#i grant him the tiniest amount of ass.

[irradiatedsnakes]

(makes your triangle man into a circles man)

[buckyhoney-library]

volume control, b.b

A/N: Hope all is well, please give me feedback about what you think about this one, I had a lot of fun writing this one!

Request: Hi, I'm not sure if your taking requests right now. But if you are, could you do a Bucky x reader smut where the reader loses her voice so Bucky tries to see how loud she can get in bed without her voice? Thank you. You're an amazing writer.

Warnings: language, 18+, overstimulation, oral (fem rec), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (no glove, no love)

Word Count: 2.8k

Your POV

     The warm ginger flavored tea cooled the burning sensation of my throat. It seemed to be the only thing that I had tried that had calmed the feeling. Laryngitis had made an appearance this week, completely wrecking the use of my voice. Every time I tried to speak; I sound like a boy going through puberty.

     The last couple of days had the worst in terms of soreness- luckily that part is over. All that seems to be left of the illness is the voice cracks and inability to talk about a whisper. It has become more annoying than anything.

      Every time respond to Bucky, you could see the amount of self-control it was taking not to laugh or make a joke about the croaking.

     Dressed in only black spandex and a t-shirt, I pulled myself off the couch with my empty mug in hand. The couch seemed to be my home for the past week. I had called out of work for the week. Knowing that trying to talk to clients while sounding like a pubescent boy wouldn’t be very professional.

     Calling out of work had proven to be more beneficial in more ways than one. It allowed more time to be able to spend more time with my moody boyfriend and catching up on shows that I had been putting off.

     Bucky called off his avengers’ duties this week and took care of me while I wrestled with the illness. Trading in his weapons for running to the store to grab more boxes of tea, throat lozenges, and a variety of ramen.

“How many of those have you been though?” Bucky questions walking past me pouring the hot water in my mug.

     I pulled out a fresh box, ripping the cardboard lid open. It really did seem like we tried everything to relieve the pain. Spoons of honey, throat lozenges, saltwater, nothing helped other than tea. This means I have been drinking it like a madwoman.

“This is the second box since last night,” My voice cracking at the end. We’re making slight progress, the voice cracks getting further apart. I gesture to the bottle of honey; he grabs it from the counter handing it to me, shaking his head.

“You should probably slow down, you’re not gonna have enough for later.”

“That’s why I have you to get me more,” This time he doesn’t hold back on the laughs when he hears the faint cracks and strain. I turn back around in protest of his action, pretending to be upset at him.

     In reality, it was hard to stay irritated with him when he laughs. The pureness of the sound and the smile that would take up his whole face never failed to make me smile.

    He comes up from behind me, wrapping his arm around my torso. With his body pressing against mine, the coolness of the metal against my arms sent shivers down my spine. The hair on his chin tickling my shoulder, watching me as I finish pouring the honey.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, you’re not feeling good” He mumbles, his lips nipping at the base of my neck. Moving my neck to the side, granting him more access to it.

    Bucky peppering kisses along my neck and shoulder. This action causing me to giggle and buck my hips against his and gripping the edge for the counter for support. A small breathy groan leaves his mouth when my hips made contact with his.

“I’m feeling fine now,” I manage to whisper without the croaking sound. He twists my waist, forcing my body to turn and face his. I look up at his blue eyes, they were darker than normal. His facial hair grown out a bit making him look softer and cuddlier.

“You sound better,” Bucky taunted, his voice had gotten lower and his eyes looking down at the gap between our bodies.

“Does it?” As soon as I thought my voice wasn’t going to crack, the words fall out cracked and broken. Ruining the seriousness of my tone.

Bucky rolls his lips in holding back a laugh.

“So good, baby,” Bucky slides his hands underneath the bottom of my shirt.

     A breathy whine escaping my lips, feeling his cool hand along the sides of my hips. His eyebrows rose at the sound,

“You sound so sexy,” His tone lowered and his eyes piercing mine. I pressed my body to him, wrapping my bare arms around his neck. His lips connecting with mine and his arms pulling me tighter, trying to eliminate any and all space between us. 

I can feel his bulge forming against my pelvis- all because of a moan.

     Sinking into each other, our lips matching in rhythm and pace. A raspy yelp leaving my lips as I feel a harsh smack against my right ass cheek. Completely forgetting the only thing separating it was thin spandex- Bucky’s favorite article of clothing. He says it is one of his favorite things that we have created.

     He liked the way it made my ass jiggle and moved with whenever I took a step. He especially went crazy when they’re rid up when I’d grab something from the top shelf in the kitchen, exposing the bottoms of my ass. He never failed to smack it, sometimes leaving his handprint through the fabric.

    Bucky’s flesh hand grabbing a fist full of ass and jiggling it himself. His release of the flesh causing me to whine again.

    The bulge that was currently trapped in his basketball shorts, started to throb. If only I could take it in my mouth and relieve all the pent-up pressure.

     Bucky’s lips moved away from mine but kissing alongside my jawline and down my throat. His hands now gripping my hips preparing me to jump back onto the kitchen island. I jumped, allowing him to guide me onto the cold granite.

     With his lips disconnecting from the side of my neck, his eyes peering into mine. It’s as if I could read his mind, knowing exactly what he wants. All I do is nod,

“I want to hear you moan, baby,” His hands teasing the waistband of the spandex. Dipping his fingers inside, but not going far. The feeling making my cunt moisten.

     Bucky’s true talent was his ability to tease. He was never in a rush, always took his time making sure that I was dripping before even daring to pull his dick out. It was like he got off on that the sight of the arousal dripping down the sides of my cunt.

“I want to see if you can still get loud,” My breath hitches, and my core tightening. My chest rises and falls heavier at the thought.

     As vocal as I am in bed, Bucky never put to the test how loud I could go. He was always satisfied with how vocal I ended being. What he loved, even more, was seeing me struggle to keep quiet. Teasing my clit with his fingers till I couldn’t help but moan.

     Bucky’s fingers starting in slow circles, watching me twitch and shudder. He’d dip his fingers inside gathering all the juices and using it to add pleasure. He’d moan at the sight of how visibly hard it was for me to stay silent. Some nights, he’d give me a towel or blanket to bite down on. Other nights, he’d want to see me struggle and wouldn’t give me anything to help.

    The moment I would make even the tiniest of whimpers, the pleasure would be ripped from me and I would be left not being able to cum till I could prove I could do it.

Those nights he was ruthless. Edging me till I was in tears.

Every time he’d pull away, making it almost painful to stay quiet the next time.

      I spread my legs giving him access to the place that was about to cause me a great deal of regret. His fingers slide inside the waistband of the shorts, bucking my hips at the contact. His fingers quickly being removed before they touched my clit.

“You fucking tease,” My voice was barely audible, his lips curl into a devilish smirk. Without any sort of permission, I removed my shirt. My breast dropped and Bucky’s eyes flickered to my bare chest, lighting up instantly. My nipples already hardening at exposure to the cold air.

     Within seconds, Bucky taking one in his mouth and his hand squeezing and kneading the other harshly. Eagerly tugging on my nipple with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. I whimpered with every tug. I could see the smile on his face when I looked down.

     I wrapped my arms loosely around his head, keeping him focused on my breast. The only movement being when he’d move off the other giving attention to it. The nipping and tugging making my cunt completely soaked. I could feel it soaking through the spandex. The harsh treatment towards my breasts making the ache between my legs so strong, I thought Bucky could feel it.

   Bucky took his time giving each breast a moment to be assaulted, leaving them both sore. I silently prayed that my cunt was next.

    Bucky pulled away from my breasts, removing his shirt. The sight of his abdomen and dog tags, causing my pussy to throb a little harder. He places lips on my collarbone, slowly laying back on the counter and shoving the opened mail and assignment files on the floor.

    The combination of the cold granite and his hand made my back arch. He placed small kisses down my stomach till he got to my naval- that’s when he started to drag his tongue down till he got to the band of my spandex. I hold my breath as he removes my shorts, finally exposing my slick cunt. 

    I pushed my hips into the counter motioning the need for something to relieve the throbbing.

“So pretty, baby…” Bucky murmurs sliding his middle finger down the sopping wet folds, teasing my entrance. His finger only sliding into the first knuckle, he still standing while he does so. A scratchy moan getting past my lips.

“Yes, baby, I want to hear you.” Without warning he inserts two fingers and curling them, hitting the spongey tissue. My walls start contracting.

My throat tensing as I unexpectedly whine at the feeling.

“Good girl, I know you can get louder.”  Bucky eyes not leaving mine, I am now propped on my elbows and grinding my hips into his fingers. He adds his metal thumb to my clit, rubbing the bud at an agonizingly slow pace. Bucky removed his fingers from my cunt, bringing them to my lips.

    I open my lips enough for his fingers to enter. I sucked the clean, tasting myself. The saliva from my mouth being used as lubrication before he slid them back inside. The circles around my clit become faster. Our eyes met and his pace quickened. My jaw-dropping from the pure pleasure of his fingers. His mouth dropping with mine and his eyes darkened as he watched my body start to jerk.

A string of curses left my mouth and my vocal cords struggling to get any sound out.

“You’re doing so good” I laid back down, feeling my limbs fall weak to the feeling of my orgasm approaching. The soreness of my throat getting tighter, but not caring.

     Bucky crouched down coming eye to eye with my cunt, still fingering fucking my entrance. His thumb left my clit, but it was replaced with his lips. His tongue swirling around the bud. His facial hair scratching the sides of my legs adding more sensation down there. His fingers haven’t stopped, if anything they had gotten faster.

     My eyes rolling back, not being able to properly keep them open. I groaned and gasped at the fast-approaching orgasm. There was no denying that this would wreck my voice even more than it was before, but the feeling of his tongue and fingers making the future pain bearable.

“Fuck!” I went into pure ecstasy. I jerked my hips towards his mouth, my lower half becoming incredibly sensitive. Bucky doesn’t even seem to notice my body twitching. I gripped the kitchen towel beside me,

“Bucky, I-“ I was interrupted by his fingers curling again hurling me over the edge. My throat tensing again, it felt like it was bleeding inside.

         Bucky continues to attack my cunt with his tongue. His fingers leave my hole and join his other hand holding my hips down. I didn’t know how much more of the pleasure I could take.

“Such a good girl, you taste so good.” His voice muffled against my throbbing pussy as he licks the rest of the arousal up. I manage to prop myself up again, our eyes meeting again.

     His mouth glistening from my juices. His eyes don’t break eye contact, staring at me as a string of spit drips onto my clit. I watched in awe of him, he licks it up flicking my cunt one last time. My body has cooled down from the brutal assault.

“You’re doing so well, princess.” He brought himself up, I see the wet spot against his briefs. He was soaked through with precum. The tip was red and swollen, looking like it was going to burst with only a few strokes.

“But I know you can do better,” I sit up completely and watch as he frees his dick. It’s glistening with his liquid, reach to take hold of it in my hand. Bucky stops my hand from doing so, guiding it around his neck. Bucky gives his cock a few strokes, before sliding it up and down my folds.

His cock twitching against them.

The harsh usage of my voice was starting to affect my ability to even get any sound out at all.

     Bucky pushes slowly into me and in return, I clawed at his back. Our bodies have no room in between us anymore, my forehead pressed against his shoulder. His pace quickening. His cock stretching my walls and filling my cunt. The size of him never fails to amaze me.

With all I might, I managed to croak out a shocking volume:

“Faster, please Bucky,” He whined at the sound of my raspy plead.

    His thrusts turning into pure pounding at this point. His arms tightly wrapped around my torso. With the support around my back, my head falls back at the feeling of his cock ramming into me.

“You’re doing so good taking my dick,” He peppers kisses around my throat and collarbone.

My nails digging into his skin.

    My moans are loud, and the pain of my throat was masked by the intense pleasure building in my stomach. I couldn’t even think with his cock inside me. My orgasm building as his pace becomes inconsistent. He was close as well.

     I was surprised he lasted this long considering how he went in, already wanting to cum. All that was coming out of my mouth were a mix of curses and moans. His eyes lighting up with every sound that fell from my lips.

“I don’t how much more I can take,” My voice was in shreds, it was painful trying to speak at this point, but I couldn’t conceal them anymore. Not with his current speed and power.

“Cum all over this dick,” With his approval, my walls start pulsating and my forehead falls back against his shoulder. I watched his dick disappear inside me while I cried in pleasure, my legs quivering at the intense pleasure.

     Tears welling as the pain in my throat was becoming too much. Bucky powered through my orgasm, before his cock twitching inside me. His load bursting inside me. Bucky holds us in the same position while we are recovering from our highs. My pussy is milking every last drop of him, whimpering one last time as he pulls out.

   My breathing still heavy and the piercing pain in the back of my mouth becoming more prominent. I lay back against the counter, catching my breath.

“You got so loud, baby, I’m so proud of you,” Bucky coos while grabbing the kitchen towel that I was previously using as a grip.

         He glides the fabric against my cunt, whipping away his cum that was leaking out of me. I twitch with the contact with my clit. He takes my hands and pulls me back up to meet his eyes. I try to speak but wince at the pain shooting through my throat like daggers. His face instantly filling with worry.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- “He begins to panic, but I grab his wrists,

“It’s okay,” The only volume I could speak in being below a whisper. I hop off the table picking up my discarded clothes, sliding them back on. I bend down, picking up his briefs, and hand them to him.

“It was worth it,” I chuckle. He takes the briefs from me and looks at the abandoned mug.

“I’ll just have to get you more,”

[kyovtani]

mean dom hinata? explain away honey 👁👅👁

you guys- when i tell you the concept of hard dom hinata is one of my favorites- idek what it is about the thought of having sunshines like him, suga or yams go brutally at me but it just makes me pussy throb so here you go ✨

a/n: i got a little carried away so this is a little longer haha 😀

— cw: hard daddy dom!shoyo, heavy degradation, mocking, teasing and dumbification, pussy slapping, choking and brief mentions of breeding <33

hinata shoyo is not really one who's constantly in his hard dom mood. he's also not a soft dom per se, but for him to become the mean, merciless dom you love oh so much, it does take a little bit of work.

however, it always depends, who those guys are.

however, it always depends, who those guys are.

one thing hinata absolutely despises is when you visit him at practice, dressed in one of your tiniest little dresses and that one particular look on your face. he can tell the reason behind your little visit by the way you walk and talk once you've entered the gym him and his teammates spend most of their time in.

you visit him a lot, which he genuinely appreciates because he misses you a lot but can't really do anything about it because he has to practice to become an even better version of himself. however, when you come up to him with that smirk and certain kind of playful gleam in your eyes, he knows you're here to play your little games.

and then he just gets to watch the scene unfold.

you becoming incredibly handsy with atsumu and bokuto, two of his closest friends who, bless their hearts, simply can't hide the effect you have on them, especially if you're dressed like that. shoyo also calmly observes the way you talk to his captain, meian, the guy he looks up to, his mentor. he even finds it funny how you keep letting your hands graze over his big arms and even his abs, or laughing about his puns and jokes a little too much than you'd normally do.

in those moments, shoyo just smiles and calms himself down because he knows why you're acting like that. you've missed him and he hasn't had the time to give you the attention you deserve so you're here to get what you deserve.

even on the ride back home he does not say a word and that's when you know you've got him.

because the moment he steps through the door to your shared apartment, he slams it shut and wraps one of his big, calloused hands around your neck before he calmly pushes you against the wall.

and then, hinata just starts chuckling.

the sound of his deep laughter sends shivers of excitement and arousal down your spine and it feels like he's slowly setting your body on fire in a way only he's been able to.

he holds you like that for a good while, just giggling and shaking his head, meeting your desperate gaze every now and then as he applies more and more pressure on your delicate throat.

"you know what, puppy?", he begins, running a hand through his messy curls before he scratches the back of his undercut and then casually plays with the piercings in his ear.

"i actually enjoy these shows a lot", shoyo continues, his facial expressions slowly but surely hardening as he never once averts his gaze from yours all while his other hand pushes your tiny little dress all the way up your thighs, exposing your clothed cunt to the cold air of the hallway.

"all the fake giggles and compliments whenever my boys say something, honestly – it's actually quite cute. i know how much tsumu- and bo-kun enjoy your little visits and even shu-kun gets all flustered when you keep telling him just how 'big' he is", hinata explains, the smile on his plump lips slowly fading away as he pushes his thumb underneath the waistband of your panties and casually rips it with one firm tug, not even caring about the little painful gasp you let out when the fabric lightly cuts your skin.

you just look at him with parted lips, your arousal slowly dripping down your inner thighs and your cunt clenching in absolute disgusting despair the longer hinata stares at you.

"shoyo, i-", "shut the fuck up", hinata is quick to quiet you down, the playful gleam in his big eyes burning with a fire of anger in just the right way; you've finally gotten him exactly where you wanted him, "not only wasn't i done speaking yet, you were also not granted permission to say anything, pet. so you stay nice and quiet for me, hm?"

you start nodding softly, a soft whine escaping your lips when shoyo harshly pushes his thick thigh in between your legs, right against your dripping cunt. your eyes roll into the back of your head at the delicious feeling of his strong muscle underneath you; your clit throbbing almost painfully when you slowly start rocking your hips against him.

"look at how fucking desperate you are to have your stupid little pussy fucked", hinata grunts, a deep, empty chuckle falling pst his lips before he lets go of your throat and takes your chin into his big hand to have you meet his strong, alluring gaze, "it's disgustingly pathetic."

"o-only for you, daddy", you whisper and dig your fingers into his tiny waist, holding onto him as your hips move on their own, giving your little clit just the right amount of stimulation to esse some of the pressure on your cunt.

"oh, really? o-o-o-only f-for m-me? yeah?", hinata replies, his mocking of your words sending you into the sweetest haze of pleasure and you can't believe you're about to cum from basically nothing.

"didn't look like that to me when you were basically offering yourself to my boys", he hisses, suddenly pulling his whole body away from you and with a soft yelp, you let yourself fall onto your knees; desperately pressing your thighs together in hopes of getting your ruined orgasm back, only to fail miserably.

shoyo looks down to you, his rock hard cock straining against the soft material of his sweats and the thought of his weight on your tongue, you whimper softly.

"i don't fuck you for what? two days? and you forget what manners are. have i fucked you and your stupid little pussy so dumb already? because it seems like you're not doing any of the thinking anymore, hm? but i mean, how are you supposed to when cock is all you seem to think about all day", his words ring in your head, echoing sonloudly it feels like he just yelled them right into your ear.

you gulp harshly, your hands finding the fabric of his sweats as you make your way up to him; the thought of having him fill you to the brim with his cock as he says even meaner things to you clouding your mind in just the right way.

