#as soon as they came in in the dancer costumes and started fucking shit up I was like “this is just like the bacchae!!”

[voluptuarian]

IT'S TIME TO REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE: DIONYSUS/THE KID

Monkey Man dir. Dev Patel; The Bacchae by Euripides trans. Anne Carson; The Bacchae by Euripedes trans. William Arrowsmith; gif by @gongyussy

[astrids2th]

Always moving. Pt 1

Mae x Fem! Dancer Reader

summary: In a near-future Miami practically entirely submerged in water, Mae finds herself performing at a low end club, singing to the drunken guests. But here, before her performance, she catches a glimpse of a dancer in the midst of the warm, smoke filled club, and she finds herself spiraling into a dangerous love story with you. A dancer bound to the club by a miserable contract. but what will she do when her secrets catch up to her?

Warnings: None really, no smut yet, but there will be in part two! so stick around if that's what you want lol. also !men DNI! (always.)

A/N: Sorry for my bad English, it isn't my first language. Please tell me if there's any spelling mistakes, and please interact so I know if I should continue this fic! <33

word count: 3k (I'm doing word count now slay.)

☆═━┈┈━═☆

As the pulsating beat throbbed through the air, the club was alive with energy. Bodies moved in rhythm, a symphony of motion amid the haze of warm lights and swirling cigarette smoke, forcing you to squint as you tried to navigate through the claustrophobic mob of people who had all collected in the small club. Shoulders and hips struck against you, pulling a string of curses from you, and turning a couple heads who shot glares your way in annoyance at the interruption. But you didn’t care, you just needed to get to the dressing room as fast as possible. You were already late five or ten minutes, and forcing your way through the crowd, pulling, and pushing, you could practically hear the doomsday clock ticking in your head. Oh, you were going to get shit for this.

“Y/N, where the fuck have you been.” A hand grabbed your wrist, and you were hauled into the changing room as if you were on a fishing line, getting pulled out of the sea of people and into, well, not safety. Just another danger, you supposed. “Got held up on the way. Traffic,” You made up the excuse, covering for the fact that really you had just enjoyed a rather long nap and allowed yourself to sleep in a couple too many minutes. Your fellow dancer who was still holding your wrist firmly, raised an eyebrow at you, “traffic? At this hour?” She questioned you, clearly not buying the story and staring you down like a hawk. “Yeah… Traffic… people gotta get places, you know,” you continued to talk yourself back into a corner with a lie that you very well knew wasn’t getting you anywhere. The hawk sighed and rolled her eyes, letting go of your wrist and giving you a small, hopefully affectionate, shove in the direction of your changing station. “Just go get dressed, Y/N. Show starts in 20 minutes, if you’re not ready be then you might as well just leave.” You nodded vigorously and she turned away to leave. And as soon as she did, you snickered before making your way to the dressing station, swiftly slipping off your clothes and grabbing for the skimpy outfit that had been laid out ready for you.

You were half dressed when the door was burst open, or well if you took into account the fact that the outfit you were going to wear basically was the same as being “half dressed” you were more likely 25% dressed when she launched into the room. A woman looking positively panicked and with her ponytail half undone, hanging down her back, stray strands of hair hanging loose around her face. And as soon as she saw you, she gasped and desperately tried to look away and cover her face in an attempt to try and shield your dignity, but honestly you didn’t quite mind. You were a dancer at a low-end club where it was commonly known that most guests who came here didn’t come to enjoy the artistry of a dancer’s talents as they performed on the stage, but more so their bodies as they moved around. These guests (mostly men) didn’t pay for talent but for a good show and for how much skin the dancer’s costumes allowed them to see. Managers knew that. And dancers knew that. So, they leaned into it. Everyone needed their bills paid, and these men were stupid enough to pay them for you if you slipped your bra down just a tiny bit more than necessary. So, as you stood there, one tit out proud and unashamed, the woman in the doorway looking away with flushed cheeks, you just quirked an eyebrow in slight confusion and slight amusement. “Can I help you?” You asked her after a short pause where you both hesitated.

“Eh, y-yeah, could you tell me where the singer’s dressing room is?...” She questioned in a clearly nervous voice while continuing to look away in embarrassment, the parts of her cheeks which were visible to you behind her hands were flushed pink, making you smirk a bit in amusement. “You’re singing tonight?” You asked her in slight surprise and making no move to try and cover up any more than what little you were already covered currently. You saw no reason to and to be frank you were finding a lot of fun in watching her flustered state as she attempted to not look at your indecency. She nodded swiftly and cleared her throat in an awkward manner? “Yeah, umm... My name is Mae, I’m singing tonight…” She answered the best she could, and you gave a small hum in acknowledgement. “That’s a nice change, the singers here are usually old men who found a guitar in their attic and decided to start a music career.” You mused and casually pulled up the strap of your costume to at least cover a bit more, but Mae still decided to keep her eyes trained on the doorframe as if it was the most interesting doorframe she’d ever seen, and she nodded a bit as you spoke, not saying anything. You took that as an initiative to talk again. “The greenroom is down the hall, there’s an overdramatic star on the door, should be easy to spot,” you informed her and took out your makeup to start applying it to your face. You could hear her clear her throat again and she finally looked away from the doorframe. “Thank you… ?” “Y/N,” you finished for her as you noticed her slight hesitance, her face searching yours as she was trying to remember the name you never provided her with. She gave an attempt at a smile and nodded, and you felt a sudden feeling of… something… rising in your chest, though you couldn’t quite identify the emotion. But it felt nice. She was nice. “Thank you, Y/N.” her voice was nice too… But the moment was cut short as you once again hear the hawks voice screech for you, calling you to the stage, and drawing a groan for you.

“See you on the stage, Mae,” you call to her while picking up your shoes and stumbling by her, determined to not get fired for being late tonight. You needed this money a lot so while you were walking away you swiftly and inelegantly slip on the tall shoes, leaving Mae behind at the door to the dressing room, looking after you with what could almost be mistaken for a longing gaze. This was a busy club, and everyone was always moving, Mae would have to learn that.

☆═━┈┈━═☆

Every corner of the club was filled with electricity as you moved onto the stage, making an effort not to squint in the light of the overhead lamps which were pointing sharply down at you and the other dancers from above. None of you were left with much time before the music ripped through the crowd from large speakers. And you began, slim outfit hugging your body and trapping the heat in between the shimmering fabric and your warm skin. But you ignore the uncomfortable sensation and start moving forward, and then back. To one side, and then the other, every movement a testament to the hours of practice that you’d once put into learning this skill and art form, only for it to be left unappreciated by a crowd of hungry and drunken sharks.

With each leap and twirl you performed, you commanded the attention of those sharks, deliberately leaning forward at times, and forcing a coy smile which you had practiced in the mirror many a times before. And you pull the eyes of multiple onlookers, both on the floor, sitting at tables and in sofas scattered around the smoke-filled room, but also behind the curtain unbeknownst to you, curious eyes were following your movements with slight interest. Mae was covered as much as she could by the thick, red curtain while still allowing a small slit to peek out pointedly at not the group of dancers, but one specifically. The one who had so confidently conversed with her earlier, demanding her interest without even directly having to ask for it. Simply your way of being had piqued it.

Sweat glistened on your skin in the magnificent yet burning lights above the stage, but you seemed to not mind at all as your movements continued, and you held the eye contact confidently with a couple of the spectators who all smiled in amusement and satisfaction at the attention which Mae knew for a fact was not genuine but merely a show or a couple extra dollars. A good show, that was for sure. You knew exactly what you were doing, just not who was watching as well.

As the song drew to a close, the dancers collectively struck their final poses, their bodies taut with tension. And as if on cue, the crowd erupted into cheers and laughs, their applause a thunderous roar that echoed off the walls of the already loud club. With a sultry smile, you took a bow, basking in the adoration of your audience. Mae smiled amusedly at your display. You were not just a dancer — you were a star.

And then it was Mae’s turn on the stage. You had seen her as you exited from the stage, finally shielded from the crowd of sharks by the same curtains which had camouflaged Mae, but it seemed that she had hidden herself from you again, even as you had sought her out excitedly, also to cheer her on for her upcoming performance. But you were left confused but interested. And then you saw her walk onto the stage in the most gorgeous red dress that made you go quiet for a moment, the loud conversing of your fellow dancer slipping and fading into the background as you stepped a bit closer to the slit in the curtain, the same one that Mae had stood by just earlier. And you glanced out at her discreetly. And then her voice rung out throughout the crowd, leaving them silent. The earlier buzz of laughter and conversation fizzled out as their gaze and attention was naturally adverted to the beautiful woman on stage. You had only known this woman for maybe an hour or so, spoken with her once, and you were already feeling the butterflies waking up in your stomach. Something which you hadn’t experienced for years now. The sensation was strange and alien to you, and made you withdraw from the curtain in a slight movement. But you couldn’t draw your eyes away from Mae, even if you had wanted to, her presence was too striking to do so. So, you kept watching, listening, in awe at the woman who stood lone on stage with such confidence yet vulnerability, managing to silence the sharks and making it look effortless.

☆═━┈┈━═☆

“When you're awake the things you think- Come from the dream you dream- Thought has wings, and lots of things- Are seldom what they seem,”

“Sometimes you think you've lived before- All that you live today- Things you do come back to you- As though they knew the way,”

“Oh, the tricks your mind can play.”

☆═━┈┈━═☆

“You sang beautifully out there.” Your hand was on her shoulder, carefully as to not spook the skittish woman. She turned to you with slight surprise edged into her captivating features. There was a slight pause where she seemed to hesitate, as if thinking about something. Something important. Then she smiled, a genuine and soft smile, maybe slightly amused. It made you chuckle lightly. “Thank you, Y/N. You might be the first person to compliment my voice of all things.” The response made you smile as well, even in spite of the sad truth that it carried, knowing what she meant by the statement. The biggest part of both your salaries probably didn’t come from your talents or skills but rather… from the show you put on while performing. You made a move to slowly slip your hand off her shoulder and her warm skin, but she reached up and placed her hand over yours, subtly keeping it there and looking up at you from the stool she was sitting at, removing the makeup from her face with the mirror in front of her, shining a dramatic light at the both of you. “You danced brilliantly as well,” she complimented fondly, earning a small and gentle smirk to tug at your lips, the compliment causing your cheeks to tint a soft pink colour as well. The pink hue almost unnoticeable in the multi-coloured lights of the dressing room. So, you didn’t have to worry about her noticing the flushed state she had put you in, at least. “You might be the first person to compliment my dancing abilities as well,” you mused in reply and the smirk pulled into a teasing smile, pulling a light chuckle from the singer as well, and she squeezed your hand, making you pause at the gentle gesture.

You both found yourself stood in a pleasant silence, one of those rare ones where nobody has to say anything for a moment to feel special, comfortable. One of those silences that usually only appear between two people who are very special to each other. And maybe this ‘stranger’ had become special to you in those few hours you had spent together. But it couldn’t last forever. And her blue eyes drifted. They drifted away from your face and to the clock which hung behind you above the decorated entrance to the singers dressing room that you had slipped into to talk with her. And her expression seemed to drop in a realisation that you couldn’t quite understand. She looked almost… scared, and it made you frown and study her face, searching for an explanation. Why was she scared, what was she scared of, wh- “I have to go.” She shot up and out of her seat, making you almost stumble back with an expression that displayed the sheer confusion and bafflement  you were feeling. And as she scrambled to scoop up all her things into her arms and stuff it into her bag, you scurried to try and help her out, but she only gently shoved you away with a look of slight remorse, an expression she tried to hide. “What, why, what’s wrong? Mae, what is happening,” You kept trying to approach her and maybe provide some comfort given how conflicted and even scared that she looked right now. “No, no, Y/N, nothing’s wrong, just- just stop it, have to go. Quickly.” She replied in a tone which was clearly an attempt at sounding harsh and decisive, but it just sounded desperate. And your shoulders slackened, a sigh passing by your lips while you watched her with a concerned expression. “Bye, Y/N… s- see you… sometime,” she stuttered out while rushing out the door, stuffing her last belongings down and into her back in her rush.

You just looked after her silently, brows furrowed in a consistent manner, body tensing with the sudden rush of worry you felt. What kind of Cinderella-esque  shit was this?... “I-… See you too… I guess…” You murmured and looked at the spot which in which she had just stood scurrying and scrambling to get away either from or to something. It made you wonder… But you quickly shook your head and groaned in slight irritation, the sudden feeling of shame washing over you, as you wondered if it was something you had done something completely wrong, said or looked wrong. You dropped down in Mae’s former makeup chair. Mae had been hired in for this night and this night only, there was no contract, no nothing, so if she didn’t choose to come back to see you, she would likely never be returning to this hell hole in which you were bound and stuck by a stupid contract you signed in a moment of juvenility and naïvety where you had really thought your skills would get you somewhere, somewhere great with lots of money and fame. But no. you were here to please men with dance moves you had never even known in your young years of dance training. And as you sat there and buried your face in the palms of your hands, elbows placed firmly on the white surface of the table, causing red marks to appear on your skin from the rough treatment, you slowly turned your head to let out a sigh, but you were quickly halted as you caught sight of something. Something small and something shiny, buried in a heap of cheap makeup supplies. Your arms fell from holding your face and to instead laying on the table, and you reached over.

Pulling out the small artifact you noticed it to be an earring. An earring that you quickly noticed Mae to have worn during her beautiful performance which had captivated you so deeply, leading you to take note and remember practically everything about her. Including the pretty, little pieces of jewellery she wore, the green teardrop earrings. Bought cheaply to look expensive. Your expression furrowed in a moment of thought as you examined it. And your palm closed around the shiny object, and you held it almost protectively, not wanting to drop it as well. She would want this back. But she had left in such a messy hurry that she had dropped it in the panicked rushing.

But Mae was seemingly a busy woman, and she was always moving. Y/N would have to learn that.

[softcallofdutyimagines]

Off to the Races | AU: Gangsters/Casino | Russel Adler x fem!reader

Summary: You were born for the stage. A natural dancer with all of your youth used for experience, you now find yourself as a showgirl in one of Vegas' top casinos, the SunDowner. Owned by, Russell Adler, a notorious gangster in the underworld who remains undercover to the public eye, business is booming. Doubly so when a mysterious promotion comes your way, launching you to the top stage...

Just when you thought your life couldn't get more interesting, just how crazy will things get when the old gangster handpicks you from one crazy life to another, to keep for himself?

Tags: Gangster Au, age difference

Warnings: This fic has no explicit smut or anything, but WILL contain some overtly sexual themes and suggestive content, strong language, and age difference bc y'all know me 😪 So reader beware!

Y'all thought I was joking with this post huh lol

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You’d be surprised how much that little mantra has gotten you through.

Tonight, it comes in handy once more.

You scurry into place on stage, surrounded by an array of women around your age in exactly similar costumes. Glittering, skin tight leotards, sky high heels to pop out some ass, sheer mesh sections to show a little skin, and long, billowing feather accents mounted on your back and head for God knows what.

It’s your first night doing a showgirl routine at the infamous SunDowner casino, right here in shiny, shimmering Sin City itself. You’re one of three acts going on at the same time, all on different floors of the building. Your performance is taking place in the middle floor stage where the least amount of people are likely to see you, just in case you turn out to be a waste of a contract.

You take a look around you. The other women seem so confident… That, or they’re damn good at pretending. Makes sense, you think to yourself, everyone and their mother is a damn actor in this town. It’s all an act... When Shakespeare said “All the world’s a stage”, you doubt this is what he had in mind.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker booms, announcing the start of the show. The lights power on over head, blindingly bright as some oldie style song starts up. Something for the oldsters, no doubt. But then again… aren’t you too?

The curtains shoot to the side on the beat and you can feel yourself pulled into auto pilot. You’ve practiced this dance so many times, it’s like second nature by now. So you dance. You parade around, covered in glitter and somehow managing to not break your neck in these heels while you strut around and roll your hips and shake your ass for some drunk old men with all fourteen of the other women beside you doing exactly the same thing.

And while you preform... Somewhere, way way up on the top floor, Russell Adler, owner of this whole joint and a couple city blocks to boot, returns to his office after taking a walk through the gambling pits. He’s caught two hustlers tonight alone, both of which were dealt with… severely.

The Sundowner doesn’t take kindly to thieves, and neither does he.

He dips into a side room within the office space behind a covertly placed door into a soundproof room. Adler switches on the lights and takes a seat in front of a huge stack of tv monitors. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, and watches the live feed from his many surveillance cameras. These are to keep an eye on his dealers and pit bosses rather than the customers, contrary to what most may think.

Can’t be too careful in this line of business, after all.

The room is silent except for the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the large oak desk. He’s not one for glitz and garish glamour, but he is never without his four favorite rings.

They adorn his right hand, all made of polished platinum. Three are made in the shape of a thin, wound coil with some decorative knurling along the surface in a trapezoidal pattern, getting slightly thicker in size right up to the crown piece on his index finger. The largest ring features the hissing head of a viper with inset eyes made of two black diamonds.

Each ring is easily worth several thousand dollars, and not even close to the most expensive item on his person tonight, let alone in his wardrobe.

His eyes shift from left to right, scanning each screen quickly and judiciously as he taps and sips. For a moment, he lands on the showgirl performance. The quality of entertainment and the establishment itself is every bit as important as making sure everyone else stays in line and on their side of the house rules.

Adler checks the camera marker and notes that these are the new hires. Whatever he sees, he’ll make sure to cut them some slack.

Some.

One girl stumbles a bit, right there on stage. She’s out. Another girl brushes against the one beside her. Out. Then, towards the finale, two girls jump out of sync with the rest. He shakes his head and sighs. Where the fuck are his people getting these girls from?

He takes note of the ones he wants gone, then manages to swallow his frustration and watch the wrap up. Things end to light applause and before the curtain closes he taps a key on his board of switches to pause the feed. He counts up the dancers and take notes of each girl personally.

You know… Throughout that entire shit show, if memory serves, there was only one girl who hit all the marks.

Adler rewinds the feed and focuses on you in particular. He follows your every step and leap. Watching every move, studying every turn…

He was right. Perfect, throughout the whole routine. He reaches for his red phone and calls up the man in charge of the girl shows.

“Who’s the one in position seven, middle stage show?”

There’s a moment of silence and a rustling of paper before the other man replies with your full name, a little bit of your credentials, and the date of your hiring. “Something wrong sir?”

“Yes, send positions three, ten, eight, and twelve home. We have standards, for God’s sake”

“Of course sir-”

“And as for seven… I want her performing top stage next time”

More silence, and then a tentative, “...Yes sir”

Adler clicks the phone into the receiver and takes the last sip of his drink. Hmp, lucky number seven… His gaze lingers on you and your supple body only a moment longer. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip... then goes back to the rest of his cameras.

He’ll be interested to see if you can rise to the task he’s gifted to you.

When the last of your shows ends, you and the rest of the girls head back to the dressing room one more time tonight to get changed out of these contraptions they have you wearing. A stern looking man bursts into the room unannounced, he calls out four girls and sends them packing with no explanation given. His beady eyes scan the room and land on you, nearly giving you a heart attack as you brace to be cut as well.

“And you, seven… You’re performing in the VIP lounge next week. Don’t fuck this up”

And just like that, he leaves as quickly as he came, slamming the door behind him. The other girls turn to congratulate you, some bitterly, while you’re left reeling.

Playing the top floor, the “VIP lounge” is… huge.

Some girls perform here their whole lives and never get to see it. You’ve even heard that they hire foreign professionals, just to meet up to their standards. Up there you can make tips on top of your salary. Well, only for... private dances or pole shows, but still…

You go home that night wondering how such a thing is even possible, but soon decide to shake it off. Who cares how, all that matters is that the chance has come.

And you plan to rise to the occasion.

You spend your next two days off practicing and limbering up both with the other VIP dancers and on your own. Most of the women keep to themselves and you can tell they’re a bit resentful of your presence.

There’s no question about it, you’re the youngest one here and by default the least experienced. What gives you the right to be instantly promoted like that? If only you yourself knew.

Regardless, your first performance on the top floor is here before you know it. And things go… Fairly well, to be honest.

The routine is complex, but you can tell it’s been slowed down to give you a chance. The stage is bigger, the makeup more colorful, the costumes more revealing, and the lights brighter, and yet... you feel right at home. The nervousness has worn off by now and you’re a rising star on the stage.

After a few nights of proving yourself, you’re even hired for some private dances and given a chance on the pole.

The cash pool you take home gets bigger and bigger every night, and so does your audience.

But, for all the eyes on you, there’s one strange pair that bothers you the most…

You’re working a routine with the other girls tonight. The leading girl is out with a sprained ankle, so tonight you were given the honor to dance as the Primadona, front and center on the stage. You twirl and strut up to the front, the women behind you backing you up and mirroring your moves. They continue to spin and clear space in a geometric formation to give you room as you perform the finishing stunt.

With a deep breath of air, you perform an impressive high kick on the crescendo beat that transitions into a backwards somersault and ends in a split at center stage.

A roar of applause and whistles comes from the crowd of wealthy men and women watching you.

All except one.

You lock eyes with a lone gentleman sitting front and center at a round booth table in the dimly lit room. He takes a long drag on his cigarette and even behind his dark aviators you can feel his eyes on you. As though to confirm your suspicions, he lowers the glasses to the bridge of his nose, exhaling a plume of smoke as he stares directly into your irises.

He brings his cigarette back for another hit, the small flame highlighting a horrible looking scar that goes the length of his cheek, and as the curtain falls, his creased, glowing blue eyes are the last you see of him.

The truth is… Adler’s had his eyes on you ever since that first night on the cameras. Tonight, he came down just to see your show in person. You’re just as good as you are on camera. Perhaps, even better.

No... definitely better.

He’s been reviewing your track record as of late. You took ballet lessons ever since you were just four years old. Won several awards for dances and even some state level beauty pageants. Joined the dance club at your highschool and got a scholarship from it to put you through college. You’re trained classically, but it would appear the only jobs you’ve ever gotten are clubs, bars, and casinos just like this one.

Adler smirks to himself, thinking of your pretty young face as he takes another drag. Maybe you're not as innocent as you seem.

He can work with that...

[smutty-ki113r]

I woke up to my alarm tellin me to get out of bed and so naturally I checked your tumblr and I'm,,, concerned

There's a small anon war over what hoodie smells like and I have no sense of smell whatsoever so I'm not contributin, but, leafs.

Petition to change the plural of leaf to leafs instead of leaves. Leaves is an ugly ass word. Leafs just rolls of the tongue, its nicer, its what the people want

Also the same with sheep like what, why is the plural the same, I refer to them as sheeps cuz it makes me happy

Also I don't like the y/n either because "y/n" is usually a whole ass person all in itself. And they're usually a girl in most fanfic, along with the fact that they are the Mariest Sue That Ever Mary Sue'd.

I've been considerin why LJ is my favourite and I think it's purely because if any of the more sane (Masky, Toby, Slenderman, etc) took one fuckin GLANCE they would run away. I have hope that clown boy is too far gone to care about my mental state too much.

If you squint real hard my braincell count looks like a normal amount

I'm so exhausted I'm gonna talk to you, my favourite online human, because the blue light from my phone keeps me awake.

But I think my favourite dynamic ever is Rivals to Lovers™. Not enemies to lovers, cuz enemies have two different goals in mind; whereas rivals compete for the same thing.

I'm a sucker for medieval shit so,, a scene that's been annoying me all day is~

you're invited to a Royal Ball (because isn't that how all romances start these days, just roll with it brother) and you go, finding out it's a masquerade ball. You get there, you dance, being passed from person to person in a never ending loop of jewel-embeded skirts that were swept across the marble floor of the (obscenely) bedazzled castle, and suits that seemed more expensive than you were.

Regret never came because the wine chased it away; it flowed in waterfalls into your glass, the scent of it filling the room but not enough to drown out the everlasting smell of expensive perfume. Sometimes the odor of it clung to the women of the ball tighter than their corsets. The massive drapes were pulled back, latching to the wall in attempt to keep them from falling and blocking the view–of which captured your gaze immediately. The doors were swung open to let the air in, and ensuring that no glass got in the way of what lay beyond; the moon, full and impossibly heavy hung, stranded in the crisp night air. The moon was the only one that didn't judge the events that took place in the ballroom that night, the only thing watching the crowd of people with a pure, impassive gaze.

Because later that night, after multiple drinks had been passed around and a cacophony of laughter, dancing, and food had been consumed–after many glasses of wine had passed your lips and your body– of which was feeling tingly and impishly confident–had wandered to a far corner, darkened by the domed ceiling, seemingly on its own accord. In that moment you would give everything to stay in the Palace, to twirl until your feet blistered and you withered away into old gnarled bones and ashes that could still dance with the wind.

"I do hope that you know well what you wish for; not for clarity of the concept, my dear, but for clarity of consequence." The voice that spoke in your ear was deep, low, and held even darker undertones. It siezed your attention and captured it in both hands, strangling the curiosity out of you. It had come from your right, even further into the pitch-black corner, but as soon as you moved all the thoughts in your head sloshed about, banging against the interior of your head. It was either equivelant to that or a sledge hammer, one of the two. The wine was probably just twisting the voice's around you, making them appear. You tried to convince yourself but alas, even you deemed it vastly unlikely.

