#apparently my best month was. May. if you're wondering. and i did not draw the same fandom consistently.

[thornescalling]

i want to do one of those "one art for every month" things but the sad truth of it is i just can't find a template and am too lazy to make my own.

[alessiathepirate]

Supernatural

A NIGHT IN MISSOULA: Nick x fem!reader

Summary: How it could've turned out if Nick wasn't completely alone...

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

I had to fix his storyline damn it, he deserved so much better!

Warnings: set in season 14, fluff (come on, my man deserves it goddamn it), mentioned death and violence, grief

•••

Her phone's screen illuminated the motel room again, for the fifth time in the last hour.

She lazily raised her head to look at it before laying her head back on the man's chest whose arms were holding her close to his body, as if he was afraid that she'll just disappear. She hugged him tighter, as if to tell him that she'd never go anywhere when she already had him.

Two missed calls from Dean, one from Sam and two from Cas.

Cas and Dean even left voicemails. It was a wonder they haven't made Jody or Donna look for her yet.

"I forgot to check in." she mumbled quietly, afraid that her voice alone could ruin the calm moment they were having - moments like these occured rarely. Very rarely, especially since both of their minds were full of unsolved issues, confusing emotions and grief. "I'll have to call them or they'll get a heart attack and send some hunters after us."

"You'll call them later." Nick's fingers ran along her spine, drawing invisible shapes into her skin here and there. "Please."

She smiled up at him, her heart feeling heavy from his last word alone.

Please - please don't leave; please stay; please, I need you. She felt the same way toward him. She needed him just as much as he needed her - to not go insane, to not break, to be able to enjoy and appreciate the simple things in life.

"They can wait, I suppose." she agreed and let her fingers run along the side of Nick's face and jaw. "We're a long way from home anyway. They wouldn't reach us in time."

They left months, close to a year ago.

Nick wanted justice, he wanted to find the man who murdered his family - and since she had her own demons to fight, her own people to grieve, she knew exactly how he felt.

Nick left first and she followed him, only leaving a short letter behind for her own family, what said 'I found a job - it's personal. Be back soon. Love you all.'. That 'soon' turned into weeks, then months. And as it turned out they needed each other more than the boys needed her.

She reached Delaware just in time to stop Nick from beating the truth out of Arty Nielson - and used that fake FBI badge of hers to figure out what the man saw that night.

After that it went easily. She posed as an FBI agent while Nick stayed himself, and together they were tracking the culprit who turned out to be a demon. Abraxas. They'll get the fucker in Hibbing in a day or two.

Thanks to her presence, Nick managed to keep his cool. He managed to keep his sanity. He managed to realize that there's still someone out there who cares. He managed to slowly, painfully slowly, let go of Lucifer and accept the fact that he found someone to love - who apparently loved him back.

"Y/N?" she looked at him again with a questioning look. "I never really said thank you for what you did for me."

"Nick--" she wanted to begin to argue; wanting to say that he has absolutely nothing to thank - her love and care for him was purely natural.

"No, please let me finish." he interrupted her as his left hand started to play with her hair. "I mean it. Thank you for everything. I'm pretty sure that without you I would've gone crazy. And you didn't have to care or help, I wasn't your responsibility. Sarah and Teddy's case wasn't yours to solve either. But you were there for me, you're still here for me and I just--"

She gently touched his face again.

"You were there for me too, Nick." it was her turn to interrupt him and prove him that she cared. "When I was still grieving my best friend, you were there." her heart still ached when she or anyone referred to Gabriel. "When Jack got sick and I was thousands of miles away from the bunker, you were there. I wasn't your responsibility either, and you are still here for me too."

Nick smiled at her - with a honest smile, without any sadness behind it; with a smile full of adoration.

"I love you, Y/N..."

She felt her heartbeat quicken and it felt like she was having an honest to God heart attack.

They were spending the nights together for a month now, sure. They were even kissing, holding hands and cuddling. They complimented the other's appearance. But saying those three words? That was new, completely new. It was something she knew she was feeling, but was afraid to put into words when Nick was still clearly in a dark place. She thought it might've been too soon.

She let the words sink in - she let them make her heart flutter. She even let them bring tears to her eyes.

"I love you too, Nick."

She pushed herself up onto her elbows and leaned forward so her lips were able to reach his.

Nick was holding her face between his hands as the kiss deepened. It was sweet, slow, full of love - both of them wanted to show the other that they meant what they've said, wholeheartedly.

By the time they broke apart, her phone was ringing again, yet in their happiness they both ignored it.

"Promise me you won't leave me." Nick was begging, pleading as he looked her in the eye. "Please..."

"I won't. Ever." she promised as she smiled down at him. "I'll never leave you."

His fingers were playing with her hair again, when her phone's screen turned on once more. Another missed call.

"Nick?"

"Yeah?" he seemed distracted as he explored every small, hidden detail of her face - her cheeks turned pink from the thought of him finding her beautiful.

"After we're done..." she began slowly, unsurely. "Will you come back to Kansas with me? To say goodbye?"

Nick's hands stopped their exploration as he looked at her - really looked at her - to see if anything was wrong.

"Goodbye?" he asked, confused. "Why would you say goodbye? That place is your home, you're a hunter and--"

"I'm quitting." she stated and there was a strange feeling inside her stomach as she said her thoughts out loud. "Ever since I met Dean I wanted to hunt and live the life he and his family had, but it takes so much... I love the boys and Cas and Jack, but I can't do it anymore." she smiled when Nick started to stroke her side in comfort. "You're my last case. And I want to enjoy the aftermath forever."

The truth was that she couldn't afford losing anyone else. She was sure she wouldn't survive that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." she let out a small laugh. "And maybe we can have that 'apple pie life' close to the bunker in case those morons still need my help."

Nick kissed her again, this time with love and passion, and she gladly kissed back. Her hands disappeared in his hair and she was about to leave some of her marks behind on the side of his neck, when her phone began to ring again.

"Talk to them." he said after they unwillingly broke apart. "I'm not going anywhere."

She grabbed her phone with a groan and accepted Cas' call as she lay down next to Nick, grabbing his hand and drawing invisible shapes into his palm.

"Hey, Cas. Sorry I didn't pick up before, I was in the middle of something just now. Is everything okay?"

She was barely listening.

All she could think about was her last case and the man she was willing to give up hunting for.

And she really hoped her found family will accept her decision without wanting to beat the crap out of the man she loved...

[floating-mid-air]

The Princess of all Saiyans

 -

 Masterlist

-

Hey Everyone! It's been a while. My life's been kind of hectic the past couple of months. Long story short: I Graduated from Highschool this year, so I was busy with everything having to do with that. Then my summer job sadly prevented me from writing as well. And then I started College, which was a big change for me. For now, there are no more chapters in my life opening or closing. Now I'm finally in a place where I feel comfortable continuing this book again. I could've honestly been writing during all of this chaos. But I wouldn't have been pleased with the quality of my writing. I'm really excited to get back into the swing of things. I don't think this chapter panned out the way I originally planned, but I'm still happy with it. As always, I hope you enjoy it. And if you have any comments or concerns, feel free to let me know. My inbox is always open!

-

Chapter 11

-

You've been walking for quite some time now, and the experience has been excruciating. You haven't been in this much pain since you and Raditz were on planet Telia, ten-something years ago. Those damn underlings were able to get a good sneak attack on you. Though you can't say, you let them get away scot-free. You made sure to make their entire dreadful race pay for that injury. You and Raditz had covered up that incident, much like you're doing with your current injury.

"So---" You can hear Goku talking to Krillin from just slightly left of you. "Did you guys find the senzu beans?" Wow, Kakarot may be the least subtle creature you've ever encountered.

"Ya." Krillin chuckles. "All four of us were in pretty rough shape." Goku glances at you with a worried look on his face. You glare at him as Raditz eyes the two of you skeptically. He knows something's off between the two of you. Maybe something serious did happen while you and his brother were trapped together. 

A bit more time has passed, and you've been trying your best to keep up with the others. But it isn't as easy as you thought. You're now trailing behind the rest of them, with Raditz turning back to look at you every so often. The largest Saiyan slows down to catch up with your slower pace, now walking beside you.

He turns to you, whispering in a low tone. "Something's off." Raditz can no longer stay silent about his concerns. First, it was the strange vibes between you and Kakarot. And now it's your out-of-character demeanor making him uneasy.

"About what?"

"You. Typically you walk beside your brother, and when he doesn't let you, you make sure you're always only a few paces behind. But right now, you couldn't be more content to trail everyone. Plus, you're far too confident to not be in the very front." Raditz has been around far too long for your liking. Damn him. He knows you far too well, and you hate him for it.

You roll your eyes at him. "So this conclusion of yours is based on the way I'm walking? I'm tired. When I fought, Burter, that physically drained me. And then I got trapped in a ditch with your moronic brother, that mentally drained me. I'm exhausted, Raditz." 

"It's not just the way you're walking. It's your mannerisms as well." He points at your side. "Your hand hasn't moved from your side from the moment I first saw you."

"God, Raditz." You scoff. "Stop overanalyzing everything."

"Getting defensive now? That's your M.O whenever you're hiding something." He looks back and forth between your face and your hand that has remained glued to your side. The gears in the older Saiyan's head slowly but surely turning. " Y/N, are you hurt?" 

"No." You snap your eyes shut, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to suppress a wince of pain. "I'm fine."

He tilts his head at you. "Y/N, I know you claim otherwise, but I'm not stupid. I know you're in pain."

You chuckle softly in a self-pitying way. "Am I that easy to read?"

Raditz shakes his head, smiling to himself. "No, I've just known you for a long time now." He returns to his serious demeanor, his gaze returning to the area of your wound. "How bad is it?"

"I barely feel it at all. Though, climbing out of that ditch must have reopened the cut."

Raditz snickers. "You're a bad liar."

"That's strange. I've been told in the past that I'm quite good at lying."

A smirk spreads across Raditz's lips. "Well, you apparently aren't when I'm involved."

The larger Saiyan glances at the back of your brother's head. You respond with a glare, firmly pulling on a large chunk of his hair. You know what Raditz wants to do, and it's not happening. "Don't even think about it."

"I-I think we should tell him Y/N."

"No." You let go of his hair, tapping his chest with extreme force. "You're going to keep your big mouth shut. Vegeta will freak out. You know how irrational he gets."

Raditz decides to let you have your way--- for now. The man can't help but wonder why you're so stubborn, but then again, his nature isn't much different from yours.

With every minute that passes, your condition only seems to worsen. Your eyes even start to droop. "Y/N?" Raditz turns to you, his features beginning to fill with worry. He places one of his large hands on your forehead. You're burning up. "You have a fever. Your wound must be infected."

"No." You shake your head in disagreement, almost like a child. As your mental state becomes more and more delirious. 