"p-please", you whisper and look up at him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the arousal becomes overwhelming and the radical need to have him inside of you takes over your mind, "please, daddy, i n-need you to fuck me."

you start placing soft little kisses on his clothed cock, your eyes never once leaving his strong gaze as you enjoy the feeling of his length underneath your lips knowing oh too well that he's going to take it away from you a lot sooner than you'd expect him to.

"tsk, how unfortunate that i don't need to fuck you. i'll just use my fist and watch you beg for it before i cum all over your dirty little cunt and call it a night", he hisses, pushing the messy strands of his hair out of his face before he moves out of your grip and walks towards the living room.

and just as you're about to get up on wobbly legs, hinata raises his big, tattoo clad hand snd turns his head to the side, before he mumbles a soft, "don't you fucking dare to get up. if you want to behave like a needy little pet, you're going to be treated like one. so, you better stay the fuck on all fours."

by the time you come to sit next to him on the floor, hinata just groans, pushing his sweats and boxer briefs down his thick thighs and revealing his fat, precum leaking cock to your hungry eyes.

"sit on the coffee table", he grunts, sitting down on the couch as he wraps his big hand around his throbbing length and slowly starts stroking himself.

you nod softly, moving to sit on the little table with your juices covering your inner thighs and continuously dripping down your legs and without missing a beat, you spread yourself open for hinata.

"fuck, you're dripping everywhere", he grunts at the sight of your sopping wet pussy all spread okt for him and his words easily have your hole clenching like crazy, making more of your juices drip down to your ass.

"all y-yours, daddy", you whimper, watching the way hinata slowly bucks his hip into his fist, his precum slowly finding its way down the back of his hand.

"of course you're all mine, you stupid little slut", hinata scoffs and even though you see the way he lifts his hand, the suddenness of the harsh spank on your pussy still takes your breath away and leaves you whining and whimpering as the pain slowly spreads in your veins, mixing with the pleasure and basically leaving you high.

"you and this pretty pussy belong to me, puppy", he spits and casually lands another spank on your drenched folds, a loud moan falling pst your lips as the tears stream down your temples and find their way into the coffee table.

"now cut the crybaby shit and get on top of me, show me you're worthy of my cock and i might actually breed you."

[painless-innit-colourful]

Invisible

Potions of invisibility grant the user the ability to disappear, functionally: the concealment of one’s self through magic, distilled into a draught easy to swallow. For better and worse, Tommy’s familiar with the taste.

It tastes sour, primarily. 

Looking at the ingredient list, no wonder. Nether wart and fermented spider eye. Gross. There are some things a golden carrot just can't balance out. 

It's such a disgusting taste he doesn't notice the shimmering feeling, instead focusing his attention on scraping a thin layer of translucent brown sugar-mushroom-spider ick off his tongue. Not until: 

"Tommy?" "Y- Bleh- Yeah?" "Oh!" Tubbo waves his arms in a wild arc, smile growing, before his hand collides with Tommy's arm, and he picks up Tommy's wrist. "It worked!" "What do you- Ohhh..." 

If he blurs his vision, Tubbo's fingers circle around nothing. If he looks properly, he can just about see the edges of his wrist, the lines of his shirt sleeve. "Dude, how does that work?" "Which bit?" "Clothes. My clothes didn't drink it too." "Dude, I dunno... My turn!" 

They learn to spot the tiny signs of an invisible person. They learn to disguise them. Tommy tries to tackle Tubbo and misses completely, and both of them fall about laughing. 

Call that a drug van success story. 

--- 

He sprints past it, hoping they aren’t following, panic filling his bloodstream. He chugs the potion as he runs, drops spilling down his front, staining his navy coat with off-white shadows as he shimmers and disappears into thin air. 

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

He stumbles into the shallow waters of the lake, wading - disturbing the water, too many signs, you're gonna be seen - towards Tubbo's tunnel. He takes three steps and slips under the surface, landing on his hands and knees on the tunnel floor, waiting, waiting- Where are they? 

There's the sound of an arrow seeking its mark and hitting true, and for a split second Tommy sees an arm with deft fingers and a dark blue sleeve fall over the side of the entrance, and then the body is gone and shit shit shit- 

Tommy sticks his head back out- Who was that? Wilbur? Tubbo? He feels the shimmering feeling again - "a quick escape", where are the others - and slowly drops back to the tunnel floor. 

Make a decision, what if they find you, Little Laddy One Life? He walks away, opting to live to fight another day, hoping that his friends will join him soon. 

--- 

Funnily though, while clothes disappear with the potion, armour doesn't. He doesn't know why; he's not smart enough to. And right now, as he yanks the shoulder straps of his chestplate tight, he doesn't really care. 

"Stop!" They don't stop, voices mostly drowned out by the overwhelming sound of rushing water. Dream, his face also hidden, but by his signature mask as opposed to the magic of an invisibility potion, holds his hand towards Tubbo and tells him "I need the disc." Tommy crests the wreckage of the Community House, no longer attempting to stay hidden as the water thunders down around his ankles, pulling him towards the platform in the centre. It's a bizarre version of the Pit. It’s an arena. It's a stage. 

"No!" He screams, as Tubbo takes half a step back towards the ender chest. Heads snap to his position, looking at the empty suit of armour that's just appeared beside and above them. Tubbo stutters something in quiet disbelief, and between that and the sudden attention, Tommy falters. If he took off his armour now, could he get out of there? Or would the same fate that once befell Wilbur catch him? The blame for this building is on him, after all. 

He jumps in, landing on his feet between Dream and the cabinet of L'Manberg. He is caught in the crossfire of their questions: "Tommy?" "Is that Tommy?" 

He shouts, and he screams, and he revolves like a merry-go-round, trying to keep his eyes on everyone, not trusting that his armour'll be enough to protect him from the sheer amount of enemies about. So many people hate him, he realises, it's 30 v 2. Technoblade would like those odds. Technoblade, who's standing beside him, not invisible because he went to get milk. He likes the protection; he thinks. 

They don't listen. Tubbo keeps insisting he betrayed them all by teaming with Techno, that he betrayed L'Manberg, but they don't understand, he didn't have a choice, "You don't know what he did to me in exile." Tubbo has the disc in his hands, and without having an inkling of where Dream's eyes are, he watches him consider simply snatching it from Tubbo's hands. 

"You're not gonna give him the disc." Tubbo looks at him like it's a dare, and why can't he see? Tommy's practically crying with the effort and exertion of watching his best friend betray him in slow motion, of being this close to his abuser, of being blamed for something he didn't do, of being beaten down every time he gets on his damn feet. 

"I don’t need to prove myself to you. This wasn’t me. Trust me. Jesus— for once in your life, Tubbo, trust me." Tubbo's eyes are cold, his mind made up. What happened to us against the world?  "I did trust you. Once. The first time all of this happened. And I won’t make the same mistake twice." 

There's a little moment where time stops, and everyone draws nearer like a crowd at the coliseum, and Tommy feels his invisibility ripple slightly, warning him it's about to wear off. Who the fuck cares. 

Tubbo takes a step towards Dream, and Tommy lunges to put himself between them. "Don't you dare." Tubbo's hand goes to his axe. "You betrayed me, Tubbo, you- Did you just-" Both of their eyes are on Tubbo’s weapon, when he puts the disc away, staring Tommy down plainly with his one hand returning to the axe at his waist, and the other taking out his shield. "I didn't betray you." His voice is level, all business. Okay then, Mr President.

"You betrayed everything that you'd built with presidents prior." Tommy's anger, and hurt, and frustration, and pain finally boils over, so much so that it's visible in the way he shakes as he brings out his axe. "You know what?" He bites into a golden apple, feeling its effects drown out the rushing water and the shimmering sensation of his invis. "You've got your axe up." Technoblade’s tone is surprised but light as he tells Tommy to make this decision wisely, but he’s already gone, his safety and conscience be damned. He throws himself at Tubbo, brandishing his axe as the pigman taught him, like he once practised with the brown-haired boy he’s swinging at, thinking You say I betrayed you? I'll show you a traitor. 

Poetically, perhaps, it's less like a fight, and more like a dance. They are a whirlwind - a hurricane - clashing and blocking and pushing and shoving across the otherwise empty floor. Somewhere in the gushing water, Technoblade's bloodlust has seized him, and he's gone for the L'Manbergians and the festival-goers and the unrelated parties that came when they saw the destruction, and he's scattering them this way and that, but who cares about that? 

They are not equally matched. Tommy shakes too much: there is too much of him vulnerable here, not just his mortality, something that neither invisibility nor armour can keep from being scratched and damaged. He's losing. He's quite badly losing, despite Tubbo's inferior armour and weapons and allies, and he leaps into the nearest watery wall, letting the Respiration helmet Techno made for him protect him as the water drags him under and away from his attacker. His best friend. He bites into another golden apple, his pleas swallowed by the torrent. He still hears Tubbo's shout though, permeating the water and being relayed through his communicator from wherever Techno is. 

"Where are you?" 

He pops back up, shaking and soaking wet and sees a familiar sight: an old friend, a brother - once - staring him down with death in his eyes from behind brown hair. He was wrong, oh so wrong, all those weeks ago: at once he is Schlatt, alone at the end of his days, and there's Wilbur, old pals who'll be the death of each other. No. 

No. 

"I didn’t betray you, you teamed up with the very person that destroyed us the first time!" He feels his invis shimmer one more time, and the timing is immaculate, really. Cinematic, one might say. 

"I went for the discs— Tubbo, the discs— The discs were worth more than you ever were!" "No... Wh- Th-" The world stands still, and it feels so good, it's so good to finally say it, to watch Tubbo's face fall, his shield slipping from his hand, listen to the reactions around their little arena, watch as Tubbo shuts his mouth and yanks on the strap of his chestplate and lets it drop to the floor, leaving him defenceless and open to attack and wait- no- wait- 

Mutely, Tommy’s gaze drifts skyward, and it should feel good because they know now, they know how he feels, but it's not, it's not good because that- that wasn't true. That wasn't right. 

And he looks back at Tubbo, and finally, finally, his invis runs out, and he hopes it shows on his face, that he knows he's fucked up because Tubbo looks destroyed, and a shiver goes through him because he no longer looks angry he just- He just looks sad. 

He takes off his helmet, breathing heavily from the ache and exertion, heart burning in regret. 

‘The discs were worth more than you ever were.’

How do you fix that? For one crazy moment, he considers the invis again. Turning translucent and running, back to Techno- back to Technoblade who'd congratulate him on 'moving on' and tell Phil like he was proud and probably write that line on the fucking wall, how could he be such a monumental ass- 

"Tubbo?" Their eyes meet. Tubbo says nothing. 

"Give him the disc." 

He looks bewildered, "You want me to give Dream the disc?" He says, the tiniest sliver of something they used to have peeking through, the bearest hint of kindness, and bless him, it's more than Tommy deserves. It makes him want to go invisible again. 

He smiles softly, and it can't reach his eyes, but he pours every ounce of good left in him into it and desperately hopes it's enough.

"Yeah." And because he's fucked up, because he knows they can never go back from this: "I'm sorry Tubbo." 

--- 

He's done it again, he keeps fucking up. Sam's hand is holding him down by the shoulder, firm fingers digging into him, keeping him from reaching Ghostbur. 

He tried so hard. His throat is sore from not coughing. His muscles hurt from the pure tension and adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, from his stubborn heart to the ends of his fingers and toes. He thought he'd gotten caught when he drank the potion in the waivers room, and his heart had been beating so loud that he'd thought Sam could hear it. 

Yet, they made it. But it doesn't matter, because he pulled out the axe too early, and now he's busted, and Sam's gonna kill him or Wilbur's going to come back or both, and it's all his fault. 

Every time he tries. Every time he tries to fix things, or do what's right, or have something for himself, it's taken away, destroyed and he's kicked to the ground. Every time. 

It's enough to make anyone want to be invisible.

[jisungscaramel]

vexation | hyunjin

❀ genre; smut, college au, enemies au  ❀ pairing; hyunjin x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 2.7k 

[warning] strong language, explicit sexual content, dry humping, (mild) begging, hate sex

There it was: Hwang Hyunjin, name beautifully printed right above yours. You shuddered in complete disgust, not believing that you were paired with him of all people for your history presentation. There were 34 students in the class; that meant you had a whopping 97% chance of being paired with literally anyone else, but no. Your professor, Dr. Zhang, just had to pair you with him. 

Overachiever: that was an understatement. He was the type to want all of the glory for the taking, the type to enjoy making others feel like they were dumb, the type who had no issue in forsaking common morals for his own gain. 

You couldn’t fucking stand him. 

Begrudgingly, you stood up from your original seat, trudging your feet to sit next to him - at your professor’s instruction, of course. You planned on at least being polite, and you thought for a second that he might do the same, but he didn’t even bother looking at you, staring through to the front of the room, eyes stoic. If he was trying to provoke you, it was definitely working. 

You dropped your backpack to the ground, unceremoniously, sound drowning in the increasing levels of chatter in the small lecture hall, but clearly loud enough to make his composure teeter; his head jerked back a millimeter, a minuscule gesture but it was painfully obvious to you. And you let out an equally obvious slew of snickers before sitting back in the seat, neck meeting the old frayed fabric as you tilted your head back, arms stacking on one another as you folded them, woman spreading to occupy more real estate than you actually required.

You had to at least try to keep yourself amused. 

Hyunjin began scribbling mindlessly on a blank piece of paper - still acting as if you were not even there. 

He slammed the white sheet down on your knee, sending vibrations straight up your leg rather rudely. 

Asshole. 

Oh, baby, he hadn’t even started yet. 

“Okay. We’re doing our paper on I-Hotel and… I’m gonna write it. All you have to do is find these books for me at the library.” He turned to look at you with a very aggravating smirk… maybe you’d notice the tiniest hint of flirtation if the feeling of overwhelming irritation didn’t encompass you. 

But the chance passed when his countenance morphed into counterfeit concern, tapping his chin in contemplation for added effect, “although, I think the library’s computer system is down… I guess you gotta find them the old-fashioned way.” God, you just wanted to smack that smug grin right off his face. “I’d love to help you with that... but I’m just too busy…” It should’ve been illegal for intolerable people to be that gorgeous.

You blinked in complete confusion. “Ummm… excuse me?” 

“I’m… sorry… do… I… need… to … talk… slower…?”

You gingerly picked up the piece of paper, promptly getting up from your chair, glaring at him. You made sure your backpack was secure on your shoulder before dramatically lifting the note in front of his face to tear what he wrote to shreds, scattering the bits over his laptop’s keyboard. “Stick a motherfucking cactus up your ass.” 

You stormed out of that hall with your head high, not daring to look back despite your innate desire to see his response - you were sure it was priceless. 

‘I’ll just have to do this damn thing on my own.’

Oh, if it could only be that simple. 

The first thing that popped up on your laptop when you opened it from the safety of the library was an unexpected email. 

Since you ripped up my list - rather rudely I might add - I’ve attached the list of the books I require. I will be at the library at four PM sharp. Please plan accordingly. Hyunjin 

“Fuck.” 

‘Plan accordingly,’ your ass, according to you, your plan was to minimize the amount of time you had to spend dealing with Hyunjin, and you had been 100% sure he had the same sentiment… so much for that. 

Speaking of the devil, as soon as you decided to dismiss his outlandish request and settle in to get some of your research started, Hyunjin yanked your attention away from your laptop with merely his presence, almost as if your nerves were hypersensitive to his saccharine dipped aura, and most definitely not to the signature sway of his frame as he walked. 

You didn’t dare grant him the luxury of your direct gaze. Instead, you kept a close eye on him in your peripheral, hoping you’d blend in with the people around you… but there was still at least a 92% chance he’d see you.

“Did you get my sources?” and now he was right in front of you, nothing but a measly table in between. 

Your nostrils flared in an effort to not retort back at Hyunjin, eyes still fixed on your screen in a successful attempt to ignore him. 

Then he pushed your laptop closed, hand planted firmly on the device rather invasively. “Excuse me, I’m talking to you.”

You gritted your teeth, tilting your head up in a menacing stare, eyes narrowing, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you want?” 

God, you didn’t know his smile could get more fake than it already was. “I told you to get my sources for me,” his tone was exaggeratedly slow, “did you get my sources?” 

You shoved his hand away from your laptop. “Get your own sources.” 

Immediately his fake smile turned into a sincere snicker, rolling his eyes off to the side. “Uptight bitch.” 

His words sank in for a moment. “You wanna say that again?” 

He leaned over the table, face a mere six inches from yours. “Uptight,” you could feel your fists involuntarily clenching, digging into your palms what would soon be prominent crescents in a matter of seconds, “bitch.” 

You almost raised your palm to gratuitously slap him across the face but the simmering mellowness in you kept a tight grasp of your boiling anger. You leaned back in your seat in an effort to widen the physical gap (or the lack thereof) between you. “Fuck off.”

<><><><><><> 

“Hyunjin, y/n, can you both come down to the podium,” Dr. Zhang added at the end of his lecture, halting your plans to b-line straight to the library. 

As the aisles began to empty, you made your way down the steps to the front of the room, purposefully standing at the side opposite of Hyunjin, frankly paying no mind to him for all intents and purposes. 

Your professor glanced between you two, clearly noticing the oddity of the image but purposefully choosing to ignore it. 

“I noticed that both of you submitted first drafts for your paper, and at first I thought it was an accident, until I opened both files and realized you’re writing completely separate papers. Care to explain?” 

“Yeah y/n, care to explain?” What a fucking dicktard. 

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you wracked your brain for some feasible excuse. “Well,” but nothing came to mind… oh fuck it, “we’ve had issues working with each other.” 

Dr. Zhang raised an eyebrow cautiously. “Elaborate.”

“We really don’t get along.”

He sighed, crossing his arms. “Well you’re gonna have to try to find some middle ground. I’ll give you two a second chance to put a first draft together. If you can submit a collaborative piece by midnight, I’ll still give you full credit for that part. If not, it stays as a zero. Subsequently, you will keep getting zeroes for the following checkpoints if you submit them separately. Any questions?” 

“No, sir,” much to your surprise, that was the first moment thus far wherein both you and Hyunjin were on the same wavelength. 

“Good, that is all.” 

You felt like two negatively charged magnets as you walked side by side up the aisle to the exit. “I’m not getting a zero for this,” Hyunjin spoke up. 

You rolled your eyes. “At least we can agree on that.”

As the cold, crisp air of the outside refreshed your nerves, he lightly gripped your shoulder, swerving you to face him. “Look, I know we’re like oil and water, but I’m willing to at least try to get along for the grade.” His fingers trembled on your shoulder; his teeth lightly grazed his bottom lip, eyes searching yours for a sign of truce. 