Turning around was more difficult then you planned. Just when you thought you would see the owner of the voice, nobody was there. Yep, probably just the abundance of alcohol making you dizzy.

Shifting back to dancing wasn't hard; it was as if you were floating down along a stream, merely following wherever the river took you. Voices pressed against you on all sides, soon becoming a background noise too, a faint buzzing sound. It rose and fell like the waves, ever-changing in volume.

You started to lose a grip on reality; eyes fluttering closed as you danced, just taking a breath of air, letting the delicate night wash away your worries, who you wer–

What the fuck!?

You did a double take, eyes now wide fucking open, because outside you spied someone that had to be atleast a foot taller than anyone else in the ball. The darkness seemed to congregate behind it, flourishing, and the only thing you could see was a wide smile and a pair of eyes.

It seemed that you couldn't get enough air into your lungs, couldn't focus; the voice's that used to be hazy surround sound was now piercingly loud the people were just too much, everywhere at once. Your breathing only picked up even more as you gripped your chest.

The.. Demon had disappeared by the time you glanced upward, you you scurried outside, barely making it before you collapsed on a golden railing. There were fine drops of rain scattered about, eluding to the fact it had rained earlier. Your masquerade costume was getting wet, leaning against the railing, but you were so dizzy you didn't care.

It was the wine, it had to be. Nobody could be that tall, it–it was humanly impossible. Moving was now akin to attempting to romp through thick syrup; a stagnant pace, uncoordinated, unsteady. Then it stopped. There was a hand on your shoulder.

You skimmed the person; they had a dark blue suit that sparkled with the occasional gold highlights, with a blue mask covering their face–it seemed that it covered all of their face, and didn't quite match what a masquarade mask should look like, but you didn't care. The support was welcomed.

"You seemed as if you required help, my Lady," He said, his voice deep and low, so much so that you questioned if you would even be able to hear him over the music blaring in the ballroom if the two of you were to venture back inside.

You looked back to where you saw the tall being, with its eyes and smile that seemed wrong, and wrong in a terrible, dangerous way.

"Care to dance with me?" You asked, relieved when he slipped his arm with yours and led you inside. The music had slowed to a waltz, nothing like the big parade of dancers that came in flurries of colour and left just as fast. His arms were solid and a comfort, welcome as the breeze on a sunny day. It felt like he protected you from everything that might have caught you off guard, in a way. Plus, he kept you from falling flat on my face, which is always a good thing.

The song changed and you were about to ask him for something else; his name, maybe, but fate had other plans. Both of you were bumped and somebody else had picked you up in their arms, hands landing on your waist as the dance consumed you. Your mystery man in blue was gone, it seemed, and you sighed. Being safe was a hard thing to ask. Instead, above you now was a man dressed in dark browns and yellows– he had a rather strange mask that curled around his mouth and eyes, leaving the centre free. His brown locks looked ruffled and messy and he jerked every once in a while, moving sporadically. It didn't stop and he didn't seem to be able to control it so you didn't mind. The slight jolts emitting from him caused you to wake up more, which was always welcome.

"Are you okay?" You asked, after his gaze had wandered elsewhere. It came back to you in a heartbeat, and you sensed be was smiling under the mask.

He twirled you, spinning you gracefully. "Of course I am," he said, coming in close again. "For now, I'm winning."

The night surged on quickly and you found yourself caught between multiple strangle figures; a woman with silky black hair and a mask that made her eyes appear the same colour, that offered you a drink that wasn't wine. A man that had offered you wine, that stood next to the big buffet table with a full glass and a white mask. He had stood with a black-masked man, but he weaved through the crowd until he was another string in a pile of wool. Your blue mystery man made another appearance, but not with you–he was talking in low tones with another man (you didn't mind that they were mostly men; seemingly just because it never occurred to you that they might be connected) who had black hair, like the other woman, and pale white skin. The palest you'd seen in a long time. However, at that moment, he had looked up and seen you staring, only for you to catch scars at the ends of his mouth. You crossed it down to makeup or a deformity of some kind. Through all this, you were atleast grateful you didn't see the tall being again.

And everything carried on. Until it didn't. Blood stained the carpet black and the screams were too loud to ever fade away, seeming to shake the walls. You had tried to run from it, from them, but you tripled in a hallway and couldn't even get up because of your many glasses of alcohol. Struggling was futile and someone easily pulled you back.

With horror you realised it was one of the men from before; you recognised the scruffy brown hair and occasional movements. He held you there, between life and death a moment more, a moment where all the men you'd seen that night, and the woman, came around the corner. Their voices were distorted to your damaged ears but your eyes focused on the tall being; he was real, and black and white, with hands that weren't normal and a nose that was even less so. They're all abnormal, your consciousness whispered to you, and you believed it. The man on top of you grinned, happy that he had caught you. Your stomach turned.

"Bring them to the Mansion," a voice ring out in your head. Your 'companions' seemed to hear it too. "And bring them alive."

As you can see I've never written anythin in my life so this is shit lmfao but I don't care an im just here to brainstorm anyways

Have my little scene, take it, because it was fun to do. It's not spellchecked, I've not read through it, because I can't be bothered, so if anythin is wrong laugh and move on brother. Also tryin to write without cuttin off the g from my words and shortenin them was so hard so halfway through I didn't bother lmao

I think this is my longest message yet so, sorry about that Red

Cheers if you actually made it this far.

–Kieran.

I agree. Leafs is better. SHEEPS- thats the cutest thing I’ve ever heard and I love it.

Y/n is a stereotype in itself so I agree, it’s usually ya know, the whole “im different” kind of chick who can do everything and anything (basically bella from twilight), when in reality the reader is human and humans have imperfections. Lots of ‘m …LJ is my fav for a lot of reasons, at this point he’s a comfort to me. Plus, I (oml) relate to him so much, and I can do a post about this- if someone cares or asks. And I have similar traumaaa

Oh geez, I’m your favorite online human, AGH my heart, again, its burning. I agree, RIVALS TO LOVERS SOUNDS SO SOSOSOOSO GOOD I LOVE IT. (I would say my fav trope is “lovers who ache to be together but due to circumstance one starts to lose feeling for the other and it’s an agonizing pain to the other” or maybe that’s just me because I find completion in sadness, which is horrific. But I really itch to angst.)

Here’s me reading your scene and also talking about it at the same time. ‘Regret never came because the wine chased it away’…that’s a good line, thats a good line. The way you just take one thing and mash it with another aspect like wow. Like as each idea were droplets of water on a leafs and you happen to tilt it, connecting them so effortlessly. I’m jealous. The descriptions are amazing, and how you make it the reader’s thought process-damn. I WANNA WRITE THIS GOOD, YALL OUTSHINE ME. And then you say this was shit. *slaps you* DONT YOU DARE UNDESESTIMATE YOURSELF MISTER

Also the way you just subconsciously cut off the g’s is spectacular. I try to, but it’s hard for me. SORRY? SORRY?! Nononono thank you, because the longer the message the better. Apart from the fact that long messages make me happy, especially from you, it means you put time into talking to me! Which makes me super happy too. Heheheh. Thank you love! This made my morning, along with that drawing submission from cam anon, you should check it out! It’s really good.

[dasphinxone]

Book of Nile: Burlesque AU

Shout out to @winterequinoxx @yeahwellyourface @druidspell @rainofdreams29 @shebattlesman @highlightcity159 @ruby-white-rabbit​ and the Book of Nile chat for this one. Y’all are legit INSPIRING.

Based on the super corny and cheesy but “Awesome when I watch it while drunk” movie Burlesque starring Cher and Christina Aguilera.

Nile is an aspiring singer who left Chicago for Los Angeles in order to realize her dreams of becoming a recording artist. She writes her own songs and has a voice that is devastating, a born star. However, she’s down on her luck when she stumbles into the burlesque theater owned by one Andromache or “Andy” as everyone calls her. Andy’s wife, Quynh, is the main costumer of the performers. Nicolo “Nicky” is the club’s choreographer for the routines. He’s married to Yusuf or “Joe” as his friends call him. Yusuf plays the trumpet and is the band leader for the in-house jazz ensemble.  And then there’s Sebastien “Booker” le Livre. An older, washed up bartender, he also originally came to L.A. to be a songwriter. Except his dreams died long ago after his wife left him and moved back home. His life spiraled out of control and the only reason he’s got the job as the burlesque’s bartender is out of pity from Andy. He’s bitter, bored out of his mind and feels like his life is going absolutely nowhere...well, that is until Nile breaks out into singing Etta James’ Something’s Got a Hold on Me when there’s a glitch on the lip syncing track during a burlesque performance at the club. 

Booker falls head over heels for her right then and there. Inspired by this siren, her work ethic and sheer unadulterated talent, he starts secretly writing music again.  For she’s his muse who he imagines performing his songs. He keeps it all to himself though. Because there’s no way in hell a woman like her will go for an old failure like him. Content to watch Nile perform and her star rise with each passing week, Booker thinks being able to look but not touch is enough to sustain him.

That is until Nile’s motel room where she’s staying gets broken into and she gets her life savings stolen. Since she has no savings and no safe place to stay, Booker finds himself offering to let her stay with him in his bungalow that he used to share with his ex-wife. Nile takes him up on the offer and moves in with him. Except she soon finds herself attracted to him. Sure, he’s sarcastic and all up in his maudlin feelings when he drinks. Yet he’s also doing little things for her around the house. Every time she tries to pay him back, he waves her off. It’s almost like he lives to serve in his deference to her. 

Meanwhile, Andy has mortgaged her club far too many times and owes the bank hundreds of thousand of dollars. Merrick, a shitty real estate developer, is gleefully waiting in the wings for Andy to default on her latest mortgage. He’s pissed because she keeps rejecting his offers to buy the place. So he sends his minion in Keane to spy on the club and make sure Andy defaults so that Merrick can take over the property. He plans to demolish it to build luxury condos on the site. 

While at the club, Keane spots Nile and wants her for himself. He starts pursing Nile and she starts dating him. However, she quickly realizes her heart isn’t into it. Not to mention, Keane comes off as more and more of a raging asshole with each passing date. Even after he wines and dines her and gifts her a killer pair of crystal, Louboutin red bottom heels.

At the same time, Booker and Nile find themselves falling for each other. There’s so much sexual tension and neither of these beautiful idiots have any place to put it. That is until they hook up one night after stumbling home drunk from the wedding reception of one of Nile’s fellow burlesque dancers. They sex is mind blowing and they realize that perhaps, maybe this can turn into a relationship. The problem? Nile wakes up to Booker’s ex-wife screaming at her in their bungalow. Turns out Booker never finalized the divorce and his ex wants him back. That also means he technically cheated with Nile since he’s still legally married to his wife. Understandably pissed the fuck off, Nile moves in with Joe and Nicky and tells Booker to never speak to her again. 

While Nile lives with them, Joe and Nicky reveal to her the rocky start to their own relationship. Nile is stunned, as they’re clearly still in love with each other after all of their years of marriage. 

Trained as a ballet dancer in Genoa before moving to Milan to dance at the famous La Scala Theater, Nicky sustained an injury that ended his career. He wandered the world trying to find himself. It ultimately led to him ending up in L.A., broke and with no idea of to do with his life. That’s where he met Quynh and Andy, who gave him a job as a first line dancer at their club. After seeing his talent, they promoted him to the club’s choreographer.

Meanwhile, Joe loves playing jazz, but it’s a dying art. So he while he adores working at the club before Nicky got there, Nicky was a snotty asshole to Joe since Joe didn’t write his own music. Mostly, Joe would provide the instrumentation to the music Booker wrote, which is how he and Booker became best friends. Unfortunately, Nicky saw Joe as creatively bankrupt while Joe pointed out that Nicky was a failure in his ballet career. They hated each other initially. Over the years, Nicky became less of an asshole, taking pride in his choreography. He also found himself falling in love with Joe. Working to earn Joe’s forgiveness for his initially bristly personality, Nicky made amends. He and Joe started dating and soon Joe proposed. They’ve been inseparable ever since. 

Joe quietly reminds Nile that Booker is a broken man who needs to heal himself before he’ll find himself worthy of her. He knew Booker before his life went to shit and his wife divorced him. Once Nicky finally made amends with Joe, Booker became Nicky’s friend as well. So they both know Booker can be a good man. But again, he needs to work on himself.  

As for Nile and Keane? The final straw comes when she sees the plans for Merrick’s condo at Keane’s place. She realizes that Keane has been working for Merrick the entire time and doesn’t give a fuck about the club being shut down and her losing her livelihood. Nile dumps Keane and takes her information to Andy.  With only a few days before Andy defaults on her loan, Nile realizes that they could potentially save the club. As there’s another luxury condo development being currently built across the street. They ask to meet with the owner, who turns out to be Copley. Copley used to work for Merrick but quit after he found out Merrick’s shady business dealings. So Copley is all too happy to pay Andy for the air rights to her club. This guarantees that Copley’s luxury condos retain their views of the Pacific Ocean. It also gives Andy the money she needs to pay off the mortgage and save the club. 

Booker finally apologizes to Nile and shows her the paperwork that he’s in the process of finalizing his divorce from his wife for real this time. He also confesses his true feelings for Nile, showing her all of the songs he’s written that she inspired in him. He also admits she’s been his muse and apologizes if that comes off as creepy. He really does see her as an equal and was straight up overwhelmed with his feelings for her when he saw her sing for the first time.

They reunite and everything closes out with Nile singing a song she and Booker cowrote that works with Nicky’s choreography and Joe’s instrumentation skills with his trumpet and leading the band.

Playlist

Yoncé/Partition - Beyoncé

A Night Like This - Caro Emerald

Ended With The Night - Caravan Palace

Jolie Coquine - Caravan Palace

Something’s Got a Hold on Me  - Etta James

Chambermaid Swing - Parov Stelar

All That Glitters - Earl

Gnossienne 1 - Erik Satie

Toxic - Britney Spears

Could’ve Been - H.E.R.

Cuz I Love You - Lizzo 

Undo - JAMi2

Forgive Me - Chloe x Halle

Rocket - Beyoncé

Bomba -  JAMi2 

[chvrrystvles]

Harry likes Y/n’s tutu.

A/n: I might do a part two of this if it gets good feedback.  As always, kind critiques and criticism is appreciated! Much love xx.

It wasn’t unlike Harry to watch Y/n as she changed into her leotard and baby pink tutu, she knew he had a n odd fascination with the pieces of material.  Also make comments, “Makes ya legs look good, poppet, ‘s pretty,” or sometimes “Tha’ leo makes your boobs look good.”  The latter comments usually earned Harry a smack on the arm from Y/n.

It also wasn’t unlike him to be extremely handsy when Y/n would put her hair up in a beautiful french twist that laid pinned on the back of her head.  Always saying something about how it, “frames your face, makes ya look like a proper Disney princess or somethin’” those type of comments always caused blood to run straight to her full cheeks and turn her bright as a cherry.  

Today, however, Harry watched Y/n with intent, his eyes following her from the moment she slipped into her leotard to when she placed her full tutu into her dance bag.  Wasn’t a normal gaze either, the way he watched her today made the hairs on her arms raise and her, just shaved legs, to cover themselves in goosebumps.

“Harry you’ve got no business to be staring at me like tha’,” she tried to have a somewhat authoritative tone, but Harry knew her entirely too well.  Harry knew Y/n liked being watched, in fact he knew everything about Y/n, but being watched was one of her favorite things.  He knew she liked to see people react to her, which is probably the reason why she’s such an amazing dancer. He also knew what his wandering eyes was doing to her, which is why he continued to watch her.

“Dunno whatcha mean pet, ‘m jus’ admiring my girl, ‘s nothing wrong with tha’,” she wished she could kiss that shit eating grin right off of his pretty face, but she had to be out the door in fifteen minutes, and Y/n was never good and stopping something once she started.

With a shake of her head she gave Harry a knowing, but playful, scowl.  She knew he was aware of what he was doing to her body, he always did this on the night of a recital.  For some reason though, she always danced better after his soundless teasing and grabby hands. Harry noticed this too.  

It was the opening night of the Christmas performance at her college,  Y/n had been attending University to study dance and forensics.  Harry remembered when he first met the lovely girl, he was completely caught off guard that the little innocent lady in front of him was interested in something that had the possibility of being so gruesome.  Although, the longer they’ve been together Harry came to realize that Y/n was a different little duck, despite how innocent her outward appearance was.  

Opening night was always the most nerve racking of all the times she performed a show, it made Y/n even more nervous that this was her final performance before she graduated university.  Also, maybe the fact that she was the lead role, but mostly because it was the last time she’d get to dance with purpose.

Harry sat on the second row, drumming his fingers along his thighs absentmindedly.  He had yet to see Y/n in her outfit for the final performance, only getting looks of her leotards for rehearsal, and needless to say he was beyond excited to final get to take it all in.  Y/n’s parents sat on his right and he tried his best to hold a conversation with them.  Oh, but it was so hard when his mind couldn’t stop thinking about the swell of her breast and the curve of her hips, and how they looked in what she’d be wearing on stage.

Y/n sat in a chair backstage, letting the older women around her finish her hair and makeup.  After waiting half an hour, she was finally turned around to give herself a good look down.  Needless to say, she was shocked, somehow the women had managed to make her eyes seem even more captivating than usual and her lips looked as pouty and soft as ever.  With the  leo and tutu she was told to wear, she knew she’d have the audience watching her all night, but more specifically she’d have Harry watching her all night. That thought made a dull ache start to form in between her legs.

Harry could practically hear his heart beating like a freight train, feeling as though, in any minute it would burst out of its home inside his chest.  The thought of seeing Y/n in the tiny tool skirt and a skin tight piece of fabric had his head spinning and his cock filling out his jeans, which became increasingly hard for him to try to hide.

He silently thanked whoever turned the lights down, and watched the curtains open slowly revealing his girl in center stage. He muttered a soft, “Oh fuck me,” as he watched her.  She was dressed in all black, which only made her body look that much more mesmerizing.  The fabric clung to every curve and flattened out and ‘imperfection’ she claimed to have.  And god, that tutu, something about it made Harry’s mind go into overdrive.  He wondered if she’d keep it on even after the show.

Throughout the entire show, Harry’s eyes stayed glued to every movement Y/n made, and she could practically feel his eyes falling out of his head.  Even when she wasn’t dancing on stage, she watched Harry in the wings moving every which way in attempts to cover the growing bulge in his pants.  It was hard for her to hide the smirk on her face whenever she met his gaze while dancing, she was aware of what she was doing to him.  Harry knew this, and made note to fuck her until she remembered who actually had the upper hand.  

Just as quickly as the beautiful ballet had started, it was over, and Harry sat waiting in the lobby with a bouquet of roses for Y/n.  His breath caught in his chest when she walked out, greeting guests whilst still giving him a look of adornment. She was so in for it.  

“You look so good.” Y/n giggled at his proclamation and brought her lips to the shell of his ear, “You really think so, Daddy?”  In that moment she knew she had pressed a button deep within side him, and his entire demeanor changed.

He choked on his spit, not expecting Y/n to tease him this much, he loved this side of her and it wasn’t one he was able to see very often.  “Alrigh’ pet, go grab your stuff, gotta get home,” he said lovingly kissed her temple.  Y/n could hear the want underneath the loving tone, and decided then, that it was probably a good idea to do as Harry said.

The car ride home was tense, Harry and Y/n had bid goodbye to her parents and promised them lunch the following day.  From the way that Harry’s hand squeezed your thigh to way he held his bottom lip in between his teeth. “‘S not nice to tease daddy, Y/n,” he could hear her swallow thickly and attempt to press her thighs together to get some sort of relief.  He tutted his tongue, “Is my little angel getting wet,” he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it softly, “‘s a shame then, really, tha’ you’re not gonna cum fo’ awhile pet.”

Harry didn’t even make it to their bedroom, before he was beckoning Y/n to get on her knees, “on your knees angel, wanna tease Daddy all night in ya pretty lil’ costume you can pay the consequences.”  And Y/n would be lying if she said that her core didn’t throb listening to Harry’s filthy words. Her needy hands grabbed and his belt, trying to rid Harry of the clothes covering his bottom half.

Harry watched her through low eyes, she pawed at him in every attempt to get his pants off, and he let her struggle for a few moments before tugging down her jeans and stepping out of them.  Y/n licked over the outline of his growing member, kissing over the base all the way down to his clothed tip.  She let her eyes meet his, “P-Please Daddy let me suck on you, please,” he liked the way she begged for him.

A soft nod from Harry was all she needed to tug his tight boxers down his thighs.  Her mouth watered at the sight of him, tip fiery red and his length scattered with throbbing veins. “Go on then, give it a lick,” and without a second to waste, she did.

She took his tip in between her soft lips, ones that he had been staring at all night long, and suckled softly. “Ah, tha’ is plenty of teasing from ya pet,” she could hear him growing irritated, and that’s exactly how she wanted him.  Deciding to be a good girl, she lowered her mouth farther down his cock, his quiet whimpers giving her the motivation to take the whole of him in her mouth and down her throat.

“Thas’ it pet, taking Daddy’s cock like a good girl aren’t ya,” she nodded on him, “Think ya could take ya leo off an’ let Daddy see ya in jus’ your pretty lil’ tutu?” Y/n could’ve cum just by hearing Harry so breathy and whiny above her asking her to give him a blowie in just her tutu.  How could she say no to him, already looking so fucked out in  just the small amount of time she’d been sucking on his hard length.

Y/n was quick to remove her leo and stockings to leave her in only her pretty black tutu.  “Oh, fuck.” Harry couldn’t stop looking at her tits, were they always this perky?  Her nipples were already hard and Harry couldn’t wait to suck one into his mouth, but with the sight of her in front of him he started to grow very uncomfortable due to how hard he had gotten.

“Back down on your knees petal, got me all worked up now don’t ya.” Even with the how dominate Harry was being Y/n couldn’t help but feel her heart flutter, the sight of her, and her alone, had gotten him that hard.

As soon as she was back down on her knees, her mouth was stuffed full of Harry, and his hands made themselves comfortable in her hair, which now had fallen from it’s beautiful twist.  She licked down the base of his shaft and bobbed her head in a gentle pattern, feeling completely full of Harry.

Harry’s hips bucked into her mouth, touching the back of her throat again and again.  Tears fell down her face and made the dark makeup around her eyes stained her flushed cheeks.  His cock stretched her lips, and made her mouth hurt, but in the best way possible.

Y/n knew he was approaching his high when she could hear his moans and whimpers growing louder and louder, and feel the snap of his hips get faster.  “”M gonna cum petal, ‘m gonna cum.” His grip on her hair became tighter, and Y/n swore she couldn’t breathe, but at this point she didn’t care.

Her head was foggy and she felt like she was on cloud nine when finally she tasted every ounce of him in her mouth.  Harry pulled out of her mouth with a sigh, he could see his cum dribbling out of her mouth and onto her chin.  “Up, up baby, let’s get ya cleaned up, ‘n then maybe can fuck you in tha’ pretty tutu.”

Y/n, though still very spaced out, couldn’t have nodded her head faster.

Y/n knew she was in for a long night and it was all because of that damn tutu.

[i-stan-nct-and-satan]

Not Broken (Jaehyun Mafia au pt4)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader

Y/N is a burlesque dancer living in Seoul. Jaehyun is one of the most powerful mafia men in Seoul. How will Y/N survive when Jaehyun suspects that she is involved with a rival gang?

Reasons to read this story: Ten's a cross-dressing madam so..... yeah read it ya freaks.

Trigger Warning: physical violence

The music was slow, but my heart was beating fast. I did my best to keep my composure.

As soon as I stepped through the curtain, an ocean of oo's and ah's filled the room. My costume was extravagant to say the least, but I had no idea that a room filled with thugs would have any fashion appreciation, even ones dressed in Louis Vuitton, Armani, and Gucci suits.

I stepped towards center stage as I kept my arms lifted at each side to show off my gown, making sure that each step was as smooth as the last.

Once I made sure that I had everyone's attention, I started moving my body with the slow music. My arms slowly raised above my head and moved even slower when they came down to caress down my clothed breasts and down my slim torso. Raising them back up, I used my hands to bring focus back to my face.

I had practiced the facial expressions for this dance intently, hoping to portray a look of both innocence and pure sexiness with a pinch of fear. I wanted the audience to fall in love with my movements, and as I looked out into the audience, I realized they had.

I hadn't even stripped myself of my dress yet and everyone was on the edge of their seats.

I slowly made my way over to the left side of the stage and turned to face away from them, delicately placing a hand on the zipper. I fumbled for a split second trying to pull it down, but I managed to give a little pout to a member of the audience inviting him to help me unzip. The gentleman obliged and for a moment, I remembered that this wasn't one of our typical audience members and the fear of being groped crossed my mind only to be relieved when he only touched the dress’s zipper and nothing more. I couldn't help but let out a tiny chuckle at the men cheering at their colleague as he assisted me.

