or maybe the way that he can see your fingers fiddling with one another in an attempt to keep your mind busy, or maybe there’s no cause at all, but his words are finally found. He knows that he has to let them all out now or else they’ll be lost for good.

“I am unbelievably sorry for what happened last summer. It was a mistake on countless parts that are all mine, but you have to know that it meant nothing to me. The only place it holds in my heart is a place of regret. I regret every second of it. She means nothing to me, and you… You mean everything. To this day and for every day to come, you will mean everything to me.” His hand has somehow slipped into your own, and you can’t help but squeeze it. You think that if you don’t you'll probably cry, “A-and I’m not going to beg for you to take me back, because I know that I don’t deserve it, but I will tell you this. If you take another chance on me I will make it my promise to never let you feel hurt again. Not by me or anyone else, because I love you and never, ever, want you feel as though I don’t.”

“Then why did you do it?” Your question comes out small, spoken with a voice that's choking back tears. Silence covers the porch steps for a moment, because Hyunjin honestly doesn’t know how to answer. There’s no way to answer that’s right, or excusable, or any of the things that a satisfying answer should be. There’s only an answer that is honest.

I don’t know anything,

“I don’t know, a-and I know that’s not what you want to hear.” He swallows thickly, thumb smoothing over the top of your hand for what could be the last time. He knows that if you tell him to leave he’ll have to respect your wish, but he also knows that it will hurt him for forever. He knows that he’ll have earned it, “I-I think I knew that one day you’d find out I wasn’t good enough for you, or that I’d end up disappointing you somehow, but I can’t honestly give you a definitive answer. I don’t know. I don’t know anything, but I know I miss you.”

You look into his deep brown eyes that are brimming with tears, and you want to tell him so many things. You want to tell him that you were never disappointed in him. Or that he was beyond good enough for you, or that he didn’t need to be for you to love him. You wanted to tell him that if he had only talked to you about his doubts then this entire situation could’ve been avoided. Instead you take his face into your hands, squeezing his cheeks ever so slightly.

but I know I miss you.

“I miss you too.” There's silence, nothing except for two beating hearts, “Let’s try this again.” He puts his hands on your waist and you think to yourself that you’ve missed the feeling. You think to yourself that you’ve missed Hyunjin.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes are eager the way that you were to return home to him after Summer. They look innocent, sweet. Like he’s cherishing this as if it were his first kiss.

“Yes.” His body is gentle when it touches yours, as though you’re likely to break. You think that it’s wise, because in a way you are likely to break. You’re patched together with band aids and medical tape like a bird that’s been rescued off the street. Hyunjin knows this, just like he’s known many things before, but he’s promised to protect you. This is a promise that he intends to keep.

Taglist; @straytannies, @charm-art

#hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #writekpop #kpopscape #admin reid #hyunjin fluff #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #folklore series #my love <3

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sneakerdoodle · 4 years ago

Text

''Bard breathes in, taking in the calming alien view, and swings their legs in the air softly to the tune of the simple song they are so used to humming. It comes out a bit more strained, this time. There is a slight tightness in their chest, but they will not dwell on that. It can probably be chalked up to balancing many, many feet above the ground.''

Hey guys!!! I've been working on a post-canon Wandersong fic! Come watch Bard have Issues :- )

The first chapter is a shorter one, sort of like a teaser/exposition! Check it out right freaking here or on ff.net (with non-ideal formatting) bc i don't really wanna post on AO3. The second chapter is in the works >: 3

PDF || FanFiction.Net

(Not) Alone

Rated: K

Chapter 1

(General warnings: inability to breathe; heights)

Your footsteps used to echo through sacred halls no human had walked before, accompanied by the eager beating in your chest. Heartbeat – footstep – echo. A heavy, impending rhythm.

The only thing you heard was the glorious cheer of the crowd. The anticipation of victory made every breath ring like brass, like the blaring trumpets that would surely welcome you home. You felt golden, and colossal, like the Sun. Both of you had no choice but to shine.

The edge of your blade vibrated with a song of its own, metallic and crackling with static electricity. And you let it sing.

Time after time, you would sound the sharp final note of this intoxicating symphony.

Each time, for a split second of silence in your speeding heartbeat, you would be left alone, in a dark without a sound. A moment of ultimate finality in a place that was no longer a place.

Time after time, you would be brought back into the light and air, reaping your rewards, letting the world's ecstatic cheer crash against you like waves, flood you, fill you.

Not this time.

This time, the dark does not subside.

This time, you have nowhere to go back to.

What is worse, perhaps, is that you have nowhere to be.

The place that is no longer a place is all you have now. The cosmic opposite of spaciousness means that, in the suffocating absence of air, you are not granted the relief of feeling the walls close around you, the world smother you. There are no limits to the vacuum; there is no vacuum; there is no thing.

When your bare, hoarse voice escapes, lonely and flat, there is no ether to reverberate through, no echo to harmonize with you.

You are nowhere. You are a song that cannot sound. You are the only morsel of consciousness to vaguely grasp your own melody.

You are barely anything.

You are irreversibly alone.

***

A note catches in Bard's throat, and for a moment they are breathless, and shaken. Then they cough – like the fuzzy wheezing of a clogged flute – and feel the air fill their lungs once again.

Miriam's voice sounds from high above, impatient and strained with effort.

- Hello?? A little help???

Kiwi shakes off the uncomfortable reminder of last night and raises their head, up to the tops of two twin trees, where Miriam is trying desperately to keep her broom straight. It does seem quite hard to do with just one hand, while the other is occupied, clutching one end of a rope stretched between the two parted crowns.

Kiwi clears her throat one more time before singing out:

- A lit-tle bit high-er! 🎶

Miriam grumbles, and her broom lurches up just a bit. The rope now runs parallel to the ground, a level bridge from where its other end is glued to the opposite trunk.

- Now??

- Perfeeect! 🎶

From down below, Bard can't quite make out her movements, but they can imagine them vividly: Miriam pressing the end of the rope into the tree bark, letting the adhesive substance on its tip fix it in place; then her wrapping her fingers around it, face shifting into a concentrated frown. They can almost hear the quiet exasperated sigh, masking the nervousness Miriam always feels when casting less familiar spells and never wants to show.

As a thick woody vine stretches and knits itself along the length of the rope, connecting the flaming-red leafy tops, Bard claps their hands excitedly.

- Great job, Miriam!!

Miriam is already floating down to the ground. She is trying really hard to not look relieved.

- Yeah, - she mutters, glancing to the side, - thanks. Let's just... hope it holds. - She nods at the free space behind her, impatiently inviting Kiwi to join her on the broom, to rise back up to the connected crowns.

- Sure you're holding on well?

Bard adjusts their position in the hold of a curving branch and flashes Miriam a slightly tense smile.

- All good here! 🎶

Miriam frowns.

- Don't fall. Here you go.

Bard takes one end of yet another piece of rope from her hands and holds it up to the level of the previously conjured vine above their head. The sticky mushroom mash takes hold, but they do not take their hand away as to not test the glue with the rope's weight.

Miriam flies over to the other tree trunk, stretching the rope along the already formed scaffold. She glances at Bard nervously, and they give her an enthusiastic thumbs up – before immediately fretfully grabbing the branch below him, having almost lost his balance.

- Don't fall! - Miriam exclaims emphatically. Her tone is nothing short of disbelief: perhaps at the fact that she has to repeat herself so soon, perhaps at the fresh confirmation that the warning is actually warranted. - Eya... Just. Hold on, hold the rope, and don't.. stare while I do this.

Kiwi graciously looks away, letting their glance glide across the treetops shimmering in the light evening breeze. It's a new, fascinating perspective from this high up: the mass of moving, rustling red stretching all around them, making them forget about the ground below.

Bard takes the moment to appreciate the old trees, some of the tallest ones in the forest, raising him above their smaller siblings, into this weird valley of whispering leaves. Here, there is only the gentle waving of foliage and the sky that goes on and on, painted gentle orange by the setting sun.

Saphy was right. This is the perfect spot for a little perch, especially with the two crowns so conveniently close together. The thought brings Bard a gentle kind of joy. It is as if the forest itself was encouraging the initiative, eager to accommodate humans' curiosity.

Bard breathes in, taking in the calming alien view, and swings their legs in the air softly to the tune of the simple song they are so used to humming. It comes out a bit more strained, this time. There is a slight tightness in their chest, but they will not dwell on that. It can probably be chalked up to balancing many, many feet above the ground.

The rough bark of a newly formed vine softly bumps against Bards fingers, and they accommodate it, letting the woody liana reach the trunk and sink into it, as if having grown out of it many years ago. Miriam is doing amazing!

- You're doing amazing! - Kiwi promptly shares aloud, slightly breathless. Magical feats never lose their novelty, not to them.

Miriam skips past the usual embarrassment at being complimented and straight to a quizzical look.

- You sure you don't wanna' help?

- I'm helping! - Bard replies readily, feeling just slightly disregarded. Miriam fumbles.

- Ugh, no, I... - the words come out loud and annoyed in her rush to explain herself. She pauses - with obvious effort - and takes a few seconds. - ...Yeah, you are. Thanks. Just... aurgh, - she gives a jerky impatient shrug, - you know what I mean!!

Bard does know. Combining spellwork and singing is something the two have been experimenting with quite a lot. Bard could probably orchestrate the movement of the vine, direct it with their voice while Miriam is inducing its growth, instead of her sending it along the pre-marked trajectory of the hemp rope. But they shake their head, perhaps a bit too hurriedly.

- This is better! And you're doing great!!

Miriam examines their face, looking skeptical, vaguely confused.

- Fine, - she mutters in resignation. - If you say so. Toss me the next one.