Needless to say, the sentiment from him was unexpected. You exhaled deeply, brushing his hand from you. “Fine.”

<><><><><><><> 

But two hours spent alone in a library study room proved to be more difficult than originally anticipated. Trying to work together felt like pulling teeth - a true collaboration of absolute vexation.  

“What about this passage?” You pointed to some text in a book you were sifting through. 

He swiveled his chair around, only looking at your find for a solid half a second before, turning back around. “Nah, that’s not good enough to use as evidence.” 

“What the fuck, Hyunjin? You didn’t even read it.”

“I didn’t have to. I assumed whatever you found was as subpar as everything else you’ve ‘found.’”

You dropped the book on the table with a loud plonk, partially in shock at what he said and partially due to a natural tendency to want to irritate him. “Well let’s see what you ‘found,’” leaning over the table in a relaxed manner, carrying a dash of nonchalance as you scrolled through his writing. “You call this good evidence?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” You wanted to laugh at his defensive tone. 

“It’s obvious that you’re framing your own narrative by taking shit outta context. Not to mention all the ellipses and brackets are terrifically horrendous, visually. You’re taking literally all the credibility out.” 

“What do you know? I doubt you even read that article,” he dismissed your legitimate critique in a manner you unfortunately predicted. 

“As a matter of fact, I did… two. hours. ago. And you told me the article didn’t seem ‘reliable’ enough for you, but here you are… you must think I’m fucking stupid.” 

The side of his lips curved up in the slightest smirk. “Not true, I think you’re annoyingly absentminded.” 

You rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time in the past minute, whispering, “fucking cockmaggot,” under your breath, diverting your attention back to your screen. 

“What did you just say?” His tone suggested he wasn’t being rhetorical - he really didn’t hear you. There was something cute and innocent about his ignorance, the way his lips formed a subtle pout unintentionally, nose wrinkling in distaste. You mentally shook the image from your head, cursing yourself for thinking he was… ‘cute’ to begin with. 

“Nothing, My Liege, nothing at all,” mocking sarcasm spilled from your lips as you parted them to give them a disapproving smack. “This is complete shit; we can’t submit this.”

Hyunjin slammed his laptop closed, standing up abruptly. The action took you by surprise, making your neck shudder in a startle. “I can’t fucking do this anymore. Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?” Pent up rage was slathered all over his face, eyes twitching, eyebrows tightly knitting together, jaw unhinging from an excess of epinephrine. 

His anger diffused to you, violently charging your nerves. There was no way you were just gonna take his shit sitting down. “Why do you,” you stood up, chair rocking back from the velocity of your limbs, “have to be,” you turned around and gripped his collar with both hands, “such an insufferable asshole?” 

He was dumbfounded, wordless much to your satisfaction, but his eyes were unwavering, devoid of reaction. The time you spent stabbing each other with your unfaltering gazes felt like a goddamn eternity, tension coarse, sinfully tangible on your skin. 

It was fucking stifling. 

Before you even realized what was happening, your lips were latched together in a fervent frenzy, tension thickening for an entirely different reason now. 

There was something so breathtaking about the way his lips tightened against yours - literally. It felt like he was siphoning your soul from your body - any thought that dared to grace your mind oddly dissolved into nothingness as Hyunjin molded your lips into submission, tongue colonizing your oral cavity in an authoritative manner that was so in character for him. 

Not that you gave a fuck. 

His hands aggressively tugged at your waist; the impact of your body crashing onto his sent pangs up your spine, and in seconds, your back thudded against the wall, maintaining the momentum. You had to grip his shoulders purely for support, and definitely not because you were immersing in the moment.

You felt his grip loosen as his hands roamed downward, playfully drawing patterns on your skin with his fingers en route. And then they constricted around your thighs, lifting them up to his hips, and you hooked your ankles around his back as if it was the natural thing to do. 

The fabric of his pants became taut around the building frustration underneath, becoming oh so apparent to you when he started steady grinding against the thin fabric of your underwear - why did you have to wear a skirt today of all days?

You passed a reluctant whimper through his lips, wholly unable to deny the way your pulsing desire radiated heat through your core at the increasing friction. 

You broke away from the kiss, gasping. “Hyunjin…” you whispered almost breathlessly, desperation filling you as he continued his tantalizing test of your patience. 

“Hmmm?” There it was: that signature smug grin, but by this point, your senses were too preoccupied to even register it. 

“I can’t take this anymore.”

“Is that so?” He lifted you off the wall, pushing your laptops to either side so he could lay you on the table, spreading your legs to give him clear sight of your dampening sex. He snickered. “You look much better like this…” While ghosting one hand around your inner thighs, conveniently avoiding the place you needed him the most, he undid the button and zipper of his jeans with the other, sliding them down to his knees. 

You found yourself licking your lips at the silhouette of his bulge, now more prominent with less restricting fabric. Of course, he noticed; “so these are you true colors… I never would’ve thought you were such a dirty girl.” He brushed his fingers over the waistband of your underwear. “Where do you need me?” He pressed his thumb on your clit, “here?” 

Your teeth pressed down on your lips in an effort to stifle a moan. “Yes…” and even though you were successful the first time, there was no stopping the sounds from seeping through your lips when Hyunjin slammed his clothed erection on you once more, picking up exactly where he left off just moments ago. 

“Please, Hyunjin…” he pushed your thighs further apart, keeping them in place. 

“‘Please,’ what?” 

“I need you inside me, please.” 

His sinister laugh filled the small room. “I don’t know if you deserve it.” 

“Fucking asswipe.” 

“Now that doesn’t sound very convincing…” 

You groaned in pleasurable displeasure. “Hyunjin… please, I’m begging you. I really can’t take this.” 

“Don’t you care if someone tries to come in?” He raised an eyebrow, partially in curiosity, mostly in amusement. 

You glared right into his eyes. “No.” 

He shook his head, clicking his tongue as he stood back. “Get up.” Any urge you had to defy him before was long gone; you did as he asked and he harshly turned you around by your waist, pushing you toward one of the windows. 

While pushing you down against the glass with one hand, he reached in his front pocket with the other, grabbing a condom. He ripped the packaging with his teeth, skillfully sliding his boxers down to slip the vinyl over him. 

Not wanting to wait any longer, you aided him by pulling your panty down leaving yourself completely exposed for his taking, and you quickly pushed your hands on the glass, bracing yourself for the next few seconds, but nothing could’ve prepared you for that stretch that came. Your wrist slid down on the window pane to bite back a scream. 

“So tight.” 

 ><><><><><><><

A/N I’mma be honest: I had a fucking field day coming up with all those weird insults

[tamakissimp]

headcanon- galaxy s/o

summary: they have an s/o with galaxy eyes and with the quirk ‘moondust’. Moondust grants its user the ability to create a sleepinducing powder, tasting similar to vanilla sugar.

characters: Bakugo, Shinsou, Sero, and Hawks

request: anon- Bakugo, Shinsou, Sero, and Hawks with a fem!s/o that has galaxy eyes. She has purple-blue eyes with star patterns and constellations in them that changes when she blinks, doesn’t blush red instead her skin gets these star freckles and dust on her face and ears when flustered (if she has dark skin, it makes the stars pop out even more), and if she ever cries, her tears are hella sparkly. If she has a quirk, her quirk allows her to use Moondust which is like a sleeping powder depending on the amount but she likes to use it to help others sleep and relax (she can even make them into tea and powdered sugar for treats)

𝕓𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕘𝕠𝕦

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟛𝟜𝟟

He is a hardcore simp for you. He will stare into your eyes for hours on end.

Never gets enough of the way the colours swirl and change.

Bakugou starts to get into astronomy. He wants to know what stars and constellations are displayed on your skin and eyes.

"That's the small bear. And that's sagitta. And that's-"

"I know what's on my face, Bakugou.".

Ever since he learned that stars pop up on your skin instead of a blush, he made it his mission to make you blush whenever possible.

Bakugou likes to tease everyone. Throwing insults at people, weird nicknames or just screaming at them. He loved to teach you, though, in a sweeter way.

He would randomly come up behind you and whisper things in your ear. Most of the time, just sweet nothings. Other times compliments or words of encouragement. And every time he achieved his goal. Sparkling stars popping up on your cheeks and the galaxies displayed in your eyes seemed to glow brighter.

"Teddy bear," Bakugou says. His hand snakes around you to rest on your waist. His sweet caramelly scent floods through your nose. You smile up at him.

Bakugou's vermillion eyes stare into yours. "Blink for me, baby," he says. You do as he commands. The colours swirling in your eyes change from bright green to dark indigo. Constellations move around your pupil. Bakugou could stare at your eyes forever. Your eyes, plus the stars that glistened on your skin whenever he's around always made his heart swell.

"Again," he says, softer this time. His free hand moves up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes over the constellations on your skin. He remembers them, he always does. Your skin seemed to reflect the stars above, changing along with them.

"You're kinda beautiful, idiot," he whispers. More stars pop up on your cheeks, dusting over your nose and onto your forehead.

"Just kinda? I'm hurt," you say as you put on a fake pout. Bakugou rolls his eyes before removing his hand from your cheek.  

"Okay, Jesus, you're really beautiful," he says. "Happy now?". You nod at him. He groans but you can see through his tough-guy facade.

"You're beautiful too," you say before pressing your lips softly against his. A blush reddens Bakugou's cheeks. His normal response would be to pull away and call you names. Though, he doesn't. He can't. His body moves on its own and melts in your touch.

Bakugou's arms snake around you as your hand travels up to lace through his spikey hair. "So beautiful," you whisper.

𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕦

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟜𝟟𝟠

He is a simp for you but unlike Bakugou, he will admit it. He has no shame in telling you - or others for that matter - how beautiful you are.

The wallpaper on his phone is probably a zoomed-in picture of your eyes. It scares the crap out of you every time you open his phone.

Shinso would have already shown you off to other people, regardless of your quirk. But now, he likes making you blush in front of others. Just so they can see that someone as beautiful as you would want to be with him.

It's a known fact that Shinso is a terrible insomniac, so he definitely uses your moondust.

The only sound in the kitchen is the slow breathing coming from both you and Shinso and the soft bubbling from the milk. You gently turn the stove off and grab a mug. You pour the milk from the little pan into the mug. Wisps of steam float up from mug.

You hold your hand above the mug. The white powder flows out of your palm and into the milk. A soft vanilla aroma circles through the kitchen. You grab the spoon you had grabbed and place it in the mug, swirling the milk around for a bit before handing the steaming beverage to Shinso.

"Thanks," he whispers. His voice is so soft that you could have almost mistaken it for the wind blowing outside the building. You shoot him a soft smile, though he can't see it in the dark. All he sees are the galaxies swirling in your eyes and the stars on your cheeks. Soft speckles of light illuminating your features just enough for him to know one thing: you're beautiful.

Shinso keeps his eyes focused on you as he takes small sips of hot milk. Vanilla coats his tongue in all the right ways. Your quirk immediately takes effect on his body. Warmth rushing through his cells as if someone has just draped a blanket over his body.

Time slows down as Shinso's eyes grow droopy. A lazy smile tugs on his lips. "Sleepy yet?" you ask. He nods before drinking the final sip of his milk. He places the mug onto the counter a little too roughly, as the clanking echoes through the deserted kitchen. "Come on," you whisper.

He nods before walking over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he lets you guide him towards his dorm. Shinso's eyes are fixed on cheeks. Lazily, one of his hands reaches out to touch them. More stars pop up on your skin at his touch.

"Thank you," he says again. You look over at him and smile. His heart warms up at the sight of you.

"It was just milk, 'Toshi," you say. Pride flows through him at the nickname. Shinso shakes his head. He lets go of you momentarily to open his dorm room. He lets you enter first before gently closing the door behind you.

"Not just the milk," he says. Shinso walks over to you and grabs your wrist before dragging you towards the bed. You get the note and climb into it, lifting the covers for him. He slides into the warm bed and snuggles into your side. "Thank you, for loving me.".

You blink a couple of times at him at the words. Quickly though, a smile tugs on your lips. You place a couple of kisses on top of his head. "Thank you for loving me," he whispers a final time before drifting off into sleep.

𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕠

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟚𝟝𝟞

Hanta is more mesmerized by your eyes than your cheeks. He can see the stars every night in the sky but he can't see the galaxies that are swirling in your eyes anywhere else.

He'll lay in his hammock with you for hours on end while gazing into each other's eyes.

He'll show you off to the Bakusquad all the time. Dragging you around along with him while goofing off with Kirishima or Denki became a regular thing.

If you're even the tiniest bit insecure about your looks, he'll keep on showering you in compliments until you feel better.

"No way," Sero says. "If I can't use simp than thembo is not a word.". Kirishima shakes his head at his friend while taking his letters of the scrabble board.

"That's kinda transphobic. Not very manly," Kirishima says. Sero immediately perks up.

"Is not!" he exclaims. "Thembo's are totally valid but if I can't use simp than it's not a word. Mi Amore, back me up!". He wraps his arm around your shoulder as he shoots you a hopeful smile.

You look between Hanta and Kirishima. "I mean," you say. "Hanta has a point.". Kirishima puts on a fake pout. While Santa laughs his ass off. "Rules are rules.".

"You're just playing favourites," Kirishima says before laying another word down onto another word, a real one this time. Fuji, the small pieces say.

"That's the best you got?" Bakugou scoffs before placing his letters onto the board. Kaki. Not a super good word but he managed to put it down in a way that he got two triple-word-values.

"God fucking dammit," Hanta says. He looks down to his letters and then up at you. "Let me see those pretty eyes. I need my lucky charm.". Stars start to pop up on your cheeks as you gaze up at him. You blink a couple of times and Santa gets entranced by the swirling colours.

He gets pulled out of it when Bakugou's voice echoes through his room. "Fucking simp," he says. Hanta looks up.

"So now it's a word, huh?" he says before looking back to you again. "Don't worry babe, I'll be a simp for you all day, any day.". He places a kiss onto your cheek before turning back to his game of scrabble again.

𝕙𝕒𝕨𝕜𝕤

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟚𝟞𝟛

Hawks have always liked the stars. Midnight flights have a therapeutic effect on him. So when he saw your eyes for the first time, he felt weirdly at peace.

Now, it's become a daily thing. Before he goes to work and right after, he places you in his lap. He encases you both with his wings while he stares into your eyes for hours.

He has trouble falling asleep most night. His mind is always plagued by nightmares, so he often uses your moondust. Either it's placebo or it has a second effect than drowsiness, but he never has nightmares when he uses it.

Just like Shinso, his wallpaper on his phone is a picture of your eyes. When Hawks is on patrol, he'll ask for videos of your eyes.

He loves the stars on your cheeks. He won't call himself a simp, but, he definitely is one for you when he sees the bright stars twinkling on your skin.

"Why are you looking at me?" you ask. You can feel Keigo's eyes burning into your skin, though you keep your eyes focused on the sky above you. A stargazing date on top of a skyscraper, how romantic.

"Because you're pretty," he says. He's leaning his elbow on the gravely ground so he can rest his chin in his palm. You roll over slightly so you can look back at him.

His golden eyes always shine the prettiest underneath the stars. A stary blush dusts itself over your cheeks. "But the stars are up there," you say.  Keigo shakes his head.

"No," he says before pointing at your face. "They're over here.". More stars taint your cheeks. You bring a hand up in an attempt to hide them but Keigo swats it away. "Baby, I want to see them.". His voice is whiney, yet full of love.

You maintain eye contact with him for a couple of minutes. Neither of you says a word. The bustling sounds coming from the city beneath you seems to calm you both down.

"The stars can never compare to you," Keigo suddenly says. He crawls closer to you until you can feel his breath against your cheek. One of his wings stretches out above you, acting as a shield. The crimson feather blocks the moonlight from illuminating your face.

In the darkness, your eyes seem to glow even brighter. One of Keigo's hands comes up to caress your cheeks. His thumb brushes over the twinkling stars dusting your skin. "Nothing can compare to you," he breathes out.

[ri-ahhh]

if you ever get in the mood to write anything take it back part two would be lovely😉 only if you’re okay with it of course

Y’all the sheer amount of requests I’ve gotten for this..🤯 Idk what exactly you want because it felt pretty complete to me but you win lol here it is.

take it back: pt. 2

***

He’s always an early riser. You love that about him. Productive and motivated almost to a fault, Grayson Dolan can always be counted on to answer his phone at the ripe time of 7:45 AM.

So when your 8:13 AM call goes to voicemail, your stomach drops.

Granted, it did ring all the way through; he could be sleeping, or working out, or...busy.

But he always manages to answer for you. Even if he’s huffing for breath in-between sets, or barely cognizant of where he is or what time it is after an afternoon nap, you can usually count on his deep voice to be on the other line of that phone.

You feel incredibly vulnerable and somehow more exposed than ever as you lie naked under your covers, just as you were when he left a few hours ago. A gaping part of you left in the open with his potential rejection. Just as you had probably done to him in the early hours of the morning.

Your heart joins your stomach, and you can’t stop yourself from typing out a text to cover yourself.

Did you make it home ok?

You toss your phone with a frustrated sigh to the side of the bed and draw your covers up to your nose. The empty space is vast and cold and makes your throat tighten.

Your phone buzzes, and you snatch it up. A snap from your best friend.

Instagram notifications.

A ‘good morning, have a good day’ text from your mom.

Another Snapchat. A work email. More texts from people who don’t have a little strong arm emoji next to their name.

You’re about to try and pull some sort of reverse psychology bullshit on yourself and go take a shower and pretend like you’re not going to expect a reply from him by the time you get out. But then, just as you’ve tossed your blankets and sheets aside, your phone buzzes fatefully.

[Gray💪🏼] Yeah, thanks

Ironically enough, it’s the worst reply you could have hoped for even though it’s the most logical one.

You bite your lip, chewing it worriedly as you continue your trip to the bathroom. Despite the fact that he responded completely appropriately, you don’t think you’re imagining the dryness in his two words. As stupid and ridiculous as it seems, you know Grayson well enough to detect that.

Good.

Are you busy today?

That’s safe enough. Your surge of bravery has dissipated since he clearly chose to ignore your call in favor of texting. You don’t want to scare him with anything as heavy and loaded as “can we talk?”

You lean against the counter and watch the bubbles pop up on the screen.

[Gray💪🏼] Nah not really. I’m tired tho

Fuck. The rejection before the offer hurts. Your eyes prickle stubbornly.

But then you look in the mirror, and your focus is drawn to a couple of distinct purple marks on your collarbone. You finger them delicately, and rather than the annoyance you might have felt with anyone else, your heart warms.

He’s broken yet another rule. And now, so are you — excited and pleased by the evidence of himself he’s left on your skin.