I allowed the dress to fall slightly only to catch it before it uncovered the bust of my corset. I turned around teasing the audience by slowly dropping the dress only to lift it up my body again before revealing anything.

I sent a quick look over to the main table hoping that the guests of honor were just as enthralled with my performance as the rest of their colleagues. Doyoung was the first one I noticed. I had half expected him to be bored due to my previous impressions of his personality, but he was staring at me with wide eyes and his upper teeth buried into his bottom lip. It was flattering, to say the least, that a man so cold so easily fell under my spell.

I allowed the dress to fall off my body revealing the corset. Despite the corset still limiting my movements, I was able to move much more freely after having rid myself of the long gown.

I moved into my more complicated moves, allowing my body to move, shake, spin, and sway.

While slowly sliding into a split, I noticed Yuta.

His eyes appeared glazed over for a second but once I was in full splits, I was able to focus on him fully. He looked... hungry. His smirk widened as if he knew I were looking at him and only him.

I couldn't look at him for more than a split second before I brought my legs together and rolled over, standing my legs up and slowly rolling my body up along with them.

It was then that I noticed him.

Jaehyun was on the edge of his chair, hands holding his face, as if he were thinking intently.

That seemed a little peculiar to me but he was watching me so I figured that maybe that's just how he looks when he's focused.

I had to admit, having him stare at me this intensely both frightened me and excited me. My heart was beating so fast I couldn't tell if it was because I was dancing so hard or if it was because of him.

I walked towards the main table since it was almost time for the final reveal.

I knew I couldn't get out of the corset by myself, so I had planned on getting help from an audience member.

I started walking seductively over to the main table. I wanted the leader to have the honors of helping me with my final costume change so I kept my gaze locked onto his. As I got closer to his table, I realized that he wasn't looking me in the eyes. His eyes were fixed on my chest.

I silently laughed. 

Boys will be boys, I guess.

Soon enough, I was standing right in front of the pink haired man.

I cautiously motioned for him to stand up. Normally I would grab his arm to let him know I wanted him to stand but I knew that I probably shouldn't in this scenario.

He didn't stand up.

He just kept looking at my chest with slightly raised eyebrows, forming soft lines on his forehead.  

I gestured again, a little more panicked this time since the end of the song was approaching and I had to do the big reveal before then.

Still nothing.

Trying not to let my face show my panic, I moved on to the man sitting next to him, Yuta.

Yuta gladly stood up and started to undo the brackets of my corset, staring deeply into my eyes as I turned my head to look back.

As he undid the last of my brackets, he brought his lips close to my ears and whispered something that I couldn't hear due to the loud cheering, but from the few interactions that I had had with him, I assumed it was something I would have been glad to have not heard.

I pulled away and started to uncover my body until suddenly a hand harshly grabbed my wrist. The corset roughly fell from my body as I turned to face the bastard who was grabbing me, only to find myself staring into the eyes of the deadliest man in Korea.

My stomach clenched as Jaehyun stared at me with what looked like pure rage in his eyes. I had never had anyone look at me with such hatred before. I was so confused as to what was happening that I couldn't break my eyes away from his. His scowl burned into me leaving me fearful and feeling weak.

I tried to pull my arm away from him but he just squeezed harder, hard enough to leave a bruise.

In my peripheral vision, I saw a confused Yuta mouthing words to his boss. Everyone at the table stood up, including Madam Ten who started shoving at Jaehyun only to be hit by the man himself, never letting go of my wrist.

The music stopped and everything happened so quickly.

The combination of booze and adrenaline in my veins started to take over and my vision started to blur.

Jaehyun yelled something and everyone starts scrambling. I heard screams and gunshots.

I tried to turn towards the sounds trying to find the source of the gunshots but Jaehyun forcefully pulled me towards him. I slammed against his body and for a moment everything slowed down. I looked up at him. His eyes started to twitch slightly as he pushed me to the ground, releasing my arm. I tried to get up only to be harshly kicked in the stomach. With the wind knocked out of me, I started coughing. Yuta yelled something at Jaehyun and Jaehyun grabbed him by the collar and points at me. Yuta and I held eyes as I continued to gasp for air. His eyes traveled down to my chest. He kneeled down next to me and reached a hand towards my necklace. Even though I was violently coughing and gasping, he was calmly analyzing the green emerald attached to my neck. He seemed so calm despite the chaos that surrounded us.

His eyes returned back to mine but instead of being filled with concern as they were before, they were now cold. He pulled the necklace off of my neck in a swift movement, still managing to hurt me in the process. He stood up and handed the necklace to Jaehyun.

Having regained my breath, I used all my strength to get up. I started running toward the curtain when I spotted Wendy on the ground. I changed my course and ran towards her. As I got closer to her, I spotted something red surrounding her.

Blood.

Wendy was lying in a pool of blood.

I quickly grabbed at a blazer jacket resting on a nearby chair and used it to apply pressure to the bullet wound in Wendy's chest. She was coughing, which was a good sign because it meant she was still alive.

"Wendy! It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. Just hold on a little longer. We're gonna get you help."

I started screaming.

Yuri ran past us and I called out to her but she just gave me a glance before continuing to run away.

"DAMMIT YURI! Somebody help!"

"Y/N."

I looked down to see Wendy looking up at me.

"Y/N, what's going on?" Wendy coughed as she tried to speak.

"I don't know Wendy. I don't know. Don't speak. You're hurting yourself."

"Y/N."

I looked around trying to wave someone over to help, but everything was too crazy. Thugs grabbing dancers and dancers trying desperately to escape.

"Y/N," Wendy repeated.

I looked down at her.

"What if I never get to dance again?"

Tears started streaming down my face. Fuck.

"Don't say that Wendy! We're gonna get you out of here I swear!"

Madam Ten came from behind me and started applying her hands to the jacket on Wendy's wound.

"What happened?" The Madam asked.

"She was shot."

"Well no shit, Sherlock!" Madam Ten yelled at me in the most masculine voice I had ever heard her use before. "We need to get her to a doctor so that-"

All of a sudden, I was being dragged away from Wendy and the Madam by two men.

"Why are you doing this?" Madam Ten yelled.

"All we want is the girl. We'll tell our men to back off once we have her," explained the man who I now recognized as Taeyong.

Madam Ten looked at me hesitantly and then turned back to helping Wendy.

"What? No! You can't do this! Wendy! Wendy!" I screamed as the men kept dragging me away from Wendy. Everything was so loud.

"Wendy!" I screamed one last time before the other man started pulling me up by my hair. He turned me to face him.

It was Taeil. I had no idea that Taeil was capable of such actions. Despite him obviously being a member of the mafia, his personality seemed so pacifistic that it was hard to imagine him hurting a fly. These were the thoughts that were going through my head as he dragged me towards Jaehyun and Yuta who were calmly standing near the exit door.

After letting go of my hair, Taeil pushed me into a kneeling position in front of his boss. I looked up at the pink haired man with tears messily running down my face.

"Why?" I asked with desperation in my voice.

He looked down at me then kneeled down so that his face was at the same level as mine. I couldn't decipher the emotion in his face. It looked almost relaxed.

"You don't know?" He asks me in an almost mocking voice.

He grabbed my face and examined it.

"Please don't kill me," My voice faltered slightly as I pleaded.

I turned my face away from his hands

"Don't worry princess. I won't kill you." He grabbed my face again lifting my face up, forcing me to keep eye contact.

"After I'm done with you, you'll be begging for the sweet release of death."

My eyes bulged in my skull as the words moved past his lips.

He used the hand grabbing my face to push me back to the ground.

As he stood up, I tried to get back up on my feet again until I heard him speak once again.

"Taeil, knock her out."

"Wait what? No! Please don't!" I looked over at Taeil as he lifted up his foot only for him to slam it into my face, knocking me out cold.  

Not Broken part 4 part 2 (yes, I can make a part 2 of a part 4 deal with it.)

“God, what a terrible nightmare!” I said out loud as I rubbed the remaining sleep from my eyes.

I had found myself in my bed surrounded by a few of my stuffed animals. My head was pounding but when I looked over at my nightstand, no empty bottles of liquor were to be found.

I took a moment to collect myself after having such a realistic dream then let out a loud sigh.

It’s just like me to come up with such a wild fantasy.

There is no way that NCT would have any interest in the Heartbreakers. I mean what type of thugs could possibly have an appreciation for queer art forms?

A laugh escaped from my mouth as I got up to go shower but before I was able to enter the bathroom, I was interrupted by a familiar sound.

“Kakao!”

I walked back over to the bed and searched for my phone, finding it charging under my pillow.

“Crap!”

The message was from Wendy, we were supposed to meet up today.

Looking at the clock, I realized that I’m already an hour late.

Not even bothering to open Wendy’s message, I struggled to put on clean pants and rushed out the door.

Major Déjà vu

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

I must have been really dazed because next thing I knew, Donghyuck was telling me about his troublesome boyfriend.

“He just gets in to too much trouble, you know? He’s bi but I’m his first boyfriend and it’s obvious that he’s embarrassed about it. Last time we went out together, we ran into one of his coworkers and he started heavily flirting with the first girl he saw. I’m telling you Y/N, you have no idea what it is like to date someone in the closet.”

“Yeah Hyuck, that sounds rough.”

Donghyuck had told me about his boy troubles countless times before, always spouting the same stuff about how his boyfriend is sweet, caring and sensitive with him, but the very definition of toxic masculinity whenever he was with his friends.

I tried to focus on his story as much as I could but my headache was almost unbearable.

Did I really not drink last night?

“I mean I haven’t ever been in the closet. My parents knew I was gay the moment they caught me sneaking into my mother’s closet to try on her heels when I was six.”

I looked at the watch on my wrist.

“Holy shit! I’m sorry Hyuckie but I have to go!”

I sprinted out the building’s main entrance without even waiting a second for Hyuck’s answer.

I knew my brain was foggy but how could I have let myself get caught up in Hyuck’s stories when I knew I was already running late.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Once again, I found myself losing time. I was walking into the Playground Theater where I was supposed to meet Wendy but for some reason I couldn’t even remember having taken the subway.    

“Y/N, you’re here!” Wendy gave me a hug as I entered her dressing room.

She was dressed in a costume that I hadn’t seen before which was strange. Despite having often missed practice, Wendy always told me about her acts, giving me details about the music and dance moves she planned on using and about the costumes she planned on wearing.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late Wendy. I don’t know what’s going on but my mind is so fuzzy today.”

I looked more closely at her costume. She wore a long dress covered in watercolor blues, purples, and pinks. The dress was covered in small balloons filled with what I imagined to be either paint or glitter.

It was Wendy’s favorite to incorporate popping balloons on her costumes into her acts. It looked really cool as well. She would take a needle and pop a balloon letting out a cloud of glitter or covering herself in different paints. Based on the watercolor theme of her dress, I assumed they were filled with paint, but I couldn’t put my finger on why they were filled when there wasn’t a show anytime soon.

“Late? Y/N, you aren’t late. Look at the time!” Wendy gleamed at me as she spoke, sounding a little too happy.

I looked up at a clock on the wall that I hadn’t noticed before and realize that she was right.

Was that clock always there? And didn’t my clock at home say I was an hour late? How could I be on time?

I looked back at where Wendy was standing, only to notice that she had disappeared.

“Wendy?”

I briefly look around the dressing room. She wasn’t there.

I looked back up at the clock and was startled to see the hands had started moving at an ungodly pace, spinning erratically.

I quickly left the dressing room but when I walked out the door, I found myself entering the audience.

Everyone’s dressing rooms lead to the halls, which led to backstage, but somehow, I was entering the main room, staring past a large audience up at Wendy who was on stage standing in a bright spotlight.

My anxiety, which was already through the roof, spiked once again when I heard Wendy speak.

“Y/N, don’t be rude. You’re interrupting the show.”

My breathing hitched.

“Don’t tell me that you didn’t know about our special guests tonight.”

Everyone in the audience turned to face me.

I was stunned to see hundreds of Wendys looking back at me.

I kept my gaze locked on the original Wendy despite the hundreds of Wendy clones glaring at me.

I didn’t dare to make eye-contact with a single one of them even though I could see them clearly in my peripheral vision.

“W-wendy?” My voice is shaky, and my headache had gotten worse, if that was even possible.

“Or did you purposely interrupt my performance, Y/N?”

The spotlight that was on Wendy moved through the audience and landed on me.

Wendy’s scoff loudly echoed off the walls of the theater.

“Typical Y/N. Always have to be in the spotlight, don’t you? You just can’t stand it when anyone else gets more attention than you.”

“W-wendy. I… I don’t-”

“Save it, Y/N!” Wendy shouted.

“I shouldn’t have expected otherwise. I mean how could I expect any decency from a murderer like you?”

“Murderer!” “Murderer!” “Murderer!” The audience started shouting.

For the first time, I allowed myself to look at the audience, only to see that the countless faces had morphed into the familiar gangster I thought I would never have to see again.

My stomach was clenched harder than it had ever been before.

Lucases. Lucases everywhere.

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out, Y/N?” Wendy continued.

“Wendy! I didn’t… I had to…he was going to-”

“Going to what, Y/N?”

I did my best to keep grounded as I spoke, but the weight on both my head and my chest were growing heavier with each word.

“He was going to-”

“Rape you?”

The room was silent for a what seemed like an eternity as hot tears rolled down my cheeks, only to be replaced with haughty laughter.

Everyone was laughing… laughing at me.

“Don’t be such an idiot, Y/N!” Wendy teased viciously as she wiped her index finger under her eye implying that her laughter had brought her to tears.

“Who would ever rape you? You probably threw yourself at him, desperate to be noticed like the slut you are.”

“Slut!” “Slut!” “Slut!” The crowd chanted.

“Why are you doing this to me? This isn’t the Wendy I know!”

I turned to run out of the theater but I was unable to open the door.

I felt myself being grabbed by an abundant amount of hands all over my body. His hands.

They forced me to face back towards Wendy.

“Not the Wendy you know? You’re right, Y/N.”

I felt my feet being lifted off of the ground as the Lucases carried me closer to the stage.

“The Wendy you know was kind to you and look where that got her.”

I was forcefully pushed into a chair at the main table. I struggled to get out but I was being held down. Greasy hands grabbed at my face and lifted it up so that I was unable to look at anything other than Wendy as she slowly pulled a needle from her gown and popped her first balloon.

Red.

Red paint slid down her dress, coating her in the bright liquid.

An image of Wendy lying face down in a pool of her own blood flashed before my eyes.

“This is your fault!” Wendy screeched.

“This happened during your performance because of you!”

I was trembling. My whole body was shaking so violently, yet if anything, the hands constraining me only became tighter. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t understand.

The images of Wendy on the ground were so familiar yet I couldn’t figure out why. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be real.

POP!

The contents from the second balloon slowly dripped down Wendy’s legs.

Her screams echoed in my mind.

The third pop sounded more like a gunshot.

“Y/N. Help!” Wendy’s vicious demeanor disappeared only to be replaced by desperation and terror. She was on the ground crawling towards me, hand stretched out, desperately trying to reach towards me despite her being so far away.

I grappled at the bodies enclosing on mine. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of Lucases, slowly suffocating. I cried and screamed, desperately kicking at anyone and anything. I had to get out of here. I had to save Wendy.

“Stop!” I begged as my vision blackened from the volatile hands that began to cover my eyes.

Bang!

I opened my eyes. My body felt lighter physically but before I was able to feel grateful for the lack of hands on my body, I saw the vision that brought all of the feelings of suffocation back.

A man with pink hair holding a lightly smoking gun and my close friend lying dead on the ground.

I closed my eyes as tight as I could, praying that would somehow make everything better.

“What’s wrong princess?”

I opened my eyes to see his face directly in front of mine.

“Didn’t you enjoy the performance?” He asked calmly as he brought his hand to my cheek.

I was crying so much that the tears must have looked more like streams.

He kept staring at me with a look that almost resembled genuine curiosity.

“W-why did you do that?” My voice cracked slightly.

The mob boss’s face contorted into one filled with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you kill her?” I fell to the ground and burst into a sobbing fit.

The man leaned down onto one knee to match my height and gently lifted up my chin, an act that I was growing tired of.

He moved his lips close to my ears and whispered, “I didn’t kill anyone.”

I jerked my head away from his and fell back, catching myself on my elbows.

He looked at me then in an excruciatingly slow motion, moved his gaze to my hand.

The blood in my face drained as I copied his movements, already aware of what I would see.

The gun…in my hand.  

“I…I…I…” I stuttered.

“Shhhh.” Jaehyun grabbed me and held me in his arms.

He looked down at me as I whimpered into his chest. He took a piece of the hair that was in my face and tucked in behind my ears in a comforting motion.

“I didn’t-”

“Shhhh.” He shushed again. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

I felt his hands move from my back, traveling around my neck. His grip tightened. I couldn’t breathe. He harshly pushed his thumbs onto my windpipe as my body started to convulse. My lungs tightened as they desperately sought out air.

“Shhhh. Everything with be okay.”

Black dots clouded my vision as I looked up at the man strangling me. His face grossly contorted into that of a monster, skin dripping from his face. His smile literally reached from ear to ear and his nose resembled a beak.

Opening his Cheshire smiling mouth, the creature started to cackle.

“You know what I’m talking about baby. You gotta wake up. Wake up right now. You gotta wakey!”  

[chickennoodlesoupfortae]

Only in my Dreams

p2

A/n - ***** please sign these petitions and donate if you can. I know I am in no way a big creator but I can direct anyone who sees this to help. https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/. *****Please stay safe and I hope you enjoy this.

Summary-Summary- You are a senior in high school balancing work, family, and your love life. But there’s something that pulls you in more and more as the weeks pass by. Why is it that every-night you dream as if it were a memory? Even more puzzling is why Kim Taehyung is there.

Warnings- Slow burn, Angst, cussing 

Word Count- 3.1k

“Y/n-” He choked on air as his whole body stood up. His head hurt beyond belief, the alarm clock burning his sore eyes. “Seven thirty am.” he flopped himself back down knowing the day had started and he’d slept a trying two hours.

He looked at his wall cursing the universe and his oddly specific dreams. He wondered if the girl saying he was the manifestation of her childhood trauma was his way of telling himself something bad happened. He groaned standing up using all his will power to get out of bed.

Quietly he walked through his empty large apartment to get a cup of tea.

“Let me tell you rosie, you are the only person who’s stuck by me. And 

I love you for that.”  he patted his kettle, smiling his boxy smile.  

“One two three.” Hoseok's voice rang through the practice room as he gracefully demonstrated the choreography for their latest song. “With a little more passion this time let’s move onto the thirty second mark and run through to one of three.” 

Five hours of practice were shown on Taehyung's wet forehead as he whipped away the drops falling on his eyes following the lead dancer. He put all his effort into what would hopefully be there last run through.

Hobi clapped signalling the music to be turned off. 

“You guys! We did great.” he smiled from ear to ear looking nothing like the teacher he was ten seconds ago. 

“It never gets easier does it?” Jimin threw his hand over Tae’s shoulder pushing him out of the room.

“I swear they’re making it more and more complicated.” he responded grabbing his bag

“I did not sign up for this.” Yoongi panted out moving past the two maknaes

“Yoongi, don’t leave without me baby.” hobi ran after him leaving the room.

“I told you not to call me that at work.” Taehyung and Jimin could hear their bickering from inside the room. Making them both laugh and shake their heads. 

“Hyung, Let’s get some noodles please.” Jungkook whined, pulling Jimin's hand. 

“Okie kookie let’s go. Tae come on if I have to go so do you.” 

The three of them left. Tae’s head was hurting beyond belief and he felt a wave of exhaustion hit him. He might as well get some dinner before going home and he didn’t mind spending time with his friends. He put on a mask and some glasses heading out the back door so no one would recognize them at a glance. The other two put on some variation of the disguise.

“I know that’s what I said.” Jungkook laughed putting more ramen in his mouth.

“Wait so she really got jealous over a thirst post? Kookie I-” Jimin shook his head taking a sip of his beer.

Taehyung struggled to eat more than three bites of his soup before feeling even more sick.

“hyung are you okay?” Jungkook asked, noticing his demeanor while grabbing his water.

“I don’t really know it must be this dance or something.”  he lied

“You’ll feel better soon. Eat more.” Jimin smiled “That always helps me when I get sick.”

“I haven’t really heard about you today.” Jungkook pulled him into the conversation. “How’s Minji doing?”

“I don’t know she got mad last night and left my apartment. I probably should call her.” he sighed, moving the noodles around in the bowl.

“What happened? That doesn’t sound like her, you both are usually attached at the hip.”

“Nothing really.”

Jimin widened his eyes wanting to know more but not wanting to push him. The air shifted and taehyung knew he had to fix it.

“It was nothing really. Don’t judge me okay?” he was hesitant to share but he also knew that these were some of his best friends.

“Oh we’re getting something good,” Jungkook's eyes lit up, making Jimin kick him under the table. “Ow Jimin-ah.”

Tae laughed for the first time that night making Jimin smile at his little win.

“This is gonna sound weird but-” he sighed out knowing how crazy what he was about to sound. “I keep having these dreams with this girl.” 

“What kind of dreams hyung?” Jungkook lifted his eyebrow insinuating something prompting Jimin to kick him again.

“You’re such a child kookie, now shut up I’m tryna hear.”

“I don’t know that’s the weird part. It’s this girl I’ve never met but she feels so comfortable. I mean her personality or not even that but the way she speaks.”

“What does this have to do with Minji though? If you don’t know her it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I don’t know her but she told me her name or I was screaming it in my dream. I don’t know how I knew her name but I did.”

“You didn’t hyung,” jungkook put down his chopsticks

“Did you call out her-”

Taehyung slumped down letting his head fall to the table embarrassed.

“Aish- that’s” Jimin bit his tongue not seeing any solutions “If I were her I would’ve left too.”

“I know, I know.” Tae responded

“And you didn’t call her or run after her?” Jungkook pried

“She was so mad and calling me names and-” 

Both of the members lifted up their eyebrows waiting for the next part.

“I didn’t want to.”

“You are calling out another girl's name in your sleep so that’s probably a bad sign.” Jimin put his hand on Tae’s shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t know who she is?”

“At this point I don’t even know.” 

By the time he arrived home he was so exhausted he could pass out. But going to sleep wasn’t as stress relieving as it previously had been. He picked up his phone dialing his girlfriend.

‘ This is Minji, leave a message if you need me’ he could see her smile when he heard the inbox 

“Hey, um-” silence rang through his empty apartment. He’d never noticed how lonely the minimalist design could get. The pale white walls seemed to taunt him with their innocence as the matching countertops screamed with spilled wine stains. “Uh I just wanted to see if you’re okay, and maybe we could get a coffee. I want to speak to you in person.” he hung up the phone going to get lysol wipes. 

“Who spilled this?” he walked over to the stain that looked months old. How had he not noticed its deep contrasting pink in the sea of white. “You are gonna come off. I can sense it, little mystery stain.”

He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. The poor wipe was in shreds by the time he gave up on lysol. “Alright shit head mystery stain this time I’m bringing out the big guns.” He plopped down a bottle of bleach putting a little bit on the stain. He grabbed gloves and a sponge starting to wipe again. He scrubbed and scrubbed using the coarse side and the soft side again and again. He could see more stains flowing down the counter onto the floor. 

“I’m gonna kill whoever spilled this.” In the back of his mind he was pretty sure it was him who spilled it. The trail led to more and more stains and as much as he scrubbed it wouldn’t lightin. Soon the floor wreaked bleach and he was lucky he didn’t have any neighbors or they would’ve probably been busting down his door.

“God fucking damn it.” he threw the sponge down wiping his forehead which was now covered in sweat. “Stay right there, I’m gonna get something else.” he turned around getting a bucket of water. “You're a dead mystery stain.” he laughed before dropping the bucket. It was gone, everything disappeared. He ran to the sponge to see it completely clean free of any residue. He opened the trash pulling out the ripped wipe to see it clean too. “I’m going crazy.” he stated to himself. “If i go to sleep when I wake up I’ll be sane again. Yep.”

“You’re here.” he felt her arms around his waist pulling him in. He looked around only to find a gilded room with a fireplace burning. It was just like the night before, he couldn’t speak or move he could just see and feel.

“I told you I would come.” his voice responded without thought.

“I didn’t say that.” he tried to say but nothing came out.

“Even when you tell me you’re here it still feels like you’ll be ripped from my arms at any second.” She nuzzled her face into the soft fabric of his shirt. The clothes he was wearing were nothing like he’d seen in real life. It was like wearing a costume but a lot more puffy and royal. 

“My love, when you say such things my heart breaks. I want nothing more than to be in your arms for eternity.” he looked down at her giving her a soft deep kiss.

Taehyung did not know who was speaking or using his body. He was watching as he kissed so lovingly. He could feel the heat of her mouth meeting his and the despretness in her connection. But he could also feel the same hunger from his side. 

Her mouth parted from his. He could feel her nose touching the tip of his own as her eyes stared into him. Did she know it wasn’t him who was controlling his body? Who was this women and why did he desire her touch so much.