"Vegeta!" Raditz shouts, gaining your brother's attention.

"Fuck you, Raditz! You're such a blabbermouth!" You shout at the larger Saiyan in front of you.

"What's wrong this time? Is my sister trying to pull you into another one of her elaborate schemes?"

"Y/N's hurt--- bad." Vegeta's eyes widen, and not even a millisecond later, he rushes to your side. "She has a fever. I think her cut is infected."

"Where is it?" He crosses his arms at you, noticing your hand placed firmly on your side. He moves your hand out of the way with ease, lifting your armor. "How did this happen?"

"Burter nicked me during our fight. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? It's infected, you stupid woman!" He turns his attention to Kakarot. "Did you know about this?"

You snicker. "Oh ya, Vegeta. I get hurt, and the first person I run to tell is Kakarot." Vegeta's fists clench at your sarcastic remark, turning his fit of rage back at you.

"You know, in certain situations, you're more prone to infections. And a planet like Namek checks all of the boxes! You know you need to be more careful. Damn our mother and her faulty genetics!" Sadly that's a trait you had inherited from your mother. On most planets, you'd be fine, and injuring yourself would be no big deal. But Namek has specific conditions that result in you being more vulnerable. 

"Raditz, pick her up." Raditz picks you up, giving you a piggyback ride. You wrap your arms around his neck, giving yourself better balance. Vegeta glances up at you. He looks even madder than usual. "With the condition, you're in, you will not be fighting. You will stay away from Jeice, and you won't even enter the same proximity as Ginyu. Do you understand me?"

"But--"

"No!" His voice booms, gaining the attention of every creature for miles. "I'm not kidding around. Do you understand me?"

You bite your lip, tilting your head downwards, avoiding your brother's gaze like the plague. "Yes, Vegeta." Vegeta returns to the front of the group, his mood sourer than ever.

As Raditz begins to walk, he starts talking to you again. "Are you mad at me?" You don't verbally respond. Instead, you claw into his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. "Fuck. I'll take that as a yes."

"You're a tattletale."

Raditz chuckles. "No wonder why Vegeta babies you. You'll thank me for this later, you stubborn woman. And I've kept your secrets before, handfuls of them, actually. Like what happened on planet Telia----" Raditz realized the grave mistake he had just made, mentioning that incident in the presence of the very being you worked so hard to hide it from.

You slap the older Saiyan upside the head as Vegeta turns backward, a scowl plastered on his face. "What happened on plant Telia?" It was a rhetorical question, mocking both you and Raditz. "Oh, the three of us will be discussing this in length later. Because it sounds to me like you both lied to me on that initial report." You and Raditz gulp, you've heard that tone from your brother millions of times now, and it has never once become any less terrifying. 

"Oh, lighten up, Geta." You groan. "That was like, what? Around thirteen years ago?"

"The amount of time that has passed matters very little to me. As I said before, this is a discussion for later."

A few more hours have passed, which honestly feels like days at this point. And considering Namek's strange day cycle, it very well could've been. "How much farther?" Your question was clearly directed at Vegeta. And at this point, you're not even sure he has any idea where you're headed either.

"I don't know why you're the one complaining." Raditz huffs.  "You're not the one doing all of the walking! And if you ask him that one more time, I'm going to drop you." Ok so maybe, that wasn't the first time you've asked that question today. Or the second, or third, you're very bored. 

"Man Raditz." You roll your eyes, which are barely open at this point. "You sure complain--- a lot."

"You were just complaining." The long-haired Saiyan grumbles. 

"No, I simply asked Vegeta a question. There's a difference Raditz. I know it's hard for your feeble mind to understand." When you're sick, you tend to act, oh what's the word? Bitcher than normal. And that's saying a lot.

Raditz clenches his jaw. "Vegeta. I need a break from your sister."

"That's how I felt ninety percent of the time I was stuck in a room with you, Nappa, and Cado. And you didn't see me running to wine to Frieza about it."

Before Raditz can retort, your brother interjects. "That's enough! From both of you!"

Krillin, Gohan, and Goku have identical bewildered expressions on their faces. Krillin turns to Vegeta, lowering his voice to a whisper. He doesn't want to be the next victim of your wrath. "Do they always fight like this?" The human finds this perplexing. Back on Earth, the pair seemed inseparable. They appeared to be the Saiyan equivalent of what on Earth would be considered best friends.

Vegeta lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Yes, but typically it's more playful in nature. When my sister is sick, she becomes even brattier than usual."

Vegeta's warning to both of you seems to have fallen on dead ears. Because your quarrel has not ceased, in fact, it has only elevated. "I will drop you, you royal brat!"

"I dare you to you second-class runt. I could still kick your ass even in my delirious state. I wouldn't even have to try very hard."

"I'm considering----"

Before Raditz can even get three words out, your bickering is once again interrupted, and not by the person you may think. "Enough!" Gohan shouts. You honestly forgot the others were here for a moment."If you two keep fighting like this, you're going to get all of us killed!" You and Raditz stare at the boy in shock. It's been a long time since the two of you have been yelled at by a child. The last time being when you were children yourselves. Vegeta hasn't changed much since childhood. He's been bossing you around and shouting at you since you were children, but I'm sure that's not very surprising. 

"Ya, and I can take Y/N---- if you need a break." Goku rubs the back of his neck, chuckling sheepishly. "Not that I want to hold Y/N or anything."

"No." You rapidly shake your head. "Raditz, I'm sorry. I'll be good now--- I promise."

A wicked grin spreads across Raditz's lips right before he grabs your hands with his larger ones. He loosens your grip around his neck, moving your body with ease, scooping you up into his arms. Every step Raditz takes toward Goku seems even more antagonizing slower than the last. Until he's standing directly in front of his younger brother. He elevates his arms slightly, dropping you right in front of an unsuspecting Goku.

Lucky for you, Goku has sharp reflexes. That allows the Saiyan to catch you easily. Raditz look's his brother dead in the eyes, his typical arrogant grin still on his lips. "She's your problem now, Kakarot." Raditz gazes downward to look at you. "Stop pouting. Maybe next time, you'll be nicer to good old Raditz."

A low growl echoes in the back of your throat as you glare daggers at the Saiyan standing before you. "Ya, or maybe next time, I'll rip out your tail and strangle you with it!" The only thing that's stopping you from lunging at Raditz is Goku's firm grip holding you in place.

Rather than arguing that the entire group has become accustomed to, the whole area has become dead silent. You're no longer pouting. Instead, you are glaring at the man who continues to carry you bridal style. You've never liked being held like this. It makes you feel weak like you have no control over your own body.

What makes you even more irritated, Is how Goku reacts to your death stare. He just grins at you. Does he just never get angry? What kind of Saiyan is he? It fills you with so much anger that someone as dopey as Kakarot has Saiyan blood flowing through his veins. 

You clench your fists. You just wanna punch Kakarot so badly. He just has such a punchable face. If you could take away his cheery personality, he'd actually be quite attractive. Wait--- what the hell are you thinking? Kakarot is stupid and way too friendly for you to ever think of him in that way.

 You move your fist up, finally giving in to your urges, attempting to punch the man holding you. Probably not your wisest moment, but your brain isn't functioning normally right now. Goku catches your hand with ease. His reflexes are unreal, or maybe this fever has you more sluggish than you believed. You'd prefer to think that it's the second option. He chuckles to himself. He's still not upset. What the hell is wrong with him? "Come on, Y/N. You gotta be quicker than that." He's challenging you. How Saiyan like of him. You seem to always be able to find specks of Saiyan nature in the cheerful man. And those are the aspects you actually like about him. 

Your eyes begin to once again feel heavy as your eyes droop shut, just before you fall asleep in the arms of your enemy. 

Twenty-Something Years Ago:

You're sitting on your bed, sitting crisscrossed, a book laying open on your lap. Since your father is currently off-planet, you can read all you want. You're enamored with your newest book. It's all about a topic referred to as diplomacy. It's fascinating and has many concepts that are entirely foreign to you, yet at the same time, some of these ideas are also familiar. 

As you read, your door slams open, but you pay the interruption almost no attention, not even bothering to look up from your book. Honestly, the unwelcome intrusion has you more angered than anything else. "God, Vegeta." You roll your eyes. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Something's not right. When Vegeta usually bursts into your room, he's automatically shouting at you.

Out of pure curiosity, you look up from your book. However, standing at your door, you don't find Vegeta. A boy with a very similar appearance but with a much smaller stature stands in your door frame. He's out of breath, desperately huffing for air. "Tarble?" You furrow your brows at your brother, launching off your bed to get closer to him. "What's wrong?" You have this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your twin has never behaved in such a manner before. 

"Captain--- Captain Ginyu is here." Tarble is shaking, his eyes watering slightly.

You scowl ever so slightly. "But Ginyu's not scheduled to be on planet Vegeta any time soon." 

"It's--- It's a surprise visit. What do we do, Y/N?"

You contemplate for a moment before your features fill with alarm. "Tarble? Where's Vegeta?"

His lip quivers as he looks down at the floor. "He's with Captain Ginyu."

"Damn it." You mutter under your breath. Diplomacy is a skill you need right now. And Vegeta doesn't have a single quality that a diplomat possesses. Your elder brother is more likely to unnecessarily provoke the Captain, putting your entire race in hot water with the Frieza Force. 

You rush over to your bedside table, rummaging through the drawer. Once you have your scouter in your hand, you run back over to your brother. "Stay in here, and use this to channel our father. Let him know what's going on." You push past your twin, about to leave, before Tarble's voice calls out to you.

"Wait, Y/N!" You turn back to look at him. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go stop our older brother from doing something stupid. Everything will be fine, I promise. Just calm down and do as I said." And with that, you take off, praying that Vegeta hasn't already done something rash.

As you sprint down the halls of the palace, you run face-first into the torso of a large body. "Princess?"

You look up at the bald Saiyan, the one who's supposed to be at your brother's side at all times. Since the future king of planet Vegeta needs to be protected. "Nappa, Where is my brother?"

The imbecile scratches the back of his neck, contemplating much longer for your liking. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen the runt in quite some time. You should probably ask Vegeta." 

You scowl at the Saiyan. "Not Tarble, you fool! I'm asking you where Vegeta is!"

"Oh, Why didn't you just say so?" It's taking every ounce of restraint you have in your body to not viciously attack Nappa. "He's just outside of the palace." 

You run through Nappa, intentionally knocking the large Saiayn onto the floor. His stupidity lost you precious time. It was quite an amusing sight, though. A mere child, being able to take down one of your father's best warriors. 

You arrive outside of the palace, your eyes landing on your target. This is the first time you've ever seen Captain Ginyu. Sure, you've heard stories of the purple man. And much like your people, Ginyu is just as bloodthirsty and just as ruthless. Much to your surprise, the Captain doesn't have an army behind him. This was just before the Ginyu Force had formed. All Ginyu was at this point in time was a captain of one of Frieza's many armies. 