And you remember the thought that prompted this whole thing to begin with. You’re scared, but it’s worth it. He’s worth it.

Your fingers fly. Can I come over? Please?

He takes long enough to reply that your phone screen goes black, and another minute passes before you realize how idiotic you must look standing naked in your bathroom staring at a blank screen. This is the shit about relationships that you don’t like: the fear, the games, the unknowns. It’s almost too much already.

You distract yourself by turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature right where you want it. And when you turn back around, blood pounds in your ears when you see the lit screen through the reflection of the mirror.

[Gray💪🏼] Okay

***

If you’ve ever taken a quicker shower, you don’t remember when. You rinsed the night off for good, barely detangling any knots from your hair before instinctively reaching for one of his sweatshirts to pair with your jean shorts without even realizing it. It hits you as you throw on some eyebrow gel and mascara where your top came from, and you debate taking it off in case he’s upset with you.

You wouldn’t blame him if he were. The mixed signals you had thrown at him last night were inconsiderate to say the least. Blowing him off only to run right back into his arms, but with more clarity to be fair to yourself just a little bit.

You toss your lip gloss on the counter before you can do what you do best and overthink every aspect of this man, and head straight out the door.

When he lets you into his house half an hour later, he looks hesitant and drawn, but not unkind. Flushed fresh from a workout. Muscles glistening familiarly. Hair flopping into his face. It’s all incredibly distracting, but you push those thoughts aside as you smile at him sheepishly and pass through the open door.

“What’s up?” he asks once he’s led you into the kitchen.

You sit on a barstool and chew a piece of skin around your thumbnail as he watches you out of the corner of his eye while he chugs from his hydroflask. His Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow, and you look away for a moment to gather your nerve.

“I wanted to...talk,” you manage to spit out. You take your thumb out of your mouth in favor of playing with a leaf that had fallen from the flower vase in front of you. You can’t meet his eyes right now.

There’s a silence long enough that it makes you finally look up at him. He’s staring at you, brow cocked slightly, arms crossed across his broad chest.

“Okay. About what?”

You stare back. His handsome face gives you the confidence and courage to keep going.

“I’m bad at this,” you admit. The leaf crumples in your fingertips. “Talking. Relationships. All of it.”

“I know. So am I.”

You smile, small but grateful. He returns it.

“I told you to take it back. That kiss you gave me, before you left.”

Grayson’s cheeks, having returned to a normal hue in the AC, then pink again. He glances off to the side and clears his throat, a hand running through his messy hair. “Uh, yeah. I remember.”

Your heart disintegrates as much as the leaf in your grasp at the visible proof that you had, indeed, hurt him on some level. But you’re here to make it right. For both of you. In whatever ass-backwards way you can think of to make that happen, because you definitely haven’t thought the words out at all.

“Well... I want — I take it back,” you admit quietly.

The fear and frustration are all worth it when you see the utter look of surprise cross his features. His eyes are grey this morning, one of their many colors and your personal favorite, and they widen almost comically. His pretty pink lips part slightly, his fist clenching on the counter for a brief moment.

But then he has a few seconds to process your confession, and your heart skips a beat when you see the corner of his mouth turn up enough to expose a dimple. “You take back your ‘take it back?’”

You bite your lip through your own smile as his grows wider, and you nod. “Yeah. I do.”

“Why?”

You hadn’t expected that. But shockingly, it’s the easiest part of this whole ordeal.

You reach your hand out and wrap your slim fingers around his thick, calloused ones, gripping them tightly. “Because. You’re you. And I’m happiest when you’re around, no matter what activity we may or may not be doing.”

He laughs, and you tug on his hand to indicate you want him to join you without a slab of marble separating the two of you.

“And because you’re the only person I could ever imagine breaking all of my rules for. And if you can forgive me for being such a hardheaded idiot, I’d really like to prove that to you.”

Now directly in front of you, Grayson towers above you. He grins and lets go of your hand to wrap your arms around his waist, then cups your cheeks in both hands. You close your eyes and you sigh at the feel of those giant palms holding you so tenderly, and the urge to run doesn’t affect you even the tiniest bit.

He leans down, until you feel him stop just centimeters from meeting your lips with his. Your lashes flutter open confusedly, only to see those eyes looking at you with an affectionate expression you’ve never let yourself consider too deeply until now.

“If you really want to take back your take it back,” he whispers, his breath fanning against your sensitive lips and making you shiver, “then come and get it.”

Your whole body heats at his words, and you giggle before throwing yourself completely into his arms and crushing your lips together. He chuckles too against your mouth, and shifts his hands under your ass so you can wrap your legs around his waist, your kiss heated and sincere but also playful.

“Can I take all of you back?” you ask him once you’ve pulled away for a moment, playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

You’re so caught up in his face that you’re unaware that he’s moving the two of you down the hall until his bedroom door shuts quickly behind him with his swift kick.

“All of me, baby. All of me.”

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 14!!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

“We’ve got a few minutes,” Abeille said as they sat on the roof of a nearby building. “Let’s have some fun while we’re sitting here! I don’t know- swing around a few buildings. Beat up some thugs. Gotham’s gotta have a few of those snooping about.”

“No, Abeille.” Marinette shot the idea down immediately. “It’s our first impression with them. They need to see us as real heroes, not a bunch of kids fooling around.”

“You’re no fun ever since you got back from your date with Wayne,” Chloé pouted, igniting Marinette’s sigh of- “yeah, yeah, no identity stuff. But still. Go on one afternoon outing and now you’ve got just as much of a stick up your ass as he did.”

“Maybe they traded out.” Adrien grinned at her, cat eyes brilliant in the darkness. “Somewhere, Damian Wayne is being fun and happy and probably shocking everyone who knows him. And we got stuck with grumpy pants over here.”

Marinette groaned. “I just want this to go well, guys. I don’t think we’ll have a second shot at reaching out for help like this-“ she cut off as movement caught her eyes. The building she’d been watching now had three figures atop it, small but silhouetted against the night sky. Quickly, one vanished just as quickly into shadow again.

“I think we’re up,” Marinette breathed to the other two. “Chat, you’ve got Trixx?”

The Kwami poked his head out. “I’m ready. Just say when.”

“Now,” Marinette ordered, and with the kwami’s power Chat flickered invisible. With a look at Chloé and the count of three, they both leapt from the building, making their way to Wayne Enterprises. She could hear Chat’s movement if she tried, but she was looking for it. She just hoped their arrival would mask his, and that he could hide well enough that they wouldn’t see him immediately when the illusion ran out.

The Wayne Building was tall, and Marinette bounded up it, propelled by her super strength and the retracting of her yo-yo, wrapped around some jutting piece of architecture at the top. Chloé was right beside her as they vaulted the edge, landing neatly on the rooftop, and she just barely heard the soft landing that indicated Adrien had made it. In sync with them, it was unnoticeable.

There were two heroes waiting for them. Red Robin again, who looked almost- excited to see them. And the other had to be Robin, with the red-green-yellow ensemble. She assumed immediately that the third figure had been Batman himself- and that they had been trying to play the exact same game as them, in bringing a hidden extra party. She kept herself from smirking. Reputation or no, they had magic to hide Adrien. And she already knew someone else on their side was there.

“You must be Ladybug. And Reine Abeille.” Red Robin started, voice warm and welcoming. It set Marinette off immediately. “I’m glad Miss Dupain-Cheng was able to set up this meeting for you. From what I’ve gathered, there’s been some pretty terrible things going on in Paris.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. He’d known absolutely nothing about it last night. So he must have been doing his research in the intervening hours. What all had he found?

“Then you know about the magical terrorists, Hawkmoth and Mayura,” Marinette let her inner Ladybug out, her voice commanding.

“Well, not so much,” Red Robin tilted his head, and Marinette suddenly pinned it in her mind: this was some sort of- gimmick. A test? They wanted to see how much she’d just go spilling to them. “There isn’t much that makes it onto accessible news sources. Everything I know comes straight from your LadyBugOut App.”

“Tt. The app barely tells us anything, Red Robin. For all we know, they could be playing us for fools.” Robin leaned away from his casual, dismissive stance on the wall, in towards them. “Why should we believe you when the only proof you have is your own word and videos that could have been created and edited by you?”

As he stood up and walked closer, Marinette felt anger thrumming in her veins. So this was their strategy- one of them open and ready to listen and believe, the other derogatory and making them angry so they revealed more than they wanted to. “I suppose when you put it like that, the evidence doesn’t hold up,” She said coldly. “But if you wish, I also suppose I could bring you back to Paris and wait a bit. Proof comes just about once a day now, and the last akuma was almost twenty hours ago.”

The boy didn’t answer her, but under his mask she could practically feel the weight of his disinterest and disbelief, whether or not it was an act to pry information from her.

“No need for anything like that,” Red Robin soothed.

“No,” Abeille cut him off. “I think there is a need. We didn’t come here to be baited for information by you. If you want to know something, ask. But don’t play games and don’t try to trick us. We’ll pull our third out of hiding, if you want to bring your other two members up here and actually talk to us.”

“Two?” Red Robin gaped. “But-“

Marinette gazed at him coolly as he floundered. If Chloé was bluffing, she’d bluffed wrong. But both her senses and Chat’s were a bit higher strung than hers...

She said, “Chat?” And out of the darkness her partner sprang, vaulting off the roof and returning half a moment later with Red Hood clutched beside. As he did so, Batman slunk out of whatever corner of shadow he’d hidden in, and immediately Chat separated himself.

“That’s what I thought,” Chloé smirked, and Marinette turned back to Red Robin, who’s face was open and bemused, and Robin, whose face didn’t give nearly so much away. But all of the hostility that had been there before had melted away, so she felt it prudent to stop glaring.

“Now, if we could all behave like adults and actually discuss the situation in Paris,” Chat Noir dusted himself off. “It’s getting late, and this cat has a nap he’d like to get back to.”

“Late?” Red Hood looked up at the sky, which had only just lost the last color from dusk. There weren’t any stars.

“In Paris,” Marinette said dryly. “We’re a bit ahead of you.”

“Tell us about Hawkmoth,” Batman ordered, and she felt herself almost snap to attention. The man had a voice that made you want to listen, funnily enough for his seemingly reclusive nature as a vigilante.

“We’ve been fighting him for four years now,” Marinette started. “Our abilities are powered by the jewelry we wear- called the Miraculous- and Hawkmoth has two that we believe were stolen at least ten years ago, but it is quite possible that he has possessed them for longer. The Butterfly Broach gives him the ability to find people with large amounts of emotion- he generally targets those who are sad or angry- and he turns them into monstrous versions of the victims called Akuma. His partner, Mayura, uses the Peacock broach. It grants a similar ability, but it is able to transform items and not people into Sentimonsters that usually assist the Akumas Hawkmoth creates. She appears much less frequently, and her monsters are less reliable- they’ll disappear before battles are over, without warning.”

“And what do they want?” Robin asked, face hard.

She faced him again. “Hawkmoth’s ultimate goal is to claim both mine and Chat Noir’s Miraculous. They grant us, individually, the powers of Destruction and Creation. With the two combined, he would be able to rewrite the world in any way his heart desires- which is terrible enough, but each wish also comes with a severe price. The kind of price that once started the Black Plague, or sank Atlantis into the Sea.”

“He could rewrite history, crown himself King of everything, and then the world might split in two to balance it out or something?” Red Hood chuckled. “Kid, pull the other one.”

He was met with three faces of stone.

“We have watched Paris burn.” Chat said coldly, voice like ice. “We have watched it’s people drown. The whole city, reduced to rubble, people enslaved by the whims of this madman. Maybe, at the beginning, we laughed it off like you did. But this- monster- has attacked people for years, with no repercussions, and it is only by the grace of my Lady’s Miraculous Cure that Paris still exists.”

“Each time he does this- each time someone dies in battle, each time the Eiffel Tower is obliterated, each time we have to usher our people into safe houses and subways so they don’t have to see the bodies and the destruction-“ Abeille shook her head. “Each time could be the time he wins. Each time could be the time Ladybug can’t cast the Cure. Each time is another layer of proof that no matter what he wishes for, Hawkmoth could never wish for anything that wouldn’t be hurting someone, in some way, that he would never care or even think about.”

“And the Wish itself, Monsieur Hood,” Marinette took up, “is as ruthless as it is fair. Balance between luck and misfortune, between good and bad, between creation and destruction is the balance the fate of our world relies on. One man’s wish for a successful harvest after several lean years resulted in the eruption of Vesuvius and the destruction of Pompeii. With what Hawkmoth has shown he is willing to do- I would not trust him with these jewels if he were the last living hands on earth to place them into.”

The three heroes watched, silent, as their words sank in to the stunned vigilantes of Gotham.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree

[popculturebuffet]

Green Eggs and Ham: “Train” Review or A Little Better Now (Patreon Review for Emma Fici)

Hello you happy people and all aboard! We’re back on the Green Eggs and Ham Train for a Train themed episode. Train. As you can tell I like trains... admitely I don’t see enough episodes et on them and I don’t buy books or obess on them but I like the idea of a train, the comfort, the use of a mode of travel that was once common but is now simply used on occasion with the dawn of air travel, and it confining our heroes to a smaller space with limited room to move. it’s good stuff. I even tolerae the band train... I mean yes their music is okay at best, but the lyrics.. are wonderfully delightfully insane. Who else would use a garbage bag as a genuine romantic metaphor?

When last we left off things ere a bit ehhhhhhhhhhh: Sam went from delightfully quirky with some issues ot adress to annoying, and Michelle went from kin dof a bitch ot ENTIRELY THAT BITCH. Outside of Guy’s mental breakdown/heatstroke episode involving hallucinations of green eggs and ham, yes that did in fact happen, it wasn’t much to write home about and I worried the series simply had a good PILOT but the series itself wasn’t going to be fun sit through. 

If I was right or I was rilla.. will have to wait till after the cut. But first as always i’d like to thank the person who payed for this episode Emma Fici. Emma is one of my closest friends and one of two patreon patreons. If you’d like a reivew of your choice eveyr month guarnateed, then please hop over to patreon.com/popculturebuffet and back me at the 5 dollar level. You also get access to my exclusive discord where I ocasoinally post about work in progress stuff and tlak to my falns, to pick a short any time I do one and EXCLUSIVE review, as well as helping me hit my stretch goals. So line up, sign up then join me under the cut. 

So we pick up where we left off with Guy hurtling into a lake. Eh I dunno i’ve heard being naked ina  lake is pretty neat. 

All you’d have to do is take off the hat and your there. But Sam saves him wiht the weird train of hats he put at the end of the car for some reason, and our heroes are saved.. but down a vehicle. Oh and Sam’s vehiclular neglgence costs a bunch of fish their home.

And our heroes are without a car and Guys at the end of his rope with Sam.. I mean granted he’s been there since he met the guy but it’s down to like the tiniest thred, not helped by Sam casually stealing his wallet to pay for train tickets depsite Guy , UNDERSTANDABLY, not wanting to hang out with the guy who has stolen with him, gotten him implicate din animal trafficing and dosen’t really respect personal space. Also it’s taken me embarassingly long to remember Micheal Douglas played my boy Hank Pym in the Ant Man and the Wasp films. Seroiusly I don’t know HOW I forgot that, him being aged up and thus unable to do ANY of the things he is constnatly denied credit for in canon (Founding the avengers, being the first ant man.. and the first goliath and the first yellow jacket and the first giant man.. and the only doctor pym...).. but instead the film kept his troubled nature and ego, but removed the domestic abuse (which is something I will not go into but needless to say the comics version went above and beyond to try and make up for that and redeem himself soley because it was the right hting to do) and by making im older still gav ehim a roll as Scott’s mentor. What i’m getting at is I freaking love Hank Pym and I could’ve been making hank pym jokes for several episdoes now. That’s a mistake I itned to recitfy.. right away as Guy looses his suitcase as a result of it and whie he lcaims not to be bothered his voice says otherwise. Eh i’m sure the world can wait for ultron Guy. 

So anyway, Guy reluctantly agrees to the train travel idea and being parked across from Sam on the grounds he has no real other options. Meanwhile the BAD GUYZ.. and i’ve also decided to drop spoilers as the series is two years old, most people reading this have probably seen the series, and it makes analysis rough when I have to dance around spoilers. So yeah the BAD GUYZ aren’t villians.. kind of a dickhead on the blue guys part, but not EVIL. They figure out their going by train it’s a whole thing.

ON the train we run into michelle again...

Yeahhh for the first half she’s as inusfferable as she was the last two episodes and it lead me to believie the rest of the series was going to be constant suffering as she’d be in every episode, likely because they DID get Diane Keaton for this and you don’t waste Diane Keaton. You just don’t. But while they got their money’s worth in having her on screne wise they just..w asted her for the first 2 and a half episodes: Michelle is a judgemental, unpleasnt suffocating bitch and it’s going to take a lot , even if this episode helped, to make me truly like her as a person. 

Case in point her first two scenes this episode are just.. dragging her daughter past a play place uncarring about her feelings because while I DO get she cares about her child’s saftey and is terrified afte rloosing her husband.. it dosen’t EXCUSE her actions. It dosen’t forgive her locking her daughter up constanlty, not talking to her like a human being and oh yeah PUTTING A FUCKING LOCK ON HER SHE CAN CONTROL.  I mean my god I don’t think they INTENDED for her to come off as abusive as she does, and i’ve seen far worse inteitonally and untietionally, but it’s still not remotely plesant. There is a larger issue baked into that the episode brings about, but we’ll get to that. 

And naturally at breakfast.. she procedes to top herself. ONCE AGAIN she treats guy like trash as guy UNDERSTANDABLY didn’t want to talk to her after her previous layers of bullshit which, just as a refresher, involved insulting his invention constnatly (even if it turned out ot be dangerous she did not know that till the last second) then refusing to help a man BAKING in the desert and mocking him to his face. 

So yeah unsuprisingly instead of you know, APOLOGIZING for that episode or anything else she mocks him again and calls him sad. I just.. I get they were trying to have her come off as a jerk and then slowly develop.. but you can’t overdue the jerk part. It has to be juts the right amount and if it is this much there has to be a commpuance. There is none as far as I can tell because god is a spiteful two faced prick. 

So naturally Sam forces the two parties together, and orders green eggs and ham for everyone, except guy who refuses. We do get a really great bit though as EB turns down the idea and we get a tremendous rant from Micheal Douglas as he talks about how a girl in his clash, veyr likely just him, got a rash from tring new things and you shouldn’t and to watch out for the scarlet beetle he’ll steel your ants and try to conquer your planet and is not a guy in a costume but in fact an actual beetle. EB naturally tries it. 