“Remember me-”

The scenery changed in your dream moving from the dark warm room into the field again. The grass was still green but small dandelions grew in the place of where you were yesterday. You looked down noticing the change in clothes. You were wearing a virgin white dress that fell to your feet. The sleeves were long and thin allowing for air to blow the puffed sleeves and the skirt of the dress. Your chest was fairly covered though the material was too thin to your liking. You hadn’t noticed the man staring at you making you let out a small yelp.

“Taehyung?”

“Y/n?” he shot back “You must have cursed me.”

“Why would I- you probably cursed me you perv.” you shot back at him

“What why would I- I don’t even know who you are.”

“Alright hot shot I only knew who you were because of my freshman year k-pop phase, don’t flatter yourself.” 

“I’m not that old.” he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why are you mad? You’re just in my head.” you sighed laying down

“No you’re the one in my head.”

“I did not know my brain could be this powerful.” You sighed feeling the grass in your fingertips.

“That’s because it’s not. You’re in my dream.”

“Sure if it’s your dream make the grass change color.” you toyed with him

“Hm sure.” the grass turned purple. “Hah you see. I’m not crazy.”

You stood up. “Don’t tell me I’m a plus one in someone's mind.” you concentrated trying to change something in this nightmare. The grass died revealing roses. You let out a sigh of relief, this was your dream.

“Okay now go away.” you closed your eyes. You opened them and he was still there. “One more time y/n just concentrate.” you closed your eyes again. You opened them only to see his much taller figure looking down at you.

“Are you done yet?” His eyes are a honey brown that invited you in but his body was a tall wall that held you back.

“Don’t scare me like that.” you sighed “If you’re so real then when you wake up tweet- I can’t leave this up to chance- ahhaah tweet that the sun is blue and the oceans are red. Tag a picture of illegal inhumane fishing practices.” you thought of something specific and unique enough.

He laughed making you frown. “This is no joke fish are dying everyday and god forbid, and I mean god forbid you’re real, at least bring awareness to an issue.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You woke up in your room standing up to mark another tally on the white board. “Why am i talking to myself in my dreams? Have I gotten that lonely?”

The train was semi crowded today allowing you to get a window seat. Although all you saw were the black walls of the underground it was still nice to have something to look at. It was in these moments your mind felt empty but not in a good way. It was a type of emptiness a car feels when it’s burned it’s last ounce of gas. You looked at your reflection coming in and out of the carts window created by the occasional worker lights that illuminated the underground tunnels. You had so many people who you talked to but it didn’t feel right. There was a darkness that consumed you when you weren’t on autopilot. It made breathing hard and tedious. Everything felt so lonely. It didn’t help that you were having awful dreams.

Seven hours pulled through slowly and it was your last full day of school before graduation. The school up north filled with greenery and elitism was to be your home for the next four years. You being the oldest meant you had to go to the best school to make your parents proud. You didn’t love the idea of going straight into more school but a gap year was as taboo as getting rejected. 

“Goodmorning y/n.” Ren looked tired and worn out. His eyes were puffy and swollen.

“Baby what’s wrong. You look like you’ve been crying.”

He pulled you into a corner where no one could hear the two of you. 

“Y/n,” he put a piece of your hair behind your ear. “I got off the waitlist,” 

You grinned from ear to ear jumping up and down hugging him. This was his dream school. Ever since the two of you met he’d been working towards getting in. It was a prestigious school on the west coast, a school the main character would go to. 

“Oh my god. Ren I’m so happy for you. Drinks on me tonight. Your mom must be so happy ahh-” you could burst with joy and you hugged him.

He pushed you away a little catching you by surprise but you assumed he too was too excited to think. He gave you a smile but his eyes were filled with sadness, tears flooding down his face.

“Baby what’s wrong.”

“I don’t think I can-” 

“You can what?” there was a sense of anger in your voice boiling over. 

“I don’t want to do long distance.” he let out

“I-” you laughed not knowing how to react to your nervous tendencies taking over. “No words ren.” you turned around walking into your classroom.

On the last day of your senior year he broke up with you. Unbelievable was all you could think. You were angry, not that he broke up with you, but that he was doing it now. There were many times when you liked someone else or thought of calling it quits but you never did because you were his best friend and you didn’t want to hurt him. You were his supporter, the person he could call at any time of the night and you’d pick up. How many times had he showed up at your house crying over an argument with his family? Better, how many times had you let him in your arms? Every single time. You were furious. So much energy and time put into someone who would leave as soon as the curtains closed. There was a shock that ran through your body as you realized you were his best friend but he only used you. It was an awful thought but there was an unexpected sense of relief that came with it. Maybe it was time for you too move on too. He’d always been there, now that space was open for you to fill.

“Alright guys-” you snapped back to the end of the year lecture missing half of it in thought.

“Thank you so much. I hope you all continue on to the next pages of your lives.” 

You were met with Rens swollen eyes at the exit of the room.

“Y/n please don’t leave me.” he grabbed you

“Ren, this isn’t healthy. You’re right, this is the beginning of something new. I’m so happy for you even though I hate you right now. You’re still my friend so don’t be too sad.”

“Why don’t you even care y/n? This is hard for me. I didn’t want to but I have too.”

You tried, you tried so hard to be nice. You weren’t an angry person you were above a high school break up. You didn’t even love him but that just made you more angry at yourself for playing house for years. 

“Don’t you get it, I have too.” he combated your silence 

“Where?” you felt your blood rising 

“What?” He gave you an irritatingly confused look.

“Where is the gun to your head? Or is someone bribing you? Because I’m sure you said you have too but it doesn’t seem like anybody but you is making the choice.”

“You’re being petty, it's not like that.” he became defensive, dropping his wounded bird act.

“Ren, honey.” you looked slightly up to hold his gaze better. “I don’t give a fuck, so please just leave me alone. I’ve known you for a long time, that’s it. You’re my longest friend, better my oldest peer. I was there for you-” tears began showing themselves as emotions you didn’t know you had shined through. “You never helped me. It was you you you. And it’s better that it ended the same way. It’s really not me.”

He just stood there not making a sound looking to see your energy falter. He could see you were crying but it wasn’t sadness it was just anger. He turned around to leave.

“Ria and me are still cool you should tell her that.” you called out.

That’s it. This chapter of your life was over. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone. If you really cared about them there wouldn’t be a goodbye in the first place. The train was fairly vacant as the work day wouldn’t be ending for a couple hours. You shuffled quickly to your window seat. You may not even be a character in the book but music and this seat made you feel like the lead. You nodded off a little as the train made its rounds. The wheels meet the tracks hard metal playing the city's song. Before you could be pulled in any further a notification awoke you. 

Twitter ~ BTS_twt tweeted

[american-satanxx]

Phoenix Rises//Dick Grayson Ch 2

Author’s note: If you want to be tagged, let me know

Tag list: @mjaudrey

Masterpost

Last Night A Little Dancer Came Dancin' To My Door

Lo

I’m sitting in the bleachers watching “The Incredible Hatfields” as the practice for tonight’s show. I’ll admit the eldest brothers, Darrin and Malcolm are quite attractive; it’s just not the same. No one will ever be able to replace The Flying Graysons. I lean further back against the bleachers just as Darrin looks up at me, a smirk dancing on his lips. I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. Darrin is a flirt and has been trying do fucking hard to get into my pants since the moment we met. But in the end? He’s no Dick Grayson. “When are you going to let that boy off your hook?” A voice behind me states. I turn around and see the brightly colored hair of my sister-in-law, Megan. “That boy has been pining for you since the moment he’s laid his hazel eyes on you.” “I’ve made it crystal clear I wasn’t interested.” I tell her. “I tell him that every time he tries and asks me out on a date.” “You’ve got to stop pining after Grayson, Lo.” Megan sighs as she sits down next to me. “You need to move on, he clearly has.” “Dick will always have a place in my heart.” I shrug. “I’ve had a crush on him since we were kids. I used to write Lauren and Dick Grayson in every single notebook I had. And I honestly thought before Garth’s death we would be together. Then he hooked up with Dawn and shot that notion to shit.” “Is he coming tonight?” “I invited him, Dawn, Hank and whoever the hell wants to come.” I reply. “If he shows up, he shows up.” “You think he’s going to?” She asks. “I mean, if I witnessed my parents deaths at a circus, I’d avoid them like the fucking plague.” “I would too.” I sigh before pulling myself up off the benches. “We’re dancing to the cinematic version of Rebel Yell tonight, just an FYI.” “So leather and a lot of it?” Megan smirks. “Getting sexy for a certain Grayson?” “Everyone loves when we dance to that song.” I roll my eyes. “Just look sexy, you know the routine.” “Always, Sutton.” I smile at her before walking away. I walk out of the big tent and run straight into a hard, muscular body before crashing onto the floor. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” I look up and see Dick Grayson towering over me. “Dick, you came.”

He smiles before offering me a hand. I return the smile before putting my hand in his, allowing him to lift me up off the ground. “And I thought you said things started at 6pm.” “Small things start at 6pm.” I inform him. “Big Tent events don’t start until roughly 7:45pm.” “You lied to me.” The smile is still on his face. “Technically I did no such thing.” I chuckle. “Besides, I figured we can use this time until I have to go on stage to hang out...For old times sake and I can meet the new Titans.” I look around him and see a few new faces. I wave at them. “Hi, I’m Lauren. You can call me Lo.” “Hank called you Nix at the tower,” the adorable kid with bright green hair states. “Why?” “You’ll find out tonight when I’m on stage.” I smile at him. “It’s hard to explain.” “I’m Gar by the way.” He smiles before pointing to the girl with the dark purple/black hair next to him. “This is Rachel, next to her is Kory and next to her is Jason.” He points to everyone as he introduces him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Kory smiles, offering a hand which I gladly shake. “So how do you know Dick?” “Haly’s Circus.” I smile at her before looking at Dick. “We’ve been attached at the hip most of our childhood. I even begged my parents to stay in Gotham after the accident. I couldn’t bear to be away from my partner in crime.” “Why is Haly’s suddenly coming back?” Rachel questions. “I know it closed after the accident but why is it coming back?” “My parents were raised on the circus circuit,” I start. “According to my father, my mom’s dying wish was that he opened up the circus once more; it was something they always wanted to do and were trying for so many years before her accident.” “Accident?” Dick questions. “And it happened last year? The way you talked about it, it sounded like it was several years ago.” “It was a car accident.” I inform him. “And no, it had nothing to do with Zucco killing people from Haly’s. This was after that.” “You know about that?” “Clay called me after you stopped Zucco.” She smiles. “It was nice to hear his voice again. I haven’t seen him since the funeral, it was nice.” “I’m surprised Zucco didn’t come after you.” Dick states. “You were pretty important to me back then.” “Our last night was pretty public, if you remember.” I let out a nervous chuckle. “He probably thought you wouldn’t have cared if anything happened to me.” “Does this have to do with Jericho?” Rachel questions. “Let’s not talk about the past.” I smile, quickly changing the subject. “Let me show you around before I have to disappear to get ready for my act.” I link arms with Dick before ushering people to start walking. “Nice save.” Dick whispers to me. “That’s a story for another day.” I whisper back. “They’ll find out eventually, just not right now.” ** Dick “So we know your family was the trapeze act, what did Lo’s family do or still does?” Rachel asks once we find our seats an hour later. We just walked in during opening acts. “Fire breathing and fire dancing.” I reply back. “Her father and brothers did the fire breathing and her and her mother did the dancing and breathing. Her and her mother were always the main attraction, even when Lo was younger.” “Isn’t this dangerous?” Gar asks, causing me to chuckle. “Circus life is pretty dangerous all on its own.” I shrug. “It’s not more dangerous than flying across the tent on a trapeze.” “But they are dealing with fuel, that’s dangerous.” Gar argues. “Lo and her family are trained professionals.” I assure them. “They know what to avoid and what not to avoid. Like she said, her family was brought up in this life. Performing is all they know.” “Nix knows how to kick ass as well.” Hank chuckles. “Or have we forgotten she was part of us.” “She was a Titan?” Jason speaks for the first time. “What happened?” “Same thing that happened to all of us...Jericho’s death.” Dawn sighs. “She took it the hardest I think. She really cared about him. We all did. But she really took a liking to him.” “She kind blew up at all of us after that.” I sigh. “But that’s a story for another day, like she told me earlier.” “Let me guess, she was Phoenix?” Gar asks. “That’s why Hank calls her Nix. It’s short for Phoenix.” “She loves fire.” Hank laughs. “But yeah, she was the 4th bird themed superhero in our pack of misfits.” “It must have been nice to have her around.” Kory states. “A nice little reminder of where you came from.” “She meant a lot to me.” I smile. “More than she realized.” Just as I say that, the lights in the big tent go completely off and music starts playing. Soon the torches surrounding the rings are lit. Only one stage light comes on, but even that is still dimmed. But it’s meant to be like that. Because in the center of the dimmed light, the star of the show. The Phoenix herself dances seductively to the music and at the climax of the song she does what she always does; blows the crowd away with her breath of fire… “Doesn’t she realize kids are in the audience?” Hank chuckles. I can’t help but to chuckle too. She’s wearing black leather bra and hot pants, which is perfect to show off her infamous phoenix tattoo. She has a black leather harness on and a black crown on top of a fire red hair. This is a sexier version of her Phoenix costume. “This is Lo we are talking about.” I laugh. “She doesn’t give two shits. She just wants to dance…” “We’re meeting up with her after the show, right?” Rachel asks. “I’d love to actually get to know her, you know? She seems pretty cool. Plus I could get dirt on you.” “I’m sure she’ll love that.” I chuckle at her before returning my attention to the show in front of me.

[clownistyping]

The Neverending Story, Chapter 74

Beetlejuice meet..Beetlejuice

First

Previous

Masterlist

Cover by @laneygthememequeen

You yawned as you drove the truck into the large city, shaking yourself awake and drinking your hot tea that you got from a truck stop you passed by. Beetlejuice next to you asleep in the passenger seat wrapped up in a blanket.

As you enter the city that's been deemed “The Big Apple” did you nudge Beetlejuice awake, Beetlejuice stretched and yawned. Slowly waking up, 

“Beejz, wake up we’re here.” You said and suddenly his eyes snapped open, looking up he gasped from seeing the bright lights sparkling through the city’s night.Rolling down the window he stuck his head out and smiled widely from the cool air,  

“New York City!” he yelled through the open window causing a car to honk and you to pull him back in the car. 

“Be careful, Beejz. Don’t want you to lose your head.” You laughed and drove forward through the small traffic, 

“Where to first?” You asked as Beetlejuice admires the scenery, 

“The big apple!” Beetlejuice says and you purse your lips, 

“Sweetie no..” 

Beetlejuice ran through the sidewalks with a bright smile, pushing past New Yorkers who yell at him and you as you try to catch up with him. 

“Sorry!” You say and manage to grab Beetlejuice’s wrist, 

“Slow down!” you yelled as he pulled you through the crowd, but suddenly you slammed into his back as he skidded to a stop. Beetlejuice looked up, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide. 

“Babes...look.” You rubbed your nose from the pain of hitting him, sighing you looked up. Squinting from the bright lights above you. 

“BEETLEJUICE.”

“What.” 

You stepped forward, looking around to see stripes on the walls and people crowding around entrance doors. 

“Is this what I think it is?” You asked and held Beetlejuice hand, he squeezed and looked at you with a smile. 

“Bout time I got the recognition I deserve!” Beetlejuice slicked his hair back and stepped forward to the ticket booth, as soon as he reached the booth the employee looked up. 

“Mr. Brightman! What are you doing out here?” The boy asked and suddenly all eyes were on you both, 

“We’re surrounded..” You whispered to Beetlejuice at the group of fans surrounding you both slowly. 

“There’s enough of me to go around!” Beetlejuice smiled and tore his arm off, expecting screams instead got cheers. 

“Wha-” 

Suddenly the crowd started to ask for autographs and photos, voice overlapped and you stepped back only to step on a fans toes. 

“Watch it!” They yelled and suddenly you were thrown behind the crowd. That’s never happened before…

“Babes!” Beetlejuice yelled but was overheard by fans squealing, Beetlejuice looked around in a panic. So many faces and hands grabbing him, pulling away from the hands didn’t do anything only added ten more. 

“Babes!” Beetlejuice yelled again and suddenly snapped next to you with his powers, grabbing your hand he quickly snapped you both away from the crowd. And into another building, 

“Where are we?” You asked quietly, pulling Beetlejuice close. Beetlejuice looked around, you both stood in a hallway doors all around you with different names on them. 

“Who’s Brightman?” You asked nodding towards the door with the words “Alex Brightman” under it read “Beetlejuice” 

“An imposter that’s who!” Beetlejuice yelled and slammed the door open, a man in a striped suit jumped from his seat in shock.

“You!” Beetlejuice pointed at the actor and said man started to speak, 

“Nice costume, though who let you back here?” The man asked and you sighed trying to pull Beetlejuice away, 

“Ah the door was unlocked sorry we’ll go.” You said struggling to pull your husband away, Beetlejuice leaned forward closer to the actor. 

“They forgot my bugs!” Beetlejuice said and pulled out a roach from his hair, munching it he huffed. 

“I’ll show them what the real Beetlejuice looks like!” Beetlejuice cackles maniacally and suddenly the actor was tied up in a striped rope. His mouth gagged with a dirty rag as he was thrown in a closet. 

Beetlejuice clapped his hands free of dirt and wiped his shoulders clean. 

“It’s showtime.” 

“Please no…” 

The curtains open to reveal the set funeral of the passing mother Emily Deetz. You watched from the shadows of the curtains as Beetlejuice came sliding out on his knees from under the actors, Causing the actors to topple over. 

He sat on his knees in front of the stage, the music was still going but the actors didn’t sing seeing as Beetlejuice was the main lead and him acting this way was unusual. 

Beetlejuice snapped and appeared on the coffin, falling over purposefully he opened the coffin. While normally it was empty this time Beetlejuice pulled out a rotting corpse, grabbing the corpse’s jaw he mimicked a ventriloquist. 

“I’m dead!” He made the corpse say and throw it towards the crowd who gasped, by now the music was cut short and the only sound was Beetlejuice and the crowd murmuring. 

“Tough Crowd.” Beetlejuice laughed and suddenly appeared next to the actor of Charles and Delia, 

“Ah love and death, how romantic!” Beetlejuice said, 

You sighed from in your corner in disappointment, hoping he doesn’t do too much damage.  

But this is Beetlejuice. 

With a snap, the stage floor was torn open by Sandy tearing through. People screamed as debris flew and Sandy roared, snapping at the audience. The crowd quickly evacuated the showroom, Sandy grabbed the nearest actor and tossed him up. A poor dancer that definitely doesn’t deserve this was thrown into the air, he landed directly in Sandy’s tiny inner mouth

“Bad Sandy!” Beetlejuice scolded the worm, who put both her heads down. 

“Spit him out this instant!” Beetlejuice waggled a finger, Sandy spat out a soaked actor who yelped and ran off. 

“Oh my god! Beetlejuice, I love you!” A female fan managed to get on the broken stage, 

“I think you and Lydia are so cute, Beetlebabes forever!” The girl squealed and Beetlejuice raises a brow, 

“What the hell is that?” He asked the question that I regret writing, 

“Only the best couple ever, you and Lydia!” The fan stepped forward and Beetlejucie stepped back, even from afar you can see Beetlejuice cringe. 

“You can eat that one, Sandy.” Beetlejuice said and Sandy quickly swallowed the fan whole. 

Beetlejuice shivered and quickly snapped himself next to you. 

“Let’s get outta here, this place is filled with freaks!” He said and pulled you close, waving goodbye to Sandy who sunk back into the ground to most likely go back home. You were both snapped back into your car. 

“Why’d you let Sandy eat that one fan?” you asked and started the car, 

“You don’t wanna know..” 

TAG LIST

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

@dunununun @theannonomusgamblerpt2 @laneygthememequeen @zelda2248 @madameboxhead @obsessed-librarian @randomfanders-blog @holy-fucking-shit @juni-berries @rallsa @the-dream-weaver @vivienex13 @ah-callie @asilentcruellullaby @1-rosewiththorns @apocalypseillustrate @a-fan-fighting-for-equality @westiefromtheeast @buggbeverage @bumblebeest @renlup @yeemotrash214 @cryptidslasher @introverted-catnip @lamour-est-mort-cheri @lundybunny @usagikinnie @theolwebshooter @marsisuncool @thethotthatbreathes @iexploded69420 @iamthatoddbean @freddiessmallnipples @vampirepoodle @a-hopeless-fan @justamythicaldream @evthecryptid @a--1--1--3

[zukofenty]

just my luck

➜ Summary: The one where Katara whisks away her picture-perfect life the night she kisses a stranger with the worst luck in the world.

“I lost all my good luck!” Katara screams. “Everything I touch turns to shit!” 

“I mean, have you considered fucking a leprechaun?”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, Journalist!Katara, Girl group manager!Zuko, Music Producer!Zuko

AO3, @zutaraweek

“I am too pretty to be punched!” Katara yelps, ducking and clenching the holding cell’s bars until her knuckles turn white. 

  “And I thought I was too pretty to commit tax fraud, but here we are.” Ty Lee rolls her eyes. “That’s just how the pussy crumbles.” 

  “First, you need a gynecologist. Second, I think the saying goes ‘that’s how the cookie—’” Nothing in life could have prepared Katara for the tiny girl to deliver a resounding punch that has her head rattling against the jail cell. 

  “I lost all my good luck!” Katara screams. “Everything I touch turns to shit!” 

  “I mean, have you considered fucking a leprechaun?” 

  Katara sighs, still recovering from the intense nosebleed Ty Lee bestowed on her. “Where the fuck would I even find a leprechaun?” She promptly shoves wads of tissues up her nostrils. Of course, the next one she reaches for actually had a spider in it, and she thinks killing herself just might be easier on her soul at this point. 

  “Just say you like Megan Thee Stallion and all of a sudden all the men under 5’7” start giving you a 5’11” attitude. Easy peasy.” 

  She’d managed to limp her way back to Suki and Toph’s apartment from prison, after getting a call that her apartment had flooded, destroying everything in it. Only her apartment. She was barely holding on to her broken YSL pump in one hand and her pride in the other. Emphasis on limp , because while calling taxis to instantly stop for her was always her thing , now she was nothing but an ant (in head-to-toe Prada) on their radar. If they do stop, the taxi either gets snatched up by someone else, or the drivers tell her, not so kindly, to eat a dick. 

  Nevertheless, she’s still determined to have a positive day, walking and humming a Rihanna song to try and calm her nerves. But, because this day was sent by Satan himself (Jeff Bezos), she was drenched, face to booty to toes, in drain water by the seemingly hundreds of Uber Eats whizzing by, trying to get someone’s Buffalo Wild Wings order to them quickly. 

  “I can’t believe you guys actually think all that stuff’s real!” Suki scoffs, diligently painting her toenails a pretty pastel purple and not giving any mind to the conversation. 

  “Tell me, how would you explain this bitch’s life?” Toph points an accusatory finger in Katara’s way. “Katara has been living life as the main character. For fuck’s sake, you won prom queen five years in a row at Ba Sing Se High!” 

  “A lot of people win prom queen—” 

  “We went to Omashu High!” Toph adds with frustration. “You even won the year after you graduated!” 

  Toph and Suki could never quite wrap their heads around Katara’s life. 

  For as long as they knew her, she was always the luckiest girl in the world. 

  At seemingly every turn, the girl had all the luck in the world on her side. I mean, just the other day she was accidentally delivered Rihanna’s dry cleaning, because of course she lives in the same fucking building as Rihanna, the goddess herself. See, Katara was the type of person with the luck to manage to find an upscale apartment on their shitty salary in the city for nearly half of what Suki and Toph were paying to sleep next to inbred cockroaches. 

  “Bitch, you do not have the range for that.” Toph snatches the dress away before Suki or Katara could make a face and whimper a soft ‘gimmie gimmie’ that surprisingly always worked.  

  “I might not, but at least we could clone Rihanna now.” 

  Toph pauses. “Say what?” 

  “I’m getting the girls and gays that album, no matter what.” 

  Katara went to return the dress after getting in a helicopter with her date of the night, People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive, Haru (before the mustache). On top of all that madness, she said Rihanna, in the shimmery, Fenty Beauty Body Lava coated flesh, even complimented her makeup. Suki almost shit herself when Katara was added to the Fenty Savage PR list. 

  Katara would walk outside and the clouds seemed to part as if on her command. She could wear all-white in the city without a bird unloading one on her shoulder, or one of those guys on the street flicking feces in a pudding cup her way. Jammed streets or congested traffic never ceased her from being ten minutes early to every meeting, event, or even accidental movie set she walked on and got cast as an extra instantly. The lead actor, Academy Award winning Bolin, is still sending her detailed DMs about the various ways he would harvest her toenails because it reminded him of her. 

  And you know those Airpods or laptop scams that go around on social media you have to train your grandparents not to click on? Or those princes that email you promising to marry you after you send them your banking information? Guess which bitch manages to actually win over a prince’s heart and his inheritance? 