Bard complies.

Their humming has stopped now. Instead, they turn their full attention to Miriam, promptly forgetting her earlier request. She throws a slightly irritated glance in their direction, but does not say anything, letting them observe as a new sprout rises out of a previously bare section of the bark.

Kiwi looks at the sturdy vines that will hold wooden planks, that will in turn hold a shiny new telescope. One of the many Elara has prepared for her world-wide project, to direct everyone's questioning eyes to the sky, to the novel, unfamiliar stars. Together, the people of Earth will explore the horizons of this young universe that has become their new home.

The thought of stars tickles Bard's throat, like the beginning of a song. The faraway lights, so tiny against the vast dark night sky, trading rays and stitching into constellations, must be creating a symphony of their own - one Bard is so eager to discover.

- This is gonna be great, isn't it? - they ask, their eyes clouded by visions of otherworldly landscapes.

- Yeah... - Miriam is silent for a moment, and Bard comes back to earth to look at their friend, questioning. - I don't... know much about stars... But if the astronomer lady says we can help--

- Of course!! 🎶 - Kiwi all but jumps up in a rush of passion. - We just need to look! We will find something really cool!!

Miriam smirks, but the smirk is unprecedentedly close to a smile, only adding to Bard's emotional high. They swing their legs in the air excitedly. It's new, and thrilling, seeing their friend like this: with the steadily growing readiness to find joy in the world around her.

- I'm glad we're doing this together, Miriam, - they say, smiling, as they shuffle to the side to secure yet another piece of rope against the trunk. - I like sharing things with you.

Miriam's hand holding the rope jerks just slightly as she looks away, momentarily flustered.

- Uh... yeah. Me too, - she blurts out, then draws a breath. - It... wouldn't be the same on my own. Or. You know. Without you.

The last vine is grown, and both of them sit down on the soon-to-be-platform, listening to the rustling of the leaves and watching the sun slowly sink towards the horizon.

Bard glances over at Miriam and examines the new look on her face, the one they've been spotting more and more. It is quiet surprise, like stepping out into the garden early in the morning and being met with a perfect gentle breeze. These days, the world seems to keep startling Miriam in the best of ways.

Miriam appears to have felt their gaze and meets it, eyebrow raised. They do not feel the need to explain, simply smile and dangle their feet happily. Miriam smirks and turns her face back to the gentle peachy sunset.

- ...It's gonna be nice, - she says contemplatively, - spending time here.

Kiwi takes a deep breath and feels the tightness in their chest ease and melt away.

- Yeah.

The walk back to Saphy and Miriam's home in the orange twilight is comfortable and special. Bard rants about the trees back in Langtree, and how different they are, and how she never climbed any before, in all her time living out in nature. Miriam grumpily recounts all the times she had to, to get potion ingredients back when she hadn't yet learned to properly fly a broom. When exiting the woods, she points out a specific tree which, she is convinced, has a personal vendetta against her, always tripping her up on its bulging roots. There is that unmistakable comfort of familiarity in her voice. For Miriam, exasperation often seems to be the easiest way to express her deep fondness for everything that is home.

They both take a second at the edge of the forest as the colorful house comes into view, just as the last rays of sunlight fall down the roof, then softly go out, one by one.

Saphy welcomes them with a boiling cauldron. (Her firm habit of using it indiscriminately, for food and for potion-making, is something Bard is still getting accustomed to.) Over dinner, she asks the two about their exploits with genuine, animated interest. Miriam shares the details, half-begrudgingly, throwing quick glances at Bard in moments of self-consciousness. They chime in readily and take the opportunity to praise Miriam's skills, seemingly making her more miserable in the process. It is a new and sweet routine for the three of them.

It is well into the night by the time Kiwi and Miriam get to setting up the guest cot, and Miriam keeps stoically fighting back her yawns. She isn't great at staying up past a certain hour.

- It isn't very bouncy, - she mutters, dissatisfied, as Bard plops down onto the thin mattress.

- It's great! - Bard reassures, running their hand over the clean sheets. - Goodnight, Miriam!

- G'night, - she mumbles sleepily, already walking towards the rope ladder hanging from the second level. With her hand on one of the rungs, she lingers for a moment and looks over her shoulder. - Are you still sure about tomorrow?..

Bard tenses up for a moment and does their best to shake it off.

- It... Yeah! It has been a while, so...

The rest of the sentence hangs in the air between them, irresolute. Miriam sighs quietly and makes her way back to the cot.

Their friend's arms wrap around them in a steady, comforting hug, and Kiwi suddenly feels very fragile. They return the embrace, hands on her back, and stay there for a few seconds, allowing themself to feel small.

Miriam pulls away and looks at them, eyelids heavy and droopy.

- Need... - a big, poetic yawn finally escapes her, despite all the efforts, -...company?

Bard shakes his head.

- You should get your rest!

- ...Yeah. Probably best, - Miriam grumbles and turns away with a final awkward pat on Bard's shoulder.

Halfway up the ladder, she sighs in annoyance and pauses, hanging from the wall with her head turned.

- Could you maybe try counting sheep this time? Silently??

Bard gives a couple of hurried flustered nods. Sharing space with other people again is proving to be difficult to combine with their musical routine.

- Sleep well, Miriam! And, - they grope for words for a bit, but don't find anything better than, - thank you.

Miriam nods slowly, turning away.

- Yeah. You too.

Bard dresses down and flops on top of the cot, hands on their chest. They listen as the house fills with the familiar duet of snores and quiet whistles and smile to themself, thinking about how rapidly Miriam nods off when she is tired enough.

Lying in bed and exploring the authentic years-old webs in the corners of the room, Kiwi goes over the events of the day in her head, and ponders what is waiting for them tomorrow.

A glum gnawing feeling rises in their chest, clawing at it from the inside. They push it away. It will be okay. And they won't be alone.

They lie there, trying not to worry. About tomorrow, about last night, about what this night will bring. They try not to think about the nightmares, and about the tightness in their chest, and the labored sounds of the once-effortless tune.

They close their eyes and dutifully imagine a sheep. A reeeally fluffy one. With big, shining eyes, and with a spring in its step, ready to conquer the highest of fences.

- One 🎶, - they sing to themself, as quietly and softly as they can.

The note does not come out right.

Next chapter

#wandersong #the bard wandersong #kiwi wandersong #heights mention tw #do i have a tag for #my writing #????#i must #me and Fleur are cooking up some other exquisite content as well ; ) its very exciting!!!#(not) alone

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janiedean · 3 years ago

Note

I feel bad for all the nice J*nsa shippers who like their ship for whatever reasons (tropes, pretty art, aesthetic appeal, whatever) and know it's not canon but get associated with the misogynistic Dany hating crowd who act like Jon being attracted to Ygritte is J*nsa foreshadowing because red hair (I guess Jon should fuck Edmure Tully too? Omg give me Dark!Jon getting revenge on Catelyn by seducing her brother!) Tell me something. I'm new to the fandom but was J*nsa popular before the show? And I've heard something about the OG J*nsa shippers being alienated by the new shippers who insisted it had to be canon and acted like the series is called, "A song of J*nsa #danysux." I don't find that hard to believe because I know people who are now ashamed of calling themselves J*nsa shippers. Like, at this point, it's not only rival shippers who hate it. Even Gendrya/Braime/Jon stans/etc have started disliking that ship. You know your fandom is a problem when people who have nothing to do with Jnsa have a problem with it.

me: reads this ask

me: iwastheregandalf.gif which I can't find now but

okay anon buckle up because I am sadly well-equipped to answer this ask but before I do lemme tell you dark jon seducing edmure to take revenge on cat is LITERALLY THE BEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD but *clears throat* ALL RIGHT THEN.

disclaimer: as anon says I have no issue with like the shippers mentioned by anon in the beginning and ngl I agree, I have ABSOLUTELY ZERO FUCKING STAKES in the j*nsa vs j*nerys war and the only het jon ship I gaf about is jon/ygritte and we all know where that ended up I just... have been here since 2011/adwd was over and all the fic around was just for the books under secret lj communities and asoiaf qualified for yuletide and I have... seen... things.... and I actually have like uh had... beef... with some people in there and I know things bc ppl who hated those others told me stuff so anyway *sigh* buckle up anon I'mma tell you the story of jon shipwars through the years

in order, the old gods help me here, under the cut bc this is long as fuck

when I got into fandom also given what numbers were on ao3 one ship was popular and it was sansan. no like sansan was lit. the only asoiaf ship on ao3 with more than 200 fics. jb had twenty when i checked first. jc had like around 100-ish because of the show but sansan dwarfed anything. I posted the first jon/ygritte fic on the ao3 tag and the fourth throbb fic and like the others were all reposts from lj kinkmemes. nothing was popular before the show except for sansan when it comes to huge numbers bc grrm doesn't like fic and it was all hush hush until the show made it impossible to control and that ship was the one with a huge enough fanbase it actually had numbers, so like... j*nsa wasn't popular in the way nothing else was popular until it got screentime on the show

now, that stated, j*nsa had a... fair amount of fic for a rareship which was mostly book-based and from og shippers that were there from before the show and liked it for what it was but literally none of them thought it was gonna be canon, like it wasn't huge or anything but it had a small but dedicated fanbase who did their own thing and thought it was fun/liked the idea but that was it

that fandom had their own niche of hcs that they cultivated and shit except that like... at the end of S5/beginning of S6 there was a surge in shipping for... well obvious reasons bc it was obv sansa was getting to the wall and that would have been all nice and good but a) it was the time puritanical shipping was starting to take root and the 'shipping sansa with sandor or tyrion is hella problematic' rhetoric had started to circle coming from sans*ery shippers mostly but I'mma not open that fucking can of worms here, b) while the ending of S5 had more of a theon/sansa spike, the j*nsa stuff started getting big

now here we have to mention my villain origin story ie: j*nsa fandom had this one stan whose name I won't make because honestly it's been years and if she's still around I don't want her to remember I exist who was a bnf, wrote for... the website that created the whole larry/carol thing etc who was really fixed on this thing that j*nsa was actually canon and started writing extremely popular meta about it. now you're gonna ask how do you know, I know because this person once wrote a meta named 'why robb stark is a dick' and I told her that it was really fucking bad meta and she took it so badly she kept on trash talking me on her blog/her podcast (I was apparently the insane robb stark fangirl l m a o good lord) and like that was when some sane ppl who argued with her informed me in pvt that she was basically harping on the CANON thing when they'd have been okay with like... it being crackshipping and that she was basically cultivating a hoarde of followers who were harping on them/the ogs and basically ostracizing them;