We get a brief interlude with Snerz that’s funny enough: he outright calls his visotrs flunkies, they enter to the song money, and his minon throws dollar bills at their feet. I imagine this is what visitng Mar a Largo is like. They turn up his noses until he mentions getting a chickarffe for his animal crutelty wall. And i’m torn about Snerz. On one hand he can be generally entertaining in his dickery.. but ont he other I do question why he’s in EVERY episode. We don’t NEED him in eveyr one and I feel he’s only in them because Eddie Izzard was expensive so they had to get him as a regular to justify the cost. We really DONT’ need this scene funny as it is and it adds nothing so far. Maybe i’m wrong and these guys end up being important. I don’t know. 

So yeah so far this episode was miserable getting through and I expected it to be another long sit... I was wrong. The second half.. is really damn good and reminded me why I liked this series so much. No really. We get two stories,both really good following one half of each pair teaming up. As for why their split Guy is annoyed with Sam, as well as dosen’t want him letting the chickaraffe out because you know lots of people dosen’t want ot go to jail and leaves to find a quiet place to work on watching paint dry while Michelle tucks a sleeping EB in, her first really truly humanizing moment, which should NOT have taken three episodes but hey, i’ll take it, and goes to find the same.

So starting with Sam and EB, naturally Sam takes all of a minute to let his buddy out and it gets loose on top of the train. EB hears the familiar sound and gives chase and the two meet properly. After Sam covers for his buddy and realizes the creature is asleep in his car safe now, he properly talks to EB and we get a truly magical sequnece: The two talk with Sam whoelheartdly supporting her free spirit and finally giving the girl what she badly needed: someone who treated her not as something to be tied down but you know.. a child who just wants some expression and as she literally lets her hair down, It’s truly adorable and it just has a magical quanitity as they enjoy the beautiful view from the train top. 

Granted this takes at urn later when EB brings up her mom, and Sam.. supports her mom, pointing out she’s just looking out for her.. which she is but in a deeply unehalthy way and I don’t like the show just.. brushing over Michelle’s terrible actions because “she’s her mom”. But it’s also hard to tell if they are: Sam’s mom left him as we’ll find out, so he likely colors his memories of her rosey and simply envys EB still HAVING hers. It’s not BAD stuff but I don’t like a work saying “You should love your family just beacause your related”. Instead of because they lovea nd support you and if they dont’ love you or treat you remotely well or don’t give an ass about you fuck them. Thankfully I DO love my family and have no issues with them, my immediate family at least, but i’ve had friens with downright abusive or neglectful parents. It’s not that black and white. Ducktales also hammered in the family theme but was transparent in how it can me messy, harm each other and that it took true love and consideratoin for it to work at it’s core. 

It’s still not a terrible scene and what comes next is neat as earlier it was shown the train has loops, because Seussworld, and now that’s a problem because their on top of it. Michelle’s jail braclet thing ends up coming in handy the first loop, as while she can’t unstick it means she and sam can suririvie it. They do get it loose, turns out the password was indeed password, because of course, and they end up narrowly suriving a roller coaster bit of track, with the help of MR. Jenkins who I can finally name because EB names her in the next scene. Understanding her need for a pet, Sam deputizes her, and gets her back in bed in time for the next plot. 

Speaking of which winding back a bit as these two go back and forth, Guy goes through two rather hilarious cars: First a bath car that has a bubsby berkely style water number and then a model train car.. with the train on the track showing guy watching guy watchin gthe train etc. 

It’s great. Guy ends up finding the quiet car.. and Michelle. And in her first scene of acting like a human being and not if julie powers was a soccer mom, Michelle, while standosfish as usual, not only unites with guy to shush a loud guy in the car, but is genuinely apricative when Guy helps her get her place back, she was doing some literal bean counting. 

The two genuinely hit it off, first with some adorable silent bits and then by talking, with Michelle appreciating his now safer job and warming up to him. Keaton and Douglas have GENUINE chemestry and it annoys me itt took the series this long to use that instead of wasting Diane Keaton on being 

It’s really great stuff and i’m actually rooting for the two.. once she gets her shit together obviously. Guy does make the mistake of lying abotu knowing about the chikcaraffe.

This ends up being bad as he finds out EB knows the next day and after she leaves the car RIGHTFULLY tears the fuck into same for getting him accused of crime, stealing from him and now puttin ghim in a precarious situation. While Guy DID lie, he idd so well meaningly and trying to impress someone whose ineherntly judgmeental. Douglas also does REALY well in the scene, calling sam out but it dosen’t feel cruel.. it’s justified. While guy is miserable and does need to work on himself.. Sam also needs to work on himself and is putting guy in serious danger just by forcing him into his animal smuggling scheme. 

So Guy leaves.. and naturally given the unvierse hate shim runs into the BAD GUYZ, who aren’t much better. No really they refuse to belieive guy might be innocent, use excessive force on everyone. They have better GOALS than sam but I woudln’t really call them good people. Smash to black and we’re out. 

Final Thoughts:  This one was better. As I said the first half or rather third drags slightly but once we get to the two seperate plotlines it’s REALLY damn good stuff and reminded me what the series was capable of in character in creativity. Hopefully it keeps this up

Next Time on the Blog: We return to mewni for the penultimate chapter of season 3 as Moon and Eclipsa have some fundemtnal disgareemnts on how to handle Meteora that wind up costing both dearly. 

See you at the next rainbow

[space-kates]

Lover’s Spat

Summary: Prompt for Person A treats Person B’s injuries and a lover’s quarrel

Pairing: Cara Dune x Reader

Warnings: swearing, injuries, canon-typical violence

Words: 1.9 K

A/N: Round 2. A continuation of my first Cara fic with less flirting and more angst. Also dedicated to @teddiebuns​ cause she kicked my ass in gear with this prompt.

 Today had not started out as a good day. No. Far from it. And from the looks of it, it wasn’t going to end on a good note either.

Cara fidgeting around on the edge of the crate she sat on in the hold of the ship wasn’t helping your mood in the least. Especially when you were trying to cut away the charred and bloody fabric away from her leg. The result of, yet another, fight she’d gotten herself into. Granted it wasn’t entirely her fault, but your irritation with her had been steadily mounting all day.

“Stop squirming.” You demanded crossly, snipping the scissors closed perhaps a tad harsher than was really necessary. She wasn’t going to listen. You knew that. She never listened to anyone but herself and even then, it was debatable since she never seemed to follow her own advice. She was always telling you not to go getting into fights, but here she was rushing head long into a kriffing warzone like she was made for it. Which maybe she was but that was besides the point.

When you managed to cut enough of the fabric away from the wound you tossed the scissors down onto the crate, the noise clattering in the quiet of the ship as you rummaged through your med pack for a wipe to clean up the blood and dirt around the area.

Cara hissed when you started to scrub the area, shoulders tense and you could see the way her arms, which you normally admired, flexed in response to the pain. You’d been worried when you’d first seen her limping back to the ship, dirty and bloody, seized by a fear that her injury was worse that it was. Now, now though you were just pissed off as the fight that had sent her storming off the ship in the first place was back at the forefront of your mind.

“That hurts!” She protested and tried to move her leg away when you gave a particularly aggressive wipe across the area. Honestly you weren’t even sure if you were trying to be gentle anymore.

“Maybe if you could avoid getting into a fight every ten minutes, I wouldn’t have to keep patching you up and it would hurt less.” Came your retort before you could stop yourself. You didn’t want to reignite this fight but Maker you were tired.

You’d avoided looking at her face since you’d gotten her situated on the crate and returned with the med pack, but now you looked at her, unafraid of the scowl on her face. It matched your own as you grabbed hold of her knee, keeping her leg in place so you could finish your work. Your expression was challenging, and Cara never backed down from a challenge, or a fight, even when that fight was with you.

Normally Cara would have a smart remark, something equal parts flirty and sarcastic. Right now though her shoulders were stiff and her jaw was a hard line. You could see the bags under her eyes, prominent under the yellow overhead lights in the hold. She hadn’t slept much this past week. But neither had you and you knew it wasn’t helping either of your tempers. You both needed to sleep but that was the last either of you had in mind right now.

Neither of you said anything and the silence stretched uncomfortably around you. You knew she wasn’t going to back down this time but you weren’t about to give in this time. Not this time. Not when she was being reckless and hotheaded and stupid and stubborn. Not when she had gotten involved in something that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with you.

So you just stared at one another, your grip on her knee firm and unwavering until she opened her mouth again.

“Are we going to talk about it or are you going to continue to sulk?” The bluntness of her question caused you to reel back like she’d slapped you, though she hadn’t even lifted and hand.

An angry flush bloomed on your cheeks and you bristled at the accusation. Sulking!? Was that what she thought you were doing!?

“You had no right-” you began hotly, fully prepared to lay into her and use her as an outlet for all the frustration you were feeling. At least you were until she stood, a full head taller than you, back straight and glaring down at you in a way that made the noise in your throat die. Cara cut an intimidating figure, something you usually admired and on occasion ogled. Except you’d never had it turned on you before. Not even in previous spats you’d gotten into.

She took a step toward you, not even a wobble in her step, causing you to hastily step back hoping to create more room between you. You never thought Cara would hit you, still didn’t but the glare on her face was enough to make the tiniest bit of fear curl up in your chest.

Cara didn’t let the space last long and pretty soon you had your back pressed up into the wall of the ship doing your best to maintain your own glare, not give her the satisfaction of seeing you cowed. You refused to let her win this. Like it was even a competition.

“I had every right.” She snarled and you could feel your throat bob as you swallowed tightly.

“You didn’t have to kill him.” You snapped back already seething again at her audacity. The self-righteous way she claimed the rights to your problems like they were her own. “That wasn’t your place. You could have just-”

“Just left the man who tried to hire me to kill you live. Let him get someone else to do it? Have them come after us?” She interrupted you again, voice tight. She reached out, hands gripping tightly at your biceps as she crowded further into your space, nearly pressing you into the wall. Her grip was tight, not painful, but you still grimaced and tried to pull away. For all the good it would probably do you. “I don’t give a damn what kind of trouble got some low-level syndicate sleaze out for your head, but I’m not about to let him put out a hit on you.”

“I don’t care about some syndicate moron who is mad about a few credits! I care that now they’ll come after you!” The heart of the problem really. And you voiced it loudly. Loud enough it felt like it echoed around the half empty hull. It wasn’t that you minded that she’d wanted to help. Or even that she’d killed someone. You both knew she had blood on her hands long before she’d ever stowed away on your ship and talked her way into your bed.

What bothered you. What really bothered you, was the thought that she’d all but put a target on her back in the name of getting you out of trouble. This was going to get put on her chain code. She wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without getting identified by slum lords and bounty hunters and pirates looking to cash in. And sure, you’d had to deal with a few before because Cara was mouthy, but the syndicate was dangerous. It had existed during the old republic, had thrived under the Empire, and though it was forced back into the underground with the rise of the New Republic, the leaders were very much still in power of much of the underworld. No one wanted to mess with them.

“Does it look like I care about that?” Her brows drew down even further. Like she was offended you would think it had even crossed her mind.

“I do!” You cried out, shoulders slumping as you finally looked away from her face. Maker you were mad. Mad she was considering your safety was more important than hers. Furious she was jumping in the line of fire.  The implication of what that could mean terrified you. “I can’t watch you put yourself in danger like that! What if they manage to actually get to you? I… Cara I can’t lose you.”

As loud as your voice had been it softened to almost a whisper. You could stand losing her like you could lose an arm or a leg. And you tried to ignore the way she’d gone still in front of you, like that tiny quiet admission had turned her into some kind of living statue. Maybe in the middle of a fight wasn’t the smartest time to admit something like that.

Silence for the span of a heartbeat and then. “Okay.” Soft. Gentle. Not like the angry biting tone she’d used just a moment ago. The grip on your arms eased up and she small amount of space between your bodies felt just a little less suffocating.

Your head snapped up, nearly cracking against her chin. “Okay!? That’s it!?” You asked sounding madder than you really felt now. Okay no. You were still mad. Could she at least manage a proper apology?

“I’m not sorry about what I did.” She said in her defense. Her head dropped to rest against yours, face close enough that her nose brushed against yours even as you could feel yourself bristling in anger again. “I’ll do it again if I have to. He had it coming anyway, no one tries to hurt my girl.”

“Cara-” She was stupid and reckless and stubborn and by the Maker you wanted to throttle her. But you’d be damned if that wasn’t as close to a love confession as you’d likely get from this woman and that was enough to settle you down just a bit.

“I really want to sit down. Can we stop fighting now?” She asked eyes fluttering shut as she leaned against you and you were suddenly reminded that she was still injured and that neither of you had really slept in the last few days between jobs and getting into trouble.

“Sit down then.” You weren’t done being mad. But the fire had cooled for now and you really did need to get a bacta patch on her leg before it got infected and you had to do something drastic like amputate it.

A small nudge had Cara moving back, her intimidating stature from before gone, shoulders slumped in exhaustion as she hoisted herself back up onto the side of the crate so you could have better access to her leg.

You stepped forward again, gathering the bacta patch from the med pack and applying it far more gently than you would have earlier if she hadn’t literally backed you into a corner. The bandages that came after to keep the patch in place were harder to apply when Cara dropped her head onto your shoulder, impeding your movement but at this point you were too tired to scold her. You were however a bit curious.

“What kind of fight did you get into to get this anyway?” You asked when you had tied the bandages off nearly.

There was a huff from Cara, like she was laughing. Her arms wound around your waist, pulling you into her chest carefully so as to not agitate her leg. You could hear the smile in her tone when she spoke.

“I told you. No one tries to hurt my girl.”

[dinoyoongi]

Penguins, Concussions and Swear Words: A Love Story

SYNOPSIS: You’re the mascot for your university’s hockey team - The Ulsan Penguins, and pathetically infatuated with a player from your team’s biggest rival. 

PAIRING: Yoongi x Reader

GENRE: Romance

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 7099

AUTHORS NOTE: This is my prompt for @btsboulangerie monthly prompt! August’s prompt is a Sports AU using the quote:  You did that on purpose, didn’t you? As I don’t know a single thing about sports, this AU was really challenging for me to write. But fake it til you make, amiright?! There will be wrong hockey references since I googled for a lot of my information. There will also be a lot of grammatical errors since I’m finishing this half asleep at 5am. But I hope you all enjoy! Please hop over to @btsboulangerie and check out the rest of the fabulous AUs!

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Has anyone ever seen that stupid, cliché movie about the shy, introverted college girl who moonlights as the university's mascot and is hopelessly in love with the star player of a rival hockey team who doesn't even know she exists?

No? That's because it's not a movie. It's just your ridiculously sad life.

It's already sweltering underneath the polyester and foam layers of your costume, but when Min Yoongi glides past you on the ice with that signature scowl on his face, a thick blanket of nerves wraps tightly around your body, making you feel impossibly warmer. The game hasn't even begun and you're already drenched in your own perspiration, your hair and clothing clinging to your skin and no doubt only adding to the levels of stench that line the inside fabric – most of which definitely belong to you.

Most of the women in this arena would be swooning over other players tonight; Park Jimin who is quite possibly the most beautiful human in existence, Jeon Jungkook who only has to flash the protruding veins on his forearms to get women to fall at his feet and Kim Taehyung who always has the poise of somebody who just stepped out of a painting – just to name a few. The trio were star players on your university's team – the Ulsan Penguins – and largely responsible for the mass amounts of scantily clad women risking pneumonia in their low-cut tops and miniskirts, hoping to catch the team's attention. But your eyes couldn't linger on your team for too long. Like a sickness, you find yourself searching for the familiar mop of dark brown hair.

You audibly sigh when you seek him out, muttering angrily to himself before rearing back and kicking the shin of one of his teammates. Min Yoongi was perpetually angry, slouchy and generally just rough around the edges. His muscles weren't ripped and the only kind of artful poise he possessed was one from a Jackson Pollock painting.

You don't have the slightest idea why your heart has decided that he's the one hanging your moon and stars.

“Y/N!” a voice calls your name loudly from behind the barrier. Waddling your costume in the direction of the voice, you find one of the student coaches leaning against the divider. “There you are! I've been looking all over for you.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Jin, I'm in a six foot penguin costume. You must not have been looking very hard.”

He rolls his eyes before slapping a thick stack of papers into the penguin's glove and closing the extended fingers around it. “The school wants you to pass out these event calendars tonight. Try to give them to our side only. They'll end up crumpled in the parking lot if you give any to Daegu.”

He spits out the rival team's name as if he had just tasted a rotten pickle. You sigh dramatically, hoping the sound is loud enough through the barrier of the costume for Jin to hear. A typical game night consists of bopping around to some music, motioning for the crowd to cheer and applause and posing for a few photos with children. Your one-on-one interaction is strictly limited and that's why you don't really mind this gig so much. Now you have to approach people?

This is seriously going to cut into your Yoongi watching time.

“Aigoo, you have to be pleasant for a change? It must be difficult for you, I'm sure,” Jin teases with a playful chuckle, his head bobbing sympathetically. You lunge toward him in retaliation but the penguin suit doesn't allow for quick movements. Jin is already shouldering his way through the crowd before you can even waddle forward. Huffing, you turn back toward Yoongi. He's seated on a bench, his body hunched forward to secure the laces of his skates. Teammates that you haven't cared enough to learn the names of surround him, laughing boisterously at their own jokes and you're fortunate enough to catch the tiniest upturn of the left side of Yoongi's mouth.

And it's like all of your insides have turned to jelly.

The first time you ever laid eyes on Yoongi, he was wearing this exact same smirk. It was roughly six months ago, your first night taking on the job as Olly the Ulsan Penguin. While your classes, books and dorm expenses were taken care of thanks to grants, scholarships and the college funds that your parents had been contributing to since the day you were born, you often found yourself without pocket change. In true college student fashion, you ate ramen. You ate ramen a lot. You ate ramen so much that the possibility of undigested noodles showing up on an x-ray of your gut seems highly, highly likely. Basically, you were sick of ramen and decided to do something about it. The pay for parading around as PJ the Penguin was meager and wouldn't satisfy most students, but it was more than enough to keep your small kitchen well stocked. And you haven't had to even think about ramen since receiving your first paycheck.

You had been on your way to rink, snacking on a small bag of chips as you walked because you hadn't had dinner that day. As you reached for the door handle, it suddenly burst open, startling you so much that you lost your footing fell square on your ass. While you were on the ground, your precious bag of chips were still midair. You reached your hand out to catch them but before they could hit the ground, a foreign hand appeared out of nowhere and snatched them.