  Katara had the universe wrapped around her finger, and it didn’t seem to mind bending to her will. 

  Fresh out of college, after much clawing and fighting and miraculously switching coats with an editor at a restaurant, Katara managed to snag a job at Nyla magazine and secured spots for her best friends, too. They’d been reading the entertainment magazine before they could even process solid food. While they were all saddled with a mailroom job, Katara’s quote unquote irresistible charm had landed her as a scribe to record meetings when their original conveniently broke a nail. 

  Of fucking course, the day their entire team is stuck in a broken elevator is the day the CEO of White Lotus Records was coming into the office to discuss Nyla ’s next cover star. 

  Their next big thing, teen singer, Song was still hesitant to work with a magazine aimed at young adults with unhealthy coping mechanisms, compared to the J14s and Tiger Beats with the foldable poster at the back you could steal if you were quick enough at Walgreens. 

  “ Young lady.” Ugh, why do old men always sound so fucking condescending? You know how easy it is to push an old person? “You know how much dough I make so I can regularly spend it on drugs? Every minute of my time is worth $964.” While Piandao gets up for his assistants to put on his fur coat, Katara slams her hand on the table. 

  “I promise you this cover story will be worth every minute of your time. I’ll even pay you $965 at the end of my presentation if you hate it.” 

  And who could say no to that sweet (and scary) face? 

  When editor-in-chief June waddles back, glazed with sweat after someone farted their entire Del Taco Thursday three chicken soft tacos for $2.49 deal in her face , their cover story was booked. The carnival themed, masquerade party to celebrate Song’s new cover was already scheduled in Google Calendar. Soon enough, Katara was handed her own office, Tesla, and platinum corporate card to start planning the entire event. 

  Everything was going fine . There were acrobats doing flying yoga in the sky, a fortune teller she hired at the last minute that everyone loved. Music was playing, people were dancing without a care in the world, and everyone was having a good fucking time. She even snagged her bitchy boss a date with her hot neighbor, and her Painted Lady costume was designed by Vera Wang herself. By the end of the night, her brain was scrambled from the paperwork and yelling and pen marks all on her hand. Yet, with her luck, she still managed to kiss the cute guy who asked her to dance. 

  Well, at least she knew he felt and smelled like a cute guy, considering half his face was covered by a mask. 

  He was a bumbling thing, managing to stomp on her feet a few times even when she reassures him at the end of the day. Despite being all broad shoulders and muscles, he seemed to shrink in on himself at that moment.  “I’m really, really bad at dancing.” She gave him a weird look and Zuko had to remember that he had stolen a backup dancer named Lee’s gig for the night to sneak into the event.  

  Katara rolls her eyes. Dancing, much like nearly everything else, always came easy to her. “So what if you gave a girl a black eye and another guy a concussion?” Her laugh is so pretty and her waist between his warm fingers just felt right. 

  He lets himself laugh, too. Wrapped up in the girl’s spell. Forgetting any thought of trying to win over the White Lotus CEO. 

  She leaned in first, and he was more than happy to reciprocate. Zuko didn’t have time for impulsive decisions, not when the universe was actively always trying to kill him. For some reason, he couldn’t help but be drawn in. Her soft lips against his felt like a plush dream, and all he didn’t want to wake up to reality. Not when in that moment, there were sparks and blood rushing to his head and soft skin peeking out of her expensive dress he wanted to discover more of. 

  One minute, Katara was throwing back a margarita in case she had dumb bitch breath that caused her mystery man ran off. The next, she was choking to death, only spitting out the olive on Suki’s face after Toph delivers a quick punch to her sternum, right between the titties. 

  “Eenie meenie miney mo, catch a stupid whore by her throat!” 

  “Stop choking me, June!”

  “No!” June screeches. How was Katara supposed to know she accidentally set her boss up with the ‘ King Kuei ’? The FBI’s most wanted illegal animal trader by day, male prostitute by night? And who knew that would land her a night in jail? 

  “The universe is a stupid fucking whore!” Katara sniffs, still trying to detangle the chunk of hair embedded deep into Suki’s blow dryer. Katara managed to not only break a mirror with the blow dryer in her mere ten minutes in Suki and Toph’s place, but also rip out a section of her hair after throwing said blow dryer in their bathtub which promptly caught on fire. The icing on the dog shit cake of the day was when she managed to cause the building’s power to short circuit, shutting off everyone’s lights.

  //

  The universe, for the first time in his life, was finally on Zuko’s side. 

  For as long as Zuko could remember, rain clouds suddenly appeared when he walked outside, even despite what Alexa told him earlier that morning. 

  “Alexa, what’s the weather like today?” 

  “Completely sunny with a chance of naive bitch,” the smart speaker might as well have said. 

  Zuko was sure of four things in life. 

  Adderall and 7 up were never a good combination 

Alexa was always watching for an opportunity to strike fear in his heart

He could never catch a fucking break

Having a waterpark poncho always on hand never hurt

  He heard from his Uncle Iroh his family was perpetually cursed. Something about a fame-hungry witch with the last name Kardashian in the past life, and one of his relatives eating said witch’s ass that inflicted the present day curse on his family.

  Everyone he knew was impossibly clumsy. Random flooding accidents, cars always running into you, bugs trying to get their fuck on in your ear. It was like the universe said yeet! On their good fortune.

  What does he wish for every year on his birthday? For it to be easy just to be him . To be easily liked, like Adele, or Dippin Dots. He wished life could be easy enough for him to take a shit without the toilet bowl accidentally caving in, or a lightbulb somehow always falling on his good eye.

  Zuko had always been relatively clumsy, worse than what Iroh’s seen before. After so many years of being shit-out-of-luck, and having literal shit on you at all times, he was used to being alone. 

  It stopped stinging a few years ago. Besides, he had his half-sister Kiyi to keep him company these days. 

  Nobody wanted to be around the guy who constantly smells like dog shit because he always manages to find a shit covered dollar bill flowing down the street. No one wanted to be associated with the guy who, without fail, splits his pants open every time he bends down.  Saddling him with yet another public indecency charge. 

  Like clockwork, at least two times a week, he was getting his face shoved into the concrete and handcuffs slapped on him. He started investing in a mouth guard about five years ago.

  It was like a safety hazard, just being him. There were so many times you could get struck by lightning before you were banned by the nation from buying umbrellas. 

  Predictably, he has been rejected from every job he applied to. His laptop has been hacked by so many Hentai porn bots he doesn’t even bother upgrading his Dell from 2013. He even started a conversation with the guy monitoring his keystrokes. Landlords chucked his application out the window before he could even give them his soul and a deposit, and while the doctors didn’t think he’d do it, he found out that yes you can survive being hit after someone throws a piano out their window while you leave the leasing office. 

  Sure, he came to the city with dreams of making it big, loving music since his mom taught him the difference between a treble and bass clef. But when he’s always accidentally setting his tsungi horn on fire? Breaking his nose open trying to put resin on his violin’s bow? Somehow getting a reed stuck in his throat and his sphincter (on the same day)? No chance in hell was anyone willing to risk their lives to let him play anything on stage. 

  So he stuck to writing and producing, watching YouTube tutorial after tutorial to learn mixing, because he thinks it’s safer for everyone involved. 

  “Zuko, someone tried shoving Nutella up their ass and shat it back over the bathroom.” He looks up from his laptop to see a plunger too close for comfort near his face. 

  “Why?” 

  “Some weird sex thing! I don’t fucking know.” Jet points to the elderly couple nearby. “You ask them why!”

  Zuko takes a deep breath in. “No, I’m asking ‘why?’ because my shift doesn’t start for another two hours.” 

  He was a janitor at the bowling alley across the street (it was the only place that would hire him, but he thinks they felt bad for him after he ugly cried and ate out their supply of shitty, frozen curly fries). 

  “You know I love you, Zuko! But these!” Jet cups Zuko’s chest with two, oddly gentle, hands.  “Make our alley’s world go round.” He even gives them a squeeze for emphasis. 

  “Let go of my man titties,” Zuko glares at Jet. “ Now .” 

  “You’re the breast.” 

  Zuko’s eye twitches. 

  It wasn’t all bad. After all, the alley does let him make music in his free time, and the girl group he was “managing” can perform their sets on Fridays. 

  “We’re firing you!” Mai pokes at his chest and has him readjusting his glasses from the force. 

  It was a Monday and his week was starting off better than most. He was scraping green colored poop from the walls and was already being threatened at 9 a.m. without any weapons in sight. 

  “You don’t pay me!” He points out, which only seems to get everyone in the room angrier. His sister and her friends formed Shooters 4 Rihanna when they were pre-teens. They wanted to be a group trying to make it big in the pop scene, and quickly signed to a record label together. The girls were promised all their years of childhood training would pay off when they would debut as young adults. That was, until their CEO was broadcast on TLC’s My Strange Addiction for his habit of collecting Mark Ruffalo’s nose hairs, and confessed to killing someone for it. 

  Investors weren’t too happy. 

  While all the girls could see was repressed childhood trauma, Zuko saw that and potential star power. 

  Every single member already had years of dancing and singing lessons under their belt. They could play their own instruments, write their own songs, and had the stage presence. A few Twitter DMs later (from his multiple accounts, because they thought his profile picture made him look like a fucking creep and blocked him years ago) they were dumb enough to trust him with their future. He’d been trying to get them signed for months to no avail. Somehow fucking up, or electrocuting himself in the process of showing an executive their new single. 

  “This was a mistake!” Jin shoveled the curly fries in her face. 

  While Yue was always one to stay positive, her sad ‘ I miss pickled fish ,’ had the rest of the girls wanting to leave, too. Going back home, just give up seemed sensible. Why waste your prime years on a pipe dream?   

  He stopped them, plunger in hand. Against all logic, and partially because they could smell the desperation, the girls gave him one week . 

  One masquerade party later, he managed to throw Piandao out of harm’s way, taking the brunt of the taxi running into him. 

  “ Are you fucking stupid !” The CEO screams. The boy had blood flowing from his scalp, but looked as alive as ever handing over Shooters 4 Rihanna’s demo CD. 

  “A little.” Zuko admits. He could feel his bones still intact, and judging by the blood it wasn’t anything serious. Piandao gives him a call the next day after listening to the tape. 

  By some miracle, or Kardashian curse lifting, the girl group and him were shuffled into the city’s upscale penthouses, and their debut single was slated to be released on the radio the next day.

  While he headed for lunch at a nearby cafe (one he couldn’t afford to eat at just last week) he can’t help but notice her . 

  //

  “Ma’am, I have already told you our restaurant’s motto! No eat, no shit!” The waiter glares down at her. “Either pay up or get out, broke bitch.” 

  Katara was caked head to toe in mud, tissues shoved yet again up her nose. Haru had invited her out to his dad’s art show the night before. After insulting the literal piece of shit art, she tripped over the clump of clay on display and landed face-first in his million dollar creation. 

  Of course, it would land her in prison, and of course Ty Lee would be there, too. “Move bitch, I’m gay! ” When Katara was too exhausted to budge, the girl, yet again, socked the shit out of her. 

  Katara just wanted a plate of steaming breakfast foods, but of course all her cards declined. And of course, she has a meltdown because she was fucking tired, hungry, and was about to throw hands.

  She grabbed the salt shaker. “Look, I’m just going to try one thing before I go!” 

  “It’s the bath salts,” she hears one woman whisper. “Those fashion bitches are always on bath salts.” 

  “Just smile politely. We’re witnessing mental illness.” 

  She didn’t expect that throwing salt over her shoulder would land in the waiter’s eye, or cause him to collapse on the table of Mormons nearby. Or something to catch on fire, or someone to get stabbed with a fork with a pancake on it. 

  She certainly didn’t expect a (cute) stranger to be so gentle with her, helping her escape the madness and handing over his turkey on rye. Or him following her as she tried to save face and sit on a random bench away from any nearby birds’ tiny assholes. 

  “You look sad.” He’s not mocking in the slightest.

  “What does that even mean?” She went from sad to affronted in just a second. 

  “What’s wrong?” Fuck this guy and those eyes that were so damn enchanting . 

  “I don’t look sad.” She says with the roll of her eyes. “I am fucking sad.” She was blackballed from every newspaper in the Four Nations, the prince she was talking to did indeed end up stealing her savings, and on top of all of that, her undereye concealer was creasing. 

  “You!” Katara points her finger in the fortuneteller’s face. 

  “Me?” Aunt Wu looks beyond irritated. “Look, I can’t predict when you’ll get a fat ass, just buy a resistance band and leave me—”

  “You’re the one who told me whatever Wheel of Fortune would spin back on me! And Alex Tribek would take away my good luck or something!” Katara was crazed and running on two hours of sleep, but she had a bone to pick. “My perfect life is gone.” 

  “Wow, that was a lot to unpack.” Aunt Wu locks her shop’s door. “Look, can you think of anything strange that happened that night?” 

  “Besides someone telling me to make them toilet wine in prison, no I don’t think so!” Katara grunts out petulantly. 

  Aunt Wu smacks her with a stack of tarot cards. “No! Jesus! What else happened?” 

  “Can’t you just tell me? Childhood trauma has really fucked with my memory.” 

  “You kissed someone, didn’t you?” The fortuneteller scurries to her Kia Soul before Katara could retaliate. “Maybe he needed that luck more than you do!” 

  She tried kissing every single dancer that was working that stupid party, and came up with nothing but mono and the feeling of defeat.

  “Did you know, I even fucking sharted myself today!” She smacks her forehead repeatedly. “At twenty-fucking-three! How fucking embarrassing . All I could do is run to the H&M with my cheeks out to buy a pair of sweatpants.” 

  “I know a job looking for someone,” he says and even when he’s staring at her with nothing but understanding, she’s still apprehensive.  

  “Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus you’re a colonizer.” If she had any energy she would’ve put more force into the shove. “Why are you even helping me?” 

  She looked like shit on a dick and he was just smiling at her. “Let’s say, I just know what it’s like to be SOL.” 

  “What’s the catch?” She stares at him down and pouts. He’s wearing an Armani shirt with an Off-White belt, which was already offending her senses, but on top of that he dared pair the atrocity with a pair of knock-off Converse. He couldn’t have sprung for a real pair, he just had  to get the off-brand from Costco that made everyone’s ankles look like cankles. 

  New money . “I am not letting anyone suck my toes for money, again. Try a different girl.” 

  Zuko grows positively red, but at least it brings the ghost of a smile to her face. “No toe sucking. Only on Wednesdays.” 

  She delivers a well-aimed kick to his crotch. While she’d expect him heaving and puffing, he’s unphased. He’d put on his MMA fighter grade, groin protector out of habit, even though he’s getting kicked a lot less in the ball bags lately. 

  “So, you’re trying to convert me to Scientology?” Katara scoffs. “I’ll pass, Asian Tom Cruise.”

  “Not that either.” He sees the defeated look in her eyes, the same one he’s seen in himself. There’s a spark there, though. A willingness to just keep going. Something he lost years ago. “Trust me.” 

  “No.” 

  “All good.” He shrugs. “Can I at least help you up?” Before she could bite back, she turned to the spot on the bench where he was pointing.

  Wet paint. 

  He’s taking her mustard covered hands (the sandwich exploded in the foil) in his soft ones without question, and peeling her off the bench. 

  “Of fucking course,” she huffs. 

  //

  She thinks he knows. He knows the fact that she wants him sticking around. Even with her adamant protests against it, he’s persistent. 

  Stopping by after long days at the studio to her shit job, handful of first aid supplies at the ready.  

  He’s just always there . 

  He’s there when she’s scraping gum from under the alley’s tables and almost swallows one that had “Live, Laugh, Love” carved into it. He quickly stops her from choking, practically an expert at the heimlich with how many times he’s almost died from drinking boba. 

  There when she electrocutes herself changing the alley’s light bulbs to catch her as she falls straight off the ladder. He’s not even phased, pushing a fried piece of hair sticking up the heavens and staring at her as though she squirted cupcake frosting from her nipples. 

  He’s there with his first-aid messenger bag, all duct taped and falling apart and it makes her want to say sorry to Alexander Wang for daring to wear it with his Spring 2019 boots after Zuko forces her to carry it around. But then he’s pulling out a tube of toothpaste from the bag while she’s cooling her burnt fingertips on a 10 year old Yerba Mate can, and she’s reminded why he’s so firm about it. 

  “Earth Nation trick to heal burnt skin.” He’s too concentrated on rubbing the paste into her flaming skin to notice her staring. She remembers that he included her favorite Fenty gloss in the bag after handing it off to her, and blushes. 

  “I don’t need your help, you know.”  Katara was always the one fighting for her own dreams. She didn’t want to stick back living the life other people imagined for her. Even all the luck in the world couldn’t help her escape a sleepy town or an unsupportive family. 

  When they came to the city, she knew her friends let her take care of them on purpose. It was second nature, what she grew up on. She’d always been the one looking out for everyone, even if they didn’t ask, and they let her do it because they all needed a coping mechanism. Toph’s is cake cutting videos, Suki’s is practicing her crying face because she always wanted to be a pretty crier, and Katara’s is being overbearing. 

  She was confused. As many times as she tried drilling through his thick head that her grandma was a nurse, that she could easily wrap up every cut, bruise, and swollen toe, he never budged. For the first time in a while, someone was there, stubbornly making sure she was okay. 

  “I know?” He says it as though it was obvious. “I’ll make you a deal, though. Just let me help you out, just this one time?” He gently taps her fingers wrapped in Minion bandaids he got her just because he knew she hated them in public, loved them in private. “I won’t do it again.” 

  He’s teasing and it’s obvious he knows she’s putty in his hands. Though, his newfound look (she helped with) balancing boy-next-door with heartthrob is not working on her heart. Her pussy, sure. Not her heart, though. She swears. 

  “That’s what you said last time,” Katara protests, without any energy behind it. 

  He sends her a lopsided smile. “I know.” 

  Zuko wasn’t about to let any hair on her pretty head get hurt. 

  While Kiyi already had enough of a bad case of bad luck, considering all the Power Ranger figurines she had super glued to her face by fourth grade boys, Katara’s was just something else. 

  It reminded him of him . Whatever stroke of good luck he had, he knew the universe takes in ten-fold what it might give. So he’s taking advantage of every bit of luck he has for a girl without any. 

  While he’s been stabbed many a time walking back home at night, somehow he’s in the clear when he escorts Katara back to her apartment. Or the times he buys her Water Tribe take out because she’s still figuring out how that prince managed to spend $10,000 on Swampbender diet pills. Or when he sneaks in before her shift to do some of her tasks for the day (he still has the keys), so he doesn’t have to worry about her bruising her pubic bone with the vacuum, or breaking the ceiling with a slippery bowling ball. 

  He wasn’t all used to his new life. The designer shoes, the fancy parties, the attention . Girls in the past would look at him as though he wasn’t more than shit at the bottom of their Jimmy Choo, but his good luck brought this newfound female attention that was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Especially when, all he wanted was to catch her eye. 

  She was his good luck charm and didn’t even know it. 

  Since he’s met her, everything just was going right . She brought Toph over with her guitar to string together a few verses the day they were in desperate need of new lyrics to go with the beat he’s spent the last few nights cranking out. The day after they released it on Apple Music, the song went #1 on Billboard. Piandao had even booked them to play the Hard Boulder Cafe for their first performance, and tickets were sold out. 

  Even when things just seemed to get better and better for him, the universe doubled down in its punishment for her. 

  He’s there when she’s walking back from work, drenched to the bone because she missed all trains for the day, a taxi said her face looked stupid, and she was just tired of it all and wanted to go home and eat processed frozen food and die. 

  Zuko’s there, though. Without fail.

  He’s there with his fucking Tesla and personal driver and Chanel top and she couldn’t be any more embarassed. 

  “Get in!” He hesitates before approaching. “Also, maybe let’s put down the umbrella?” It was inverted anyways, and looked three seconds from whisking her away into the storm. 

  “No, I’m good!” Katara insists. She was afraid that falling for Zuko, going to bed and waking up thinking of him was messing with her brain and she didn’t know if she wanted it to stop. 

  “You could get hit by lightning.” 

  “That can’t—” She ponders it for a second. “You know what, fuck you.” 

  He throws his expensive jacket over her to quell the shivers, and when she protests, seeing as it was a Valentino Lacquered Nylon Jacket, he bundles her even deeper in the thing, buttoning it up until she’s complaining from the warmth.  

  “You’re laughing at me.” She pouts.

  He’s covered completely in bubbles. Not her fault he decided to strip off his shirt to throw in the cycle with her wet clothes, and she got distracted by the abs and dumped the whole bottle of laundry detergent in the washing machine. 

  Zuko shoves her face into a pile of the suds. “I am, yeah.” She looks upset and he stops the mirth growing on his face. Reaching out to her, instead. “Katara, I’m sorry did I—” 

  She might’ve leaned out to accept his embrace, but then she’s flipping them over, pinning him down to the floor. Her warm, still soaking wet body, pressed against him and her arms coming out to pin his hands to the ground. 

  He gulps. 

  “This would be more fun if you let me peg you afterwards.” 

  Her laugh vibrates her whole body and he couldn’t help joining in, too. 

  He let her have her pick of his dress shirts, and she looked so much at home. Little strands of her bangs framing her face and growing curly with the addition of water. Her brow furrows when she mentions her leave-in conditioner washing away with the suds, and he takes advantage of the momentary distraction. Flipping her and placing two hands at the sides of her head. 

  She knows he’s covered in the bubbles, just so she wouldn’t feel anymore of a stupid bitch than she already does. He never seems to mind it, even when Katara was frustrated and just couldn’t figure out why all this was happening to her and dragging him into every single accident. 

  “What would you say to the universe, right now?” She’s curled up on his couch and he’s massaging the balls of her feet she presses in his lap. 

  “Welcome to your tape.” 

  “Katara, no.” 

  “That bridge off of Fourth Street? Looking really easy to jump off of right about now, universe.” 

  He lets her take his bed that night after he cooked up his famous komodo chicken and both Kiyi and her complain about having a food-baby.

  “Hey, Katara.” He whispers while her eyes could barely open. He tucked her in those blankets all ethnic people have, the super fluffy ones with a tiger on them that are always wrapped in a plastic bag.  “You’re cute.” 

  “Yeah?” She breathes out, crinkling her nose and blinking those long lashes and making his heart skip beats. “Hey, Zuko.” 

  “Yeah?” 

  “I think I like you.” 

  He pinches her cheek. “I think I like you, too.” 

  //

  He was right. As soon as life blessed him with everything he’s wanted and more, it whisked it away just as fast. 

  He’d mustered up the courage to invite her to a studio session after everyone in Shooters 4 Rihanna insisted on meeting her. Their songs were getting a little too emotional and they wanted to meet his muse. It was going well, too well. He even catches all the lamps she knocks down. When she rights herself, she manages to knock down the table with their food. Double bagging existed for a reason, just like he warned her! But, of course, the bags holding the takeout she was supposed to surprise him with broke from the bottom. He’d go hungry, that day. But, anything for her, though. 

  She looked so into the session, asking him if she could play with the buttons, leaning into his chest when he hesitantly surrounds her space. His two lean arms coming out to steady her waist when she trips on herself and sends him a sheepish smile that has him hypnotized. 

  Katara normally felt lightheaded around him, but she felt absolutely faint as soon as Piandao walked in to finalize the details of the performance, and Zuko started talking about some lucky masquerade ball. 

  She couldn’t hear much else, body getting up before she even registered it. 

  Before he could fully get into his chair at the mixing console because just one little note in their new song “Rihanna Impregnate Me” just sounded off, she’s tugging him up. 

  “Can I kiss you?” 

  “W—what?” She’s holding him up by the collar of his shirt. 

  Katara smirks. “I really want to kiss you.” 

  “I mean, uh, yes! Definitely a ye—”

  It’s everything he’s imagined, hoped, prayed for the last few months and more. She’s sweet and soft and tasted like lip gloss and the toothpaste he had stowed away in her bag. When he’s leaning in for more, ready to do things like give her his heart or do her taxes for her because he couldn’t think straight and his heart was guiding him through the motions, she’s gone. 

  //

  Katara’s gone when Ty Lee somehow gets into, yet another, tax fraud case and can’t make their performance. 

  She’s gone when he needs her by his side because even though he’s not performing he still manages to feel fucking sick. He wants her holding his unnaturally sweaty palms and telling him it’s going to be okay, just like what she does during his late night writing sessions where she stays up and refuses to sleep until he does. 

  She’s gone when the band has to answer to an angry crowd, an angry CEO who already sees the articles lambasting the girl group’s unprofessionalism and was ten seconds away from pulling the plug on his dreams. 

  “Zuko!” 

  He hates his heart rushes, even when it was about to break because of her, too. 

  She's gotten her perfect life. She’d gotten the job back, her apartment back, Rihanna even sent her a secret song for fuck’s sake. 

  She must really love this fucker, because she was giving up a chance to stalk Rihanna so he could be happy. 

  “Maybe he needed that luck more than you do!” Was running through her head the entire week she avoided him.

  “I don’t know what to do, Suki!” 