I would like to add that this person - before her tumblr got 'accidentally deleted' and remade it therefore deleted most receipts for, er, her so-called meta which included stuff like ned and cat raised sansa as a sexual object and only wanted to sell her like cattle - had at some point started a round robin fic thing where... some of the characters mocked openly said stuff that some of the og fans had said specifically targeting them and people in that side basically went harassing anyone who didn't agree with that specific notion

now never mind that this person basically coined an entire term to describe ppl who liked white guys and excused all their wrongdoings out of my conversation re robb basically lying about everything I said as if I didn't have the receipts and tried to sell shirts with it and it didn't work and like then she got kicked out of her own website because she was telling her commenters disagreeing pretty shitty insults (considering I was called psychotic for disagreeing with her that time I don't doubt it) I think at some point she stepped back from fandom bc idk wtf she's up to these days and I don't want to, but basically at that point the dam was broken and there was a bunch of puritanical shippers harping on anyone who didn't agree with j*nsa is canon endgame stuff

this also includes an incident when those ppl were like... passing themselves as throbb shippers and ended up trying to tell t*hramsay shippers off the theon tag based on moral reasons and I ended up arguing with all of them (and they were all from that crowd) which in turn landed me in contact with other og j*nsa shippers who were like detached from that fandom bc those same people harassed them away as well ssooooo fun

anyway when S6 happened everyone was high on it and whatnot but I wasn't gonna begrudge them that I mean... you shipped it for years, canon is delivering you, good for you, but then j*nerys happened

god j*nerys happened

aaand basically...... I mean personally I was there like are y'all seriously arguing about the best incest jon ship out there but like basically the j*nsa endgame side was like AH JON IS PLAYING DANY SEE IF IT DOESN'T HAPPEN, the j*nerys obv got defensive af and both sides were sort of alternatively shitting on jon/ygritte anyway and depicting any other romantic rship jon could have as abusive™ and during S8 it just got worse and like I tried to stay out of it but basically from what I'm seeing now idk how the j*neryses are doing but on the j*nsa one it's ah jon's gonna play dany anyway and she's going to go insane like in the show so SHOW TRUTHING EVERY OTHER WAY and like again denying that sandor exists or that tyrion exists and like I barely touch my corner (sansan) but I ended up arguing with j*nsa/th*nsa people on twitter who were antis and is2g it was white-hair inducing and I know for sure the sansa/tyrion shippers were harassed to hell and back throughout so FUN

and even if the show didn't go there now since everyone there banked on the jnsa endgame thing and admitting you're wrong is like... not a thing, they still haven't let go of it and attach to that ship any shred of evidence which honestly is grasping at straws half of the time (like... the sansa/alysanne parallels like guys please no) and which is why every other ship is starting to get fed up, attaching canon proof of stuff from other ships onto theirs see that batb argument and jb is platonic but jonsa is not nvm taking all the sansan stuff and throwing it on j*nsa but then denying that sansan has canon evidence (like guys I had to read sansa touching his shoulder when saying gregor wasn't a true knight wasn't meaningful and we were seeing things please) and blah blah blah

this also goes hand in hand with the fixation on like... villanizing dany at all costs and like is2g I have zero investment in dany or her storyline I don't even remember it and I don't particularly care abt her either way and sure af I'm not for j*nerys endgame but like.... some stuff I read is completely excessive esp when fixing on how she's a completely mad tyrant who's gonna have to be put down and like... guys no

(also there's some srs stannis hate in that corner which I honestly don't get why they even care abt stannis but I had to read stuff like ppl don't recognize that dany and stannis are the real villains in this saga and like........ idek)

I think most of the og shippers are gone or don't ship it openly bc they don't want to be attached to the drama but like I also think they're pissing off everyone else bc like... I mean a bunch of them also were down with sansa being paired with other ppl as long as it meant a good ending for her except those ppl were... like everyone but the ppl she has actual contact with in canon which meant that at some point sansa/gendry was a thing and like.... you can imagine why arya/gendry shippers & arya stans were fed up, and there's also this tendency to behave like sansa is the center of the entire saga which like these books is named a song of jon snow basically can we pls make peace with it and personally I've had it with both j*nsa and j*nerys people since they started with that dumbass JON/YGRITTE WAS AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP rhetoric but I'm also fed up with the total ignoring that sandor exists/depicting us as delusional and honestly I also was by proxy fed up from the harassing of the sansa/tyrion shippers soooooooooooo

there were also instances of 'well theon is an acceptable choice other than jon bc he can't threaten her' which... i mean we all know what that meant and I'm not even commenting it bc it's one AM and I have no force to but I don't have to explain why it's not a progressive take now do I

there were also metas about how cousin incest being legal in half of the world means that jondany is a worse incest and j*nsa doesn't count as such and I was basically there like guys please just fucking own up to it but honestly I chose to forgot where I read that and I couldn't find the link if I tried

tldr: no one wants to admit that it's not gonna be endgame which considering the amount of fic they have on ao3 is imvho useless bc they have more content than like.. anything I ship that's not jb or that's actually like canon *cries in joncon/rhaegar but I mean renly/loras is canon and has less fic than them* so idk what's the problem with enjoying that instead of insisting it's gonna be canon when not even the show validated it while show truthing anyway when the only show truthing that can be truthed is the small council made of minorities and possibly jon eventually fucking off with the wildlings but not like that but like most people who thought it wasn't gonna be endgame had left/were made to leave by the time S7 rolled by and at this point since wow isn't out yet everyone is fandom-grasping at straws to find stuff to discourse on and we're here beating dead horses *shrug*

so that's... how it is but I would again like to point out that I don't judge ppl on their shipping, I don't particularly care about this entire feud bc I only ship jon with ppl he's not related to in whichever way and I try to stay out of this mess bc I don't really care to argue with ppl who have already decided to bend canon to whatever they want and will have to realize that it's not what grrm wrote at some point but like I have a very good memory and the above rant is as objective as possible also bc again I don't literally have a stake in that race I just think romantic/endgame j*nsa is not a thing and that ppl should stay in their lane and not harping on other ppl who ship whatever in general but especially when their ship is the most popular thing in fandom in the first place /two cents

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #anonymous #ask post #anti-jonsa #anti jonsa #anti-jonerys #anti jonerys #both of them for equality

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maskved · 4 years ago

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hello, besties ! this is ami (she/her) and i’m probably late with this intro ! first i’m sorry for mass-liking every post but i’m already in love with all your lovely muses. also i must confess that i’ve only read the first book ( years ago ) and watched the show because i have an attention span of - 10 seconds. but at least i’m a soc hoe, so we can scream about that ... please ... !!! so if i get anything wrong pls let me know or you can also not let me know and i’ll continue being embarrassing 😔. anyway, if you are interested in some juicy plotting pls LIKE this post or message me ( if you want to plot on discord we can also do that 💖). I’M EXCITED.

PINTEREST . discor*d six of hoes🔪#7888 // YEVA

[ viktoriya zobova ], an [ twenty six ] year old grisha in the little palace. she is a [ tailor ] and are known in the little palace as the [ viscerotonic ]. they are known to be [ resilient ] and [ elusive ] and vaguely resemble [ kristine froseth ].

death tw

- viktoriya zobova ( however, prefers to be called vika because every time one calls her by her full name she might as well be in trouble ) had never been more than average. born to average parents ( although grisha their powers pale compared to others ) into an average family and of course as the middle child, vika strived for more than simply being overlooked.

- truth to be told, she dreaded to be tested. to her it seemed like the final reminder that she was nothing special, average, merely an extra to someone other’s story. she even wished, she wouldn’t be a grisha, fearing that like her parents she’d belong to the lower ranks. however, if she turned out to be a simple human without any power, at least she’d be special within her family or could even try to make a story up that she was adopted or something ( i hate her -- ).

- however, the moment she found out about being able to alter people’s appearances with her ability *atla vc* everything changed -

- truth to be told she knew she was considered to be lower rank among others but what really fueled her arrogance and the sudden feeling of self importance was her knowing that she possessed a rare ability. she didn’t care others treating her badly for her rank because “hey i can alter appearances and that is lit ( she probably didn’t say it that way - )

- ALSO ( here comes the moment i throw in my found family trope bcs i’m a soc hoe and this actually plays a big role in her story ) she’d found comfort in the friends she met.

- (lemme add my childhood friends trope bcs why not ) as vika was never close to her parents ( to be fair her being taken away for the training at such a young age did not really gave her the time to really bond with her family ) her little group of friends became her second family. they called themselves “blood is thicker water” ( gang ???) bcs 1) vika really thought the saying was blood is thicker water and not blood is thicker than water 2) they thought they were incredibly funny.