“Save!” a voice yelled obnoxiously. Your eyes followed the hand that now holds your snack to the body of a boy who was probably around your age, decked out completely in hockey gear. He's flanked by a few others in matching jerseys. “Thanks for the chips, stranger!”

“Those are mine!” you had cried indignantly as if you were a toddler who didn't want to share a toy. His only response was a coy grin before he emptied the contents of the bag into his mouth, making sure every last crumb was down his throat before he crumpled the bag and threw it back in your direction. His friends had cackled and howled as if it was the funniest thing they've ever seen, praising the disgusting action as they walked away from you.

You were still on the ground, still gaping in disbelief, when a fresh, unopened bag of chips was thrust into your face. Following this hand, you found Min Yoongi on the other end. He was wearing the same gear and the same jersey as the jerks before him. He was also wearing the smirk, that deadly tip of the side of his mouth that sunk the hook into your chest and never came out. You cautiously accepted the crisps with an uncertain nod of gratitude. He gifted you one more dangerous smirk before he had sauntered away to catch up with the rest of his team.

You remember your mouth being so dry that you couldn't even eat the new bag of chips.

The obnoxious horn that signals the beginning of a game brings you back to reality. Yoongi has disappeared from his previous spot, no doubt huddled at the players bench with his coach. You sigh, your eyes moving toward the stack of papers still clutched in the costume's glove. Maybe if you approached big groups or large families, you could get rid of the majority of the calendars in one fell swoop. Nodding in agreement with your own plan, you waddle over to the first large family you see; a disorderly group of six with two very haggard adults and four very rambunctious children. The kids screech when you approach, leaping off of the bleachers to lunge at you. The thickness of the penguin costume comes in handy during times like these as the fabric guards you from their prying fingers. After handing them a few of the calendars and posing for a few pictures with the children who you were positive were making obscene gestures from beside you, you move onto another large group. Twenty minutes later, you're leaning against the barrier in exhaustion. You've successfully gotten rid of the stack of calendars and you've been studiously avoiding Jin in case in tried to give you more.

“Look boys, it's Olly,” you hear a voice declare from behind. Twirling around, you face four teenage boys – well, three teenage boys that you're sure of; the fourth looks older, larger and like he could rip this costume to pieces with his bare hands. And judging by the dark look on his face … you think he's probably going to. Giving the boys a quick wave and a quick bow, you unlatch the barrier door and move yourself onto the ice so you can move to where the team is seated. You know that you'll most likely be reprimanded for this as it was 100% against the rules for anyone who isn't an active player or referee to be on the ice while a game is in play, but with the puck being tossed around on the opposite side of the arena, you hoped that if you moved quickly enough, you could slide to the team corner without disturbing the game.

“What's wrong, Olly? Aren't you supposed to spread some team spirit? I'm not feeling very cheery right now,” the large boy taunts, leaning over the barrier to inch closer to you.

Okay, this kid is definitely giving off the vibe of somebody who rips the legs off of spiders for fun. You need to get out of there quickly.

Lifting a foot, you use your weight to push yourself forward. With the softness of the costume, you know that you'll be able to slide right to your target. But … you're not moving. You grip the barrier for support as you attempt to move yourself again. Instead of going forward, you're yanked backwards roughly. The force knocks you against the barrier and despite the thick layers of fabric between the costume and your body, you feel the wall knock into your spine painfully.

“I said,” his seethes viciously, his face close to the head of the costume. “Where is my team spirit?”

Those are his last words before he lets you go, using his brute strength to shove you as hard as he can. You feel yourself flying backwards, your arms flailing to hopefully catch your fall. To anyone else, this might have been a funny sight. Olly the Ulsan Penguin literally in the air, flapping his wings in a desperate attempt to fly. Some might even think this was a planned stunt to make the children laugh.

But this was very accidental, very real and was about to get very painful.

You jam your eyes shut and hope that the players are still dominating the other half of the arena so that at the very least, you won't interrupt the game and cause Ulsan any penalties. But since this is your sad life, nothing really works out the way that you hope it does.

You crash right into a player. Hard.

Your body sweeps his legs right out from under him and he falls onto the top of you, your head bouncing painfully onto the cold, hard surface of the ice. The impact cuts your senses immediately; your vision going dark, only hazy bits of stars floating around and you feel as if you're hearing everything through a tin can. You can make out the sound of loud shouts and booing as you struggle to lift your head.

But before you can remove yourself from the ice, somebody does it for you.

“You did that on purpose, didn't you? You're dead, you piece of shit.”

A hand grabs the front of the costume, impressively jerking your body off of the ice as if the weight was nothing. You're startled when the mascot head is ripped off from your shoulders, the bright lights of the arena making your already throbbing head swell with even more pain. The first thing you register is that you are face-to-face with Min Yoongi, so close that you could lean forward and brush your lips against his cheek. The second thing you register is the murderous look on his face, his arm pulled back and fist clenched so tightly that the veins on his hands looked as if they were about to burst. All it takes is the sight of his fist and you're cowering, lowering your head into your arms in a pathetic attempt to block you from any punches.

You've never been hit by anyone in your life. You can't believe Yoongi – the boy you've been admiring from afar for half of a year – is going to be the first.

“Don't you lay a fucking finger on her!” voices snarl loudly in the distance. There's a commotion and your body is dropped. Luckily, arms surround you before your head can hit the ice again. “Are you out of your mind?”

Now that the voices are near, you can distinguish them clearly belonging to Jin and Namjoon, the two student coaches for the Ulsan Penguins and your direct supervisors on game nights. Namjoon's tan, bulky arms slip under your armpits to pull you onto your feet, hands holding your shoulders in place as your body wobbles woozily.

“I didn't know, okay?” Yoongi defends angrily. “Your dickhead players have been harassing me all week. What I was supposed to think when your team's mascot knocks me on my fucking ass?”

“I'm sorry,” you mumble, hopefully loud enough for Yoongi to hear. The throbbing in your head is only intensifying with every passing minute and you find it hard to raise your own voice. Jin chuckles humorlessly. “Y/N, don't apologize. It was an accident. It's not your fault that this asshole is a thoughtless neanderthal.”

You watch the anger on Yoonig's face morph into rage as he unfastens his helmet and whips it to the ground. There's a collective gasp in the arena as Yoongi takes a daring step toward Jin, his chest lifted threateningly. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Jin,” you call weakly, tapping on Namjoon's arm to reason with the taller boy. He sighs, keeping one hand on your shoulder and using the other to pull Jin back by the hood of his sweater. The referee chooses now to interfere, pushing hands on the chests of both Yoongi and Jin to back them away from each other. A man who appears to be a few years older than you jogs over, standing beside Yoongi with a menacing expression.

“Accident? Really? What reason was there for your mascot to be on the ice? We will be reviewing security footage and if it looks like any kind of foul play is involved, we'll be contacting your university disciplinary board,” he warns, his finger pointing in your direction. You lower your head in shame.

“Knock it off, Hoseok. Let's just get back to the damn game,” Yoongi mutters, slapping his coach's hand away from you. He turns on his heel to walk away and you can't help but notice the slight limp in his step, the way his body tenses when he puts pressure on his left leg. How badly had you injured him? Would it affect this game, this season? The thought of Yoongi's hockey career ending before it really begins because of you is terrifying and for a moment, you believe you've begun to shed tears when you feel a cool liquid drop onto your cheek. When Namjoon turns to face you, though, he gasps at the sight.

“Y/N! Fuck, you're bleeding. Jin, she's got a pretty nasty head wound. Why don't you take her over to the campus hospital and I'll stay for the rest of the game?”

Jin agrees, and you're led carefully off of the ice and through the hushed audience, the majority of which have their phones locked in your direction. No doubt there are already videos being uploaded to social media and by this time tomorrow, you know that the incident will have spread like wildfire. This would be okay if Yoongi hadn't exposed your identity by removing Olly's head. You could be whoever you wanted to be inside the costume. But outside of the costume? You were a nobody. You were the nameless loner girl who was just there, focusing on her studies and watching anime to avoid social interaction any chance she got. You were overlooked and forgotten and your existence was only acknowledged by a handful of people. People will know who you are now, sure, but you can't find a reason to be happy about it when you know your name will be accompanied by insults and laughter.

Jin maneuvers you through the parking lot to his car. On the way, you pass university cops detaining the four teenagers that lit the flame on this entire garbage fire of an evening. The large one that shoved you sneers as you get closer, and even though your limbs feel as if they weigh a million pounds, you find enough strength to lift your hand and raise your middle finger. He's sputtering in disbelief as Jin opens the passenger side door for you, gently guiding your body onto the seat and buckling you in. The moment the back of your head touches the soft comfort of the headrest, you feel your consciousness begin to fade.

“Y/N? Wake up. I can't let you go to sleep in case you have a concussion.”

You groan, your eyes popping open to see the window scenery move as Jin pulls out of the parking lot. The motion makes you instantly dizzy and you close your eyes again. “You need to talk to me then. I want to sleep so bad.”

“Okay. Let me think,” he hums as he contemplates. “Should I begin with scolding you for being on the ice? You know it's against the rules, Y/N. If you were being attacked, you could have yelled out and any one of us would have heard you. Also, you should never-”

“Screw this. I'm going to sleep,” you interrupt, tilting your head away from him.

Jin chuckles. “Did you at least pass out all the calendars?”

“Every single one of them.”

“That's good. I was worried you wouldn't have enough time to ogle Min Yoongi tonight,” he teases. Your eyes pop open in surprise, your neck whipping in his direction. You wince when the action conjures a trill of sharp pain in your head.

“What are you talking about? Why would I ogle Min Yoongi?” you ask, nervous laughter bubbling up from your throat. Jin rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Oh, please. It's clear as day to anybody who is in that arena that you're in love with him. I wasn't going to say anything but we've had some complaints from parents that Olly hasn't been very peppy. It seems like whenever Namjoon and I find you, you're leaning against the barrier to watch him.”

You scoff as if it's the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard. “I'm in a penguin costume. The eyes are plastic – how the hell can you tell where I'm watching?”

“Y/N,” Jin sighs, casting you a knowing side-glance. Your shoulders slump in defeat.

“I'm not in love with him. I don't really know him. I just … I guess it's a really, really big crush,” you confess quietly. “One that kind of went up in flames tonight. He won't ever want anything to do with me now – not that I ever stood a chance before any of this anyway.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?” Jin teases again. You roll your eyes. This man was completely incapable of being serious. “I'm not going to offer you words of wisdom but in my opinion? You are way too good for Min Dick.”

“Are you only saying that because he plays for Daegu?”

He snaps his fingers. “That would be correct.”

“I don't know why I'm talking to you right now,” you mutter to yourself, leaning your head back but using every inch of willpower left inside of you to keep your eyes open. Minutes pass by in silence. From the street signs and buildings outside the window, you know that you'll be pulling up to the hospital soon.

“Y/N? Don't put yourself down, okay?”

Jin's sudden seriousness surprises you. “What are-”

“You're too hard on yourself. If I wasn't already in a devoted relationship and had met you earlier on, I really think I would have asked you out. And I'm not the only one.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “Whatever you say, Jin.”

“No, I'm being sincere. There are some members on the team who gawk at you like you gawk at Min Dick. All I'm saying is that if things don't work out with Min Dick, there are Ulsan players who will gladly fulfill your puck bunny fantasies.”

“If I had the strength, I would pinch you so hard right now. One – stop calling him Min Dick. And two – I am most definitely not a puck bunny,” you argue as Jin pulls the car into emergency parking.

“Oh, you're right. Sorry, sorry. You're a Min Dick bunny,” he clarifies obnoxiously, his windshield-wiper laughter deafening and grating. You groan loudly.

“All I want in my life right now is for you to be hit by a car,” you tell him earnestly. Jin laughs even harder.

__________________________________

Unfortunately for you, most of the campus has chosen tonight to be clumsy. You've been on a bed surrounded by curtains for well over two hours now, only visited once by a nurse to inject a small dose of morphine into your IV and hook you up to what seems like hundreds of bedside monitors. They're running around like headless chickens on the other side of your curtains, people crying of gashes and broken bones, overdoses and seizures. Jin had been by your side faithfully for the first forty-five minutes but after taking a phone call from his very upset girlfriend, you sent him on his way with the promise that you would message him from your laptop when you got back to the dorms.

With your phone tucked away in the Ulsan locker room, you're left with nothing but your thoughts to keep you occupied. Your mind replays tonight's events over and over and over, a torturous loop that adds to your misery a little more every time you run through it. The way his knees buckled when you slammed into him, the fury in his eyes when he pulled the Olly head away from you, the protruding veins on his hand as he balled his fingers into the tightest fist he could. A fist that he was going to use on you and not in the good way.

Not that … not that you would know anything about the good way. Or maybe you do. You might be a virgin but you're not a clueless virgin. A very x-rated mental picture paints itself in your head of Yoongi using his fist the good way. Your cheeks immediately flush red and you can't stop the barrage of embarrassed giggles that suddenly plague you.

Wow, this morphine is intense. You're still giggling by yourself when the curtain is abruptly yanked back. The giggles catch in your throat and you emit the most earsplitting loud hiccup that has ever come from you before. You slap your hands over your mouth in horror when you realize who is standing in front of your bed.

Min Dick.

No, wait. It's Min Yoongi.

You're engulfed in a mixture of giggles and hiccups. Your hysteria attracts the attention of hospital staff and a few other patients, prompting Yoongi to pull the curtains shut so that it's just the two of you.

“Jin said they had given you some morphine but you're a real lightweight, aren't you?” he sighs, pulling a stray chair up to your bedside and sitting down next to you.

“Min Dick,” you mumble in mirth, lifting your fingers to wipe the moisture from your eyes. Yoongi's jaw drops open.

“What did you just call me? Are you the one who came up with that nickname?”

His accusation sobers you almost instantly.

“Did you come to yell at me?” you ask quietly. You want to wince at how pitiful and small your own voice sounds. Yoongi looks freshly showered; his dark hair damp and flopping over a red headband. He smells of soap and cologne, the two scents combining to form a tantalizing aroma. You want to groan. You even have a crush on his scent.

Yoongi sighs, running a hand through the back of his hair. “No, I'm sorry. I actually came to apologize.”

You can feel your eyes comically widening. “Apologize? What for? I should be apologizing to you. I knocked into you pretty hard.”

“But we reviewed the footage. You were shoved by that little shit-eater,” he pauses, his face tinging slightly pink as he apologizes quickly for his language, “and you really flew. I'm the one who overreacted and assumed you were intentionally attacking me so … I'm sorry. I think I really scared you.”

He shifts his body and you suddenly notice the white bandage wrapped around his left knee. You gasp loudly. “Did I do that to your leg? Is it broken? Will you be able to play in the next game? Oh my god -”

Yoongi seems startled by your onslaught of worries. “I ruined your hockey career, didn't I? You're going to have to choose another profession but you're always going to look back and hate me for taking your passion away from you. I am so sorry. Oh my god, I-”

“Y/N, will you stop?” Yoongi leans over and places his hand over your mouth. The feel of his skin against your lips shuts you up immediately, your cheeks so heated that you could probably scramble an egg on them. “This is not the plot of some dumb teen movie. Hockey is not my passion, you did not ruin my career and my leg is only bruised but they wrapped it as a precaution. Should I go grab you a pen and paper so you can write the next big Hallmark movie?”

Eyes wide, you shake your head no. Yoongi smirks as he removes his hand from your mouth and sits back down.

“I don't think we've officially met,” he says, jutting his palm in your direction. You fold your fingers around his, internally squealing at how your hand fits perfectly in his. “I'm Min Yoongi. It's nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“We've actually met before,” you tell him, recalling the smirk on his face when he had held the bag of chips out to you. Your face burns even hotter at the memory.

“But we never introduced ourselves back then.”

You eyebrows raise in surprise. You were so positive that your first interaction with Yoongi was one-sided, that you were just a casual happenstance in his evening. “Do you actually remember what I'm talking about?”

“Of course I do,” he scoffs as if he's offended. “My teammates were being immature little asshats -” he breaks out into a sheepish grin at the vulgar language - “and I swooped in and saved the day.”

“Saved the day? You replaced my bag of half-eaten chips. Sorry, Yoongi, but you're no Iron Man.”

The morphine makes you confident enough to be coy with him and it works, he laughs heartily, a gummy grin splitting across his face. The sight of it blooms a new kind of throbbing in your chest; an exciting kind that has goosebumps lining the length of your arm.

“How long do you have to stay here for? Do you have a ride home?” he asks a few moments later when a tense silence envelopes the small curtained-off area. You shake your head.

“I haven't even been seen yet. I'll worry about a way home when I'm done.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Didn't you and Jin come straight here from the arena? That was two and a half hours ago. Nobody has been in here to examine your head?”

“I guess there are other patients who take priority tonight.”

“Priority?” Yoongi stands up, anger marring his features. “Your head literally bounced off of the ice. You have a concussion for sure and they're keeping you waiting for two hours? That's fucking unacceptable.”

“Yoongi -” you reach out to grab the sleeve of his white hoody but he shakes you off, pulling the curtains back with enough force to yank down the entire steel frame and disappearing around the corner. “Yoongi, it's okay. Don't-”

“Excuse me!” you hear him demand loudly from the front desk. “My friend has a head injury and has been kept waiting for over two hours. Are you planning on treating her concussion anytime soon or are you waiting for her to pass out and die in her sleep? Because if that happens, I will personally rain hellfire down onto all of you. Got it? Y/N L/N. Put her at the top of the list right now.”

The look of smugness on his face when he returns to your bedside has you giggling again.

“I think every person on this floor heard you screaming. It's so quiet in here now.”

He shrugs, kicking his legs up as if it was his intention. “I can't help it that people find me scary. It has its advantages though.”

“I don't find you scary.”

He frowns, his gaze dropping down to his lap. “You were, though. You were scared of me today. On the ice.”

“You had your fist raised as if you were going to sucker-punch. Of course I was scared. Anyone would be. But I wasn't scared of you … just at the thought of being sucker-punched.”

“Again, I'm sorry. I really thought you were-”

“Yoongi, stop apologizing. It was an accident and misunderstanding. I blame my concussion on the man-child that Hulk tossed me halfway across the ice. You were just an innocent bystander. I'm sorry about your knee.”

Yoongi chuckles, his head shaking in disbelief. “You have an open wound on your head and you're apologizing to me for a little bruise on my knee? You're something else.”