  “Why don’t you both fuck leprechauns?” She says between bites of string cheese. 

  Katara sighs. “Why are yours and Toph’s minds built like that?” 

  “I heard my mom tried punching her stomach every day, hoping that I wasn’t going to be a result of St. Patrick’s Day sex. That’s why my head’s lopsided.” 

  He felt nauseous. Not only did 3 of the girls just spew their lunch into whatever container they could get their hands on, of course Azula has gone missing. “Katara not now I—” 

  She comes to him flushed, extensions stuck to her hand after running too fast and accidentally grabbing someone’s hair. Her feet hurt, her heart hurt, but in this moment she knew. She knew he needed this more than her. He was soft and kind and took people in and cherished the moments with his half-sister because he missed all the ones with Azula. He worked so hard now because he was afraid she hated him, and even when he was on the verge of giving up, he still pushed through. He gave people chances, even when the universe was never as kind to him. 

  After she presses her lips to his, suddenly Azula presses a button from the underground room she was trapped in, appearing on stage in front of their very eyes. They have the best show the Hard Boulder Cafe’s seen in decades . Their contract is extended, and he opens a bottle of champagne to celebrate without taking his eye out. 

  He was the luckiest man in the world. 

  Though, when he turns, he realizes. 

  His girl’s missing. 

  //

  “Katara!” She tried shuffling away, but accidentally slips on a few drug needles someone threw carelessly on the ground. 

  She’s still nursing the sore spot on her forehead, where the champagne cork hit. “Zuko, please just...go.” She waves him off with a bandaged hand. 

  “I know you’re going to be stuck here for the next three hours. Because trains never come on time for you no matter what.” 

  Even in the middle of the nearly dead station, he was right. Every stop flashed to delayed .  

  “Then you’ll be robbed by someone on the train, and then you might even get spit on by the guy with the imaginary dog who’s afraid of whoever gets too close to it, and then you’ll get an eye infection.” 

  Katara wipes the snot at her nose. “So?” 

  “So?” He laughs, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I’ve lived a whole lifetime of bad luck, and I can’t let you do that for me.” 

  She lets him turn her to face him, lets him gather her up in his arms and hold her like she’s delicate and irreplaceable, and not just a girl with mascara running down her face and her heart stolen by someone she couldn’t love. 

  “Even in a lifetime of being shit out of luck, I still got the chance to meet you.” 

  “Zuko, stop.” Katara wipes at her tears. “Our luck will just get switched, and I always figure things out, I always do. But, I just want you to keep this. You put it to better use than I would’ve.”

  Zuko shakes his head. “I don’t want it anymore.” 

  “I said that to my bladder infection, and that didn’t work. What makes you think that will work now?” 

  “I can live without it.” He smiles. “A few bumps and bruises are the price I’m willing to pay for you in my life.” 

  She’s blushing, hands coming up to bring his head closer to hers, to see every little detail of him.  

  “You’re so fucking stupid.” She whispers, millimeters away from his lips. 

  The grin splits on his face without his permission. “I am, yeah.” 

[wintersxsoul]

The Night We Danced

Summary: Two dorks in love that have to wait to get drunk to confess their feelings.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Maybe some language, drunk people and I think mentions of sex?? 

A/N: This is my entry for my dearest @writingsoftheloser 1k historical writing challenge! I got the Victorian Era, so I came up with this longass nonsense. I hope you enjoy and as always, feedback and reblogs are free and make me really happy and motivated <3

  Bucky Barnes was a dancer.

He sometimes had flashes of his old life in the late 30’s and 40’s, long summer nights dancing with beautiful dames, little Stevie by his side laughing and stepping in the ladies’ shoes. Everything was much more simpler, happier, but war happened and the dances turned into battles, the warm hands that he was used to hold became rifles and glocks. The jazzy tunes turned into gunfire, dates turned into risky missions and the thought of a long happy life turned into dust when he fell off that train.

Bucky Barnes stopped being a dancer to be a soldier, a spy, a deadly assassin.

They had taken all he was away, all his memories, his hopes and dreams. Everything was wiped but not his motor skills or knowledge. They turned him into the most efficient soldier, cold and calculating, his only motive in life was completing his missions. He had killed mercilessly, not questioning even once who was in front of the gun, he just knew he had to pull the trigger.

Everything changed the moment Steve Rogers, his best friend since childhood, found him 70 years after being used and tortured. Steve saved him from the claws of Hydra and gave him the opportunity to gain back his own self, to finally give his life meaning again.

His life changed drastically when he joined the Avengers, he could use his unrequired skills to help people, to save lives. He had his closest friends, Steve of course, Sam, Nat and then he met you. Once he was able to recover almost all his memories, he had a long heartfelt conversation with Natasha since she had suffered in similar ways. The brainwashing, the body killing training, the horrors of the Cold War and the cruelty of the Red Room.

You and Nat were inseparable, both becoming SHIELD agents the same year. You were a freelance hitwoman, both of your missions were to kill the same target. But before you could kill each other, SHIELD stepped in and rescued both of you, seeing your potential and the ability to do the missions other agents weren’t able to. When Bucky first came to the compound, you were away because your last mission went badly and it almost killed you, so Fury and Steve decided it was better for you to lay low for a while. Months went by and Bucky’s curiosity only grew, he really wanted to meet you, since everyone talked about you like you were an angel. When the time came to finally meet you, everything he ever heard about you was not nearly accurate to him. You were as much of a mystery as Nat, but unlike her, you opened up to him fastly, trusting him blindly. You both held each other on your worst nights and were also there for the other when you needed a good laugh.

You could have never imagined that the infamous Winter Soldier could be such an absolute dork with such a pure heart and soul. At first he was a bit sulky and moody, he was like a ghost around the compound, but months of therapy and help from his friends turned him into the man he was today, the man you loved deeply, even though you lied to yourself trying to make it seem like a platonic feeling. For years you remained as best friends, until the masquerade ball Tony organized for Natasha’s birthday.

“So, what are your plans for the party?” You asked Bucky nonchalantly while you looked for costume designers online. He looked up from his book and shrugged, he really didn’t know what you meant but he knew you would elaborate. You closed your laptop and placed it on your nightstand, all your attention on your friend now. You laid across the bed, resting your head on his lap. You were staring at the ceiling so you totally missed Bucky’s adoring gaze.

“Well, apart from getting hammered with Thor’s Asgardian alcohol, I don’t really know.” You rolled your eyes internally at his comment. You laid on your stomach so you could face him, your chin resting on your hands on top of his chest.

“Obviously you are doing that, but it’s not what I meant.” Bucky chuckled and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t sure about asking him to be your partner, maybe he was planning on going with someone else, maybe he wanted to go on his own. You cleared your throat while reaching out to fiddle with the laces of his hoodie nervously.

“Are you going with someone?” He frowned, realizing that you didn’t assume (like he did) that you were going together. Maybe you were planning to go with a date? He knew it had been more than a year since you had dated someone so maybe you wanted to use the party as an excuse to do so?

“What you mean with someone? I d-”

“You should ask Sarah from Forensics, I’ve heard she has a huge crush on you. She’s sooo soft and pretty. I have her number if you wa-”

“Okay, Y/n stop right there. I am not going with Sarah or with anyone else but you.” His eyes widened at his own boldness but he quickly found a logical explanation.

“I mean, we always go together to this kind of shitty parties we both dread. But if you are going with someone else is fine.”

“Yeah, yeah I just thought that maybe you wanted to go with an actual date and not your best friend.” He tousled your hair and you whined jokingly. He mumbled “dork” and you stuck your tongue out.

“My best friend is pretty cool and when she gets drunk the party starts, so I am not missing that for Sarah from Forensics.”

“Oh god James, and I am the dork? You absolute dumbass.” You shook your head in amusement and sat on the bed, putting your disheveled hair in a low ponytail. You slapped him lightly on the right shoulder and got down of the bed, gathering your stuff.

“I can’t stand to see that beautiful stupid face right now, I have to look for a fucking dress. You better wear something in dark red cause, you know it-”

“it’s my color” he mocked you using a high pitched tone of voice and laughed at the face of disgust you jokingly pulled off.

“Fuck you.”

“Why don’t you f-” His sentence was cut off by the bang of his door closing but you already knew what he said. You rolled your eyes and made your way to Nat’s room since you needed to organize shopping days and all that stuff.

-

Bucky Barnes was a dancer and fortunately he still had some moves, but waltzing was out of his league. He knew what a masquerade was of course, so the fact that he had to learn how to dance a completely different style was...frightening to say the least. He talked about it with Steve so they both were headed now to a masterclass while their dates were out shopping. Nat had asked Steve as her date because she wanted to go with his best friend. Their friendship was the most platonic you’ve ever seen and watching them flirt and banter was the highlight of your days. Nat was a fantastic dancer of course, she used to be a fucking ballerina, so she offered to teach you some moves. She was the only one who actually knew your feelings towards Bucky because you had confessed them one night you had drank your weight in vodka and when you saw Bucky’s text asking you to please be careful, you laughed and told her. You didn’t remember that conversation and when Natasha tried to ask you, she realized she shouldn’t bring up the topic until you were ready to believe it yourself.

“Ooof Nat, should I really buy this expensive dress?” You asked her while checking yourself out in the mirror. The dress was absolutely stunning, made of a dark red taffeta or a similar material, short sleeved and a beautiful v-neck, not very revealing but enough to make your babies pop. The bodice hugged your curves and the skirt was puffy.

“Listen, Stark is paying for everything, that includes our dresses. So yes, you are going to buy it.” She stood up and lead you back to the changing room so she could purchase both of your dresses.

Steve sighed heavily at Bucky’s complaints. They’d been dancing for four hours straight and they weren’t getting any better, or at least that’s what they thought. Bucky really couldn’t believe he had been dragged into this mess just because he loved getting drunk with you under any circumstances.

“Come on Buck, don’t worry. You two will probably be too drunk to even stand, why bother so much in learning this shit?” Bucky rolled his eyes and nudged his friend on the shoulder.

“Listen pal, I wanna do this right. You know how much I love dancing so this is just an excuse to learn something new.” He could almost believe his own lie, but Steve knew better. He knew Bucky better than himself, so he obviously knew the unspoken thing that was going on between two of his best friends.

“Okay buddy, whatever you say. I just hope Y/n appreciates all this instead of laughing at you like Sam and Nat are probably going to do.” He muttered something to himself and left the room without saying a word.

“Fucking idiots, I hope they fuck soon.” Steve said to himself before turning around and smiling at the dance teacher.

“Let’s do this Janet, I have a very dangerous woman to impress tonight.”

-

“I really, really, really, really regret the day I gave you access to come into my room whenever you want to.” You told Bucky, who was laying on your bed on his stomach, his face buried in the pillows. You slumped next to him and buried your face in the pillows as well. You really thought you looked like idiots but you couldn’t care less.

“Can we stay here? We can watch one of those victorian romantic movies you love and get wasted on our own.”

“You know I would love to, but Nat would kill us. Besides, you hate those movies.”

“I was just trying to persuade you Barnes, you don’t need to be so rude.” You stood up and opened your first drawer, pulling out the two masks you had bought throwing Bucky’s to his head and he responded with a fake “ouch”. He sat on the bed and looked at you amused, the small mask in his hands.

“And you have the nerve to call me rude. I already have my mask and I won’t show it to you until tonight.”

“Wow, sorry for thinking about you and your shitty memory, old man.”

“You know what Y/n? I’ll see you tonight before I throw myself out of that balcony.” You giggled at his fake tantrum. You really loved your friendship with Bucky, because even though you were always joking around each other, you had your backs. He was always there and so were you.

“You want me to walk you to your room?” He frowned at you but his eyes widened when he realized what you were about to say, but you said it before he could cut you off. “In case you don’t remember where your room is at.”

“That was one time Y/n, please let it go.”

“Never.” And with that said, he left. You giggled remembering the first night you two got drunk together. It was the first time Bucky had tried Thor’s alcohol so he was excited to finally get drunk after all those decades. He drank by himself almost three flasks and encouraged you to drink a bottle of vodka on your own, so at 6 am, you were stumbling through your room floor because Bucky had forgotten where his own room was, so he wanted to sleep at yours.

You took a last look at yourself in your mirror and placed the mask in its place. It was a shame that Bucky had decided not to wear the mask you’d bought for him, but his taste was pretty great so you knew it was going to be amazing.

When you reached the party the place was already full of people. Everyone was dancing to the slow melodies or drinking at the bar. You noticed that Tony had removed all the furniture from the room so it looked like a grand dance hall, the usual modern lamps he owned were replaced by huge golden crystal chandeliers, the windows were covered by thick curtains that looked like the ones European palaces had. The cream and golden tones of all the decoration gave a really regal look to the party, the soft glow of the candles in the bar and the sound of champagne glasses relaxed your senses.

You fixed your long silk gloves and sighed, moving through the crowd towards the bar, where Nat stood chatting with who you assumed it was Steve, Sam was behind the counter pouring alcohol to his half empty glass.

“You mind filling this lady’s glass?” Sam smirked and you winked at him. He raised his eyebrow under his cream and red mask and he took out a tall glass.

“What would the lady like to drink?” He rested both of his palms in the counter, looking at you with an amused look in his eyes.

“Vodka on the rocks, s'il vous plait.” You heard Nat choke on her drink and Steve turned to look at you while Sam just poured your drink, a smile playing on his lips.

“Aren’t we starting a bit early, Y/n? Your date is not even here.” You shrugged at Sam’s comment and took the glass when he handed it.

“Since you all seemed so surprised with my drinking choices, I’m going. I need an unjudging friend right now.” You waved your hand gracefully and moved towards the centre, trying to find Bucky. After five minutes and an empty glass, you saw his bulking figure talking to some woman. You needed a moment to gather your thoughts because he looked absolutely sinful with the outfit he was wearing. The black pants marked all his muscles, specially his thighs, those fucking thighs that drove you insane and his ass...you shook your head trying to stop your mind. You needed another drink.

“Wow look who’s back and empty handed!” Steve said to the small group. You nudged him in the ribs and asked Sam for another glass of alcohol.

“Why are you this flustered Y/n?” Nat asked you when she noticed your flushed cheeks. You fixed your mask trying to hide your nervousness and failing miserably.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your three friends shared a knowing look and you rolled your eyes, finishing your drink in two sips and encouraged by the burning liquid, you went to where Bucky was. You could now see his whole outfit perfectly and your heart swelled. He was wearing a black ruffled shirt with a black and dark red embroidered vest and a black tail coat. His face was covered by a simple half Venetian mask, decorated with the same colors as the outfit’s. He was chatting with some agent you couldn’t recognize and you felt a pang of jealousy at how he was looking at her, smiling and touching her. At that moment you realized the alcohol was kicking in and that’s why you were having those stupid thoughts. You approached your friend and placed your gloved hand to his shoulder, indicating him that you were besides him and waiting for him to pay attention to you. You catched a part of the conversation and they were talking about one of the last missions the undercover agents did, so after a court nod from Bucky and a brief goodbye from her, his eyes were on you.

“Well, look at you!” He smiled at you warmly and you felt something flip inside you. “How did you recognize me?”

“Oh boy, you can mask that face all you want but you can’t mask those thighs.” You smirked and he started laughing at your comment, making you feel proud of your wittiness.

“How drunk are you already?” You brought your hand up between your bodies and pressed your thumb and index together whispering “a little” so only he could hear it.

“Lucky for you, I drank almost a flask, so that makes us dangerous already. Wanna dance?” He extended his hand and you took it accepting his invitation. You suddenly felt really nervous since it was the first time you were going to slow dance with him but unbeknown to you, Bucky Barnes felt sick due to his nerves. He wanted this to work, he wanted to show you and the world that he was still capable of being a soft person, not this cold calculative soldier with a dark past.

The feeling of his hand on your waist and your other hands intertwined was intoxicating you, your bodies pressed together, the only thing between you two were your clothes. You spinned around the room for what felt like eternity, time for you had stopped and everyone had disappeared.

You burst the small bubble you were both in saying you needed a drink, Bucky stopped swaying you and with your hands still intertwined, went to the empty bar.

“I’ve always loved the Victorian Era, you know?” He said while giving you a glass full of vodka, and took a sip of his flask. “The clothes, the courting, the chivalry and all that fuss.” He smiled sadly at you thinking that you wouldn’t notice.

“If you could, would you go back in time and stay?”

He took another sip, now longer, and shook his head. “Of course not, you wouldn’t be there.” He blurted out without thinking and you just giggled at the comment.

“Oh Barnes, don’t be so dramatic. I’m sure you would make good friends there as well.” You gave him a sincere smile and he shook his head again, taking another sip of the flask, this time a long one. You looked down at your glass and twirled the straw, looking at how the ice cubes collided with each other.

“I love you.” You jerked your head up and maybe it was the alcohol clouding your mind or the denial of your own feelings, but you didn’t notice his intense gaze, filled with love and adoration.

“And I love you too, you idiot. As my best friend, you should know that already.” You placed your lips around the straw and finished the whole drink, Bucky still looking at you shocked that you rejected his feelings without you noticing.

“No, Y/n, what I mean is that I’m-”

“You are what, Barnes?” Nat cut Bucky off and you threw yourself into her arms, kissing her face and wishing her a happy birthday. “I missed you, Nat. Where were you?” You started talking to her totally ignoring your friend, who got that as his cue to leave the party. He would never blame you for not feeling the same or not even noticing his feelings, that was totally on him, but he didn’t feel well enough to stay in the party. He knew you wanted him there, to get drunk together and then both of you ending up throwing up in the sink and the toilet, but tonight he needed to breathe, he needed to get out of the crowd.

“Hey, where is going Bucky?” Asked Steve while he approached Nat and you. You frowned and looked at the entrance, catching a glimpse of Bucky’s broad shoulders and hair leaving the party. “I’ll be back in a sec.” You said and stumbled down the bar stool, heading towards the entrance half running.

“We both know they are not coming back, right?” Steve said to Nat, a strong nod and a sigh answered his comment.

You ran as fast as your drunken state let you but before you could notice you slipped with the dress and fell.

“FUCK” You screamed to the empty hall and took off your heels and gloves, standing up trying not to fall again on your ass. Bucky was nowhere to be seen so you headed to his room, your head spinning due to the alcohol.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky startled you, making you lose balance but he caught you before you could fall again.

“I was just checking that you got to your room safely, since you know, you get lost and all that.” You laughed at his fake hurt expression and straightened your clothes. You noticed that he had taken off his mask and that you were still wearing yours. “Why did you leave?”

“I’m feeling a bit sick, I think I drank too mu-”

“James, if you don’t tell me what the fuck is wrong I’ll torture you until you do. The drinking excuse is the worst you could’ve used with me.”

Bucky sighed defeated, he knew he had to get it off his chest, after three years carrying this on his own, he needed to let the words out, he needed you to know. He reached for the laces of your mask and took it off, placing a strand of hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek.

“I love you, Y/n.” You rolled your eyes in fake annoyance just to mess up with him.

“Baby, we already established that I lov-”

“Y/n, you are not listening. I am in love with you. I want to be your best friend, your lover, your partner in crime and your drunk buddy.”

You stared at him wide eyed, not knowing what to answer or to do. He caressed your cheek with his thumb and you gasped at the feeling, making Bucky think that you were rejecting the act. You stopped him from moving his hand and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours lightly.

“Either you kiss me or I faint, so make a m-” And just like that, his lips crashed against yours with a passion and hunger you’ve never felt in your entire life. He pressed you against the door, the stupid huge dress stopping you from feeling anything. Your brain finally woke up and you realized what was going on. Bucky Barnes loved you, he was in love with you. And you were in love with him. You pulled away and stopped him, making him step backwards scared that he did something you didn’t want to.

“You love me?” You really asked him, thinking that maybe your brain was betraying you. He nodded and looked away, not wanting to see the rejection in your eyes.

“Hey coward, look at me.” You held his chin and forced him to look at you. “I love you too, always have. I was just too damn scared to admit it to even myself.” He smiled and kissed you again, this time slower, pouring every ounce of love he had for you in the kiss.

“What now?” He asked you once he pulled away to breathe. He had his hand on the back of your neck, caressing your skin with his thumb.

“As much as I’d love you to fuck me against every surface on that room, I am drunk and tired and I need to process everything.” He nodded and waited for you to come up with what you wanted to do next. “So you are going to take this dress off me carefully cause I can’t do it on my own and it’s expensive as fuck, you are going to give me one for your shirts and we are sleeping, together.” He nodded again and smiled, leaning in again to give your lips a small peck.

“Consider it done, asshole.”

[thank-you-for-the-vampire-money]

ONLY FOREVER (Part 7)

Series Summary:  Steve has never asked a girl to dance, but he’s finally found the right partner.  But something always gets in the way.

A/N: feel free to ask if you want to be tagged.

Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 995

Summary: Steve did do something stupid, but a few great things came out of it.

Warnings:  more WWII stuff and all it entails, mention of Nazis,

Part 6

(GIF and image not mine)

What else did you expect?  Steve did something stupid.  Again.  Where do you begin?  Let’s just briefly go over the events that transpired last year.

Steve tried to enlist a sixth time, again with a fake name on his form.  The only difference in this attempt was he actually GOT IN.   When he told you about it, you almost murdered him.  Apparently, he was accepted, one, because of his noble heart and compassion, and two,  so the government could inject a highly experimental “super soldier serum” into his tiny, frail body.  Once he got out of that freaky science, pod thing, all big, beefy, and tall, you punched him.  That hurt you more than it hurt him.  Literally.  His new muscles are very solid.

“Steve, can I please burn this stupid outfit?” you asked, wearing the sickeningly patriotic dress.  To make Steve feel better, you joined the USO as a background dancer and singer.  It didn’t work.  Steve still hated it and you felt ridiculous.  The song “Star Spangled Man with a Plan,” would haunt your nightmares.

“Aw, but you look so cute, and sexy,” he chuckled, leaning down to kiss you.  You were still getting used to having to stand on your toes to kiss him.  “And you know I was kidding when I said you were required to wear that, right?” he laughed.

“Okay, first of all, you know your jokes are terrible.  Second, you got a cool new uniform!  And when the hell did you even have time to design that?” you exclaimed, falling into his chest.  This was one thing you liked about him being taller than you; being able to hear his loud, steady, heartbeat.  It was so comforting.

“I got a new uniform because you slapped me last time I wore it,” he said.

“I slapped you because you invaded a Nazi base with nothing but a brightly colored costume and tin, prop shield,” you corrected, “and I promptly kissed you for bravery after I slapped you,”.

Steve rolled his eyes playfully and smiled, kissing all over your face.

“Now, can I please wear something else to the ceremony?  It’s a formal award ceremony and I want to look good when you get your special medal,” you emphasized, squirling around a lot in your outfit.  You hated this dress so much it made you antsy.

“You don’t have to ask me what you can or cannot wear, (Y/N), sweetheart,” he smiled, struggling to adjust his tie properly, “wear whatever you find comfortable,”.

You stared at the beautiful medal on Steve’s lapel as it glinted in the dim light of the mess hall.  “A Silver Star medal for saving four hundred men…” you said, breathless, “I’m so proud of you…”.

“They laid down their lives for others, it’s only fair someone did the same for them,” Steve shrugged, blushing.  He was not at all used to this much attention.

“But it makes a difference.  Without you, these men would have no chance or hope of going home again,” you said, holding his hand from across the circular table you sat at, “you even saved Bucky…”.

He nodded, trying not to let your praise go to his head.  But having you be so proud of him made him feel good.

“May I reward you with our first dance?” you offered, playing with his fingers, “I know it’s not much compared to a nationally recognized honor medal, but it’s a special gift from me,”.

His blushy face lit up at the thought.  “That’s the most honored I’ve felt all day,” he grinned, standing up as he squeezed your hand.

He got to the dance floor with you, a hand on your waist, both of you radiating excitement.  “Ready?” you whispered, surprisingly nervous.

Steve looked even more nervous than you did.  “Actually, before we start-”

“Oh no no no!” you tutted, playfully covering his mouth to keep him from talking, “no more interruptions!  It’s been four years since you first asked me to dance and I’m not letting anything else get in the way!”.

“No,(Y/N), baby, I think this is important,” he gulped, taking your hand off his mouth and reaching into his pocket.

Your brain just stopped, words and thoughts couldn’t form, but you knew what he was doing.  “Stevie?” you whimpered, barely audible as he got on one knee.

“Everything is so fucking crazy right now… you’re one of only consistents I’ve had in my life,” he  swore.  That’s one of only three times he’s cursed in front of you; this was genuine emotion coming from him.  “Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

You were almost crying.  Okay, you were sobbing.  You nodded, words stuck in your throat.  “I-... I… aw, Steven…” you stammered.

Your not answering made Steve nervous.  Were you not ready?  Was this too soon for you?  Did you not want the commitment?  Maybe he wasn’t-

“YES!” you squealed, finally forcing your mouth to move to form coherent language, “yes, oh my cutie, Stevie, yes!”.

He smiled so big, he hugged you so tightly, kissing you so deeply, he loved you so much.  He slipped the simple ring on your finger, kissing your fingertips.  “Perfect fit,” he whispered.