You walk over to them, now standing at your brother's side. "Captain Ginyu." You speak with your hands, an exaggerated smile appearing on your lips. "To what do we owe the honor?"

The man looks down at you, clearly analyzing you with his scouter. "Well, if this isn't a surprise. I think this is the first time I've had the pleasure of meeting you, Y/N." Ginyu extends his large hand out to you, causing Vegeta to feel a great deal of alarm. Your brother's body has gone tense with an apprehensive look on his face. But when your older brother looks over to you, there isn't even a glint of fear in your eyes. You're calm, almost as if one of Lord Frieza's deadliest warriors was not standing before you. You accept the Captain's hand, presenting him with a short but polite handshake. "Your father doesn't like showing you off much, does he?" 

You chuckle softly. "My father likes to hold his cards close to his chest. I'm sure a man like yourself is quite similar." Sucking up to Ginyu is not your favorite pastime, but it needs to be done. And every Saiyan on this planet knows your big brother is far too prideful to do it himself.

Ginyu looks between you and Vegeta carefully. For someone so highly regarded by Frieza, he sure isn't subtle. He's trying to read your facial expressions. Unfortunately for him, your father has raised you both much better than that. A poker face to you feels more natural than a genuine expression. "Speaking of your father, where is he right now?"

"He's of---"

You quickly cut Vegeta off. "He's in a meeting. That's why our father sent me out. He wanted you to know he sends his regards, but his hands are tied at the moment. He will be here at soon as possible. I hope my brother and I can suffice your needs in the meantime."

Captain Ginyu eyes you skeptically, tilting his head at you ever so slightly. "That sounds serious. I hope it's nothing too pressing."

"Of course not. It's nothing my father can't handle."

You're about to continue your schmoozing, but you're stopped by Vegeta aggressively yanking on your arm. "We need to talk-- in private."

You grimace at your brother's words. He just always has to make everything that much more difficult for you. You turn back to Ginyu, offering the man a cheerful smile. "Will you excuse us for a moment? We'll be right back."

Vegeta drags you around a corner, concealing you both from Ginyu's prying eyes. "What do you think you're doing?" He huffs at you in a whisper. "I had everything under control."

You snicker, crossing your arms. "You were just about to tell Ginyu that our father was off-planet. It sounds to me like I got here just in time to prevent you from making a grave mistake."

"I don't see why that matters."

"And that's the issue, Vegeta. Now we don't have time for this. Let's go." You turn back around, walking back over to Ginyu, Vegeta trailing not far behind. "I'd like to apologize for my brother's rudeness, Captain Ginyu." You shake your head but with a slight smirk across your lips. "All Saiyan men are the same, and my brother is no exception. They're incredibly thickheaded and quite savage. I'm convinced they don't even realize what brutes they are." You watch your brother ball his hands up into fists from beside you. It fills you with an immense feeling of joy knowing you're getting under Vegeta's skin for once. You turn back to Ginyu, plastering that disingenuous grin on your face. "Now, how about we give you a tour of our wonderful planet?"  

You and Vegeta have shown Ginyu around almost the entirety of your planet, and you must admit you're beginning to grow worried. Luckily you've managed to hold off any more questions about your father's whereabouts by charming him with various facts about planet Vegeta. But to be honest, you're not sure how much longer you can hold up this charade for. You've exhausted pretty much every idea that you've been able to come up with.

"Captain Ginyu!" Your father's brash voice invades your ears as you turn around to finally see the man you've been anxiously waiting for. You've never seen your father walk in such an urgent manner, and it's pretty funny watching your twin struggling to keep up with your father's pace. 

Your father places himself between you and Vegeta, ruffling your hair affectionately. You look up at him. "How'd your meeting go?"

Your father meets your gaze, catching onto your deception almost immediately. "It went very well. Thank you both for keeping Captain Ginyu company in my absence, but I think I can handle it from here." He directs his attention back onto Captain Ginyu. "Now, how about we discuss you're abrupt arrival somewhere more private."

The two men exit your field of view, leaving the three of you alone. Tarble, in his typical fashion, glues himself to your side. "What the hell was that?" Vegeta spits out with venom. "Where was your pride? You were basically groveling at his feet."

You furrow your brows at him. "I was doing what needed to be done. And if you think our father isn't currently doing the same thing, you're a bigger fool than I thought."

"I know our father is being more agreeable with him, but not at the cost of his pride."

"It's always about pride with you." You step closer to Vegeta, closing the distance between you. "Your pride today would have cost the loss of countless lives today, Vegeta."

"Then so be it. If there are Saiayn's that inadequate on our planet, we should probably just exterminate them now. It'll save us the hassle later on."

You snicker, shaking your head at Vegeta. "Some King you'll be." You turn to your twin. "Let's go, Tarble. I have no desire to be near our foolish brother right now."

The conversation between Captain Ginyu and your father was brief. It was a very anticlimactic ending to the naked eye. The briefness of this encounter only set off more alarm bells in King Vegeta's head. It was clear to the man that Ginyu's excuse for being on his planet was bullshit. He's just not quite sure what the captain's intentions were, but he sure as hell is going to find out.

As soon as Ginyu left planet Vegeta, he promptly set course for his next destination. He's headed straight to Lord Frieza to report his findings, and he's eager to do so.

 Ginyu arrives on the planet in record time, heading straight for the throne room. Ginyu kneels before Frieza, waiting for his boss to speak. "Captain Ginyu. You're sure back early. I trust you were able to gather enough information on the young prince."

Captain Ginyu nods enthusiastically. "Of course, Lord Frieza. The Price was exactly the same as the previous data we collected on him. He's powerful and quite intelligent for a Saiyan. Though, he did inherit that nasty temper from his father."

Frieza sighs. "How disappointing."

"But I did discover something that you may find interesting, Lord Frieza."

Frieza tilts his head at the man. He can't help but feel intrigued. "Go on." It's not that easy for him to find an advantage over those monkeys, so he'll take any information Ginyu can give him, no matter how minuscule. 

"Y/N--- King Vegeta's daughter piqued my interest greatly. She's not even close to as strong as her brother, but she's remarkably clever. She's very good with words, she knows how to manipulate people. I'd say she might even be better than King Vegeta himself."

"Now, that is fascinating. Good work, Ginyu. I'll look into the Princess's abilities more in-depth later. You're excused."

-

This is just something I felt the need to clarify: So in this chapter's flashback, Vegeta is around three, and Y/N and Tarble are about two. In my head, I picture children on planet Vegeta behaving like miniature adults. My idea is once they leave their chambers (the tanks they are raised in to get their basic Saiyan instincts under control), their minds are fully grown, but their physical growth is quite delayed. That's why they curse and stuff. I have a minuscule window of time to squash in all of my plot ideas. So this was the best way to do so.

[evienyx]

lmao seems like you're becoming an mcyt blogger too. anyway i was wondering what are your thoughts on wilbur??? like the character, i mean

I’m expanding my horizons. I’m an incredibly versatile person.

Anyway, you want my thoughts on Wilbur? Oh, I can give you my thoughts on Wilbur.

First off, I would say that, as a character, Wilbur is probably my second favorite, right behind Techno. My favorites tend to differ from the norm, largely because of the fact that I’m a writer, and I look at everything with a bit of a different lense. Even subconsciously, the first time I watch the streams, I’m analyzing the story and the characters, thinking of ways it could have been improved, and admiring what’s done well.

And, damn, Wilbur’s character is done so well.

His descent into madness was, obviously, terrifying to see, but what’s most interesting about it to me is the fact that he feels so justified throughout it. His character is consistent, and what he wants is also consistent. Wilbur stated in his conversation to Phil that he’s come back multiple times to the button, that he’s almost pressed it so many times. Just that statement, the realization of how many times he’s come close to it, despite everything he’s said to Tommy, despite the way he’s been seemingly all for the revolution now,is terrifying. It’s seemed to us for quite a while now that, through the madness, through the insanity, he does believe that L’Manburg can be taken back.

It’s at this moment, though, in the button room, that the truth slowly dawns. All this time, Wilbur did believe that they could take L’Manburg back.

And, all this time, that hasn’t mattered in the slightest to him.

Win or lose, live or die, Wilbur was going to press that button.

If we ignore the fact that the button was a Chekhov’s gun, if we fully analyze this in character, it’s absolutely groundbreaking.

Because here we see a man who once would have done anything to save L’Manburg, now doing anything to destroy it.

One of the ways Wilbur’s arc over the last few months of story (since the election) can be well-represented is, in my opinion, through observation of his relationship and interactions with Tommy.

More specifically, though, in the way that he uses his power over Tommy, what value he places on Tommy’s wellbeing, and how Tommy views him.

At the L’Manburg election, they’re thick as thieves. They’re brothers, at that point, because in this household we roll with SBI family dynamics. Tommy looks to Wilbur for guidance, and when they lose the election and Schlatt exiles them, they run together. Wilbur calls for Tommy to run, they make sure the other is safe (ignore Wilbur’s death, lmao). They leave L’Manburg together.

When they start Pogtopia, when they start thinking about how they’re going to get their country back, Wilbur tries to cheer Tommy up. He jokes with him, references Tubbox. They brainstorm together, they share ideas. They plan, and they work as equals. Wilbur has Tommy drop the ‘President.’ They’re in this together, and one of them is not above the other, anymore. Wilbur does his best to make sure that Tommy is safe, and that he is as happy as possible in the current situation, despite how dark and dreary their prospects appear to be.

Skip forward a bit, and we come to the announcement of the Manburg Festival. Now, up until this point, the dynamics have been rather consistent since the election. We’ve seen Wilbur rise up and take charge a bit more when necessary, like with Tubbo and the whole double-agent business, but ideas are shared and they treat each other with both respect and love.

When Schlatt is making the announcement, with Wilbur and Tommy looking on from above, Tommy draws back his bow to take the president out, and Wilbur stops him. Tommy listens. Had the roles been reversed, this would not have occurred, but mostly because Tommy wouldn’t have questioned Wilbur’s judgement in the first place. Tommy has complete and utter faith in Wilbur and his decisions at this point. That is the power that Wilbur holds over Tommy. Tommy trusts him. Wilbur uses this power over Tommy to ensure that the outcome of each and every decision they make is optimal, and to make sure that both of them stay safe and the rebellion stays strong. It’s a relationship of faith and trust.

Then, though, the announcement of the festival. And, mainly, the aftermath of the announcement. As they walk through the forest, for the first time, we see Wilbur question his motives. We’ve never seen this before, and neither has Tommy. Wilbur wonders if his morals are correct, or if he’s just been assuming he’s in the right. He decides to be the bad guy, and the relationship with Tommy shifts. The trust and faith that Tommy places in Wilbur is turned right back on him as Wilbur tells Tommy that he’ll never be president. Wilbur uses the relationship that he has with Tommy, uses the subconscious trust Tommy places in him, to manipulate him.