- they were pretty much known as troublemakers, especially with vika being a tailor it was easy to sometimes shift the blame on others. truth to be told, it only caused vika to be more frivolous. all the fun they had blinded her judgment and she viewed her ability as harmless.

- well, lets say vika becoming more reckless did not end up being the best character development (lmao). as usual , everything started out as a harmless joke. her friend asked her to change his appearance. however, this time they wanted her to change their whole face. not just the colour of their hair or eyes. vika was reluctant at first, she’d never done it before but in the end she agreed to it and much to her surprise she succeeded. she even bragged about it and told her friends ( of the bloody “blood is thicker water” gang (???) ) .

- to cut a long story short, their friend ended up dying because of it. i have two versions for their death ( i haven’t decided on it yet *clown emoji*)

1) the person they changed their appearance into apparantly was involed in some shady stuff and had some pretty morally questionable people around him. they thought vika’s friends was that person they were looking for (bcs of the changed appearance) and killed them for some reason.

2) vika’s friend was supposed to be part of some mission they didn’t want to go to, thus changed their appearance to escape from it. however, ended up having to do another mission and ended up being killed.

RIP nameless but vital character to vika’s bio

- vika pretty much blamed herself for it and maybe her friends of their friend group as well. this incident also ‘humbled’ vika and now instead of being proud of it she hates it.

- right now, she doesn’t really know what to do with her future. she has this ‘oh so grand’ plan that one day she might be able to change her appearance (permanently) and then leave the little palace and live under a new name and lead a life where she wouldn’t need to use her abilities anymore.

personality ( i’m trying to keep it short i swear, i’m just adding a bunch of sentence here bcs i’m throwing all my ideas into this paragraph)

- she’s known to be pretty social. she loves to talk and honestly doesn’t know when to shut up. she can’t deal with silence because it forces her to think about things she doesn’t want to think about. although, her tongue is sharp and trouble seems to follow her, she also loves to dance around the issue, pushing her feelings away and replacing it with a witty joke instead. as if everyone does it the same way, as if everyone is supposed to understand.

headcanons

- although she was tempted to change her own appearance many times. she never did because she is a coward and doesn’t trust her skills as much others might think she does.

- she views her ability as a form of art, perhaps that is also the reason she used to love to paint. honestly, she was never really good at it. average and above average with practice. her friend ( the dead one lmao ) used to paint with her whenever they could sneak away but with them gone, she doesn’t see a point in it anymore.

- she secretly envies the other grisha’s who can use their ability to fight. recently, she’d find herself trying to practice some punches so she doesn’t feel that useless in case of a dangerous situation. she also sucks at that so she’s probably in need of a training patner aka someone who is willing to train her or she has annoyed that much that they were willing to help her out ( wc ???)

- being personally trained by the darkling, one might assume that she’s loyal or even thankful towards the darkling. however, contrary is the case and she wouldn’t even grant him a dust particle of her trust. she doesn’t believe that he has the best interest of anyone in his heart and if she could, she’d probably spread rumors about him and telling others that he has some serious case of stanky breath.

wanted connections ( just some ideas, which can be changed ofc ! or some wcs can be connected )

(0/3) “blood is thicker water” friend group : they pretty much grew up together. the death of their friend ( the friend needs a name - i swear...) caused tension within the group. while, one might have blamed vika for their death the other doesn’t and just wants them to be how they used to be. nevertheless, no one can deny that nothing was what it used to be). (( honestly these are just some ideas and we can plot wtv sddm )

training partner ( can be more than one ): connection mentioned in the hcs ! they help her a little out to become physically fit and level up her combat skills of -10. maybe they want something in return for it. help her out bcs they’re just nice or bcs vika annoyed the heck out of them etc.

person vika changed their friend’s appearance into: honestly we can do wtv with it. i just thought it’d be fun to play with the idea and having the person running around when they actually “died” and everyone belieed them to be dead until they found out that it was vika’s friend. might be angsty bcs it might remind vika of their friend.

angsty exes: listen, i love some angsty shit and i love to blame vika for all the problems. they might have dated before the whole dead friend fiasco happened. although, viktoriya acted as if she was fine after the incident ( which she wasn’t ),it only made muse a realize that vika and them weren’t as close as they believed and how much vika tied to hide from them. BUT tbh anything would work i love a good angsty ex connection djddnd

random idea but i just liked the thought that this person once went to vika for some enhancing stuff. however, this day vika was not really herself, distracted, head in the clouds. so she accidenally might have gotten rid of some important scar or something.

enemies : lbr, vika might prbly be the type who has some enemies. she has no filter and might has stepped on someone toes because of it. (Also maybe gimme some enemies to lovers trope , adding this here quietly to not expose myself as a hoe for that trope )

HONESTLY GIVE ME EVERYTHING, gimme angst, fluff, tropes !!??? more friends, unusual friends, shippy stuff, platonic stuff, family connections djdsd GIMME

#this got super long sddsn i'm sorry #she's super dumb thats her story just being dump #also i'm not ignoring my ims i will answer them asap !!!#ravkahq:intro #not me having to reedit the edit bcs i misspelled her surname *clown emoji*

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c0rpsedemon · 4 years ago

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i am curious, as someone who’s only exposure to arthurania was reading jane yolen’s young merlin as a child, would you mind saying why hnoc is a bad adaptation? i’m super curious but no worries if not <3

this has been sitting in my inbox for months bc i kept telling myself i needed to write a full essay with proof from medieval lit to make myself feel smarter. however, since i’ve recently lost all credibility bc i can’t articulate points to save my life, and since i’ve realized that i could answer this in a just a couple paragraphs, now seems like the right time to answer this ask. sorry for the wait.

under a cut bc length

also warnings for mentions of racism bc this is hnoc we're talking abt and sexual assault bc this is med lit we're also talking abt

the basic problems are pendragon polycule itself, the story beats of the album, the fridging and lack of characterization of morgan le fay, the clear influence of pop culture arthuriana, and whatever the fuck happened with gawain/e.

pendragon polycule is... just not a good take. there’s a bit in the lancelot-grail abt arthur viewing lancelot like a son (and lancelot not giving a shit abt him). also arthur knew his parents for years before lancelot was even born. plus lancelot just Doesn’t care abt him and i can’t stress this part enough. arthur repeatedly tries to have guinnevere killed, mostly in the lancelot-grail, and guinn didn’t really have any say in marrying him bc she was a teenager. lancelot and guinnevere is a lot better but that’s not saying much. guinn doesn’t exactly treat lancelot too well... like at all, BUT it’s not intrinsic to their relationship and is completely caused by medieval misogyny and i’m all in favor of modern retellings saying fuck that. but also lancelot has multiple pseudo-canon boyfriends (this is med lit after all), and one pseudo-canon husband so like... there were better options. (also lancelot’s husband is basically in a lavender marriage with guinnevere’s maybe girlfriend who most authors just eventually forget abt as the story progresses).

this next one is a problem with a lot of modern arthurian works bc the inclusion of elayne of astolat is too much to ask apparently. the grail quest isn’t tied to the fall of camelot, it just happens to be one of the last grand adventures the knights of the round table have. the event that traditionally sets off the fall is the death of the maiden of astolat/the lady of shalott/elayne of escolat/she has a lot of names, her story has a few variations but usually she either is cursed to stay in a tower and weave and only be able to see the outside world through a mirror positioned across from her window, until lancelot rides by and she rushes to see him out of the actual window and her mirror shatters, setting off her death, or she lives with her father and brothers and takes care of lancelot bc he was injured for a time and she gets to go on adventures to find him and she’s friends with gawaine and she dies bc lancelot rejects her and this version’s a lot more fun but also more happens which makes it harder to explain. the way her story ends however, is that she dies after she makes arrangements for a glorious boat to drift from astolat to camelot carrying nothing but her dead body and a letter explaining that she died of love for lancelot du lac and the court mourns the death of such a beautiful and young maiden (her age varies a lot but i’ve always read her as a young teenager at most). but the important thing is, camelot is doomed from the moment she washes up on its shore bc she’s an omen of the end and has symbolic meaning and all that, the maiden of astolat washes up on camelot’s shores, the court mourns the loss of a maiden in her prime and she marks the end of camelot’s prime as well, morgan le fay reappears after being presumed dead and warns arthur of guinnevere and lancelot’s affair, aggravaine and modred conspire to bring lancelot and guinnevere’s affair to light, they succeed but lancelot escapes, guinnevere is to be burnt at the stake and lancelot rescues her, killing aggravaine, gaheris and gareth (gawaine’s brothers) in the process, gawaine drags his uncle and camelot to war bc he was driven mad due to the loss of his brothers, lancelot accidentally kills gawaine, his best friend and maybe boyfriend (i have RECEIPTS), and gawaine forgives him on his detahbed while lancelot and guinn rejoin arthur, meanwhile modred, who practically had the throne handed to him, usurps and invites the saxons in, camlann happens, and camelot is destroyed. no where in there is the grail quest.

morgan le fay is honestly the most questionable part of the album bc there’s not a single text where she dies. like.... at least with eurydice in udad she died in the original... there’s no basis for morgan dying. also she is NOT modred’s mother and anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar, she interacts with him once in the vulgate bc she had three of her nephews over and that’s IT. it’s a horrible take which originated in the mists of avalon by marion zimmer bradley who is an honest to god monster for reasons i don’t want to trigger tag this post for. also she’s one of the most dynamic and thought-out characters in the entire canon and they just made her a watered down morgause (modred’s actual mother, morgan’s sister, canonical milf)... there was no reason for it to be her apart from the fact that she’s more well known......