You gripped his hands, so joyful and very ready to dance with your fiance.  People were clapping, Bucky was whistling, and emergency sirens were going off!  Wait- oh shit...

“Enemy troops are approaching,” one of the Lieutenants shouted, all soldiers rushing to their posts and barracks to prepare for battle.

You raised your brow at Steve.  “Told you no interruptions,” you smirked, kissing his cheek, “now go be the hero I know you are,”

“It was important!” He chuckled, running to grab his shield from where it rested against the stage.

“And PLEASE come back alive!” you ordered, following the soldier who’d lead you to shelter, “don’t leave me at the altar!”.

“I promise I’ll be back!” he yelled back.

TAGLIST:

@bitchy-tacos @buckyshattergirl @aactuaaltraash

[ververa]

“You are enough”

CHAPTER 8 (part 2)

Ellie felt weird. It’s not like she was ashamed of anything that was connected with sexuality. She had never had problems with talking about sex and other matters connected with it. But that? That was something she had never experienced. She hadn’t even think she would ever have. And there she was. Sitting in the night club, sipping another drink and looking everywhere, but the stage – where almost completely naked men were dancing.

Ronnie on the other hand, found the whole situation amusing. She remembered when she came there for the first time. Her visit was connected with work, as she had been asked to paint something extraordinary that would make the place even more special. The girl remembered that her reaction was very similar to Ellie’s, but at the end she enjoyed it. And so, she was hoping that her dearest girlfriend would do too. Especially that she wasn’t only going to watch, but also participate in the show.

“I need to go to the toilet” Ronnie excused herself

“I’ll go with you”

“No need, baby. Stay and enjoy the show” she smiled quickly pecking the other woman’s lips

The girl made sure Ellie wasn’t looking at her and quickly disappeared at the backstage

“Guys!” she addressed a group of men standing there

“Hello, little angel”

“Hi. You remember what you’re supposed to say?” she asked one of them

“Of course. I’m a professional, don’t worry” he winked at her

“I need you to say something else” she stated

“Which is?”

Ronnie whispered into his ear and at the same moment slim, blond woman appeared. The girl knew her pretty good – they used to compete with each other at school – before Ronnie’s accident. And there she was.

“Well, well, well. Is that Ronnie Zimmerman who I see?” the woman spoke

“Blenda…” the girl tried to smile

“In the flesh” she smirked mischievously

“Long time no see”

“Indeed. Well-” she looked at the men standing there “Maybe I should dance for your boyfriend?”

“For girlfriend actually. And no. Thank you, I think the guys can handle it”

“You sure? I’m pretty good at my job”

“I’m sure”

“Your loss, sucker. I’m sure your baby doll would enjoy my performance far more”

Ronnie gave her the best of her bitchy smiles without saying anything.

When she came back to their table the psychiatrist was already a bit tipsy. Luckily for Ronnie the older woman didn’t have enough time to notice that she’s nervous, as another performance started and a man on a stage spoke

“Is there any doctor here? We need a doctor”

Ronnie smirked – looking at Ellie who had no idea what was going to happen next

“We’re looking for a doctor. Mainly doctor Ellie”

Staple’s eyes widened as she heard her own name.

“I think they’re looking for you, baby” Ronnie chuckled

Ellie looked at the girl’s mischievous smile

“No! This isn’t happening!”

“Yes. It is”

“You didn’t…”

“I did” she said triumphantly smirking at her girlfriend “There!” Ronnie waved at the man “There she is”

“Ronnie! No…” she didn’t manage to finish, as a muscular man without his T-shirt stood right next to her

“Good evening” he took Ellie’s hand and kissed it

Ellie closed her eyes

“This is not happening” she repeated

Ronnie chuckled

“Some little spirit told me it’s your birthday today. We would like to give you your present. Will you join us on the stage?”

“I would really prefer n-” but before she could object there appeared a few more men

They lifted up the chair on which Ellie was sitting and carried her to the first row. The woman wanted to protest, but it was already too late.

“Chill out, doctor Staple. We’ll make sure you enjoy your present” one of them said leaning closer to her

“Ladies and gentlemen” the one – who kissed her hand began “Today’s this beautiful lady’s birthday. Tell me how old are you?” he asked her

Ellie looked at him – terrified of the question. The man noticed it immediately, so he leaned closer to her

“The woman shouldn’t be asked about her age. So, maybe tell me in secret” he winked at her

The psychiatrist took a deep breath and whispered the number into his ear

“What?! Are you kidding me? You look like 25 years old. I bet they have asked you for ID before they let you in” he joked smiling friendly at her “Never mind. Ellie, the next performance is for you. I won’t ask you to come on the stage with us, because I know of what your dear girlfriend is capable and I’m not going to risk my life. So, I’ll leave you right here to enjoy the show” he smiled once more and kissed her hand before jumping on the stage

The group began to dance and after a few minutes some of them were almost completely naked. Ellie covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head

“Oh god…” she sighed

At that moment she was thankful to Ronnie that she wasn’t sober, cause if she were she might probably run away or faint. She needed some time to process what exactly had happened and after a few more minutes she dared to look at the stage. That’s when something went wrong – at least she thought so.

The music – some rap that she didn’t hear before – stopped playing and instead the DJ turned one of Britney Spear’s hits – Gimme more. The men stopped their performance and looked at each other questioningly. That definitely wasn’t the plan for tonight.

That was a shock for Ronnie too. Especially, when she saw Blenda on the stage

“Fucking bitch” she mumbled to herself

The blonde woman began to dance – she moved closer than the men dared. Ronnie knew exactly that she did it on purpose – just to piss her off. And she succeeded. The girl almost break one of the glasses, when Blenda  jumped off the stage and came closer – far too close – to Ellie.

Ellie, on the other hand, was more than confused when the unknown woman leaned in to her as if she wanted to kiss her. She pulled away instinctively. But it was already too late – it hit the nerve.

Ronnie emptied one of the shots prepared for Ellie and stood up impulsively – not even thinking about it. At the very same moment two men headed into her direction.

The girl’s eyes were locked with Blenda – who was squirming in front of Ellie. She didn’t avert her eyes even when the men lifted her up and were carrying her to the stage.

“Try to be calm” the one of men – Rocky – who was speaking to Ellie before told her

She didn’t response

“Ronnie, she’s just a bitch…”

“And bitches get what they deserve. I’m going to uptear that blond shag of hers” she hissed

“Just try not to kill her” he said as they stood her on the stage

Ellie’s eyes widened as she saw her girlfriend on the stage and the crowd went wild. People began to whistle and cheer – demanding the battle.

Blenda smirked seeing how pissed off Ronnie already was. She clapped twice and the DJ turned on another song – Toxic.

Ellie wasn’t even able to stand up, as the women on the stage began to dance. They seemed as if they were about killing each other, but instead of hits there were only dance moves.

Blenda was definitely more experienced – she was a strip dancer by profession after all. But Ronnie did her best – and didn’t give an inch.

Seeing both of them on one stage competing was quite amusing. On the one side there was Blenda – dressed in a black costume – which exposed more than it was covering – she had also fishnet stockings and mountainous high heels. And then there was Ronnie in black dress – the one which Ellie adored – and her black converse.

It was a real battle – in which Blenda was the one to squirm on the floor, spreading her legs widely and moving her hands down her body in such a way that men in the room went crazy. Ronnie wasn’t going to copy such moves, but knew exactly what to do to won people’s attention back. The girl was more into crouching and showing how well – stretched her body was – after performing ballet in her young years.

And that seemed to work, particularly, on Ellie. She couldn’t take her eyes off Ronnie. She didn’t see anybody, but Ronnie and her perfect body. It felt as if she were hypnotised.

Then suddenly Blenda was way too close – once again. Ellie was more than surprised, as the other woman tried kind of twerk in front of her. At the very same moment Ronnie was done. The girl jumped off of the stage and made her way to the psychiatrist. She straddled her lap and with a smirk she licked the woman’s cheek looking triumphantly straight into Blenda’s eyes.

Ronnie did it in such an animalistic way that Ellie was sure her underwear was completely ruined by her arousal and even the dry cleaners couldn’t save it. But at that point she didn’t care. She let her hands wander to the girl’s bottom and pulled her closer, so that she could sit on her lap completely. Only then did she kiss her so passionately, that she knocked the wind out of the girl.

“Holly shit!” Ronnie said breathlessly “What was that for?”

“You know…”

“Hey sucker!” Blenda called her

Ronnie turned her to look at her opponent

“It’s not the end. Let’s ask the crowd who’s the winner” she smiled mischievously

Ronnie wanted to stand up, but Ellie didn’t let her – pulling her closer and lightly squeezing her bottom

“You’re staying with me”

The girl smiled and shifted on the other woman’s lap, so that she was facing the stage

“So, who is the winner?” Blenda asked the public

The girl waited with anticipation – not that winning was the most important thing for her, but it would be nice to put the bitch in her place and piss her off. However, Ellie didn’t care what was going on around. She finally had her girlfriend back – and wasn’t planing on letting her go any soon. The woman buried her face in the girl’s locks and kissed her sweaty neck.

“Ronnie?” Blenda continued and the crowd began to clap and whistle “Or me?”

The strip dancer got more claps and some men even catcalled her – which obviously mean she won the battle.

Blenda smirked at this and disappeared – leaving Ronnie sitting still on Ellie’s lap.

“I think it’s time to go back” Ellie whispered kissing the shell of her ear

_____________________________

Ronnie was suspiciously quiet, as they were going to the car, and even Ellie’s tipsy brain could notice it. The girl opened the car’s door for the other woman.

“Thank you” Ellie said grinning

Ronnie smiled in response before closing the door after Ellie got into the car.

“Why are you so silent?” asked the psychiatrist after a few minutes

“I’m not”

“You are. Suspiciously silent. What are you thinking about?”

“Noting”

“I might be drunk, but I’m not bling. Come on, don’t lie to me. Tell me” she looked at her pleadingly

“It’s nothing really” she tried to smile “Did you like it?” she asked

Ellie could sense that something was wrong with that question. They way Ronnie said it was weird. The girl’s enthusiasm connected with the whole event suddenly disappeared.

“I-” she hesitated “It was strange, different. But still great. Thank you, baby”

“And… did you enjoy Blenda’s performance?”

At that words Ellie understood – she was insecure. Maybe even jealous. Of course, that made sense. That’s why she decided to perform on her own.

“Who?” she asked playfully

“You know who!”

“Oh, baby” she leaned in and not paying attention to the fact the girl was driving she kissed her cheek “I truly don’t know. I didn’t give a fuck about her the moment you appeared. I was only looking at you. And that dress” she bit Ronnie’s earlobe “It’s my favourite” she slipped her hand under the black material to caress the girl’s bare thigh

“Ellie, I’m driving”

“Don’t disturb yourself” she chuckled boldly moving her fingertips so that they were touching Ronnie’s underwear

“Ellie!”

“What?” she chuckled kissing her jaw

“Can you just wait a few minutes?”

“You started it. It’s not my fault you turned me on that much”

“You sure it was me, cause maybe it was Blenda” she complained

“I wasn’t even looking at that whore. I would have left if it hadn’t been for you. I mean when you jumped on the stage in those dress… And damn! Your legs. And those things you were doing… I didn’t even know you’re that flexible. I think we need to make use of it in the bedroom”

Ronnie shook her, as a light blush covered her cheeks.

“You were amazing. And your performance… wow. I’m so impressed, that you cannot even imagine. And I’m going to show you how much I liked it” she pulled the girl’s hair to the side and began sucking on her neck. Ellie stopped only when the girl stopped the car and cut the engine. Ronnie looked at her and the psychiatrist smiled. The older woman gently placed both of her hands on the girl’s cheeks – making sure she won’t turn her face

“You’re the best. I hope you know that for me it was you who won”

“Yeah” she smiled shyly

____________________________

“Now, you can choose how you want me to fuck you”

“Geez, El! You’re really drunk” she laughed

“Probably. So what? You won’t say you don’t want me to touch you, cause it would be a lie”

“Actually, I’ve got one more present for you”

“Oh, really?” she arched her eyebrow playfully

“Yeah. But you will have to look for it on you own” she said unbuttoning her dress

Ellie didn’t need to be told twice. She gladly came closer and helped the girl out of her dress. The woman smirked seeing a black, lace lingerie that Ronnie had on.

“Is this my present?” she asked with a sly smile

“Nope. That’s only a wrapping”

“Oh, I see. So, I need to go on” she smiled widely kissing the girl as they were moving to the bedroom

Ellie gently pushed the girl on the bed and took off her own skirt.

“I love it” she pointed to the set of lingerie “But I love even more what’s underneath” she smirked unbuttoning the shirt she was wearing

“Unhook it” Ronnie ordered sitting, so that the woman could have a better access

The psychiatrist sat beside Ronnie and slowly began to remove the lace material. She slipped it off of the girl’s shoulders and moved forward. That’s when she saw it – a tattoo. It was on the girl’s pelvis – a black rose with their initials below. The woman could see that ink was still fresh as the skin under it was a bit red.

Ellie carefully touched it.

“I know you’re not really into tattoos, but I thought that maybe you’ll like it”

“I- It’s beautiful” she smiled “As you said, I’m not into tattoos, but I’m definitely into you. And I love every inch of you, also your tattoos. And this-” she paused and looked at the tattoo “This is the most extraordinary present I’ve ever got”

Ronnie smiled happily

“Now, let me prove my point” she said slowly laying her on the bed

Ellie looked at the girl lovingly and then moved to place a few kisses on her pelvic bone – right next to the ink.

The older woman made sure she thanked Ronnie properly for the whole day. Only after that she began to kiss every part of the girl’s body – giving even more attention to those parts with tattoos. She kissed down Ronnie’s cleavage to the image of a moth tattooed between her ribs. She trailed wet kisses down the girl’s abdomen, just before edging to her left thigh – to another tattoo of a unicorn. And at the end she shifted to kiss Ronnie in her lips and was kissing all over her face until the girl fell asleep.

The psychiatrist laid down right next to her girlfriend. She looked at her naked and still uncovered body and smiled fondly.

She truly loved her. With all her tattoos and crazy – sometimes even stupid – ideas, but that was her charm. She was an artistic soul – a painter and dance. She was the most spectacular and extraordinary person in her life. She was just her precious little girl.

Ellie kissed Ronnie’s forehead tenderly and covered them both with white sheets, before drifting off.

[maggotmouth]

        hi i’m nora ( 23. gmt. she/her ) and it turns out i really miss playing bridget ! i wasn’t feeling frida bt i wanted to explore som of her backstory more so ive kind of fused bits of her into bridget..... sue me.... for those of u who didn’t know her before i dropped her, bridget grew up in a trailer park in texas, she’s an angsty socialist leftie who gets fucked at the pub and goes off on one about capitalism.  film nerd. got in on a partially subsidised scholarship and works in a bar and a fast food place to pay for her accomodation. here’s a pinboard !! everythin else is below this cut, like this post n i’ll (probably forget to) smash that im button for plots x

application template.

( cis-female ) haven’t seen BRIDGET MATUSIAK around in a while. the MARGARET QUALLEY lookalike has been known to be GARRULOUS & CANDID, but SHE can also be FICKLE & ERRATIC. The 21 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in FILM. I believe they’re living in AUDAX but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door.

aesthetics.

thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, roller blades, grazed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes. piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you.

connection to tatiana & did they choose her name during the watershed?

knew each other from the cheer team in bridgets freshman year and tatiana’s sophomore year. had a competitive friendship to start with but then they got into a discussion about politics at a party one night, and maybe hooked up a few times after tatiana had jst broken up w someone. they were sort of seeing each other very casually for a bit, but…. they came from vastly different circles n it didn’t really work. they were in a bad partch at the time of the reaping so to speak, and bridget picked her name For A Giggle but now regrets it big time obviously

tw drugs, teen pregnancy

BACKSTORY TIME.. her mother was from the wrong side of the tracks, was chucked out of home pretty young after a teenage pregnancy, wanted 2 go to art school and started working as an erotic dancer to pay for college but then jst…. ended up staying there. one of those girls u see in the documentaries who had Big Plans but ultimately never got to pursue them n jst got…. sucked in by the money 

her mom n dad met in high school at a parents evening. alice was fourteen, toby was thirty-one. bridget’s mom alice was a roman catholic – uneducated in matters of safe sex, mother mary around her neck, bras hanging over wooden crucifixes – and willing to give it to the first boy who seemed interested enough, gift-wrapped or not. toby was the father to a girl down the road who alice knew nothing of besides her name and the few encounters in the corridors facing a stoney stare that screamed homewrecker. it only happened once, but once was enough. alice was out of the house as soon as her parents knew a child was growing in her womb.

bridget n her mum alice were more like sisters growing up, probably because of the closeness in age. alice should’ve known that you couldn’t have a thirteen-year-old-daughter at 27 without everyone knowing you’d been one of those girls who gave it away fast as a hot potato, and maybe bridget should have known that she’d inherit more than her mother’s wide eyes, that things have a way of circling back to us --- that at fourteen she too would lose it on the floor of a swimming pool changing room, soggy back, polka-dot nylon of a swimsuit pulled down to her ankles.

she grew up in a trailer park just outside of orlando resort, but she was raised in dressing rooms surrounded by sparkly costumes and nipple pasties and leotards and the like. as a kid she’d try to trot about in her moms heels n yearned for the day she’d be able to be on stage. 

if you’ve seen the florida project its a bit like tht.... just kids left to do their own shit.... mother’s a bit all over the place... made money by stealing wristbands off orlando theme park visitors, and bridget was p much raised by the community, to be honest. most of her youth was spent scurrying about half naked in cowboy boots and glasses too big for her face. a smol feral child

gilly (referred to as junior) was born four years after bridget, the son of a carpenter and sculpture artist named gilbert “gilly” senior, her moms latest squeeze. whenever she wasn’t at school bridget would be in gilly’s workshop doin her homework surrounded by parts of furniture or hanging out with the kids who were visiting disneyland but couldn’t afford the hotels on the resort

like her mother, bridget fell pregnant barely out of her gingham print dresses, hair in two plaits down her back, teddies still lining her bed. unlike her mum, she was not box-shipped out to a home for fallen women but rather booked into a clinic, given a pill, just like taking your vitamins.

her mother flaked out when bridget was around fifteen and junior was eleven. they were in the system for a while, before gilly was finally granted custody as legal guardian. the three of them moved to marfa, texas so that gilly could run classes in sculpture and woodworking at the art institute. they’re not sure where their mother went. some say she rededicated herself as a virgin and joined the convent in penance for her sins. some say she works in a las vegas strip club and sells pills to minors. bridget likes to believe that she’s an actress, her name in newspapers and her face in a star-spangled dressing mirror.

bridget used to do sponsored silences and hunger strikes for kids in developing countries. was that kid in school who was always raising money something. i mean its kinda cute but also she just wanted the acclaim and attention so…. and most of the time it didn’t even make it to the disadvantaged kids she was raising it for cos her mom needed rent money or to buy the kids new shoes n they could barely afford much themselves

she’s a strident feminist, an activist for human rights and animal rights, a vocal vegetarian and an all-round soapbox sadie. catch her in the quad shouting about human rights through a megaphone. will most definitely have quizzed your character on institutionalised racism whilst inhaling nos at a party and snacking on a big bowl of cheesy wotsits

aesthetic: big military or leather jackets over tiny little sundresses. always in docs or creepers and a beret with an anarchist symbol painted on it. wears a long green trench coat covered in badges for alt punk rock bands or a red denim jacket that she hacked into a crop jacket with a pair of kitchen scissors. cuffed jeans, thrifted or stolen. white converse, more grey tbh through years of wear. crop tops and plaid shirts tied round her waist. smudged mascara. glitter smeared over cheekbones from the previous night. cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson.

an aspiring screenwriter. she has a very image-based view of memory and experience. always doing a screenplay or shooting film. her style has a lot of catholic iconography (think virgin suicides style or baz luhrmann’s romeo + juliet if it was done on a super 8 camera) bcos catholicism is one of the few things she remembers about her mother. she’s never actually tried to find her mum / find out about her, jst…. occasionally channels that energy into her work.

struggles with self-image and the need to be Loved By All a lot. uses sex as an affirmation of her worth and also kinda manic-depressive (though not officially diagnosed) bcos her upbringing was a bit unstable, she was a looked after child for a while when the adoption papers were still going through… struggles a lot with feeling unwanted, especially since her grandparents refuse to acknowledge her existence cos she was born outside of marriage….. so she craves feeling wanted,, like despite being a real women’s rights activist and hating objectification, at the same time to bridge there’s nothing better than someone sizing you up with hunger in their eyes

she’s queer, but i guess she favours women, and is incredibly vocal in her support of the lgbt+ movement. often at rallies. has done a face-sitting protest. really is that bitch

there’s a degree of anger for anger’s sake in bridget. she likes passionate, angry music – particularly garage rock, punk and riot grrrl. she loves the slits and skinny girl diet. viv albertine inspired her to take up bass guitar.

back at lockwood she was working two jobs to pay for uni !! at the bowling alley polishing the shoes and fixing the bowling lanes, and also as a burger flipper at mcdonalds. in amsterdam she’s managed to secure a part-time bar job at one of the hendrix university bars

massive film buff. is majoring in film at uni also spends a lot of time at the movie theatre n probably has like a season ticket. is one of those pretentious film nerds who’re like “what do u think of goddard’s work?” but also just really into shitty horror movies

she spends her evenings in downtown bars willing away her boredom, trying to find something that’ll jerk her out of apathetic lethargy. she toys with the idea of becoming a stripper — it certainly pays better than flipping burgers — but she lacks the energy to dance for several hours a night.

she loves b movies and slasher flicks. at parties, she’ll occasionally try to make a horror of her own, on a super 8 camera in someone’s basement, very paranormal activity, but she’ll inevitably get bored, or too drunk and give up, like she does with most things in her life. she lacks drive and motivation. she’s bright but there’s no hunger in her.

she’s fickle and enigmatic. one moment she could be your best friend, the next, she’ll behave like a total stranger. bridget’s unpredictable because she’s still unsure of her own identity, frequently flitting between different characters, like snake skins, before she grows bored of being bubbly and eager and becomes spiteful again. her core personality traits are probably forthright, impulsive, restless, thrill-seeking, selfish, gregarious, easily bored, childish.

SOME ?MILDLY AMUSING? FACTS

writes shitty poems on the back of napkins and quotes dead philosophers she’s never read. romanticises herself a lot. like will be standing there in a ripped t-shirt and her undies smoking a cig like “hmmm… i bet someone is falling in love with me right now”

is vegetarian for environmental reasons but snorts coke at parties like that isn’t shit for the environment ?? sis, it don’t add up

loves dirt. ate a worm once because someone dared her too. shamelessly disgusting.

she’s slightly obsessed with true crime, up late watching documentaries on the manson family murders.

favourite drink is cherry coke

a lot of her time is spent in the record store, plugged into a set of headphones, head-banging in the corner to a scratched record. music, for birdie, is a form of escapism. that and dropping acid in parking lots lmao.

sells nudes on twitter. whenever she gets low on cash she contacts one of the seedy old men who used to visit her mom’s club to venmo her $500 in return for pictures

that girl who’s always harping on about body positivity on instagram while wearing cute underwear and looking absolutely bomb

really good at rodeo bull riding. the club in marfa had one so as a youth she got really good at it bcos she was constantly tryin to outdo her friends on who could stay on for the longest. a video of her staying on one for like 4 minutes after downing several jager bombs went viral once.

micro-doses acid for mild depression bcos she didn’t believe in “that CBT bullshit”, thought that therapists, like her, were jst con artists so always a bit spaced out

volunteers at one of the local galleries but mostly just rants to old white dutch men about how cis white men have dominated art for years :/ is one of those SJW-types , like.... have a day off, jameela jamil......

has a pet rat called popeye

takes photographs of dead animals to use in her art and often posts them side-by-side with stills of women in porn to show the shelf-life of female sex workers in a patriarchal-dominated industry or some bullshit idk

big into spoken word poetry, even if its shit. likes savage depictions of femininity

wrote a thesis on art as an act of masturbation that got published

this bitch HATES capitalism and LOVES karl marx

time isn’t real. nothing exists. the self is a social construct. finger guns.

an awful person, really

plots i want that i mostly stole from the tags

muse a tries to stand up for muse b in a bar but unfortunately cannot fight for shit.

muse a (prob bridget cos works in a bar) works somewhere that’s open late and muse b comes in to take shelter from the storm.

‘I got in my car and you were sleeping in the backseat who the hell are you and how did you get into my car’ 

 umm a wlw plot isnpired by san junipero ! esp this post. could have been a former fling that ended sourly !! cos i dont like ship forcing but still?? give me wlw stuff

 “i just decked you in the face because i’m drunk and you were pissing me off but ow my hand really fucking hurts i think i might have broke it and oh look your nose is bleeding and now we’re both sitting awkwardly in the hospital while i glare at you from across the room. but wait are you giving me sex eyes?? stop that i’m supposed to mad at you??”