________________________________

It's only ten minutes later when a doctor slips in to examine your head. His eyes land on Yoongi and he gulps in fear, his attention scrambling back to the clipboard. Yoongi's gaze meets yours and he smirks, pursing his lips as he nods and kicks his leg up over his knee. You have to hide your mouth in the palm of your hand to restrain your giggles. As expected, there is an open wound on the top of your head. Only four stitches were needed to close the wound but the immeasurably pain of having your head sewed shut leaves you even woozier than before. Yoongi stays beside you the entire time, reaching over at one point to grip your hand tightly in his own. The gesture doesn't lessen the pain but provides you with a sense of comfort, like the warmest, thickest blanket on a chilly day. You can't imagine the misery of having to go through this ordeal alone.

“We're sending you home with some pain medication. Take one tablet every eight hours until they're gone. The next ten hours are the most dangerous. If you plan on sleeping, you need somebody to wake you up every hour to make sure you're okay. Do you have somebody that can do that for you? If not, you're going to need to stay here overnight.”

You're sure everybody in the room can tell by the way your face drops what your answer is. The only person you can think of that would even consider baby-siting you all night is Jin. But after the strife you caused with his girlfriend earlier, you decide not to poke the bear and leave them be.

“I guess I'm staying-” “I'll watch her.”

You and Yoongi speak at the same time but all sets of eyes in the room move toward the boy with the red headband. “I can watch her overnight. No problem.”

“Yoongi, no. You're probably exhausted from your game and need the rest more than I do. I don't mind staying here. Honestly.”

“Honestly, Y/N, I don't mind. I'm not that exhausted. Do you have a couch I can crash on? I'll set my alarm for every hour. Besides, I can't leave you here. I don't trust them. It took them so long to actually examine you, imagine how long they'd let you sleep.”

“Yoongi,” you scold, nodding apologetically to the doctor and nurse who tense at the insults. “I guess I have somebody so you can discharge me whenever you'd like.”

You're sure they'd love to get you out of there as soon as they possibly can.

_____________________________________

“Sorry if it's messy. I didn't expect company today. Well, I never expect any company but … never mind. I'll stop talking.”

“Why do women always complain that their places are messy when they're always super clean?” Yoongi mutters, hand still gripping your arm as his eyes take in the expanse of your dorm room. You were lucky enough to score a single room and have never been as grateful about it as you are right now.

“Been in a lot of women's places?”

He huffs. “Shut up. Where do you want to lay down? Your bed?”

“How about the couch? I have a massive reclining chair that you can rest on. It's super comfortable so you can stretch out as much as you'd like.”

Thankfully, since you are a big advocate for naps, you already have various blankets and pillows strewn about the living room. After making sure that Yoongi has the cleanest, fluffiest bedding you own, you stretch yourself out on the couch, hissing when your head rubs against the fabric of the pillow.

“Easy, easy. What are you trying to do – rip your stitches open?” Yoongi asks sarcastically, his hand guiding your head gently down onto the pillow. You hope he can't hear how loud your heart is drumming in your chest right now. “I've set my alarms for every hour. When you're up for good, let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” I squeak, watching as he settles himself onto the chair. His body exhales a sigh of contentedness as he pulls the blanket to his chin. “Yoongi?”

He hums in response.

“Thank you. For this. It means a lot to me.”

“You're welcome,” he mumbles. Silence follows, nothing but the buzzing of your refrigerator and the occasional student loudly passing your door. Your eyes are heavy and you feel as if you're right on the brink of sleep when Yoongi clears his throat. “So … you're not … you don't have a boyfriend?”

Well, that certainly wakes you up.

All you can do is laugh at his ridiculous question. “What would make you think I have a boyfriend? He'd be a pretty shitty one if he let me hang out in the ER with some guy that isn't him all night.”

“Point taken. I just always saw you in the arena for short amounts of time. I always thought you were dating a player for Ulsan and that's why you hung around so much. But I guess it's because you're their mascot so … you don't have a boyfriend.”

“I don't have a boyfriend,” you confirm, slightly bewildered that this conversation is even happening and wondering if you maybe slipped into dreamland without realizing it. The sting of pain after a quick pinch to your arm proves that to be false. “Is this information relevant to anything or are you just curious?”

“Curiosity, I guess,” he says and slashes any hopes you had of him asking you out. “How long have you been the penguin?”

“About six months. It's easy money and Jin and Namjoon are really great bosses.”

He hums in response before silence ensues. Minutes go by without any sound and you feel yourself slipping into sleep again when he groans frustratingly. You raise your head off of the pillow, watching as he pushes himself to a sitting position.

“What's wrong? Are the pillows not comfortable? You can have the ones on my bed if you-”

“Y/N, stop talking. I want to say this so don't interrupt me because I'm not good at stuff like this and honestly I'm really terrified so I just need you to listen-”

“Yoongi, take a breath-”

“Shhh! Don't interrupt!” he scolds, his eyes fierce on yours. You shrink back into the cushions of your couch. “Jesus, why is this so hard? Okay, I'm just going to come right out and fucking say it – I think you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and I was really fucking relieved just now when you confirmed that you don't have a boyfriend.”

You had already been to the hospital for a concussion tonight but you might just have to go back for the massive heart-attack you're about to have. Did Yoongi just confess? Was that a confession? Is this real life right now?

“Now you can talk so … please say something,” he pleads. You clear your throat. What do you even say? I accept? I think you're beautiful too? I've been obsessed with you for six months? No, none of those seem appropriate.

“Is this a prank, Yoongi? Are you joking or are you being serious?”

He groans. “I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that much of an asshole. I'm being dead serious, Y/N.”

You don't know what to say but you know what you want to do. Where was all that confidence from the hospital? You need another dose of morphine right about now. Gulping down your nervousness, you sit up and pull the blanket back with trembling fingers. Rising from the couch, you approach a gobsmacked Yoongi who does nothing but gape at you as you crawl onto the recliner chair and settle yourself next to him. When you're nestled comfortably against his side, you take a deep breath, lean up and kiss him quickly on the cheek.

When you open your eyes, he's grinning down at you.

_____________________________________

“Where are you? Pick up, pick up,” you chant to yourself, phone to your ear as you scour the arena for the familiar floppy hair of your boyfriend. Daegu is playing Ulsan again tonight and you were originally scheduled to be in the Olly costume. However, a change in the due date for one of your term papers had you desperate for the afternoon free. Jin had graciously agreed to let you off for the evening and you had literally just clicked submit ten minutes ago, rushing out of the dorm to meet Yoongi before his game ends.

The game is clearly over, random players milling about the ice, children taking shots into the goal posts. You spot Olly in the corner, waving goodbye to children exiting the arena. You're wondering who Jin roped into wearing the costume tonight when a pair of pale arms slip around Olly's waist from behind, engulfing the penguin in a romantic back hug. The children gasp at the intimacy and upon squinting hard enough, your jaw drops when you see who the arms belong to.

“Oh, no, Yoongi,” you mumble to yourself through your own quiet laughter.

Yoongi was clearly not aware that you called off today.

Olly flails his arms and pulls himself away to escape the grasp of your boyfriend but Yoongi pulls the penguin in even closer, fingers splaying out to caress the feathers on the stomach. Children gawk and adults laugh at Yoongi's silliness but you know that right now he's actually trying his hardest to be romantic. You appreciate it but … you just wish it was with you.

Deciding that enough is enough, you cross the bleachers to where the two are still locked in a lover's embrace. Yoongi's eyes are closed as he uses his weight to sway both him and the poor soul stuck in the costume back and forth.

You clear your throat. “Min Yoongi, are you cheating on me?”

You regret not having your phone out to record his reaction. His eyes snap open immediately, neck snapping around to face you. His bewildered gaze moves quickly between you and Olly, Olly and you, before he realizes that it's not you he's caressing so romantically.

“Jagi, what the fuck? Why aren't you in the costume?” his voice is loud and frantic as he backs away from the mascot. “And who the fuck is in the costume if you're not?”

Like a scene straight out of Scooby-Doo, Yoongi leans up and snatches Olly's head off of the shoulders. Jin's sheepish face stares back at the both of you before he breaks out into his windshield-wiper laugh.

“And I would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for you meddling Y/N!” Jin exclaims through his chuckles. “By the way, you are a very lucky girl. He's got a tight grip on him.”

“Shut up, Jin,” you squeak, pushing him away. You grab Yoongi's hand and yank him in the opposite direction before your boss can say anything else that will humiliate you and enrage your boyfriend. It isn't until you've reached the stairwell leading to the locker room that you break down into much deserved laughter.

“I'm going to kick his ass one of these days, I swear,” Yoongi mumbles, but he can't help but grin at the sight of you laughing so carelessly. “Stop laughing, Y/N. I'm traumatized.”

“You're traumatized? Really?” you ask as he tugs you closer to his body. His fingers trail down your spine, leaving a satisfying burn in their path.

“Yes, I wanted to hold my girlfriend, not your asshole boss. Now you'll have to do something to erase him from my memory.”

You smirk, lifting yourself up on your toes to capture his lips in a searing kiss. He's breathless when you pull away. “Good enough? Still thinking of my boss?”

He grins against your lips, moving you forward until your back is against the wall. “Nope, Jin is a pretty handsome guy. I'm going to need a lot more than that.”

[hyucksong]

princess.| lee donghyuck

summary: you get what you want, when you want. you follow your own rules, no one else’s. are you a prissy rich bitch? maybe. does lee donghyuck, the resident bad boy with a spirit for trouble, make you want to ruin your high class reputation for his lips? maybe. 

warnings: cussing and a spoiled kid who yes is spoiled but has also done some stuff herself 

word count: 3.8k

   You rested on your back, your Chanel shades blocking your eyes from the harsh sun, and the copious amount of sunblock SPF 100 slathered on you protecting your fragile skin from early skin cancer. Your whole body felt warm in your Balmain limited edition swim suit keeping your decency. You got it at an event, where you received it as a special gift, since your mother was a world famous super model, and your father a critically acclaimed actor.

   Some said the fame got to your head, but you were always too busy adjusting your Gucci sun hat to really care. Besides, you already knew that. You were indeed, filthy rich. Unimaginably so. But as a successful academic and model, you though you should deserve some credit. You couldn’t pay to have brains like yours, and you couldn’t pay for the natural talent you had for the camera. You had your own title, separate from your mom and dad, and you knew your worth.

   Your daddy didn’t pay your way into Stanford -- your brain did. The traits that came with success were ones you welcomed with open arms; assertiveness, intelligence, charisma, etc. Were you prissy? Yes. Were you a bitch? Hell yes. And you loved it. The thorny wall of harsh words and judging stares served as protection from people who were friends for fame. This way, only good people made their way into your friend group. You enjoyed your little clique, they came from all walks of life. 

   “Mmm, the sun is getting a little hot, don’t you think so, Swary?” You asked, opening your eyes to look at your Pomeranian, who was nestled in the shade drinking some water under the umbrella. At the call of her name, she barked, before going back to her beauty sleep. You smiled to yourself, before setting your sunglasses back in place and going back into your resting position.

   That was, until an annoying shadow blacked the warm rays, and dropped the temperature by a few degrees. You sighed, not even opening your eyes. 

   “Please leave, I’m on vacation, no autographs.” A deep chuckle resonated from the person, causing you to peep one eye open at them. Before your eyes was a cute boy, dressed in a white sleeveless shirt that was tucked into black distressed jeans, with what looked like checkerboard vans. You rolled your eyes, closing your eye again. “Cute. Now leave.” But the warmth didn’t return, instead you still felt the judging eyes of the boy.

   “Swary? What type of name is that?” You sat up, annoyed, ripping off your Chanel sunglasses with a noise of irritation. “It’s short for something else.”

   He rose a brow teasingly. “For what?” 

   “Swarovski.” You ignored the laugh that followed after the fact, knowing that he’d laugh before you even said it. “Wow, you’re such a prissy bitch, huh.” An annoyed huff left your lips before you sat back in your seat.

   “Leave me alone, Donghyuck. Why are you here anyways? Don’t you bother my enough at school?” You looked over at him mockingly, watching as he scooted a beach chair from another umbrella. “Can’t stop following me? Are you a stalker or something?” He laughed, his laugh stirring your heart.

   “I’ve got better things to do than to stalk you, Princess.” You turned away, your ears blushing red. “Don’t call me that.” He ignored your pleas and looked around the beach, his eyes content. 

   “Man, Malibu really is beautiful.” You hummed in agreement, starting to relax a bit in his presence. You knew Donghyuck from Stanford. He majored in Classics and minored in Comparative Literature, while you majored in History and minored in Feminist, Gender, and Sexuality studies. You two didn’t really see each other often outside from the library, until you discovered your close friend Renjun in the Archaeology major was best friends with him. From then on, you two saw each other almost every other day, and he never failed to tease you.  

   “It would be more beautiful if you left.” You added, keeping your nose and dignity high. He turned onto his side, looking straight at you. “But then you’d have nothing to stare at, Princess.” You turned your head away from him and scoffed. “I wasn’t staring at you, Lee Donghyuck.” 

   “You’re right, you were drooling over me.” He chimed, laughing at your irritated expression. “Was not. Now can you get you and your atrocious outfit away from me? To a different state, preferably?” 

   “What? Not enough Vergucci or something? Not expensive enough for your tastes, hm?” 

   “You mean Versace, right? Are you really that dumb that you don’t know one of the biggest names in the fashion industry?” He rolled his eyes, getting up from his seat to sit on yours, you laying down and him sitting next to you with his arms resting on his knees. “Why should I care? I’m not into fashion, anyway.” 

   You shuffled in your seat to give him more space, “Maybe if you upped your fashion game instead of dressing like a typical American fuckboy, you’d actually get girls.”

   “You sure it’s not the skipping class and weed that keeps then from me?” He jokes, moving to lay down next to you. You laugh quietly. “That too.” 

   It’s silent for a few minutes, the feeling of his bare arms draped above your head and the heat he exuded filling your thoughts. Donghyuck was your typical bad boy with a golden heart. It annoyed you how he fit so perfectly into a stereotype, but then again, so did you. 

   You were always confused by him, too. You’d think he was interested in you one day, with his flirtatious comments and overly-touchy and lingering fingers, but the next day his arm would be draped over a different girl. He was a player, and you were smart enough to not get mixed in with him. Besides, you had a reputation to keep up. No rich bitch could date a run-of-the-mill bad boy. Even if you wanted to.

   But you knew all that was waiting for you was a broken heart and unstable relationship, so why bother? You were no different from other girls to him. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have the tiniest sliver of hope that maybe he was just doing it to get your attention, but you weren’t about to be the typical girl who thought she ‘could fix him’. 

   You weren’t perfect, and neither did you have any of the patience it would take to keep Donghyuck behaved. However, a part of you didn’t care about keeping him behaved; a part of you just wanted his touch and his lips against yours, but the rest of you that didn’t want to get heartbroken knew better, and so you kept your wall up in front of him. 

   “Why are you here in Malibu, anyway?” You turn your head towards him, not expecting his face to already be looking at yours. You don’t flinch, though, your eyes still staring bravely against his. A smirk finds its way onto his heart shaped lips, something you thought was way too powerful for him to posses, and he keep his stare on you. “Parents picked this place for vacation as a gift for staying in school this year.” You shrugged, “That’s not really an accomplishment, you know.” He shrugged back at you, his gaze leaving yours to look out into the blue ocean before him.

   “Guess we both are stupid rich.” You don’t comment.

-

   The party your parents decided to throw at the beach house was smaller than usual. It consisted of an armful of ‘close’ famous friends, including the Lee family. When you walked in the front door in a silk summer dress with your dog by your side, the last thing you expected was to come face-to-face with a shirtless Donghyuck. 

   The smirk on his face told you that he expected you to be flustered, but you were around half-naked men all the time, so honestly, he didn’t faze you. He was good-looking, but his body just didn’t compare to the male supermodels of the world, but then again, you never were attracted to those bodies.

   The slight squish of his tummy made you feel warm, for some odd reason. You brushed it off and concluded it was just his alarmingly ugly black crocs. 

   “Wow, so bad boy. Love the crocs.” You say, brushing past him to go to your room. “I know, they’ve got skulls on them.” He adds, turning to follow after you up the stairs. You laugh and turn to look at him, curious. 

   “Are you going to follow me all the way up?”

   “Is that an invitation?” He quips. You scoff, “You wish.” 

   “Damn right. Wanna grant it tonight?” You find it best to ignore the comment and continue on your way to your room, letting him trail behind you like a lost puppy. 

   You close the door behind you softly, sighing as soon as the noise from all around the house goes quiet due to the sound-proof room. Hyuck sits on the bed, resting his weight on the back of his hands with a cute grin on his face. The childishness that he exudes almost makes you blush, but you fight back the feeling. Who knows how many girl have seen that smile.

   “So what’re we gonna do?” He pulls his knees up to his chin, kicking off his crocs and you flinch as his dirty feet touch your satin covers. “Well first off, we’re going to get your stank ass feet off my good Eastern Accent bedding.” He doesn’t listen, instead looking up at you with unwavering eyes. You give him a look before going around your room to put things back in their place, the cleaning lady having rearranged things from their normal place. After a few minutes of the silence, you decided to spare him another glance.

   His eyes were still watching you, but there was a haze over them, like he wasn’t really thinking. This time, it made you blush. You wondered what he could be thinking about to be so lost in thought, staring at you nonetheless. 

   “What’re you looking at me for?” You shift, your head going back to straightening your textbooks. This seems to knock him out of his daze, and his characteristic smirk comes back, much to your dismay. “I was just admiring the beautiful curves of your body, princess.”

   “Again with that name, Donghyuck.” 

   “What? I can’t call my princess what she is?” You begin to grow fed up by his empty words, you never understood how he threw them around so easily. The fact that he probably said those exact words to some other girl made your stomach twist in sadness. Th fact that he probably called other girls princess hurt you more than it really should.

   “Stop meaninglessly flirting with me, Lee Donghyuck.” You spat, glaring at him. His brows shot up, the playful look on his face disappearing from before. “W-What?” He stuttered out, sitting up straight, his feet no longer rubbing themselves on your expensive sheets.

   “I said;” you walked towards him, “Stop saying empty words.” His silence pushed you to keep talking. “I don’t know if you know this, Donghyuck. But I have feelings. Just because I’m rich and can buy out a whole Gucci store doesn’t mean I can’t fucking hurt. Your empty words hurt me more than anything. ‘You’re so beautiful, Princess,’ ‘Is that an invitation’, ‘I was just admiring you’ --I’m sick of hearing them if you’re just saying them to get some sick reaction out of me. If that’s all you want -- you’ve got it. Can you leave, now?” Your lungs rise up and down quickly, your heartbeat sounding throughout your skull, the vibrations reaching the ends of your toes as your bullet-like words hit the boy sitting across from your hurt gaze. Why did you have to get mad now? Why couldn’t you have gotten mad at him somewhere that would enable you to walk away? You can’t walk away in your own home. 