pop culture arthuriana is,,, one of my least favorite things. no, morgan wasn’t modred’s mother, no, morgause wasn’t abusive but her husband sure was implied to be, no, aggravaine didn’t kill his mother, that was gaheris, he loved his mother, you’re only saying that bc he has a reputation as the “evil” orkney, no, the once and future king is not a good descriptor for arthur, stop making me read it, no, morgause wasn’t the one to initiate the thing with arthur resulting in modred, no, lancelot and arthur weren’t friends, no, tristan wasn’t a self-centered asshole, tennyson is a fucking liar, no, galahad didn’t have sex or want to, he’s one of the first ever explicitly asexual characters out there, no, galahad’s conception was NOT consensual, lancelot was tricked, and no, elayne of astolat wasn’t galahad’s mother, she’s implied to be younger than him. those are just the big glaring ones, but i swear it’s bc of arthuriana’s reputation as a mythology and the connotations belonging to that word (no one true canon (which is true but there are still things that just AREN’T canon, not completely written down, passed by oral tradition) that causes ppl to see mediocre modern texts and go “oh. well this is abt as close to the original as i’m going to get” and don’t bother to look into so much as malory (who i only name bc he’s one of the most well known medieval authors with the most commonly used storylines, don’t read malory kids, he’s a mediocre-at-best writer even by medieval standards). the big perpetrators of modern arthurian tropes are the books the once and future king by th wh*te, who is a shitty person and lets it bleed into his writing (which isn’t like... nice to read or anything, seriously why do ppl love this book so much it doesn’t have redeeming qualities), and the mists of avalon by marion zimmer bradley (it’s poorly written, the story is a mess, and mzb is honestly a monster and one google search will tell you that), and unfortunately the writings of tennyson, which are mostly good but he clearly didn’t read the povest (a later text that’s also my favorite, known for significantly improving ppl’s opinions on tristan, isolde and co.) before deciding he hated both tristan and isolde and he has HORRIBLE takes on them. high noon over camelot is SEEPED in pop culture arthuriana and i think it would have been so much better if the band had read so much as a SUMMARY of the events of le morte. it’s evident in the song “the once and future king” bc it’s,,,, literally named after one of the worst books in existence. it’s shown in the morgan le fay thing, and it’s shown in the pendragon polycule thing. and hell, i think you can even explain away the lack of elayne of astolat with pop culture arthuriana, bc ppl have had bad takes on her ever since th wh*te combined her character with that of ela*ne of corbenic, and the band probably went “huh, let’s write lancelot’s abuser out of this” and they would’ve been right to do so if that’s who elayne of astolat was.

the final big issue is gawaine, the closest thing the genre has to a protagonist, he’s pretty much canon bi and, in some texts, arospec, he’s a dashing knight of great reknown and he derails every romance to steal hearts, commit murder, and make out with every knight and lady mentioned. and in hnoc he’s... racist. that’s it. it’s,,, almost completely unfounded by the arthurian canon and shows a major misunderstanding of his motivations (like i said earlier, he wants to avenge his brothers bc there’s a reoccuring motif of how much the orkneys value family). i say almost bc in one text it’s his motivations for killing palomydes but i’ve never heard it mentioned by name bc that’s just what it’s known for. most arthuriana fans just look away from it except when critiquing hnoc but that one text is an outlier, shouldn’t be counted, and i highly doubt the mechs made hnoc gawain how he is bc they found this text. it’s just a bad text.

hnoc has,,, quite a few more minor issues, such as villainized ladies of the lake (their ONLY crimes were sealing away merlin bc he tried to assault teenage nimue/ninniane (proto-nimue/vivianne from the vulgate), and that one time vivviane/ninniane kidnapped adopted baby lancelot), assigning brain to merlin (y’know,,, the predator who helped arrange the [redacted] of arthur’s mother and tried to assault a teenager,,,) although merlin is portrayed in a positive light throughout modern arthuriana so i don’t think they knew, giving a song to pellinore, who my perception of has been forever altered bc i was introduced to him through malory and the explanation of torre’s conception, which you can just look up “sir torre arthurian” to find out abt if you can’t just Guess, if they wanted a song abt the questing beast palomydes was Right There AND has been associated with the questing beast for longer, but once again i don’t think they knew.

also namedropping a bunch of knights in the fiction is... it Suggests a bigger world full of all these other stories but they just don’t work bc the world of hnoc wasn’t designed in a way where the appearance of half these characters would make sense. like,, tristan is referenced as dying in the grail quest in the same sentence as bedevere (one of the characters who is known for almost always surviving), but tristan Isn’t one of the knights who dies on the grail quest, his possible deaths (ignoring the potentially happy ending of the povest for a second) are either being murdered by his uncle, king mark (bc mark married tristan’s gf to try and get tristan killed and also to spite him), bc he was driven into a fury bc of tristan and isolde’s affair, or he’s injured and only isolde (the best healer in the world) can save him so he sends for her and if the ship he sent for her is supposed to fly white sails if she’s there, or black sails if she’s not, and the ship flies white sails but his wife (also named isolde) says it’s black sails (the why depends but usually comes down to jealousy), and so he gives up bc he thinks all hope is lost and usually succumbs to his injuries, either way isolde dies of a broken heart over his body. there’s no way for the tristan and isolde story to play out like it’s supposed to in the world of hnoc, just as there’s no way for any story with gawaine (and Oh Boy are there a lot of stories with gawaine) or pretty much anyone else, without severely altering the canon.

of course, there are still parts of hnoc i like a lot, most of the music i adore and i just like the idea of space cowboys and the secret good hnoc that lives in my head. and it has one of my favorite characterizations of galahad, even though galahad hnoc is nothing like galahad arthuriana. it’s not GOOD but i like it and it’s fun to turn my brain off too, and i’ll always value it as my introduction to arthuriana.

also there are modern arthurian tropes i do like such as characters being genre-savvy/knowing they’re fictional/knowing they’ve done this before (which hnoc does wonderfully!) and bedevere-as-the-storyteller (everyone say thank you lord tennyson).

WOW that was longer than expected, i feel very passionately abt this, when i was planning to write a fully sourced essay i meant to include a bit at the bottom with recommendations to get into better arthuriana and i think i’ll keep that in this post.

if you like hnoc for the arthurian music i’d like to suggest heather dale’s arthurian music to you, she does occasionally fall into the trap of modern arthuriana (some parts of lancelot and arthur being close, morgan as modred’s mother), sometimes she’s just wrong (galahad at lancelot’s trial, a lot of tristan and isolde), and her stuff is kinda straightwashed sometimes (sir gawain and the green knight, for example) but i’d be lying if it wasn’t catchy, and it’s not quite as bad as hnoc adaptation-wise. culwch and olwen is pretty accurate (albeit abridged bc culwch and olwen has SO many tangents), as is lily maid (it’s abt elayne of astolat!).

if you liked hnoc for king arthur... in space! then may i recommend to you my own fanfic? it's not posted yet but the second i finish writing the first chapter i'm going to make a Big Deal out of it that'll be impossible to miss!

if you want to learn abt arthuriana through tumblr-osmosis like i did at first, i’d like to recommend the love of my life @acegalahads, first and foremost (it’s me on a sideblog i’m just obsessed with myself), and i can’t recommend my arthuriana mutuals over there, @/gringolet, @/merlinenthusiast, @/jcbookworm, @/elayneofshalott, and @/elaineofascolat (the elayne urls have been popular recently), also i know for a fact that my mutual-in-law, @/itonje makes great arthuriana posts that i look forwards to whenever i open the tag.

here are a few good reference posts, a quick guide to the characters, a guide to characters of color, and a much more comprehensive intro to arthuriana post with even more texts linked to it.

if you want to ease into med lit, i’d like to introduce you to pre-raphaelite poetry, alfred lord tennyson and william morris are my favorites, although tennyson can’t be trusted with tristan and isolde. the poem the lady of shalott is basically a rite of passage for arthuriana fans, although when it comes to tennyson’s writings abt elayne of astolat, i prefer lancelot and elaine, which is part of his much larger story, idylls of the king. for morris, don’t trust what he says abt aggravaine killing his mother, but my favorites of his are sir galahad, a christmas mystery, which sounds like a shitty disney sequel, and palomyde’s quest, which i blame for my love of palomydes (that and the one bit of the povest where he asks tristan to be his greatest enemy and that he wants nothing more, gay ppl,,,,).

if you want to read abt lancelot and his husband, there’s the lancelot-grail cycle, which i believe was taken off of archive dot org and i think i found it on @/tobeisexhausting’s blog but don’t quote me on that.

the povest, which was a religious experience for me and i can’t reccomend enough if you want to like tristan and isolde, is here, i don’t know who scanned it but i think i found it on @/lanzelet’s blog

the dutch texts are just good in general, here’s a link to their section of a(n unfinished) site for hosting various texts by my former mutual @/reynier (who’s no longer on tumblr). i’d like to recommend lancelot and the white hart specifically bc it’s mainly just just gawaine being gay for lancelot.

if you want older works, here’s my scan of the history of the kings of britain, and here’s culwch and olwen and pa gur.

oh wow this is even longer than i thought it would be so i’m going to wrap this up by saying that i always love to talk abt arthuriana more than anything if you have any questions or just are curious!

#med lit on main #asks #hnoc #the mechs #romeo.txt

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in-tua-deep · 4 years ago

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tua s1 rewatch with my roommate

episode one (I forgot for the first episode oops):

I have been treated to pictures of a lovely cosplay of Klaus who won a cosplay contest my roommate was in !!

Klaus putting his arm in front of Five during the funeral fight is good shit

“I have heard like nothing about Vanya” “yeah that’s pretty much how she’s treated in show as well”

“I can see why he’s the fandom favorite” - about Klaus

“Istanbul is in the firST EPISODE?”