“platonically sharing a bed until i wake up and you’re curled round me and my nose is buried in your hair so i’ll pretend to stay asleep to keep this for a little while longer” plots

 “highkey want a ‘someone wrote your phone number on the wall of a bathroom in my dorm with ‘call for a good time’ and i just texted you to let you know that i scribbled it out and oh wait you’re actually funny and easy to talk to and now we’re talking every day and i might have a tiny little crush on you even tho  i don’t even know your name’ plot”

 goddamn its another shippy wlw plot apparently that’s all my tag is but this post

“known for being rebels without cause, MUSE A and MUSE B are synonymous to their fast cars, nights out beneath the stars, empty bottles of alcohol, and loud music. they meet by chance one night and immediately click, and embark on a careless adventure after it despite not knowing each other. it’s them against the world: after all, what could go wrong ?”

any of these sad sour unrequited love plots

‘we take the same elevator every day and due to a misunderstanding I assumed you didn’t speak english and I’ve been talking to my friend about how hot you are for three weeks and apparently my friend has known from the start but you agreed not to tell me bc you both think its hilarious what the fuck’ au

‘I accidentally dropped you while you were crowd surfing and you broke your ankle and now I feel responsible so I’m carrying you out of the moshpit’ au

walked in on my roommate and you screwing except i know you from class and i freaked out a little

i was hustling you in pool for money but you were hustling me for free drinks so who’s the real winner here?

bridgot goes to strip clubs n peep shows like every day, cos she’s writing about the history of pornographic film n its basically research for her, so if ur characters would be into strip clubs they might see her there

i feel like she’d be on student council if they had one of those. shes that kind of bitch, turning up like elle woods with a big feather pen or a light-up heart marker, slamming down some truths before upping and leaving to go for her 11am chai latte break

som1 who attended the art institute in marfa for a summer n maybe knew her when she was a bit younger ??? idk

drama. angst. horror. also nice bike rides in amsterdam please

feel free to im me if u wanna plot, or, like this post and i’ll hit u with a message!

[yodawgiherd]

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Rating: T

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Me? Actually delivering a chapter I promised in due date? Impossible. More importantly Merry Christmas everyone! Hope you are having a great one ;)

Enjoy!

For all his initial doubt about her proposition, Eren had to give Ymir credit where it was due. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves at the club, well, almost everyone, but overall it was a resounding success, much to his surprise. Getting the idea past Erwin was one of the most awkward moments in Eren’s professional career, since he was the one who had to drop the “Hey, can we have our Christmas party in the strip club this year?” bomb on their boss, but after a few seconds of stunned silence, Erwin said that as long as the majority agrees, he sees no problem with it. And just like that, Ymir’s choice was accepted. The turnout was also much bigger than Eren even dared to hope. A lot of doctors, especially older people, respectfully declined the invitation, but still, the bar was almost full of men and women from his workplace, apparently having a good time.

The music was blasting, the dancer on stage was doing a very pleasing choreography, much to the enjoyment of the crowd that gathered around her, cheering her, rather loudly, on. As Erwin was picking up the tab for today, drinks were flowing, and the first signs of the free alcohol could already be noted in the way some medics behaved. Eren was sitting down at the bar, circling his second whiskey of the night in its glass, watching the party. He didn’t really feel like joining the dancer’s crowd, who were at the moment making it rain, and as the rest of the people broke into groups of those acquainted with each other, he decided to rest his legs for a moment. From his perch, he saw Onya, entertaining a rather large crowd with his stories before disappearing in the back to get a private dance. A grin appeared on Eren’s face. The man seemed completely in his element. Well, good for him.

“Yeager!”, a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, “Why are you sitting here all alone? Live a little!”

Ymir. Who else.

“I am living.”, he pointed out, taking a sip of the whiskey. It was pretty good.

“Ah, you know what I mean.”, she sat down next to him, swinging a bit dangerously on the tall bar stool before regaining her balance, laughing. The glass that she held in her hand was half-full, and Eren had the feeling that it was one of many she had tonight.

“D’you miss your girl so much?”, Ymir leaned closer, the alcohol breath hitting Eren right in the face. “Y’know, you could have brought her.”

Of course, he asked Mikasa if she wanted to come, but she was busy tonight, modeling stuff. Unfortunate.

“I don’t see your tiny bag of happiness anywhere either.”, he looked around, “Or do you have her stuffed in your pocket? I mean, she would probably fit there.”

Ymir giggled, punching him in the shoulder.

“She’s not THAT small. Well, at least I think she ain’t.”, finishing her drink with a large gulp, she set the empty glass on the table, “And she couldn’t come tonight. Finishing reports or some shit, I didn’t understand a word she was saying.”

“Good communication is a key to happy relationship.”, Eren agreed.

She punched his shoulder again.

There weren’t many people that knew where Levi lived. Even less would have the balls to come and start beating at his door, shouting his name. Following this equation, it wasn’t hard to decipher just who it was on the other side of the wall. With a sigh, he opened, letting in the wild brown-haired creature.

“Levi, Levi, you must help.”, Hange blurted out, adjusting her glasses.

“Help with what?”, he did his best not to sound too irritated. He still kinda did.

“Mikasa needs you, at the agency. They lack a model for the photoshoot they are having.”

He groaned. Not this shit again.

“C’mon,”, Hange was pressing on, “please? Your sister needs your help, you wouldn’t say no to her, would you?”

“Why didn’t she call me then? Why go through you?”

“Well, she thought you’ll tell her to fuck off, so she asked me to relay the good news to you. It speaks volumes about the relationship you two are having.”

Levi didn’t miss the silent sting in her words. Maybe he should go, even though he really didn’t want to, Mikasa surely earned his help, hundred times over. Ah well, there goes the plan to scrub the kitchen spotless. Again.

“Fine, fine, I get it. I’ll go.”, with a last grunt, he picked up the coat, heading for the door. He can clean the kitchen once he gets back anyway, there was no rush.

The drive through the city was about as nightmarish as he imagined it to be. With Christmas not even a week away, the people were entering their last phase of shopping madness, tearing the shops apart. Those last-minute idiots angered him. Like, you have the whole year to prepare, and you what, have no time? Seriously? He hated people who couldn’t put their affairs in order. Well, hate might not be the right word. More like disliked. Strongly. Normally, he would have no chance to park, if the studio didn’t have a private lot, and after he said that he was expected, and the guard made a quick call to check, Levi was allowed in.

There was another reason why he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be here. Petra, of course. He had no idea if she worked today, or if she perhaps wasn’t a contractor, already long gone, but his throat still tightened anytime someone walked past him on his way to the studio where Mikasa was. Luck seemed to be on his side today however, because he hasn’t seen Petra anywhere, and soon reached his destination, standing awkwardly in front of the door. Swallowing, he entered. And was hit right in the face with the spirit of Christmas. There was fake snow on the scene, sleigh in one corner, while the next was occupied by a tree. Other props were also present, ready to be moved as soon as the ones currently being photographed were covered. It was overwhelming, and Levi stood there for a moment, unable to really process everything he was seeing.

“Levi!”, Mikasa appeared, out of nowhere, dressed in a very stylish set, one that probably cost more than he made in a month. “You came.”, she said, as if she still couldn’t believe it, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Of course I came, brat. Hange said that you needed me, right?”

“Oh, yeah, totally.”, Levi could swear that he could hear a shade on amusement in her voice, “We need a guy exactly like you.”. She turned, beckoning for him to follow, and dived back into the crowd, somehow managing to find a way. For all the insecurity and fear Levi remembered, she really seemed to be enjoying herself now. Secretly, he felt proud of her.

“How about you call me next time, and not Hange, huh? No need to drag her into our affairs.”

“Yea well. I had the feeling that you wouldn’t come if I told you what the job was about.”

What was that supposed to mean? Now that he thought about it, he really had no idea what she wanted him to do. But before he could ask, they came to a stop in front of the moustached old guy Levi remembered from earlier.

“Dot, he came.”, the familiarity with which Mikasa spoke to the man suggested that they were working together for some time now. The man, who was apparently in charge of this mess, looked Levi up and down, a large grin spreading underneath the facial hair.

“He really is perfect, you told the truth, dear girl. Just the right figure.”

“How about you stop keeping me in the dark and tell me what this is about, huh?”, Levi snapped, frowning. “What am I perfect for?”

Dot and Mikasa exchanged a glance, and the older man scratched the back of his head.

“We need an elf for the next shoot. We are one person short.”

Elf. A fucking elf. From the expression on his face, Dot wasn’t kidding. On the other hand, Mikasa’s lips were twitching, indicating that she was enjoying this moment very much, as she was most likely expecting him to flip Dot off and storm out of the door. Levi narrowed his eyes. You know what? Fuck it. He came all this way, he can very well dress like a damn elf. What’s the harm?

“Where’s my fucking costume.”

Erwin was surely having fun. Tie on the top of his head, shirt half undone, he was laughing so hard that his drink was spilling. Even with the hour growing late, the club was till about half-full, as the party went on, lively as ever. Onya emerged from the back room just for a few minutes before disappearing again, apparently not having his fill of lap dances yet. Eren himself socialized quite a bit too, and now that he was a tiny bit drunk he only started missing Mikasa more. She wasn’t only his fiancé, she was his best friend too, and he liked spending time with her. Before he could realize his plan for a silent and unseen exit, Ymir appeared next to him, cheeks flushed.

“I forgot to ask you, Yeager boy, what are your plans for Christmas? Any huge party coming up?”, she hiccupped, “Am I invited?”

“Nope, not on Christmas, gonna spend that at home. Connie said that because we are all getting wasted on New year’s anyway, he had no plans of letting us demolish the bar twice in such a short time. So, nothing now. In a week there’s something.”, he smiled, “And both you and Krista are invited. Cordially.”

“Oh my gosh, really? I can’t wait!”, she tried finishing her drink, again, but missed, spilling it all over herself. Luckily there wasn’t much left in the glass and Ymir didn’t even seem to notice. “Krista is going to be so happy, she loves Mikasa. And you, of course.”

“Maybe you should watch her then. That she doesn’t take your little girlfriend away.”

“Oh please, I can’t blame her. If Mikasa offered, I’d go for a roll in hay with her any time of the day.”, Ymir clicked her tongue, “That body…”

“You aren’t having naughty thoughts about my girl, are you Ymir.”, Eren really couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I’m just saying.”, she gestured with her empty glass, “If she ever wants to experience the other side of the trench, send her my way.”

“I think I heard enough.”, Eren stood up, clapping Ymir on the shoulder. “Merry Christmas you demon.”

A grin was his answer.

On the bright side, Levi wasn’t the only one dressed like an idiot. There were plenty of elves, both male and female, deer, and even Santa, who Levi had creeping suspicion was an alcoholic, sneaking in sips from his flask when no one was watching. They were only background though, as the focus of the photoshoot were the models wearing the highest quality clothes. And Mikasa seemed to fit right in with them, much to Levi’s disbelief. Sure, she wasn’t the most chatty or energetic one, but she was working just fine, following Dot’s instructions to the letter. The old man was shouting something, Levi realized, and the elbow from the elf next to him suggested that he’s supposed to do something.

“What?”, he called back, gesturing that he didn’t hear.

“Elf on the shelf!”, Dot pointed at the wooden structure behind them. If you squinted hard enough, you could say that it was a giant shelf. “Climb on the top!”, the photographer ordered, “We need a person there.”

Well, when you are deep in shit, all you can do is keep swimming. Turning, Levi pulled himself up, not bothering to wait for an assistant to bring him the stairs. He was followed by a female elf, and after they were maneuvered into position, Dot gave them thumbs up and the cameras began clicking away. With my luck, I’ll probably go blind from the flashes, Levi thought, doing his best to keep up the festive expression on his face. The sacrifices you do for your family, those are truly great ones.

“All right, that’s it!”, Dot called, right before Levi went completely and utterly insane, “Amazing work everyone!”

Climbing down from the shelf, he turned to help the girl down, all gentleman like, before walking straight to the changing room to get out of that stupid elf costume as soon as possible.

“Levi!”, a hand grabbed his elbow, making him stop. He turned to face Mikasa, the “Fucking what?” dying on his lips. He saw her before, at the photoshoot, yet not from up close, and she just took his breath away. Her skin was even paler than usual, lips red, lashes dark, overall she seemed like the perfect ice queen, as that was probably the look the make-up artists were going for. Fuck, she was beautiful. That dumbass Eren was the luckiest man in the whole fucking world.

“You can keep the suit!”, she said, grinning, but Levi’s brain was only now coming back to earth and he didn’t understand a word she was saying.

“What suit?”

“This.”, she tapped his chest, “The elf suit! I talked to Dot and we agreed that you look just perfect in it, so he said that you can keep yours. Amazing isn’t it?”

“Totally.”

If Hange ever sees him in this, she’s going to die from laughter, that was for sure.

“So, when do you get back to the shop?”

“You know me, man, if it were up to me I’d be there right now! So many orders to fulfill, so little time.”, the man sighed, “My wife would have a heart attack if I even suggested something like that, I better keep my mouth shut.”

“That’s fine, it’s good to spend some time with your family.”, Eren grinned behind his phone, knowing exactly how much of a workaholic Darius Zackly was. He was the big man, the one who owned the shop he and Mikasa got most of their toys from, but he didn’t like being called just a shop owner. No, he was an artist, in his own words. If there was one thing Darius loved, it was creating custom orders, stuff where he had to do something with his own hands, and admittedly he was fairly amazing with them. His love for work clashed with his love for family from time to time, disregarding that, he was a great friend and an amazing supplier.

“Listen,”, there was a pause on the other end of the line, as Zackly most likely looked around himself to see if the coast was clear, and his voice dropped in a whisper, “you want something custom right?”

“Yep, you know me.”, it was easy to hear the excitement from Darius’s question, and Eren was more than happy to leave his needs in the man’s capable hands. “Most likely even some housework, I got a lot of ideas I’d love to discuss.”

“That’s amazing! Look, I’ll do my best to squeeze you in between Christmas and new year, how does that sound?”

“Wait, you’re going to work? Isn’t it holidays?”

Darius groaned.

“You really think I can spend a week out of my shop? Are you crazy? I’ll give you a call as soon as I’ll get a set date and we can meet and talk about….”, there was another voice on the other end of the line, clearly female, and clearly irritated.

“What?”, Eren could hear Zackly ask, “Work? Of course not, honey. Why would I discuss work when I’m at home, right? It’s… a wrong number, a mistake, that’s all.”, he forced out a laugh. “I was just telling them that this isn’t the house they were searching for, that’s all!“

“I’ll call you!”, he hissed into the phone, hanging up immediately after.

Smiling, Eren put down his own, going back to the task at hand.

Cooking was an amazing activity. The pleasurable buzz of the alcohol combined with the music and the movements of his hands, creating an oasis of absolute calmness around him. Coming from the club, Eren realized that he wasn’t really tired, and the lack of Mikasa in the house forced him to find an activity he could entertain himself with. So, he started cooking. Cut the meat, salt it, turn the heat on. Eren was humming as he worked, slicing the potatoes into neat stripes, the knife not faltering for a moment. He did this a thousand times, after all. As he put the meat in the oven, the door clicked, indicating that Mikasa was home, so he moved to greet her, excited.

“Hey there.”, she smiled, unbuttoning her coat while he moved to sweep her in a hug. He missed her. When they pulled back, Eren fingered the fabric of her scarf, frowning.

“You still wear this old thing?”, he asked, a bit surprised. It was still the same red scarf he gave her, all those years ago. He really had no idea how to do stuff like flirt and stuff, so when they were out, and she shivered he asked her if she was cold and wrapped his own scarf around her, because it felt like the right thing to do. She treasured it, apparently even more than he thought, because she was still wearing it. “Now that you are all chummy with the fashion people, can’t you get something, I dunno, more stylish?”

“I like this one.”, she answered, unwrapping the thing from her neck and putting it carefully on its resting place. Mikasa wouldn’t exchange the scarf Eren gave her for any other, it was invaluable to her.

“What’s smelling so good?”, she asked, squeezing past Eren and walking inside the kitchen, sniffing audibly.

Well, if she wanted to wear the old scarf, he surely wouldn’t stop her. Not that he would admit it, but the gesture was rather romantic, if you thought about it. Following her, he couldn’t hold the smile from his face. Christmas was still a week away, and he was already blessed.

The alarm rang, waking Eren up. He rolled to his side, hand searching and not finding the person he expected. Eyes snapping open, he sat up, scratching the back of his head. What was the day today? Oh right. Christmas. Mikasa was gone, so she was probably downstairs, most likely tearing into the gifts they prepared for each other already. Well, she had a few more things coming her way, but she had to wait for that. No reason to stay in bed, he followed her, just a little bit excited what she got for him.

“Miki?”, he called when he entered the living room, not seeing her anywhere. Rubbing his eyes, he checked the kitchen, only to discover that she wasn’t there either. Did she go out? A bit lost, he went down to sit on the sofa, and as when he reached it his eyes went wide. There she was, lying on the couch, a light smile on her face. But it wasn’t her smile that made him lose his bearing. It was the stuff she was wearing, or rather, the lack of it. There was a ribbon around her neck, ending with a cute little bow, indicating that she most likely intended to be a present for him. A bigger stripe of shiny fabric was wrapped around her torso, hiding her nipples from view, not doing much to cover the rest of her chest. Eyes venturing lower, he could see her panties, a red thong, and the stockings, white and red striped, Christmas themed. The last part of her clothing was a Santa cap, sitting snugly at the top of her head. Swallowing, Eren moved closer, leaning on the furniture. Both because he wanted to take a closer look, but also because his knees really did feel like water. Mikasa watched him approach, the amused expression not leaving her face, and stretched, like a cat, which only made him want her that much more.

“This.”, he reached out, gently brushing the bow at her neck with his fingers, “For me?”

Talking was hard. Thinking was hard. Hell, most of his body was hard right now.

“Yes.”, she ran her hands up and down her sides, slowly, making his mouth water. “Now are you just going to stand there, or will you unwrap your present?”

With a shaking hand, he pulled the ribbon covering her breast open, sliding it away from her body. This, this was the best Christmas morning of his whole life.

Ymir felt terrible, watching Krista open the gift from her, squirming in her seat. Because, as usual, she fucked everything up. So much time, she had so much time to get something for her, anything, but she forgot. She fucking forgot. She only remembered to get something a day before Christmas, and her last-minute crazy trip proved fruitless, not matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find anything Krista would like. In a moment of total desperation, Ymir took the ugly sweater Eren gave her at work, as a joke, and packaged it, silently dreading of the storm to come. It had reindeer at the front, or it could very well be a mutant turtle, because the quality of the picture was subpar. And she even had no right to complain, because her gift to Eren was a paperclip. One. Groaning, she hid her face behind her hands, and expected the inevitable.

“Oh my god, Ymir!”, here it comes. “It’s amazing!”

Wait what?

Looking up, she saw Krista energetically putting the sweater on, grinning. It was several sizes bigger, so it hung on her, the neckline reaching almost all the way to her shoulders.

“You… Like it?”, Ymir asked, not believing what she was seeing.

“Of course! It’s so cute.”, Krista jumped to her feet, hugging her girlfriend tight before pressing a kiss to her still surprised face. “Thank you so much!”

“You…Ehm… You’re welcome. Really!”

The shorter girl was already pulling her upright.

“Come on, open my gift!”

All in all, Ymir decided that she really didn’t deserve such a nice person as Krista. But hell, she’ll take it. Any day of the week.

Hange wasn’t laughing. She was looking him up and down, eyes wide, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Merry Christmas.”, tried Levi, taking a step to the side, “Wanna come in?”

She did, walking past him with the same expression of deep concentration on her face. He really had no idea what she was thinking about. Opening the door in the elf costume he got from the damn photoshoot was a good joke, wasn’t it? But then why wasn’t Hange laughing? As he was about to give up and ask her what’s wrong, she snapped her fingers.

“Gnome!”

Levi furrowed his brows.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a gnome, right?”

So this is what she was thinking about. God damn it, she was smart, but she could be dense as hell about anything not scientific.

“I’m actually…”

“It makes sense. The green suit, the hat, the pointy ears. See I first thought that you are an elf, but that didn’t really sit well with me. Then I thought that you might be a goblin, but those have sharp teeth, right? So, you must be a gnome!”

He couldn’t do it. Seeing how happy Hange was that she cracked his cryptic message, which in reality wasn’t meant to be cryptic at all, he couldn’t tell her the truth. After all, why did it even matter?”

“Yep, you got me. Not an elf, not a goblin, I’m a gnome.”

He really had to stop acting so nice to everyone, otherwise they would start thinking that he actually cared.

“And you’ve been gnomed.”

Christmas alone wasn’t always a bad thing. Jean woke up late, grabbed a breakfast in relatively empty lobby, and now sat at his room, browsing the internet on his laptop. Nope, not a bad thing at all. It’s important to understand that you always need a time for yourself, to reflect on your present situation, to remember your past and make plans for the future. You should always treat your body, but also your spirit, because you only get one, and are stuck with it for the rest of your days. And this peace he was experiencing now, it was a welcome change from visiting his mother, who would always ask him those stupid questions, like Jean, do you have a girl yet? Jean, how is work? He loved his mom, he did, and would come to visit her soon, that was for sure, but now, all he felt was the silence and calmness around him. Then, his phone rung.

Hitch: Christmas coffee? ;)

Jean managed to be out of the door in about five seconds.

It was good to finally rest from the never-ending bar work, Armin had to admit. His body was aching, as he was pushing himself much harder than he used to, the physical activity soothing. Maybe he should start going to the gym with Mikasa, he thought as he watched himself in the mirror, flexing. Well, long way to go in this department. Grinning, he put his shirt back on and headed to the kitchen, scavenging the room for breakfast supplies. Yet while the peace and quiet was all well and good, he was already looking forward to the parties that would follow. It gave him a pause. He, Armin, was looking forward to parties. Shaking his head, he put the water to boil, opening the fridge with a tug. How the times change. The reminiscence brought back other memories, some pleasing, some not that much. With a sigh, Armin looked out of the window, watching the thin sheet of snow that will most likely disappear before noon.

“Merry Christmas Annie, wherever you are.”

“You really have to go now?”, Sasha sighed, watching Connie dress, “It’s Christmas, you know.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”, he pulled on his jacket, “But the supplier wants me to meet him today.”

Sasha crossed her arms on her chest, pouting. What kind of maniac set a meeting on a freaking Christmas day? Who’s even working? Sensing her dark mood, Connie leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll try to get back as soon as possible, I promise.”

And with that, she was alone. On Christmas day. Amazing, simply amazing. Groaning, she was wheeling herself away when someone knocked at the door. She turned around, hoping that Connie came back, but when she threw the door open that surely wasn’t her boyfriend on the other side. A girl was standing there, young, and a boy, both looking rugged and in clothes with too many holes in them.

“Sasha?”, the girl asked, looking at the boy and back at the woman. “I.. came to say sorry and..”, her eyes kept sliding back to the wheelchair, no matter how many times she pulled it back. “I’m so sorry for shooting you.”, finally managing to push out her message, she sniffled, wiping her nose with a sleeve, “And merry Christmas.”, she added, more like a whisper than a statement.

Sasha didn’t say a word. Instead, she wheeled herself forward, and enveloped the surprised young girl in a hug.

“Merry Christmas to you too. Gabi.”

The boy’s name was Falco, and apparently they were best friends, since ever. They lived together on the street, joining with a few groups from time to time, but mostly it was the two of them against the world. Gabi didn’t want to talk about her parents, or how she ended up homeless, dodging the questions with sidelong glances and one- or two-word answers. Falco didn’t talk. Apparently, he was very shy, as Gabi claimed, but Sasha didn’t miss the way his eyes scanned the room when she invited them in.

“You know, I can get you help.”, said Sasha, when Gabi and Falco ate the plate of cookies she brought them, hungrily eyeing the table for more.

“We are fine.”, Gabi reached out and intertwined her fingers with Falco’s. “We always find a way.”

Sasha wasn’t about to give up so easily, but apparently she needed more cookies to convince the kids, so she wheeled herself back to the kitchen, pulling another batch from the oven and putting the finishing touches on them. As she came back into the living room, she found it empty.

Honestly, she should have seen it coming. She was stupid, blinded by the appearance of the girl she talked with for so long, the one that for some reason made her heart ache. She should have seen that the sneaky looks Falco kept throwing around weren’t just to map the room, but to find the valuables in it too. They were living on a street a long time, it was the only way they knew. Calm, Sasha put the plate on the table, checking through the stuff that they took. Her wallet was empty, because she stupidly left it in her coat, at least her I.D and credit card remained. It wasn’t much, as most of her savings were in the bank, but gripping the empty leather in her hand, Sasha had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. How did Gabi even find her in the first place? How did she know where Sasha lived? Did she seek her out only to rob her? The regret she displayed when she first appeared, was it all an act? Anger, helplessness, sadness. It was too much. Going back to the kitchen, Sasha pulled out the bottle of vodka they kept there and took a large gulp.

Merry fucking Christmas, she thought.

To me.