At this point, they are no longer equals. Wilbur no longer values Tommy’s input, as Tommy isn’t on his side on this issue, and Tommy doesn’t share with Wilbur anymore, as the faith is gone. Still, Tommy continues to trust Wilbur, he just doesn’t have faith in him or believe that he’s doing the right thing. Additionally, Wilbur’s care for Tommy’s wellbeing deteriorates a bit, but he still does care. Just... not as much.

The next big shift would be the day of the Manburg Festival.

What is interesting about this day is that it is the one time that Wilbur and Tommy agree on whether or not to blow up Manburg, because, as Tubbo is executed by their ally in a shower of colorful sparks, Tommy calls for Wilbur to blow the place to smithereens. Wilbur’s failure here is one of the best things for the story, but we can talk about that another time.

While the dynamics don’t shift in any notable way at the festival, what with Tommy and Wilbur showing up together, fighting and working together, they do change dramatically after the festival is over.

We can see this mainly with two events: The Pit, and Tommy, Tubbo, and Niki’s talk.

Wilbur is the one who coaxes Tommy into fighting Techno (a fight that, logically, Wilbur knew Tommy would lose). He pushed at Tommy’s emotions, manipulated him, into fighting a battle that he had no hope of winning. Any care he had for Tommy’s wellbeing is out the window at this point. He willingly sent him into the Pit to die.

Additionally, this is the first time that Tommy explains that he isn’t fighting for Wilbur anymore. He fights not for Wilbur, but for vengeance for Tubbo in the pit, and when he talks with Tubbo and Niki, it becomes clear that he no longer has faith in nor trusts Wilbur.

The next turning point comes very soon, when Wilbur is in the button room with Tommy and Quackity.

Tommy convinces Wilbur not to press the button, and Wilbur says that he’ll trust in Tommy for now, and breaks the button down as well.

The thing about this that is most important is that Wilbur is lying, and Tommy doesn’t realize that until it is far too late.

We don’t realize this until much later, but Wilbur didn’t care about what Tommy said. He explained to Phil that, despite his words to Tommy, despite what he claims about trusting Tommy’s plan, he’s still come close to pressing the button again, and again. He doesn’t trust in Tommy’s plan, and even if he does, it doesn’t matter, because Wilbur doesn’t care. He’s going to press that button regardless.

What does come from this, though, is that Tommy begins to trust Wilbur again. He feels like Wilbur cares, like Wilbur has his back. He places Wilbur back as leader, in his mind, and all of these things come to a climax on the day of the battle between Manburg and Pogtopia.

The War for L’Manburg shows the two of them relatively trusting of one another on the field, despite Wilbur’s constant jokes about being the traitor (which we later find out to be true, but that’s not what this is about). Tommy trusts Wilbur on the battlefield, and listens to what he says. They fight together.

Wilbur then places Schlatt’s life into Tommy’s hands. He gives him an incredibly difficult decision to make, plays with Schlatt’s life just to rise conflict within Tommy. It doesn’t matter in the end, but I thought it was interesting to see.

Anyway, Wilbur then places Tommy as president-elect, while Wilbur plans to go and detonate the bombs beneath the country while Tommy speaks of plans to rebuild. Then, though, Tommy calls Wilbur president again, and Wilbur renames the country before passing it off to Tubbo.

Wilbur had called Tommy up to the podium to speak, right where a large part of the bombs were placed. His intent was for Tommy to speak there while Wilbur pressed the button and blew the country sky-high, with Tommy at the center of it all.

Any care Wilbur once had for Tommy’s wellbeing is gone, and nothing makes that more apparent than his attempted appointment of Tommy to the presidency, where he would have been in the most danger as he gave a speech while standing on a minefield, facing a crowd containing a man who lived only for chaos and another who vowed to watch the country burn to the ground along with any government that may wish to form.

We can see, as well, the moment Tommy realizes what’s going to happen. We can see when he begins calling for people to find Wilbur, muttering “no” as he searches desperately, and then screaming as his worst fears are realized and his brother Wilbur blows everything that he’s ever worked for into nothing more than a crater.

Wilbur’s character development, his arc, his consistency, is incredible to watch. It’s one of the most impressive things of the entire Dream SMP story (which, honestly, isn’t much of a surprise, since Wilbur’s been directing it this whole time, anyway). There are so many more things that I could say about this, but this post is long enough, so I’m gonna end it here.

I’m always up to rambling about Dream SMP things, especially analyzing characters, plot, motivations, and the like.

I’m a nerd, sue me.

[sarenhale]

Honestly, relating to your WoW/FFXIV post, I wonder if the 'great community, by the way' thing only has become what it has because the influx of WoW players? I hope it stops because acting like everyone in XIV is a perfect saint is only going to upset people even more if someone is even slightly less positive in game. I don't know I hope the whole WoW vs FFXIV stuff dies down, even Yoshi-P had to basically say 'shut up, WoW is what we want XIV to be, and we'll never even touch the heights WotLK had.' I just think if Blizzard hadn't been ousted as a bunch of sexual abusers it wouldn't be this extreme, like trashing WoW is kind of 'slacktivism' in a way. Sorry this is so long you're just the only person I've followed that did the WoW -> XIV jump and you haven't really done the extreme 180 everyone else has, and I think you have good opinions on things. Also I hope you have a good day :)

Thanks for the kind words! I'm flattered to hear that you like my opinions and attitude. I do try my best to not be grating over things like games.

I will put a 'read more' because I do get into a bit in detail for this ask.

I personally do get a bit tired of the costant ffxiv and wow comparison and debate too. That's why I sometimes make fun of it in a light way, and make jokes or memes about it, but also keep to myself when debates come out and people start complaining or piling up discourse over discourse. I'm just glad to enjoy my game and see people enjoying it too, that's enough for me. I honestly don't have the patience or age to withstand game discourse anymore lmao.

I completely understand why people would want to switch games because of the recent Blizz horrifying actions, the fact that the game apparently hasn't been fun or well curated in a long time, or just for funsies and switching things up. I'm absolutely not complaining about the switch in games, if anything, I'm glad people are giving other games a chance. But I am a bit tired about the costant comparison, discourse, and millions of videos essays where people try to defend wow (as if you needed to defend a game you like... you can enjoy that game, period, and not create wars over it), or people making huge ffxiv against wow essays. Like I said some months ago, I studied the whole 'wow effect' for my thesis years ago for my Uni degree and I don't plan to go back at studying the phenomenon cause I just don't care about it anymore, to be honest.

I think sometimes people are just way too over protective of things they care about, like games, and when change occurs they react with panic and overprotection over something they can't control - people migrating over games, new influx of players, etc - instead of seeing the whole thing as something of a natural process all games and popular media are subject to. Like, imagine how bad things would be for every game or media if stuff NEVER changed. Especially for MMOS, that's a death sentence. And you don't want that for your favourite game. Even WOW suffering player loss might be a good thing in the end, it might force the companies to rethink their approach to games and community, since a lot of problems laid in there.

I played my fair share of WOW during my Uni years. I played for around 3 years or something, on and off with friends irl and online, and enjoyed my experience. Overall, I still have very good memories of fun and friendship in WOW, and it's a game I still like aesthetically a lot, along with its story and fantasy races. Hell, sometimes I think about how much I miss my WOW ocs, and drawing WOW related stuff.

But I don't think my relationship to WOW was as intense as some people's - I did transition from WOW to FFXIV, but I spent something like 2 years when I stopped playing WOW (I started in mists of pandaria, stopped around the beginning of battle for azeroth times) playing almost no videogames. So it wasn't like I switched from a game to the other immediately, I think mine was more of a timed and organic switch, I didn't start playing FFXIV until quarantine hit and I had nothing to do (and was feeling really bad and needed a distraction from the imminent doom), and I also got my new desktop computer knowing I could start playing a new game comfortably, and not on a toaster-like computer like I was doing during the WOW days. (computer shutting down due to overheating mid-raid, it was fun)

So maybe the fact that I didn't do the 180 turnaround switch like some other WOW players is what makes the difference in attitude and thinking. When I started playing FFXIV, I didn't have WOW fresh in my mind so I could do costant comparisons between the two games, or my affection towards WOW kinda like... influencing my taste, or opinion of the new game in any way.

WOW was a good memory but nothing more. I never forged a huge relationship with the game anyway, so it's probably what's different between me and other players that maybe (understandably) have more history with it. I engaged with it, liked it for a game I could spend some free time on, and then moved on when I got bored with it. That's kinda it. I understand that some people who have been playing for way more years than me might have a more affectionate memory or relationship with WOW, and that might be something that influences their reasoning sometimes. But it's also a bit of a common thing withing some communities like WOW- something that people could definitely abandon and move on, change attitude. Time and game change. There's no point in getting stuck in the past with the old WOW glory days, and that kind of sentiment- we're not getting back in time, and change should always be something to be embraced, especially in games and MMOS. Changing views, games and opinions is the base of not getting stuck in the same state of mind and I highly encourage people to do it.

As for the ‘critiquing WOW has become super extreme and almost like it’s a rule’... I mean... yeah? That’s the effect that often times ‘problematic’ things have on large crowds of people online. It’s to be expected, but it doesn’t come from nothing- a lot of bad things piled up in the game, the company, the community and their attitude- and it just so happened some things tipped the waters over and everything came out in a costant flow during the past year or so. But it doesn’t come from nothing- it’s just a result of people being genuinely critic of the game they engaged with, which is something good to do. 

So yeah, I appreciate the ask! I like hearing from people that follow other games too and may have experiences similar to mine, and I'm also grateful that you've been following me from so many years since I was playing WOW, to now.

That said... I would like to keep asks like these to a minimum. I enjoyed this ask because it gave me a point of inspiration to think about my journey from games, and the chance of talking about something I care about (and I would like to think I know something about too, degree and experience and all...), but I don't plan to respond to more comments or asks that might move towards a more 'discoursy' tone of this same "ffxiv and wow" topic. I do enjoy asks like these but you can't count on everyone making a good and civil argument when asking questions, so I do have to keep a firm hand on asks and topics sometimes, or people get rowdy and think my tumblr blog is the new reddit. It has already happened with some people coming to my askbox to complain about shit I genuinely couldn't care less about. That will just get your question deleted, go to reddit if you want to complain or fuel the flames. I'm just here to vibe.