I forGOT about the “rapists can climb” line when he breaks into Vanya’s apartment omg but also like,, his dumb arm wound

Episode two:

HERR CARLSON

Aww baby fives first time travel his little smile. Baby. Baby boy. And the dawning horror in the apocalypse baby nO

Five: you got anything stronger

Also five: takes one sip and then fills up more, takes another sip, and then immediately puts it down ?????

The motel dude for hazel and cha cha just looks at them like “yeah these are serial killers” and just rolls with it

Also actually why tf doesn’t the commission spring for better stuff?? Why would they cut costs?? They time travel? They could game the stock market so hard ?????? Give the assassins their own rooms omg

Also why didn’t five like. Crush his tracker. Why did he just leave it whole and intact outside of the Griddys.

Forgot how much I love Agnes

(Oh man it is storming bad here it just BOOMED)

Also idk if Diego actually deserved that taser hmmmmm but also like,, communication lads five was literally right there killing people and Diego is like “hmm something is up here” like. Yeah Diego ur big brother “I can get my sibling in trouble for something” senses are tingling

Wow I really did repress all these Allison and Luther scenes huh. Also it’s still super cute that Allison read Claire moon books

Allison: dads heart gave out, which wasn’t how I was expecting to find out dad had a heart but it tracks

“SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE BEN... said with love 😘”

Did five actually sleep at Vanyas?? The sofa looks undisturbed but he had to wait for work hours to interrogate the meritech people,, five,, please sleep. The whole “IF YOU CALL ME YOUNG MAN ONE MORE TIME” interaction makes more sense with five on. Zero sleep.

I didn’t remember that Patch straight up knows about the umbrella academy oops. Like she clocks Diego as overcompensating for his childhood. Queen

Is that an umbrella adademy Diego cross stitch on Diego’s wall?? Did he buy that? Make it?? Did grace make it?

Vanya, walking into the academy: five??? five? pspspspspsps

Also like. Who was Vanyas therapist??? Clearly they did not help her

Aww the tow truck driver :(

I know the show wants me to dislike Patrick I KNOW,, and I think her fathers funeral is extenuating circumstance?? But still Patrick is valid for not giving an inch regarding his ex who mind controlled his child. Vanya didn’t really deserve Allison snapping at her but like. She had some good points. Allison arguably would have had to deal with vanyas book more than anyone else

Five smiling proudly at Klaus’s drama at meritech bless but also KLAUS DONT BREAK GLASS ON YOURSELF

Me, spotting Leonard: BASTARD

Love how everyone greets Diego in the gym and don’t question all his knives or anything like “yeah that’s Diego he lives here and loves knives :)”

Why could Leonard have not been like. A normal ass guy. Vanya needs friends who sympathize with her holy shit get this person some socialization

Pogo really did have to lead these kids by hand to the recording rooms because literally no one was super invested in reginalds ~murder mystery~

ahafahJAGSJWGAI MY ROOMMATE JUST SAID POGO IS THE BEST CHARACTER SO FAR,,,, I will probably never include pogo in my fics because I do Not Care About Him lmaoooo

Aww five does to see Dolores and being like “it’s been a rough couple of days :(“,,,,, baby,,,, but also tag yourself I’m hazel going “elastic wrist splint yesssssss”

Five I am begging you PLEASE get some sleep

OH FIVE SHAKING DIEGO IN THE APOCALYPSE TO TRY AND WAKE HIM UP OHHHHH OH :(

Episode 3:

my roommate is super faceblind which is an issue bc she identifies people mainly by hairstyle so seeing the s2 stuff on tumblr is tripping her over bc she keeps seeing diego and going ??? who is that again? bc she’s seen his longer hair

okay there is no way that the eggs that grace put in that pan are the ones that ended up on the smiley face breakfast plate,,, but also grace that whole scene was a mood honestly i would be like “okay maybe mom killed dad BUT he deserved it sooooo”

“what the FUCK” - my roommate about cha-cha’s shitty wound care where she holds a curling iron against her arm

i didn’t remember that five got shOT AT THE DEPARTMENT STORE did i just erase that from my memory?? i mean yeah it’s a graze but he stitches it up and then slaps a bandaid on it so he has a wound that needed stitches on his shoulder for the entire show ??????? is he okay???? that would make moving your arm,,, painful,,,,,

a bandaid just slapped over it i’m actively yelling

“Sometimes when I see a million gifs of a show before I watch I get really surprised when they talk but he is exactly what I expected” - my roommate, about five

“I noticed they’ve only really showed diego in really badly lit scenes so far” - my roommate defending her lack of ability to recognize diego

i’m still laughing about pogo literally having to point out the murder tapes and now allison and luther are investigating and just. allison is lowkey defending grace and i’m laughing

“why is he saying woodwork is embarrassing that’s like one of the most middle of the wood hobbies to have. you’re respectable to grandpas who used to carve wooden ducks AND twenty-year-olds who can’t make anything to save their lives” - my roommate on leonard peabody

“i think he’s already crossing some lines he’s met this lady ONCE” - roommate on leonard/vanya

five having flashbacks in the car :(

did allison and luther draw straws for who went to fetch which sibling?? allison was like “dibs on vanya” and luther was just like “aww :(”

five luther and klaus in the van - BOYS NIGHT BOYS NIGHT let’s go pick up diego

“the coat he’s wearing does have a nice swish to it” - roommate about klaus’s coat

luther being like “you’re just as messed up as the rest of us and we’re all you have” like luther,,, baby,,,,, you literally ARE all he has,,,,,, his family is the only thing he’s really cared about since he was thirteen and maybe before then :(

“I can’t tell if those are supposed to be cake or yeast donuts... i think extruded donuts are cake donuts but she said she lets them rise so maybe they’re yeast?” - my roommate focusing on all the things that i do not

sometimes i forget that hazel and cha-cha pretended to be private detectives trying to find a lost child in a potentially dangerous situation,,, five would be disgusted

“she shouldn’t get a vote” “i was gonna say i agree with you” “she should get a vote!!” this is peak sibling energy honestly i think i’ve had that exact interaction with my siblings voting for a movie or something

“hashtag android rights”

“I want to be the tailor who gets a call one day that says ‘i want you to make clothes for a chimpanzee”

is it telling that only luther in the flashback didn’t really talk to grace at all,, i mean five didn’t either but i think he was gone by that point in the flashback ????

wait diego tells grace that she worked for him for thirty years,,, the kids are 29 and later it’s implied she was built bc vanya kept killing nannies when they were like four but maybe s2 clarifies that some more?? or diego just is rounding up

“that’s an interesting fabric to her skirt” - my roommate about grace’s outfit

forgot that hazel and cha cha broke the door to the manor busting in,, do they ever fix that?? we’re only at episode three do they spend the rest of the season with their door open to anyone on the streets

okay that bathtub is WAY too small to allow for klaus to be moving his elbows about like that underwater smh

“how is HE useful on mission??” my roommate about klaus

where is the SECURITY SYSTEM??? luther LITERALLY said that reggie was more paranoid and yet some assassin can just bust down the door and have unrestricted access????? he built a whole ROBOT but no security system????????

“maybe it was like,, practice for the kids? someone breaks in and they take care of it? wait no that doesn’t explain the thirteen years they’ve been gone?”

“why WAS he on the moon?” - about luther

“I want to see what she’s embroidering!!” about grace during the gunfight in the living room she’s absolutely ignoring diego getting shot at

what is a rope-a-dope,,,, diego yells “EVER HEARD OF A ROPE-A-DOPE???” at luther but like. no i haven’t. what does that MEAN diego

aww i forgot they played sinnerman, love that song

“what are you doing dude, rumor has it you’re not shooting at me that’s all you need to do” i mean. the roommate is not wrong. allison could just end the fight with a yell. i understand she’s pissed off and has rumor trauma but like cha cha is actively trying to murder them

how is luther not winning he literally has super strength. does hazel have super strength? just punch the man and knock him out jesus y’all suck at this smh

why is there such intense music we all been knew about luther’s strength - oH HIS BODY

forgot about that

is it allison’s fault that klaus got kidnapped because she didn’t literally just rumor them to give up?? like she literally has that power. she could have been like “i heard a rumor you left and forgot about us” it didn’t even need to be violent?? i understand she has rumor trauma but this i feel is allowable circumstances

diego showing his worry about vanya by getting angry which honestly i think all the siblings do that rip none of these idiots have even heard of healthy communication in their LIVES

you know,, i don’t think vanya can drive. she takes the bus. she took a taxi to leonard’s house. we see her walking a lot. does she know how to drive?? i imagine that the umbrella academy were taught bc of mission related stuff but,,, vanya wasn’t?? that’s just depressing tbh

#tua rewatch #i cannot beliEVE she likes pogo so much #pogo was complicit in the hargreeves abuse no i wont change my mind #i would be more likely to forgive him if he didnt keep mentioning how much reginald loved them #pogo fam dont say that #youre just going to feed luthers daddy issues #more to come #i cannot BELIEVE i forgot five got shot/grazed in the arm by a bullet #he slaps a BANDAID OVER IT #right after i said five is better at woundcare than cha cha with the curling iron #he just #slaps a bandaid on it #not even a big bandaid #that motherfucker

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the-cookie-of-doom · 3 years ago

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in estranged, how did mitch go about his life once he got his mind reading powers?? did he have panic attacks?? what happened when he knew that his girlfriends father was trying to corrupt his fathers company?

Fun fact, he almost died! That was later, though.