[thesloppiestbitch]

And They Were Roommates - Lucy Boynton x F!Reader P1

A/N: Lucy is my wife and I’m very gay, so enjoy my ramblings about how badly I want to kiss her that I somehow managed to turn into a cheesy fanfic. This is long so buckle up. The word count is listed on my masterlist, for those interested. I don’t know if this needs to be stated or not, but for the purpose of this story and to make it easier for me to write, the reader is a lesbian, simply because it made it easier for me to focus on Lucy than it would’ve had she been bi or pan. I am not trying to belittle those sexualities though! Also, this is a college AU (I guess???), but the boys are still in it (aside from Rami, simply because I couldn’t find a way to fit him in). And I’m Canadian, so I apologize for any inaccuracies or mistakes I make about British colleges. AND I’m splitting this into two parts (read part two here!) just because I hit the spacing limit and I didn’t want to compromise my writing style to make it fit. I tried, and I hated it.

Summary: Being assigned a roommate was the last thing [Name] wanted, but being forced to room with this cute girl couldn’t be all bad, right?

Warning(s): Swearing, alcohol, fluff

"Mum, I'm fine, I can drive myself," You insisted, throwing your final suitcase into the back of your car.

"Nonsense! I can do it; plus, I'd love to fit in some more time before you're gone till Christmas," She cooed, reaching up to pinch your cheek. You swatted her hand away before she could do so, sparking her to frown in frustration.

"I'm nineteen, I can handle myself. Plus, I don't even know if I'll be home for Christmas,"

She only shook her head, taking the keys from your finger where they had been dangling loosely by the key ring. "It's still months away, we can discuss it when it's closer. Just get in, please."

You huffed, finally giving in.

*

The drive to the college was long, especially since your mother wouldn't let you choose any music. If you'd had your way, or had been driving by yourself like you wanted, the only thing that would've been playing would have been old rock bands, but your mother despised them and you figured it wasn't worth the fight. Once you'd moved into your dorm, you could play all the rock music you wanted.

As your mum pulled out the suitcases and boxes from the trunk and backseat of your small blue car, you went to find the head-office to check where your room was.

When you walked in, you found that it was rather quite. Silently, you thanked whatever may be out there that you got lucky and hit a slow patch as you walked towards the man who looked to be about your age or a year or two older who was holding a clipboard.

You plastered on a smile as he turned to face you. "Hi," You spoke sweetly. "I was wondering who I could talk to about rooming?"

"That would be me," He smiled, speaking with an American accent. "What can I do for you?"

"My name is [Name] [Last Name], and I never got a letter or email or anything saying where my dorm would be. I was just curious if you had it somewhere?"

He glanced down at the papers on the clipboard, lightly lifting one to find your name. "You're in the third building, room twenty-nine, and you're sharing with—"

"I paid extra for a single room," You interrupted, worry flooding your system.

"I'm sorry, [Name], but there must've been a mistake. All rooms here are shared, I can't imagine where you would've paid that extra money to..."

"Great, just great." You muttered. "I'm sorry, I don't want this to seem like I'm taking it out on you, I know it's not your fault, it's just frustrating."

He laughed softly, lowering the board. "It's alright, I understand your frustration."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. "Who am I rooming with?"

"A girl named Lucy,"

You nodded. "Thank you..." You trailed off, hoping he would give you his name. He was a very nice and kind guy whom you'd like to have around more if possible.

"Joe," He smiled again.

"Thank you, Joe. I hope to see you around again,"

"And I you,"

You giggled softly at his odd wording before returning to your car to help your mother.

*

Hours passed and you were finally set up in a way that would be pleasing for the time being, despite it not being perfect. Your mother was long gone, your dad having picked her up so you could keep your car with you, and you finally had the freedom to play your music. Your stereo was one of the first things you set up, but you didn't turn anything on in case your roommate showed up. You internally hoped she wouldn't show up at all and you'd get your single room.

Just as you flipped on the album Queen II and White Queen began to play, the door to the small space peeked open. Blonde hair fell and became visible before the girl's face did. Your thoughts all immediately stopped as all your focus turned to how beautiful she was, and she wasn't even wearing any makeup.

"Hi," She smiled. "Are you [Name]? I'm worried I may have the wrong room..."

You blinked roughly a few times, trying to draw your attention back enough to form an answer. "Yes, I am. And you must be Lucy," You replied, smiling.

"Oh, thank God," She sighed, seemingly exhausted. "Yes, I am. It's very nice to meet you, [Name]. I hate to be a bother, but would you mind helping me with some of these boxes? My parents has to leave right away so it's just me,"

Suddenly, you were very glad your mum had dropped you off. "Of course!"

After helping Lucy get settled in, you two had began to talk, hoping to get to know each other better. You'd already covered all the basics: where're you from, do you have any siblings, any childhood pets, etc.

"Have you met anyone around campus?" Lucy asked, sitting cross-legged on the end of your bed.

"Just you and a boy who was in charge of rooming. I think his name was Joe? He had red-ish hair and an American accent,"

"Ah, yes! I've met him too. Quite a sweet one, isn't he?"

"Seems to be," You giggled. "Have you met anyone?"

"Not really, just you, Joe, and a few friends from primary school,"

You nodded in acknowledgment.

"They've invited me out tonight, would you care to join us?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude on a reunion,"

"You wouldn't! Come on, come meet them, they'll love you! Maybe we'll run into some cute guys," She winked.

"Yeah," You laughed out. Though guys aren't really what I'm interested in... "Alright, I'll come,"

She smiled, clapping her hands together. "Yay! I can't wait for you to meet them!"

You smiled as well at how happy she was. She barely knew you and already she wanted to introduce you to her friends? That was fast. Though, the two of you did seem to be clicking rather fast as well.

*

That night, Lucy dragged you out to a pub not far from campus. Her friends seemed to be running a little late, but she didn't let that put a damper on the mood.

The two of you ordered drinks and went to where Lucy said they'd usually meet for drinks.

"Do you go out often with them?" You asked, sipping some fruity drink Lucy had recommended.

She nodded, sipping from her straw. "Gwil and Ben usually drag me out every other weekend. And if it's not them, Allen seems to," She laughed softly to herself.

You nodded.

Just as you were about to say something else, three men joined you two at the table. A tall brunette with a beard sat beside Lucy, pecking her cheek. A shorter brunette sat beside him, greeted Lucy and sat quietly after that. A blonde sat next to you, immediately engaging the tall one in a conversation that seemed to be carrying on from before. You only sat quietly, not wanting to interrupt anything.

After the blonde finished his story with a low laugh, Lucy took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to introduce you.

"Guys," She began, gaining the attention of everyone at the table. "This," She motioned to you. "Is [Name], my roommate and new friend. We've gotten to know each other quite well over the past few hours, and I can easily say, she'll be part of the group in no time,"

The boys all smiled at you before turning back to Lucy.

"It is alright to introduce yourselves, you know," She jokes, sipping from her straw again.

Silence fell over the table before the one with a beard spoke up. "Alright, I suppose I'll go first then, yeah?" He shot a dirty look to the other two, jokingly, of course. "I'm Gwilym, it's very nice to meet you, [Name]," He stuck out his hand for you to shake, which you did.

"And you," You nodded, smiling.

"The other two are Ben," He gestured to the blonde. "And Allen," The shorter brunette.

You gave them both nods and smiles which they returned.

What could've turned into an awkward night quickly turned into one of the best you'd had in years. You immediately clicked with all these people, and, though it may have been the alcohol in your system, you found yourself opening up to them and being more out there than usual, which was rare. Usually, you were very quiet and reserved around new people, but all that went out the window with these new people you were happy to be able to call your friends by the end of the night.

The next morning, you woke up with one hell of a headache. You didn't think you'd had that much to drink, but it didn't help that you'd hardly eaten the day prior and alcohol on an empty stomach doesn't exactly do much to your tolerance level...

You sat up with a groan, dragging your hands through the hair. Suddenly, you were even more grateful that you'd left your mornings open, only electing one class and two in the afternoon. You were also grateful that it didn't take many classes to get your art major.

Lucy sat up in her bed, doing the same as you. Apparently, both of you had gotten a bit carried away with the drinks last night.

"When's your first class?" You mumbled just loud enough for her to hear, but not loud enough to make either headache worse.

"Eleven. You?"

You nodded slightly. "Eleven. What time is it now?"

She glanced at the alarm clock beside her bed. "Eleven thirty."

"Great,"

"Yeah. Good thing most classes don't start till tomorrow. People are still moving in today."

"Thank God," You muttered, laying back down quickly, making your headache worse. "Fuck!"

Lucy laughed softly. "You good?"

"Piss off."

"Awe, I'm glad you already feel close enough to me to tell me to piss off, knowing I'll take it as a joke," She said in a sickeningly sweet voice, attempting to make you laugh.

"Lucy, I swear on any other day I'd find your tone hilarious, but right now, this headache is making me want to die."

"Such a great feeling, isn't it?"

"Oh, just the best. Do you have any Advil?"

"Nope,"

"Wonderful."

The day went on, and, with it, your headache slowly disappeared, as did Lucy's. This led to the two of you trying to decide on an "aesthetic", as Lucy had referred to it, for the dorm.

"I like the idea of using some houseplants to lighten the space," Lucy said, referring back to your original idea.

"And I think you're right, some sheer curtains would definitely help open the place up a bit more," You thought out loud.

A light knock at the door broke your concentration.

"You expecting someone?" You asked her.

She shook her head and shrugged, answering. "Oh, hello, Joe!" She greeted happily, opening the door more to invite him in.

You joined her at the door, smiling at the red-head in front of you. "Hi, Joe,"

"Hey, guys," He responded with a smile. "I'm just going around to make sure everyone found their rooms okay. Seems like you two have, so I'll be on my way. It was nice seeing you two again,"

"You too!" Lucy called after him as he turned away, making his way towards the next room down the hall.

You followed him, stopping him before he could knock on the next door. "What're you studying?"

"Film, why?"

"Does that mean you have to take any art classes? Y'know, because of the claymation and animation and stuff that they cover?"

"Yes, I'm in Art 340, 430, and 460. Why?"

You smiled. "I was hoping to take a few classes with you, and turns out I do. Would you be willing to sit with me for 460?"

He returned your smile and nodded. "I'd like that. Might be nice to sit with someone I already sort of know,"

You nodded. "Agreed. Better than sitting by some weirdo,"

"I don't know you very well yet, [Name], you could be that weirdo,"

The two of you laughed before you let him continue with his work.

When you returned to the dorm, Lucy gave you a telling smile. You rolled your eyes. "What?"

"Do you like him?"

You laughed harder than you should've. "No!"

"Yes you do!"

"Lucy, please believe me when I say I have no interest in any of the boys at school,"

"Well when you put it that way, you make it seem like we're in high school!"

You shook your head, laughing and let the conversation drop.

*

In class, you were bored out of your mind. The intermediate sculpture class you were in seemed like it would only be covering what you'd already learned in your advanced high school art class, but you needed it to get into advanced sculpture. You sighed, resting your head on your hand as you tried not to doze off to the prof's boring instructions about how to properly knead the clay.

Instead of actually focusing, your mind began to wander, as it so often does. You began to think about how close you'd gotten with Lucy over the past two days. You smiled upon thinking of her and her beautiful blonde hair... her freckles nose... her sweet eyes... her plump, kissable lips.

You say up straight, eyes wide. No, I can't think of her like that! I just met her!

You sighed, deciding it would be better to just focus on the lecture rather than how badly you wanted to take Lucy's face in your hands and gently press your lips against hers...

Goddamit, [Name], control yourself!

A deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth seemed to help you focus again.

But not for long. The girl in front of you had hair the same shade as Lucy's making it impossible for you to stop thinking about her.

It's just a crush, it'll pass! They always do.

But did you really want this one to pass? Or did you want this one to actually go somewhere and lead to a future with the gorgeous blonde in it?

That's a question for another time...

When you arrived back at the dorm that night, you immediately plopped onto your bed. You could hear Lucy giggling at your actions from her bed.

"Long day?"

"You don't know the half of it,"

"You can tell me about it if you want. I've been told I'm a great listener. My advice, on the other hand is a little iffy,"

You smiled, eyes grazing over the ceiling. "Alright. There's this... Person I've met recently and I can't stop thinking about he— them. They're always on my mind, and it's distracting me from my studies. I know it's just a crush, but part of me wonders what a future for us could be like... What should I do?"

She bummed as she thought. "If It were me, I'd just tell him," You winced slightly at the word. "I mean, any guy would be lucky to have you, and if he can't see all your great qualities, you don't need to have him in your life."

You nodded.

"Is it Joe?"

"Lucy!" You sat up, eyes wide in shock at her question.

She giggled. "It's just a question, [Name]!"

"No, it is not Joe!"

She gave you a little bit of side eye. "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm bloody sure! God!"

She laughed harder this time, glad she was able to poke fun at you like this. "I'm just taking the piss, [Name],"

You flopped back on your bed as she spoke.

"So," She began, shifting in her bed. You could hear the springs squeak. "The boys have invited us for supper tonight. Care to join?"

"Us? They asked for me to come as well?"

"Yes,"

"They asked for me specifically?"

"Yes! What's so hard to believe about that?"

"Never mind. I'd love to,"

"Great! We're leaving in ten,"

You groaned in response, earning another laugh from your roommate.

*

"So... We were kicked out of the lecture hall today," Ben began sheepishly, pushing some food around his plate with a fork.

"How in the hell did that happen?" Gwilym spoke up, stopping mid-sip of his soda.

"It was Allen's fault!"

"What!" Allen asked in disbelief. "You're the one who decided it would be a good idea to see how many pencils you could fit in the girl ahead of us' hair!"

"I'm sorry, how did that lead to getting kicked out?" You asked through a giggle.

"Well, you see, the thing was—" Ben began.

"It doesn't help that she was the prof's daughter and it really doesn't help that she was originally kicked out for being disruptive because she told Ben to stop rather loud—" Allen cut him off.

"She yelled at me in the middle of a lecture!" He defended. "Not my bloody fault she can't take a damn joke,"

Lucy and you shared a look as you shook your head at their childishness.

Once there was a lull in the conversation, you spoke up, unsure of when you'd have another opportunity. "Thanks for inviting me out again, you guys really didn't have to."

"Nonsense," Gwil spoke. "We really enjoy your company,"

"Plus, you seem to be one of the only people who can keep Ben, here, at bay," Allen added, flinching slightly after speaking. You assumed Ben had kicked him.

"You're definitely someone we want to keep around," Ben commented, completely ignoring Allen's comment.

You felt a small blush rise to your cheeks. "Thanks," You mumbled, looking down. You hadn't expected to be accepted into the group so quickly; if anything, you would've thought they'd invited you along again because they fely the need to befriend Lucy's new friend. But, you were happy with the new reasoning.

"So, [Name], have you got a boyfriend?" Allen asked nonchalantly, cutting his food.

You were a little taken aback by this, but answered anyways. "No, I'm afraid I'm all alone,"

"But she's got a crush on the guy in charge of rooms!" Lucy chimed in.

You lightly kicked her under the table. "I do not!"

"That American?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow.

You rested your head in your palms, knowing they wouldn't listen to you any more.

"Yes, that's the one!"

The conversation about your non-existent feelings for Joe carried on for a few more moments before the waiter came to the table once more to take away plates and refill drinks. After he left, the conversation seemed to shift again, thankfully.

You wished you could just be more open and tell them the exact reason why you didn't have feelings for Joe, but you couldn't being yourself to do so for fear of the group rejecting you. So, you endured the teasing every time the man walked past or you were seen walking back to the dorms with him after class simply because it was easier.

*

A month into the school year and you already felt exhausted. Thankfully, it was the weekend, so you wouldn't have to worry about Art History's for a few days. Though, you did have plans to join Joe and help him with a Digital Studio project he was struggling with that you'd done in high school. Seeing as you were the only one he knew in the class, it seemed easier to ask you for help, rather than ask the prof who already didn't like him.

That afternoon, you went to Joe's dorm to help him. Though, you didn't really end up helping very much, as the two of you spent most of the time just talking. You felt oddly close to him, despite only knowing him for a month. It was like the two of you were soulmates, just not in the traditional way.

"So, got your eye on any boys around campus?" Joe asked, working on poorly photoshopping a picture.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that!" You groaned, flopping back on his bed.

"Well, I didn't realize that was such a touchy subject for you,"

"It's just— ugh! Y'know?"

He laughed. "Yes, [Name], because that makes perfect sense,"

"Thank you, I thought I explained it quite well," You joked, laughing as well, hoping the conversation would change.

But, of course, it didn't.

"Seriously, though, what's up?"

"I'm just... Don't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, okay?"

"Okay..."

"I have feelings for Lucy, and I'm gay, so it's just really annoying to always have people asking me about boys and never taking the time to even consider that I might not even like boys!"

"I can see how that'd get frustrating, yeah..."

"That's it? That's your response?"

"What do you want me to do? Freak out? Stop talking to you? Spread it around campus? Tell Lucy? [Name], I'm not gonna do any of that. I don't care that you like to kiss girls rather than guys, so do I! If someone can't accept that you like to do that when I can get away with the same thing, then fuck them. I don't care that you're gay, but I do care that you like Lucy,"

"Wow, that's the best response I've got from anyone yet,"

"So, does she know?"

"Pfft, no, of course not!" You paused, leaning over him to look closer at the screen. "If you used the quick selection tool, you'd get a cleaner background and a nicer overall look,"

Before Joe could respond, your phone lit up, catching both your attention.

"Ooh, a text from Lucy herself!" Joe said excitedly.

"Shut up," You laughed, grabbing your phone to read the message.

'I've had a rough day, and, honestly, all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.'

Joe snatched your phone from your hands and began to type a response before you could get it back. He sent it, lightly tossing your phone over his shoulder.

"Joseph!" You scolded, grabbing your phone.

"What? I just scored you a date!"

'I can help with the drinks. Wanna hit up a pub later?'

"I'm gonna kill you—"

The vibration of the phone caught your attention again.

'That'd be perfect. I'll invite the boys, if you're okay with that?'

'Sounds good :)'

"Someone's got a date~," Joe sang out.

"It's not a date!"

*

"Five tequila shots, please," Lucy spoke to the bartender as soon your group had entered the bar.

"Five?" You asked, a little concerned.

"Five." She states, quickly downing the shots as soon as they were set on the bar.

"Maybe you should slow down a little, Luce," Ben commented, placing a hand on the small of your back to gently move you away from Lucy so he was closer and she could hear him over the noise.

You took a seat beside them, suddenly feeling a little jealous of how close Ben could get to her without anyone asking any questions.

"I'm fine, Ben." Lucy responded, downing the last shot before ordering the strongest drink the pub offered.

You sighed, just getting a plain gin and tonic before following the group as they went to their table. Everyone had a drink in hand, aside from Allen who was DD'ing for the night.

A few hours passed as the four of you got progressively more tipsy. When it finally got to the point where it seemed like Allen may have to carry the group out to the car, he made the executive decision to cut everyone off.

Obviously, being drunk and all, the four of you protested like children being told they couldn't have any more candy, but that passed once he actually got everyone out of the pub.

Once inside his car, Gwil and Ben began to raid Allen's CD collection to try to find a "banger", as Ben had to elegantly put it, for the drive back to the dorms. No one could agree on anything, so Allen just flipped on the radio. A pop station turned on, to which Ben feigned a gag and flipped to an old rock station that you remembered listening to with your dad as a little kid.

Much to the only sober person's dismay, Don't Stop Me Now came blaring over the speakers which was only drowned out momentarily by excited, drunken screams. Soon enough, the vehicle was filled with the four of you singing wildly off-key. When it got to the final chorus, you were practically laying across Lucy's lap as you belted out the words that you could only half remember. She laughed loudly, throwing her head back as you gave an over-the-top expression when the song ended, pretending you'd just finished the performance of a lifetime.

"Alright rock stars," Allen began, putting the car in park. "We're at the dorms. Are all of you capable of finding your way back to your rooms or do I need to guide you there, too?"

Lucy waved him off. "Pfft, we'll be fine. [Name] and I got each other to rely on in case we get lost," She slurred, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "Might need to guide the boys, though. I don't think they know where they are," She stage whispered the last part, throwing open the car door on her side, dragging you up with her.

Eventually, the two of you had managed to find your room after what felt like forever.

"I'm exhausted!" Lucy huffed, falling onto her bed, patting the space beside her. "Come sit with me,"

You reluctantly sat with her, unsure of what you'd say in your drunken state. However, if you did do something you'd regret, the good news was, she wouldn't remember anything.

"I want to watch a movie!" She whined.

You giggled. "Which one?"

"Ooh, Lady And The Tramp!" She clapped excitedly.

You laughed again, standing to put the disk in before joining her on her bed once again, the springs squeaking under your weight.

All throughout the movie, Lucy began to get closer to you. Eventually, she was laying her head across your chest and you were rubbing your fingers through her hair. It wasn't a romantic gesture, just something you started to do, not even thinking twice about it. Though, you began to think she might be weirded out by your actions, so you stopped, earning a small whine from her, so you giggled and continued.

When the movie got to the most famous scene where the dogs slurped spaghetti, you decided you may as well just confess your feelings to her. Though, had you been sober, the thought wouldn't have even crossed your mind. You knew this was a complete 180 from where you were at the beginning of the night, but neither of you would remember it, so did it really matter?

"Lucy," You whispered, looking down at her.

She turned her head to look at you, smiling. "Yeah?"

"I, um, have something to tell you,"

She sat up, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her feet. "You can tell me anything,"

"Uh..." You looked around the room; anywhere but her.

She placed a hand on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure you.