Mitch already had Issues because of his parents (mostly his dad but as we saw, Claudia didn't help), but as we saw with Amelia, once Mitch got his powers, he pretty much lost his trust in everyone. Hard to trust when you know everyone around you only wants you for money and status; Amelia was set on becoming his trophy wife, and she wasn't the only one, over the years. (Though things did get a bit better for him in college since he wasn't so easily recognizable, and people knew him for his sports career, not his father's company).

Mitch found out about her father's embezzlement when he attended his first board meeting after taking over the company when he was 18; it was essentially a Batman situation, he wasn't involved in running the company at all. But during the meeting, he could hear everything Amelia's father was thinking: that Mitch is a spoiled brat and definitely not good enough for his daughter, that once he's gotten all he can out of the company his own family will be set for life, Amelia can drop Mitch, and he can run the company into the ground.

Mitch didn't know what to do, so he went to the only person he could: his Economics professor. After the meeting Mitch started doing his own digging into the company's operations, and he knew something was Wrong, but he couldn't quite identify what. (Sidenote: this all happens just before the 2008-9 financial crisis, which I did a huge 4 month research project on the year before last, and which will be a part of the fic bc im a Nerd).

Once the dust settles most of the board has been arrested for being complicit in the embezzlement; the only ones on all of Wall Street to face consequences, in fact, because Mitch was ferocious in going after them. Amelia obviously never forgave him for it because she had to give up her lavish lifestyle (though she was hardly left penniless), and now she thinks he owes her. It's why even though she hates him, she's still trying to get her hooks into him at the charity auction.

As for your first question - yes. Mitch did not cope with the new powers well at all. Especially in the few few months, there's a lot of panic attacks, each one laced with that looming fear of hurting someone else, like his dad. (There aren't anymore accidental killings, though, that was a special circumstance.) Also, I don't remember if I touched on it on the fics, but Claudia was intentionally blocking Mitch's powers. It's why they hit him all at once when she died; all day they were starting to bleed through as she grew weaker, hence the migraines and a little bit of telepathy. Then the already-emotional situation with his father, on top of his sense of dread that something Bad was happening to his mom, and then everything hitting him all at once - he kind of went Dark Phoenix for a second there.

But eventually he starts to get a handle on things. Sometimes it's easier than others. One example is when he ends up going to a boarding school, rather than staying with the Greys. He knows they care for him, but it's too uncomfortable for him, so he leaves. The school is pretty small and rural, which means fewer people. But when he returns to the city for holidays, that's when it gets Bad.

There's also the fact that he needs to learn to control how he reacts to things people think; before everything with Amelia's father happens, there's a big company party to celebrate him officially taking ownership. Another of the board members is pretty snide with him; passive aggressive out loud, and just straight aggressive mentally, until Mitch just decks him. It causes a whole scandal. It's also the reason Mitch thinks it's funny that Stiles is worried about embarrassing him in present time; Mitch doesn't need any help on that front, and there's nothing Stiles can do that's worse than what he's already done himself.

But yeah, in the early years, Mitch is essentially a walking talking ball of anxiety, anger, and angst, with the ability to melt people's brains. He gets a handle on it eventually, though. Enough that he can function like a normal human at least! Mostly he's just learning to repress it and tune everything out as much as possible. But after the end of Estranged, Stiles is going to help him train to actually use his powers (while also learning to use his new Nogi powers).

In the short sequel Incentive, Mitch passes out at his desk, and Sean is Concerned. This happened once before except Mitch actually had a seizure from the psychic overload. After quite a few tests, he founds out his powers were killing him. An EEG showed his brain was lit up like a Christmas tree, with confusing results given he wasn't just responded to the external stimuli presented to the doctors, but also from their thoughts. And MRI showed a lot of inflammation, causing the migraines and seizure. The swelling has also already started to cause some tissue death, and if left untreated, will kill him. Unfortunately, there's nothing the doctors can do to treat it, since it's not from natural causes.

Mitch probably took a few months to get as far away from people as he could, just to give himself a break, and figure out how to cope. (Also I haven't decided exactly when this happened, but very likely while he knew Stiles, and was hiding it from him. Stiles will be pissed when he finds out. If I ever get around to rewriting it, it'll probably be during Stiles' visit back home.)

#cookie writes #Estranged #anon i love you plz send me all the asks about my favorite AU #Mitch's powers don't just exist to inconvenience him tho #sometimes they are Good

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 5 years ago

Text

Favorite Human

BTS

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Hybrid AU, Childhood Friends, Fluff

Words: 3.1k

sum. Jungkook was the adopted hybrid pup of the new family who had just moved into the second unit of the duplex your family lived in. The moment they brought him home as a kid, he was attached to you and you to him. Growing up, you thought he’d change, but even as highschoolers, he’s still as attached as ever.

a/n: Really, just a blurb that got way longer than I indented it to (this was supposed to be a drabble mmk) of Dog Hyrbid Kook being adorable bc @kpopgirlbtssvt forced my hand (this isn’t proofread, oops)

“Y/n! come out here and meet the new neighbors!” You perked your head up from your small, plastic desk that you sat out, a plethora of crayons littered across it with scribbles of colors that absolutely didn’t stay in the lines of the coloring book picture you were busy filling in. Your hair pulled back- courtesy of your father and his love of hairdressing- as you sat in your favorite, yellow t-shirt and blue overalls.

Hopping up, you ran outside to your mother. The springtime was the perfect time to keep the front door open and open the window of the storm door, and that’s exactly what your mother did was she was out satisfying her green thumb for gardening. Pushing open the storm door latch that you could just barely reach, you pushed the door open and ran to your mother down the few steps of your porch.

Your family lived in one half of the two-unit duplex in the middle of the city.

You had often complained that you had no kids to play within the neighborhood unless you went to the park- which was too far to go to daily. You were a bit of a tomboy, always climbing trees, getting down in the dirt and even fascinated with bugs of some kind. It was hard to connect with other little girls sometimes and the boys would tease you, so you often pouted as you scribbled at your desk or was out in the garden with your mother.

Finally, at your mother’s side, you clung to her long skirt she wore, burying your face into it with a giggle before you looked around her leg when she pets your head. You looked at the middle-aged couple in front of you. Two women stood there as they interlocked their fingers, and smiled down at the adorable 5-year-old that was you, decked out in yellow and denim.

“Y/n, this is Sheryl and Lidia. They’re going to be our new neighbors starting today.” Your mother told you as she pats your back, encouraging you to let go and face them properly. “What do you say to them?”

You shyly opened your mouth, hands still clutched in your mother’s skirt fabric.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you all but whispered as the three women all giggled at your wavering, shy voice.

One woman came and knelt close to you as you tried your best to make eye contact with her. She was very pretty- not as pretty as your mom, but a close second you decided. Tanned skin and big brown eyes with hair more frizzier than yours when you roughly towel-dried it.

“My name is Sheryl, it’s nice to meet you Y/n.” You only nodded back before she was looking over her shoulder to the moving van in the driveway. “Jungkook! Come over here and say hello!” She called.

You watched as the van door slid open and a little boy jumped out. Placing his sneaker covered feet on the pavement, he kicked forward until he ran face-first into Sheryl’s back. Pushing his face into her back and giggling lightly- he seemed no older than you. Just a small little kid.

“Jungkook,” Sheryl called, making the young boy pop his head up and peek around his first mother’s shoulder. You lightly gasped in a fit of silent awe when you saw the small, triangular dog ears perked upon his head. You had hybrid kids at your school, but they were all kept in separate classes from you and your peers, something you whined about but you wanted a hybrid friend really bad.

His face dusted in rose as he saw a little girl staring at him.

“This is Y/n, she’s going to be living next to us, so you’ve got to be nice and friendly to her. Okay?” Jungkook nodded as he looked at you. He was always shy around girls, not comfortable around them enough. When he was adopted by his mothers’, it took him over a week to open start acting like their son. They treated him like any other son- hybrid or not.

Eventually, the women migrated inside so your mother could introduce the two ladies to your father. You were awkwardly stood in the front yard with Jungkook as he looked at his toes and kicked at nothing, fiddling with his thumbs. You watched his small, black tall sway slightly back and forth as his ears dropped to a curl.

“Sooo,” you started, startling the poor pup as he jumped. “What kind of dog are you?” You asked, trying to remember what your mother taught you about being polite and asking things delicately.

“I-I’m a Kelpie,” he mumbled. Your eyes lit up, delighted he even replied to you.

“What do you do for fun? Do you like playing outside?” You asked carefully. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t push the issue. You really wanted to play though and what better play partner than your new little boy neighbor?

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I like to play tag a lot.”

“Then, lets play!” Your voice spiked to a shout. You quickly covered your mouth with your palm when you watched Jungkook jump and back away from you slightly. “Sorry,” you apologized. “We don’t have to.” Your voice lowered in dejections, figuring you came on too strong like you normally did. You watched as Jungkook slowly came closer to you and grabbed a hold of your overalls at the side.

He was looking at his feet, face red as his ears folded in anxiety and his tail swished.

“You’re it,” he told you before you laughed and the chase was on.

“Y/n! Can you do me a favor!” You heard your mother call from the bottom floor of the duplex you’ve lived in your entire 18-year life. Pushing up from your desk and gleefully abandoning the physics textbook you had been studying before, you called back.

“Coming!” Running down the stairs, staring at your feet the whole way to avoid any chance of falling down them, you rounded the corning and waltzed into the kitchen. Passing your father in the living room on the way. Your mother was busy cooking away at dinner, a pot a pasta boiling and chicken baking in the oven to crumb covered perfection. “What’s up?”

“I think I forgot something over at Lidia’s the other day. Some seasoning when we were making that new chicken parmesan dish; I cannot find it for the life of me. Would you run over and see if she’s got it?” You nodded.