You closed your eyes, sighing. "I... Have feelings for you,"

She didn't say anything, worrying you. Just as you opened your eyes to see what her expression was, you saw her leaning towards you.

Before you knew it, you were kissing the girl you'd been thinking about nonstop for the last month, and it was everything you hoped it would be.

Joe's gonna lose his shit, You thought, smiling into the kiss. Soon after, your hands found their way into her short, blonde hair and hers snaked around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

[cannibalisticskittles]

an act of kindness, ch. 6

pairing: unknown/reader notes: [6/?] part one, part two, part three, part four, part five part six of the unknown route fic, 9 and a half months after the last update. depression and writers block kicked my ass but here i am. and here there be smooches.

He made you wear the stupid blindfold again, though he was smart enough to pull the car over and remove it when you were almost to the city. And now you’re… here. In the car. With him. Spying on potential kidnap victims. If combing through blogs and personal pages didn’t make you feel like scum, this sure as hell does. You're… checking how accurate his patterns for them are, it seems. Seeing if they deviate in any way, if they interact with anyone unexpected, if they seem to match what you've gathered of them. ...If you had stopped to talk to someone on your way home from work one day, would you still have ended up here? Well. Doesn't matter now. You’re already here. You just have to… try to stop him from putting anyone else in your position. And, unfortunately, it’s got your nerves on high alert, and you may be suffering from a slight case of nervous motor-mouth. “Hey boss, you don't mind if I put my feet up on the dash, do you? No? Great, thanks.” You never imagined that you would one day be propping your feet on the dashboard of a shitty cramped car while feeling enough anxiety to be physically nauseated, but stalling for time has not gone well. Nonchalance is your best cover. It might be why he’s let you get away with so much. Why, earlier today, you'd even -- You yelp as his hand ghosts over your bare leg, from ankle to knee and farther. You wriggle and this is enough for him to pull away at the hem of your shorts. ...would he have stopped there anyway, or would he have just traced that path right back down if you didn't move? He meets your gaze with an amused smirk and makes as if to turn back to the window you've been surveying. You make a noise of protest. “Wh -- you're not even gonna tell me to stay alert or anything? What was that for, then?” “Wanted to.” To punctuate this, he returns his hand to your knee, tracing lightly over your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Wwwell,” you say, throat suddenly dry. “Far be it from me to get in the way of chasing your dreams.” His smirk worsens, and he trails his fingers to your thigh. You have to fight the urge to let your eyes slide shut. You willnot get shivery because of someone who’s been making you spy with him. Even if it does feel… remarkably… not unpleasant. ...If he can't tell you're imagining his fingers in more… intimate places, it's fine, right? God, no, it is not a good sign if you're starting to find this creep attractive. He’s nice-looking, sure, but he’s also keeping you held here, and you will not fall for that kind of stockholm bullshit. Blessedly, you’re saved by the view finally changing. “--Boss.” There's movement at the window. Immediately, he draws back, eyes locking onto the window, where the girl can now be seen. For a moment, you both simply observe. He might be watching the window for some telltale sign of rightness or wrongness for whatever nefarious plans paradise has, but you, on the other hand, are not looking for anything in particular -- or at least, not about the girl. You’re just looking for openings. Like this one. You scooch closer, lean into him, then casually hop into his lap. You ignore whatever look he might be giving you, and deftly push away the thought that it might be a look of interest -- the pair of you are on surveillance, so it makes sense that you’d want to get a closer look, right? Not suspicious at all. Definitely not trying to get him to put his guard down around you, no sir. You haven’t managed to distract him as thoroughly as you were hoping today, but you’ll be damned if you give up now. You keep your eyes fixed resolutely on the window, and after a moment, his arm slips around your waist. Another moment passes, and then you can feel him lean his cheek against the back of your head. ...comfortable is… good for you, right? Certainly has to be better than him raising his guard against you. So you relax a little into him and watch the window. This has actually been the quietest stakeout so far -- the only one that hasn't involved doing some active shady shit. Or, just active shit, anyway. It's all inherently shady. This one’s been… sort of a break compared to how everything else went. You've ducked under awnings and peered into the windows of high-rise buildings, you've skulked around offices and lied your ass off at two different front desks, nursed the same cup of coffee for two hours just to stay in a cafe and watch someone across the street… there were a few times where you seemed close enough that you thought you might get caught, but no, you survived it all. Some part of you knew already that you couldn’t dissuade him from picking one of these five in the end, but that didn’t stop you from critiquing them anyway, as though it might make a difference. (“Heirs and heiresses -- I'm not saying it can’t be done, I'm just saying it's a little high-profile.” “Okay, the business lady looks like she could kick my ass effortlessly. I would thank her if she did.” “What kind of person is so private that they never go outdoors but then never shut the curtains? That's some voyeur shit for sure. She also looks like she could kick my ass. I like this theme you went with here.” “Did you pick these people because they have their life together or because they're all noticeably attractive? And was it the same for me? Because boss… bad news for you if it's one of those, and I'm flattered if it's the other.” He grew sick of your comments after a while, you could tell, but expected them, too. Or you assume that's why he gave you a rather suspicious look before prodding you for your opinion when you didn't immediately pipe up with your judgments, finding the silence conspicuous. You'd just shrugged then. “Nothing, nothing! Just… an interesting style of dress. Very… bold. I didn't know unicorns were in right now. Can I just say that they're my favorite so far? Because they're my favorite.”) But… after all of that, you can tell that this is who he's going to choose. He certainly seemed to linger the most on her profile back in paradise, and from what you remember, it's no wonder -- online classes, between jobs, doesn't seem to leave the house except for groceries? It's a perfect match. You won't exactly have to struggle with the how and where of getting her if she never leaves the house or even has visitors, and who would miss her soon enough to find her? You, if you can help it, but if not you, well… she is, quite probably, fucked. God, you hope someone's looking for you. He shifts suddenly, nearly displacing you in the process, but pulls you back to him with the arm around his waist. You mutter a thanks and peer up at him. “She's at the window,” he murmurs, and when you sneak a glance past him, you can indeed see the girl standing at her window, looking out at the street below. He pulls you in a little closer, and you lean into him obligingly, helping to make it look like you’re just a couple getting cozy. “You know, you wouldn't have to hide your face or… all of me… if you got contacts. And different clothes for me.” “Hmm.” You huff at the indifferent noise, and his lips quirk up. “...I think she's moved away again,” you say, catching the movement out of the corner of your eye. You start to shift to a better position to see the window again, but he says, “I think we've seen enough.” “We… have?” He messes with his phone before responding -- well, maybe messing with it isn’t the best way to describe it, considering how scary-capable he’s been with it thus far. “Mmmhmm. Everything’s in place and ready.” You have to resist a shudder at how final that sounds, how… sure. Like everything’s on track and nothing could go wrong. Instead, you say, “Boss, what can you see on there that you can't from here? ...how many systems are you tapped into, you're like some kind of sinister tech wizard. Why am I even here if you're still monitoring everyone even 50 feet away from them?” “I like your company.” He glances up from his phone and tightens his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Don't you like mine?” “...sure, boss.” He lets go of you at last only to drag his knuckles along your jaw and rest his thumb at your pulse point, smirking when you stiffen. “I think you do.” And then he pulls back and nudges you gently until you wiggle off his lap and into your own seat. ...did he just feel your pulse? That's his basis for -- oh, that is not an accurate representation of anything you feel right now. You can't really dispute that with any proof, though. Bastard. You settle into seat as he starts the car, and you stare resolutely out the window instead of looking at him. After only a short time has passed, though, you start watching the passing scenery with renewed interest. This… doesn’t seem like the way back. Granted, maybe you’re taking an alternate route for secrecy or whatever, but -- “Close your eyes.” “...what?” And then you straighten in indignation. “Wait, boss, c’mon.” You had to take the blindfold off earlier as you neared the city, so it’s not exactly surprising that he’ll keep the route secret on the way back, but do you really need to be blinded now? He only chuckles. “Close your eyes,” he repeats. “Be patient.” So you do, reluctantly. You try to sneak a surreptitious peek a few times, but can't catch anything identifying enough in those brief seconds to know anything, save that you still seem to be in the city. He parks the car after not too long -- city limits, maybe? “Stay there,” he instructs. And it’s not like you’re in the best position to make a run for it now. You gather from what your hear that he exits the car and closes his door, and then he must come around to your side of the car, because moments later, he is opening your door for you. “Keep them closed,” he says, and he takes hold of one hand to help you out and then covers your eyes. And then he sort of just… guides you. Walks behind you and urges you on. It’s sort of slow going though, out of necessity, and you say, “You don't wanna just use the blindfold again, boss? It's right in the car, that might be quicker than all this. Can’t imagine that this doesn’t look strange without it, anyway.” “Shhh, just be patient. Good things come to those who wait, and you do want good things, don’t you?” “...okay, now I'm nervous.” He gives a low chuckle, but says nothing else until he drops his hands and brings you both to a stop. “Alright,” he murmurs, “you can look now.” With no small measure of trepidation, you open your eyes, and you can see now that after all this fuss he has brought you to stand before... “...a thrift store?” And then the implication dawns on you. “A thrift store!” You turn to him and find him wearing what may be the smuggest expression you've seen seen on him thus far, and that's saying something. But for good reason -- the idea of finally being able to get out of these grubby clothes that you've been wearing nonstop for five goddamn days makes you feel almost deliriously happy. You could weep with joy right here. -- if he's not teasing you. Oh, he'd better not be teasing you. “Boss,” you say, growing suddenly desperate, turning to clutch at his shirt in your frenzy, “tell me this means what I think it means. Tell me you’re actually going to let me get out of these gross clothes.” “If all you wanted was to get out of them--” “Boss.” And he actually laughs. “I told you you’d be happy in paradise, didn’t I? And you have been good. This is your reward.” You don’t even think about it when you pull him into a crushing hug. The joy you feel is too overwhelming -- you’re really just acting on the sheer elation of thinking about how good it’ll feel to wear something clean, and maybe you can even get some pajamas and finally not have to sleep in your day clothes. You definitely think about it when he puts a hesitant arm around you, though. And now you’re just standing there. Holding your disguised cult-boss, in the middle of the sidewalk, as he stands stiff and uncomfortable. You pull back quickly. From his expression, you can tell that he doesn’t seem to know how to react to that. You’re not really sure, either. ...he does look faintly pink. You… do not want to deal with any sort of conversation this might result in. “Well,” you say. You gesture vaguely towards the doors and begin taking slow steps over. “Let’s… see what they’ve got for us, huh?” He nods, looking… distracted. You choose to ignore that, hoping that this will head off any comments or, god forbid, questions from him. The interior