“Sure thing. I’ll be like 5 minutes,” you told her. Heading to the front door, you slipped on a pair of slippers with dog ears on them before you left. Walking down and around the yard to the unit front door directly next to yours.

Knocking, the door opened to show Lidia herself. More aged than all those years ago, but still rocking for her age. You lightly waved to her.

“Hello, Y/n. What can I do for you?” She asked.

“Mom said she may have left some seasoning her the other day. She asked me to see if you still had it. She’s cooking up a storm and you know how picky she is when it comes to seasoning,” you chuckled.

“Oh, darling I know. Sheryl and I never get tired of teasing her. Come on in, I’ll go check my cabinets.” She invited you in as you stepped through the door and inside. “Jungkook is up in his room if you want to say hello,” she offered.

You didn’t say no. Jungkook was your longest-standing friend- dare you say your best friend. Although you’ve both grown up and are in your last year of high school, some things haven’t changed. You still had a problem with connecting to some people, but the opposite was in his case. He couldn’t be more of a people magnet if he tried. Ever the smooth talker and with his charisma and unfair good looks, his popularity skyrocketed after middle school.

Bounding up the stairs, you weren’t even able to knock on his door when it swung open revealing the bubbly boy himself.

“Y/n!” He sang as he flung into your chest, koala latching himself onto you. That was also something that hadn’t changed. When he would get comfortable with someone, all personal space boundaries vanished. He literally didn’t understand personal space- but you didn’t particularly mind.

He always smelt so nice and he was warm when he hugged you. Not to mention, he was just the best damn hugger. The small crush you had on him definitely didn’t help matters. Though, you never let it get to your head. He was cuddly by nature, being spoiled by his mothers and his K9 instincts telling him that people weren’t the enemy unless they did something just plain awful.

He pushed his nose into your neck before he pulled away from you, smiling as he held one of your hands.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked.

“Mom forgot something here the other day, so I’m picking it up. I figured I should say hi while I’m here since someone doesn’t have time to visit me anymore.” You teased. He’s been wrapped up in the choir club recently. They have a competition coming up soon and he’s been practicing for it nearly every day with his instructor. He pouted. “I’m joking!” You laughed.

“You know I miss you. I tell you every day,” he told you with a pout. It was true. He’d literally facetime you everyday whining that he was too busy to see you. It was a sentiment you appreciated and you assumed he did with all his close friends. His best friend in the art club always whined that Jungkook called you more than him, a complaint you didn’t really believe.

“Y/n!” You heard Lidia call. “I found that seasoning dear!”

“Alright, I’m coming!” You called back before looking at the now pathetic looking Jungkook who stood in a slouched pout. You reached up and scratched at his ears that he had grown into so well. His tail swishing behind him. “Don’t pout. You’ll see me tomorrow at school.”

“But you take the bus to school! I get there so early in comparison.”

“That’s a you problem,” you laughed as you pulled your hand away from him and started back down the stairs, waving him off. Taking the seasoning and thanking the woman, you returned home.

The next morning you sat at the bus stop, headphones plugged into your ears as you waited. Someone plopped down beside you- nothing unusual- before they yanked one of your earbuds out. Ready to bit the head off of whoever dared, you stopped yourself before you started. Beside you sat Jungkook- the same Jungkook who absolutely hated the bus.

“Good morning!” He sang. “I wanted to go to school with you today.” He chirped as he yawned and put his head on your shoulder. You just rolled your eyes as you continued scrolling on your phone.

When the bus came and you loaded onto it, Jungkook plopped himself down next to you and replaced his head back on your shoulder, even slinging his arm over your lap to keep you closer to him as the bus jostled you both around. Dozing off and on, he watched as you read something other another on your phone screen.

“Hey,” he whispered lightly you barely heard it. You hummed at him. “You’re going to come to the competition this weekend, right? For choir?”

“Well, that depends,” you put your phone down, patting at the hand that sat in your lap. “Do you want me to, Pup?” He giggled lightly, the older than thou nickname of his youth only you were allowed to call him making him giddy. He nodded against your shoulder, snuggling into it more- not giving two flying acorns at who may be scoffing at his display of public affection for his favorite human.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then, I’ll be there.”

The school day went as it always did as you hung around Jungkook and his group of 6 other guy pals. All strange, all different and all equally as crazy as him. The most ‘normal’ boy being a self-proclaimed genius who couldn’t spell out the word ‘necessary’ without having an aneurysm because of the unnecessarily large number of s’s needed.

They were good guys at least. You were happy Jungkook had people to really connect to and he always made sure you were always included- so you never felt left out. You currently sat on a bench in the halls during lunch as Hoseok, one of his friends, sat on the floor with a thermos of water at his side. Talking about how the dance recital he had coming up in a month was wearing him out.

You let out a small ‘oof’ when Jungkook had appeared from seemingly nowhere and threw himself across your lap and the bench. His back on your legs as he stared up at you as you popped a piece of the sandwich you ate into your mouth.

“Can you get off me?” You asked.

“Jungkook, you know you’re not a lap dog, right?” Hoseok asked from the floor with a hint of amusement in his voice. Jungkook just looked offended at Hoseok as he curled into you, wrapping his arms around your midsection.

“Jungkook!” You whined as he held you with an iron grip. Working out being his second favorite hobby besides singing. “Go cling to Hoseok instead!”

“He won’t cuddle us,” Hoseok told you. You stopped your micro-shoves on his shoulders as you started talking to the dancer again. Jungkook cuddling deeper into your stomach. “Well, I guess I could say he does, but he certainly does whine a lot. No one quite satisfies the affection-craving dog like you do, girly.” He broke out into a fit of laughs before speaking again. “One time, he kept whining because he wanted to cuddle you, but you were in gym, so Jimin tried to help but Jungkook just growled at him.”

“Jungkook!” You scolded as he just whined.

“I don’t wanna hug anyone else anymore!” He complained. “Only you,” he solidified. You just sighed, letting him once again get away with his childish needs as he practically napped on your lap the entire lunchtime.

It was then like that day after day. Even when he was at his competition, dressed in his black slacks and white dress shirt, his hair neatly parted and brushed, he hugged you. He’d lean on your back as he hugged your waist or push his cheek on your shoulder when he had a chance to sit down beside you.

As you sat among the audience of the people listening to the choir, you had to keep your heart from beating out of your chest because you swore he stared at you the entire time.

The evening after the competition, he practically begged you to stay over at his house. You gave in pretty quickly and Jungkook worshiped your mom for letting you. Normally, you’d just put down a sleeping bag on the floor, but tonight Jungkook was adamant you sleep beside him.

“I- I don’t think we have to,” you weakly battled.

“No. You smell nice, you’re warm and you’re my favorite so you need to sleep next to me so I can sleep well.”

You flailed around, unable to take all the heart papulations he probably wasn’t aware he was causing. In the end- as per usual- he got his way as he clung to you at midnight when you both settled down for bed.

Laying behind you, he held you around your waist and pushed his face into your hair. Slipping his leg between yours and pulling you as close to his chest as possible. He cracked his closed eyes open not long after the two of you had gotten comfortable.

“You don't mind me holding you, do you?”

“Now you’re worried about your clinginess?” You chuckled.

“Well, it’s just-” he cut himself off with a whine as he pushed his nose down into your neck. “It’s complicated,” he told you.

“Complicated how? Not like you haven’t hugged me before.”

“It’s just different now.”

“No?” You questioned. You tapped at his arms, telling him to loosen them as you twisted around to face him. His face was lowered as he looked a tad sad. “Hey,” you whispered, caressing his cheek, “what’s wrong, Pup?”

“You’re my favorite human,” he told you. You’d heard him tell you that before. You nodded at him.

“I know,” you told him softly.

“No, I mean-” he shut his eyes as he pushed his face into his pillow. He groaned into it. “Y/n?” He asked when he lifted his face back up. “S-someone told me that you liked, Hoseok. Is that... true?”

You pulled away from him, shock painted on your face.

“Who told you that?!”

“W-well, you’ve been spending a lot of time with him recently!” Jungkook seemed panicked like he was trying to cover something up.

“He’s been asking advice on how to ask out this girl in my Korean class who happens to be my deskmate,” you told him with a light laugh. “I, in no way, like Hoseok like that. He’s a swell guy, but I’d probably never date him.” Jungkook relaxed as he smiled.

“So, you don’t like him?”

“No,” you answered with a smile. “What a silly thing to be anxious about.” You pet at his head as he shut his eyes.

“It’s not silly,” he told you. “Not when I thought I’d have to compete with my friend for you. I was stressed, okay?”

“Huh?” Your brain seemed to have shut off. “What does Hoseok have to do with me? And compete?”

“You’re my favorite human,” he told you again. “The one human I wanna hug and hold and I wanna kiss you too. I wanna hold your hand and walk around in public. I want to talk about the future with your mom and win over your dad. I want you to stay my favorite human forever, and I want you to think of me as your favorite hybrid.” He snuggled into your chest, hiding his burning face. “I really like you, Y/n.”

You froze for a moment, making the dog’s stomach turn. He eased in instant relaxation when you pet at the back of his head and scratched his ears. He took in your scent he loved so much as you just pet him.

“You were right, it wasn’t silly. Sorry for calling it that,” you told him as he just shook his head. “I really like you too, Jungkook. Honestly, I’m shocked Jimin didn’t spill his gut when I told him about my crush on you.” You laughed lightly, making the dog-boy hold you closer. “Let’s just sleep for now, and we can talk about all this in the morning.” He nodded silently.

Before falling asleep, he smiled when he felt you kiss the top of his head, his tail wagging across the mattress.

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