is -- interesting. There's soft jazz playing throughout the store, which looks stuck in the 70s, with low ceilings and deeply plush carpets, but it’s clean and large enough that you can probably enough to fit you, so fuck it, it’s new clothes and you’re lucky to be offered this. So, where to start? Simple is best. You don't know how much time you'll be given to browse, so you'd better find something to fit your needs as quick as you can. Anything else can come later, if you've got the time for it. There's actually a pretty decent organizational system in here, all things considered. Everything's kept in easy-to find sections, and sizing is… well, mostly mixed up, but at least you can sort within the sections. And, miracle of miracles, there's unopened packs of underwear for sale. You could almost weep. Considering your situation, you don't even care if it turns out to be the scratchy cheap kind. It only takes you a few minutes to find what could be the basis of a few simple outfits, if they indeed fit you. You're not really sure what to do about pajamas, so you grab a few of the biggest, comfiest shirts they have -- most of which, for some reason have to do with various family trips? Whatever, they’re cheap and soft. You’re sorting through another rack, hoping to find some comfortable sweatpants or something similar, when he comes up behind you and rests his hands on your hips. You still. God damn it, you may have created a monster. “Hello to you too?” you say. “Mmn. I’ve picked out some things for you to try,” he says. “Left them in the changing room.” “Oh,” you say. “Thank you. Wait, what did you get?” “Things you’ll look nice in.” That’s vague and debatable. “We should get going soon. Have you found everything you were looking for?” “I think so. ...thanks.” When you wiggle, trying to turn, he releases you. “Where’s the changing room?” “Back wall, that way.” “Oh, I see it now. ...you don’t need to walk me there, I see it.” But he continues despite your protests, as though you really do need to be lead. Once you actually reach the changing room, you turn to face him head-on and hold out a hand. “Alright, end of the line, boss, no following me in, you hear? I'll be quicker without your help.” He raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, and so you step inside and close and lock the door behind you. It's a little cramped, but it'll do the job. There's a little stack of clothes on a wicker chair in the corner, presumably whatever he picked out for you. Even without looking through it, you're a little wary. “Hey, boss, am I about to discover something about you and your preferences?” “Have you tried something on?” His voice is slightly muted, but he sounds… eager, and this gives you pause. “Not yet,” you decide. “Let me work my way through what I found and then give yours a go.” “Well… be quick about it.” You can just imagine him sulking out there, and you're grinning as you test out the clothes. Thankfully, you are able to get through everything you brought with minimal fuss. Most of it fits, too, hallelujah. Goodbye to grimy clothes. So, now… the others. You consider the pile he found for you with bemusement, and finally begin to look through it. It's… actually not too bad. Considering him, anyway. But it's not great. There are… a lot of crop tops here. And tight pants. And very short shorts. You're not even going to touch the hot pants, let alone consider walking out in them, and some of those tops would just be embarrassing. You suppose you could get one pair of super tight pants just to make him happy. No one said you'd have to wear them. And there's also some remarkably cutesy clothes in there. Shirts with peter pan collars, some ribbons, some lace -- the juxtaposition is baffling. But… a pair of shorts with little embroidered flowers is pretty cute, and fits comfortably, and actually does look nice on you, especially with one crop top in particular. Lavender and lace -- who'd have expected this, huh? You twist to admire yourself in the mirror. “Hey boss,” you call out, “pretty decent haul.” He says something, but his voice is muffled. “What?” you ask. This time, you catch it. “Show me.” You start to unlock and open the door, but then pause. “...you wanna approve my outfits, or d’you just wanna watch me change?” “Yes.” “Boss--” But it’s too late, he’s already pushed the door open and come in. You take an automatic step backwards when he shuts the door, but try to recover by posing exaggeratedly. Gotta keep him thinking you’re comfortable in his presence, gotta keep his guard down. There’s no response from him save for a slight squint. “...Come on boss, tell me I look pretty.” His eyebrows raise. “Oh,” he says, a smirk growing on his face as he takes a step closer, “Is that what you want?” Damn this tiny changing room. You can only take a faltering half-step before your back hits the mirror. “Uh,” you say. You can’t seem to think of anything else. You swallow, throat suddenly dry, and attempt a nonchalant laugh as he draws ever nearer. It falters, sounding breathy and weak. “Because,” he says, now close enough that you have to flatten yourself against the mirror -- and it’s cold as shit, as if this situation wasn’t bad enough already -- to avoid being pressed against him, but even that doesn’t really work. He rests an arm above your head, casual and self-satisfied. “If that’s all it takes to make you happy…” He leans in so that his lips graze the shell of your ear, and you shiver as he murmurs, “I can think of something that’d please you far more.” He grips your hip with one hand and trails the other up your side, soft enough to be a caress. Your breathing grows shallow. “I…” your voice comes out far too close to a whimper and you flush, which only makes him cockier. He cups your face and rests his thumb on your lower lip, leans in, and… There’s a knock at the door. “Hey,” comes an irritated voice from the other side, “one person to a changing room.” He actually growls. He tries to ignore it and lean in again, follow through with what he started -- and danger, danger says your mind even as you tilt your head up so he has a better angle. The voice on the other side comes again, rapping a little more sharply. “I mean it, just one!” And then, softer: “I swear to god, if I have to call up my supervisor for the key…” He straightens a little, frowning, then shoots a baleful look at the door. You’re still reeling from -- an almost-kiss, if you interpreted that right? But how could you interpret that any other way? -- so you don't have the wherewithal to stifle your nervous giggle at his pout. “I’m just helping them zip,” he snaps, but he steps away. He hesitates for, apparently, too long, because there is another knock. “Fuck, give it a rest, will you? I’m already coming out!” He glances back at you before stepping out, one hand on the doorknob. He's -- well, you don't think he's undressing you with his eyes, exactly, when he stares at you, there's not enough up-and-down glancing, but it has that same predatory feeling to it. “...that’s a good look for you,” he says softly, finally. “Try wearing it again soon.” And with the look in his eye, you don’t think he’s just talking about the clothes. As soon as the door closes behind him -- and you hear him start to bicker with the door-knocker -- you whirl to face the mirror. Christ, you're wearing a dopey I-almost-just-got-kissed-and-I-kind-of-wish-we-weren't-interrupted look, all… flushed and hazy and disappointed, and he was into it. Well… joke’s on him, because you only sort of wish that, and the rest of you was very happy to be interrupted so it was not a consensus, so there. ...You're in trouble. You are definitely in trouble. You take your time changing back into your clothes and gathering up everything that fits. You're as close to calm as you can get by the time you step out the door. He is… not there. Huh. Looking for some other clothes for you? Sulking or seething somewhere? Did he follow the poor employee who interrupted you so he could yell at them? You peer around racks as you wander to the front where there is, thankfully, someone standing by the cash register, a bored-looking boy with a mop of curly hair, though your darling boss isn't here. You set your chosen clothes down and continue to glance around what you can see of the store as you're rung up. When he's scanned it all, he asks flatly, “will that be all?” You wince. Ah, this is definitely the owner of the unknown voice. “Yyyep, that's it, thanks. Hey, uh… I’m sorry about…” You wave a hand vaguely. “Him. My boyfriend. He can be kind of… impulsive. I'm sorry he came in with me, and I'm sure that if he happened to threaten or insult you, he didn't really mean it.” You offer a sheepish smile. The cashier frowns, but doesn't have time to respond as the boy in question suddenly appears. He practically stalks forward, slamming down some bills on the counter and snatching the bag of clothes away from the cashier. “We're going,” he snaps, and you have just enough time to accept the bag and hear the cashier protest before you are swept away. He grabs your wrist and yanks you out the door with enough force that the bag slips off your shoulder and falls somewhere behind you as he leads you -- somewhere. Not in the direction of the car. When you turn a corner into a nearby alleyway, he releases your wrist but pushes you roughly against the brick wall. “What did you say?” His voice is harsh, frightening, and for some reason, that -- stings. You stare at him, bewildered, and he grips your arms tightly as his lips twist in a scowl. “I--” Your mind is racing, trying to figure out what could possibly have made him so angry. His grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin, and you wince. “What did you say?” “Geez, I said sorry, okay?” He doesn't ease his grip, but he doesn't snarl at you this time, so maybe you can take that as a good sign. “I said I was sorry that he had to monitor us, sorry that I brought my boyfriend in with me, okay? I barely even got that out, you were only gone for a minute, I…” “You didn't say anything else?” He demands. His voice is losing some of that edge, becoming more ragged and less furious. “Not about me? Not about paradise?” Oh. God. “I.” Your voice falters. “I didn't.” You didn't even think about it. Your voice comes out in a whisper. “I didn't breathe a word that wasn't for the cover.” The bottom of your stomach seems to drop out even as you try to rationalize it -- you don't know where you are, you don't know any escape routes, you don't know if the cashier would have believed you, let alone helped you, and given what you've seen of your boss, he might be able to track you across the goddamn globe anyway, and god, please, let that knowledge be why you didn't even try. He's searching your expression, eyes darting frantically across your face. The dark wig only makes his gaze more intense, makes the pale color seem even starker, and you feel laid bare as he scrutinizes you. His own expression is unreadable, until a flash of what seems to be relief crosses over it, raw and unguarded -- and then he is crushing his mouth against yours, pinning you to the wall in a forceful embrace. Your head knocks against the wall with the fierceness of it, but it's over before you can even really process anything more than that. When you separate, you have to gasp in a breath, but he doesn't continue his -- amorous onslaught. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and reaches up to stroke your hair. It takes you a moment to realize that he's murmuring something, but you can't even begin to make out what it is until he finally loosens his grip and lets you start to pull away. “--knew you were the right one, knew you were right for paradise, you wouldn't betray us--” You shiver. Eventually, blessedly, he stops. He slides a hand down your arm to rest along your lower back. “I'm sorry to have left you alone,” he says, as if that's what he needs to apologize for. “The savior was eager to hear of our progress.” Ah, so that's what it was. “I'm… sorry to have worried you,” you say as he leads you out of the alley. He looks inordinately pleased to hear that. He lets you walk back to the car with your eyes open this time, and he picks up the discarded bag not too far from the thrift shop’s doors. At least the cashier didn't take it back. ...hopefully he overpaid the cashier, not underpaid, to minimize that particular damage. You're quiet when you reach the car, but he doesn't seem to mind. There's a faint smile playing on his lips that doesn't seem to fade, and he keeps shooting you glances as you begin the trip out of the city, that are -- well -- unnerving. You've seen arrogance from him before. You've seen that dismissive possessiveness when he treats you like his little doll. But this... Well, this time you're glad when he pulls over to tie the blindfold around your eyes, because for the first time, his expression was tender. You don't know what this means for you, and you don't know how you're going to deal with that. The sick feeling in your stomach returns. You spend the rest of the drive nervously picking off bits of the seat where you think he can't see, and you have your own little mountain of fuzz as evidence of your distress by the time you reach paradise.