   He looks at you like an art connoisseur examining a new ice sculpture -- acting like the faintest gush of breath could shatter the delicacies of the piece. “Princess, I --”

   “I said stop calling me that.” The voice that left you sounded like a cry, like a hurt animal mewling out for help. Donghyuck felt his facade of confidence break a little as he reached out towards you, only to see you step back away from his touch. “Princess...” His wavering voice broke, the whole situation stressing it out. One moment you were playfully quipping back at him, the next you were standing in the corner, your eyes coated with a sheen layer of water. He wondered if that meant you were suffering for a long time, to be able to snap like that.

   “Please, what’s wrong, Princess?” He stood up, his bare feet padding gently on the wooden floor. 

   “Stop! You don’t understand, do you?” You accused, tilting your head at him in disbelief. “You don’t understand what it’s like to have someone give you such heartwarming words and then show up the next hour with a girl on his arm, whispering into their ear as if they were the love of his life, do you?” 

   Donghyuck stared into your eyes. The realization hitting him that it was him who was making you act this way. It was him who was making you insecure and confused. His loving words and unloving actions. His flirty eyes and disloyal hands. 

   But before his first words could leave his mouth, a firm knock on that door caught your attention. You mustered your strongest voice before calling out, “Yes?” 

   “Do you want the Champagne, M’am?” The clear voice of the housekeeper caused you to cuss under your breath as you hit your shoulder against Donghyuck’s, making your way to the door swiftly. You swung it open and snatched the bottle from her hands, not before her eyes noticed your disheveled and teary-eyed figure. 

   “M’am, are you oka --”

   “Oh, fuck off.” You sneered, hating the vulnerable state she caught you in. In a burst of self-protection, you slammed the door in her face. You wasted no time twisting off the safety seal on the cap and flicking the cap off, placing the bottle between your lips and chugging down the burning liquid. 

   “P-princess --” You held your finger out to stop him, not quite done with the bottle. “Y/n!” He yelled, snatching the bottle from your hands before you could go through the whole thing. The bottle parted from your lips with a loud ‘pop’, making you choke a little at the sudden action. You wiped your mouth and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t take this away from me, too.”

   He set the bottle down and grabbed you by the shoulders, hoping to talk to you before the alcohol caught your consciousness. “What did I take away from you?” His voice was desperate, his eyes searching yours for the truth. 

   “My heart.” Was all you said before pushing him out of the way to the bottle again, this time not letting it go until you were done with the whole thing. His hands didn’t even try to stop you as your legs tripped over one another, his mind too preoccupied with your previous words to watch your drunk figure stumble towards your bed.

   As you began to whine and whimper in your pillow, Donghyuck thought it was his cue to leave the room. He needed to think things through. The second you heard the door shut, the knob clicking, your whining stopped. Instead, the reality that you were in fact just another fun toy to play with sunk into you, causing salty tears to cascade down your face into the pricey fluff of your pillow. 

   Donghyuck’s lack of response to your emotion-driven words meant that he just didn’t feet the same way, to you at least. So that night, you called up the housekeeper again with a wish for another bottle of champagne. Maybe it would take your mind off of things. But no amount of drunk giggling with your friends over skype could heal the aching wound of your torn heart. 

   For a moment, you wished that hearts were something you could buy -- you’d make sure to buy the most expensive one. Maybe it would come with a lifetime warranty. 

-

   The chirping of the song birds in the morning made you groan, their annoying tunes making you want to rip your ears off rather than sing along. Maybe it was your slight hangover or maybe it was your intense heartbreak the previous night that made you so grumpy. 

   Sitting up, you looked in the mirror on the vanity across from your bed, and you almost laughed. The tangled rats nest that was supposed to be hair, the purple eye bags, the swollen face from crying -- it all seemed funny to you; that you were like this because of some playboy.

   Instead of dwelling on it, you shrugged off the thought, hoping that not paying attention to it would save you some heartache. 

   But when you opened the door to your bathroom across the hall and there was the man himself standing in front of you, you knew it was inevitable. His light chestnut hair was sticking up in the back, you could see from the mirror, and his eyes were heavy. His face look moisturized and his breath smelled minty, so you could tell he had just woken up too.

   Your eyes shifted downwards and you moved past him, ignoring his sound of surprise, pushing him out the door and closing it in his face before he could protest aloud. Of course he just had to be up and using your bathroom.

   “Y/n.” The muffled voice traveled through the door, the next action a soft but repeating knock. This happened several times, but you simply continued to do your skincare routine and wash up. “Y/n, seriously -- let me talk to you.” He grumbled.

   Swinging open the door, you curtly nodded at him and attempted to slide away from his attention, but his hand caught your bicep smoothly, dragging you into you room despite your complaints and the judging looks of the housekeeper down the hall.

   The door closing behind you caused you to start to sweat, not liking Donghyuck’s confrontational personality. He made to move to talk, instead only crossing his arms in front of the door and giving you a pointed look that made you shift from foot to foot. 

   “So?”

   “So what?” 

   He rubbed his face in frustration, before taking a deep breath and connecting gazes again. “So do you remember what you said last night?”  Silence overcame the room as you contemplated lying.

   “N-No?” You cringed, giving him a hopeful look. “Yeah, bullshit.” He laughed. “I know you remember confessing your love to me.”

   “I did not confess my love for you.” 

   “Yes you did! You said I took your heart!” You shook your head, “Why did you leave if you thought I confessed to you? You left the room without saying anything --”

   “I wanted you to say those words to me when you weren’t drinking a whole bottle of champagne.” He loomed over you, bending down a little to be closer to you. “Admit it, princess, you love me.”

   You ran a hand through your hair, flinching backwards at his close face. “And? Yeah, I like you. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

   “What?”

   “It doesn’t mean I’m going to date you, Donghyuck.” His expression saddened, crossing his arms. “And why not?” 

   “Because I know you. You flirt with anything that has two legs -- you just see me as an easy target.” His eyes widened in shock, an exasperated look breaching his face. “Did those Chanel sunglasses leave you visually impaired? Do you not see me standing in front of you, asking you to be my princess?”

   “Hyuck --”

   He cut you off, continuing, “I’m talking with you, not with some other girl on the beach. I’m calling you princess -- no one else.”

   “Hyuck, let me talk --”

   “I wanted to hear your answer sober so that I knew you felt the same way, so that I knew it wasn’t the two thousand dollar champagne speaking.”

   “Lee Donghyuck!” You yelled, laughing from irritation. “I can’t trust you, that’s why! One minute you’re giving me positive signals and the next your off with your eyes on another girl -- how can I trust your words? You are known for being a playboy.” 

   “Is that what you think of me?” His dark pupils were darting back and forth across your face, trying to read you like a book. You moved closer, the space between you two shrinking. “What am I supposed to think?”

   The room was quiet, the only sound the song birds outside your window coupled with the cawing of sea birds, helping the atmosphere seem less tense. “What if I promised I’d never do it again?” He whispered, his focus trained on your lips. His breath fanned over your mouth, and you fought the urge to kiss him.

   “How can I know you won’t betray me?” Your voice came out strained from fighting the urge to just let him take you in his arms.

   His hands lifted up to your face and he cupped your cheek to keep your gaze on him, while his other hand slid around your waist in a way that made you feel safe. “You have to trust me.” 

   That word scared you, trust. To put your faith in someone blindly, especially ins someone like Lee Donhyuck who was known for trouble and for giving out kisses to any pretty stranger with enticing eyes -- but you also wanted to trust him. You wanted to believe that he wouldn’t hurt you, you wanted to believe that his words were filled with promise and truth.The only way to truly find out if he was lying or not was to take the leap. 

   Maybe it was his breath on your face, maybe it was how the corner of his heart-shaped lips quirked up at your red cheeks and hesitation, maybe there was a trace of the alcohol from last night still flowing in your system; but you gave in. 

   His lips met yours with a smile etched on them, it felt so sincere and genuine that you pushed back with just as much passion. His hands felt like they belonged on your waist with his fingers digging into your sides, and your arms felt like they were at home resting on his broad shoulders. 

   When you pulled away, you looked into his eyes and noticed a mischievous bu happy glint in them, and you knew it would be a long road ahead of you, but as long as you were with Donghyuck, you had trust that you’d be just fine. 

   You wouldn’t refund his messy love for anything.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 190: Standing Tall

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor died! But it’s okay because then he got better! In the meantime, the High Definition Noumu managed to destroy a whole lot of the city, to the point where it reminded a lot of people of the Kamino attack three months prior. There was a lot of meta about why Endeavor couldn’t quit. Part of it is because the world still needs a Symbol, and he’s what they’ve got right now. But as Hawks and Fuyumi also observed, Endeavor is also just really bad at giving up. As Hawks observed, back during All Might’s heyday, Endeavor was the only one who even attempted to try and surpass him, despite knowing he had no chance. And that’s exactly the kind of bullheaded tenacity that allowed this crazy fire man to force himself back up, use his flames to propel himself, and chase after the Noumu while the world (and his son, who’s watching in the U.A. common room with his classmates and Aizawa) looked on. Then Hawks finally showed up to help out, and lent Endeavor some of his feathers to aid him in his speed and movement. And with that little boost, Endeavor launched one final flaming fist attack. Hopefully it’ll be enough.

Today on BnHA: Endeavor punches the High Flying Noumu with his flame fist and tries to burn it from the inside out. Somehow it still doesn’t work. Everyone watching is like “AHHH” and Shouto is like “DAD D:” and Hawks is like “dude you burned all my feathers, I can’t help you out anymore.” But Endeavor is all “it’s okay we good” and he grabs the Noumu and blasts way up into the sky where he can unleash his full power without having to worry about hurting anyone in the vicinity. And then he unleashes another Prominence Burn attack, but this time with Plus Ultra. Everyone is like “holy shit” and it’s fucking tense as hell, and then a moment later Endeavor comes plummeting down from the sky still on fire and goes splat on some random car. And then he stands up and does the All Might victory pose. Goddamn. So everyone is all “YESSSSS”, and Hawks goes to help him because he’s still barely fucking conscious, and for just a moment it looks like everything’s going to be all right. And then Dabi shows up. And is all “hey there Endeavor. it sure is nice to quote-unquote ‘meet’ you, lol.” Oh fucking snap.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 209 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

lol

for a solid moment there I read this as “the beginning of Horikoshi Kouhei” and I was like oh no my man you did not just pull a goddamn Steven King and insert yourself into your own fucking manga

so here’s the full dramatic first page

poor Hawks, caught in the crossfire

oh for fuck’s sake, now we’re moving on to page 2 and Endeavor’s fist is still rushing toward this fucking Noumu. just die already please

okay it looks like it is indeed dying

this is actually pretty anticlimactic after all of that. but okay

aaaaaand it’s still regenerating. even though Endeavor has his fucking hand inside of its skull and is burning it from the inside out

shit you guys

so they are being burned up, then. not good, not fucking good at all

Endeavor is shouting Hawks’s name!

and now he’s addressing the Noumu

idk what’s going on, he’s just describing the Noumu in his mind I guess. saying shit we already know. “modified human, manufactured one, holder of multiple quirks, obsessed with the pursuit of strength”

like, what is the point of this

oh I see, it’s simply to be as dramatic as possible so as to build up to this moment

Shouto. that’s very sweet. but. he can’t hear you, honey

he doesn’t actually address him as “dad” very often though does he? in fact, I don’t recall him ever directly addressing him by “name” at all. in the handful of face to face conversations that they’ve had with each other, he’s avoided using any sort of title and has been really brusque. and whenever he talks about him, he simply refers to him as “my father” (I forget which word it is he’s using in Japanese, but it’s something fairly casual and borderline disrespectful, I’m sure)

(ETA: so he normally uses the word “oyaji” (which does mean “father” but has more of an “old man” connotation though) when addressing Endeavor, and apparently that’s the word he uses in this scene too. so there was actually no change there. I’d be annoyed at the translation being a bit misleading, but I guess “old man! I’m watching” wouldn’t have quite the same emotional impact, so that’s fair.)

anyway, so yeah, that makes this outburst even more meaningful than it initially appears to be

Hawks says his feathers are all burnt up now so he won’t be able to help any more

but Endeavor says it’s enough

and he’s flying up higher, somehow. not sure if that’s the remainder of Hawks’s wings boosting him or if he’s just using his fire again somehow. that still makes no fucking sense but okay

he’s trying to put some distance between them and the people and buildings below so as to not cause any further damage

okay here we go. one more time

odd that he would hate that motto given how obsessed he is with strength. maybe it just never clicked with him. or maybe he resented it because no amount of “plus ultra” was ever enough for him to catch up with All Might

but at any rate, this is certain some plus ultra shit right here

looooooool Horikoshi you sneaky little shit

SO THIS SHIT IS REALLY ALL BUT CONFIRMED THEN, HUH

damn it just what exactly is the story behind this. I want to know already

so now Endeavor is plummeting from the sky presumably unconscious and still very much on fire

and the guy with the air gun hands says he’ll catch him. and he’s shooting his hands out toward him

and his buddy with the chopped up floating limbs is helping too. gross

eeesh

I winced

and now there are more reaction shots, with Fuyumi’s hands over her mouth, the people from the newscopter looking on in shock, and Shouto still standing there with that same frozen “oh shit” expression as before

can anyone give this poor kid a hug or even a hand on his shoulder or fucking something already. jesus. Aizawa you’re right fucking there. what happened to all of your dad instincts

Hawks is running over now

ahhhhh yes here we go!

I expected there would be a slower, more dramatic build up to this, but he just like bounced back to his feet and fucking did it right away lol

well whatever. he earned it. he earned this

all right, Enji. I’ll admit it, you are making some great strides here. none of this is gonna get me to actually forgive you, mind. but I have done quite a bit of essaying on redemption at this point, and I gotta say, you meet those criteria. you are learning and trying to be better and actually succeeding. it doesn’t undo any of the shitty things you did, but that’s up to those characters whether they’re okay with moving past it or not. in the meantime you seem to be doing what you can to make up for it now, and while it would have been preferable for you to have learned this lesson some 25 years earlier... better late than never

and now everyone is cheering!

goddammit, they really needed this. a victory like this. something to help restore their faith

All Might’s sitting and looks kind of blown away. like his hair is literally blown away. did someone turn the fan on in this room or

ohhhhh my god

oh my heart. whoa there. I wasn’t ready for this

is he praying?? is this a thank you? or is this just relief and he just kind of slumped for a second and just happened to clasp his hands like that for lack of knowing what else to do

either way it’s giving me a lot of feels

although even now they’re all just standing around him hovering like they want to comfort him, but they’re afraid or there’s some invisible force field there or something. JUST PAT HIM ON THE DAMN BACK ALREADY. jesus he was so tense. that was so intense can you please give him some support please and thank you guys

by the way they seriously need to turn up the heat in the dorms it looks like. holdover thought from the previous chapters that I forgot to remark on because I was binging the rest of this arc. but they’re all bundled up quite a lot for being indoors

awwwwww

what is this. I thought I was supposed to come out of this arc shipping Dabi/Hawks?? I have yet to understand that? but Endeavor/Hawks (or more like Hawks/Endeavor) is certainly coming off very strong

(ETA: to be clear I don’t ship this romantically, because Endeavor is old enough to be his dad. which is kind of the point, actually. Endeavor fucked up with all four of his actual kids, but now with Hawks he has miraculously been granted the chance to make a new start with someone who’s disconnected from all of that. basically this is the first bond Endeavor has ever formed that isn’t fucking toxic, and I think it’s important for him on his path to making amends in whatever ways he can. this is a chance for him to actually try and be a good father to someone, and better late than never. 

because Hawks is also someone who has relatively few close connections with people, because he keeps all his true feelings bottled up for self-preservation reasons, and keeps people at a distance by being casual and aloof with everyone (though in a friendly way). and yet for whatever reason, he’s gone and adopted Endeavor. maybe it’s just that he sees Endeavor as the best hope the world’s got right now, and so mentoring him to be less of an ass gets him closer to his goal of one day not having to do this job anymore. or maybe something about Endeavor’s asshole nature makes Hawks feel more at ease being open with him, because he doesn’t need to worry about making Endeavor worry, because Endeavor will just keep on not giving a shit no matter what, so that’s nice. except that Endeavor does perhaps give the tiniest of shits, shockingly. and I think that’s something that came as a surprise to them both and caught them both off guard.

anyways. so somehow this relationship between a hot pile of garbage and a character who was only introduced six chapters ago became one of my favorites in the series in a staggeringly short amount of time. sometimes life is strange like that.)

LMAO

I USED THE OTHER ARM. SO IT’S NOT THE SAME. SHUT UP

(ETA: also would you fucking look at this fucking fanboy knowing which arm it’s actually supposed to be and still bothering to be all “HMPH!” about it. how does it feel to be a 45-year-old chuuni, Endeavor)

damn he is harsh on himself

jesus christ Horikoshi. I keep thinking this, but it really is like a textbook study of how to redeem a character. he ticked off every single box. give them everything they wanted only for them to realize it wasn’t what they wanted at all. make them remorseful for their past actions. make them strive forward with new purpose. make them suffer but refuse to give in. give them an eyepatch. (ETA: dammit.) give them new relationships that aren’t tied to all of the horrible shit they did in their past, so we can see them interact with someone without that for once and get a glimpse of who they could have been and maybe just maybe still could be with a lot of hard work

like, I know when I’m being manipulated, but damned if it isn’t a masterful fucking job

anyways. Hawks says that he still did a good job and this will definitely be huge

and he says that first off “we have to do something about your injuries” and lol, duhhhhh though

SJSLDFKLSKHGK

YOU HOLD UP!!!! DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE

I FEEL LIKE I SUMMONED HIM LMAO

okay Dabi. meet Hawks? unless you already know him? I don’t know, actually and I’m very curious as to what’s going on here

because it now occurs to me that my earlier suspicion of Hawks still could be right on the money and it’s possible that he was even working with Dabi. because idk but people ship this something fierce so there must be some connection, either past or future. and that attack was no fucking coincidence, and it certainly was no coincidence either that it ended up doing exactly what Hawks wanted it to do

but anyways. I’m getting ahead of myself now and I’m sure we’ll find out more about this shortly!

and look at Dabi greeting his old man like he’s never met him before, too. you think you’re so fucking smooth, huh

(ETA: so the “I guess” part here is actually very significant. I’ll just let Viz’s translator Caleb Cook explain:

basically, your two options are (1) Dabi is a fire-user whose true identity is still being deliberately withheld and whose physical appearance (hairstyle, eye color, approximate age) just happens to match up near-perfectly with the missing Todoroki sibling who was coincidentally mentioned in this same arc for the very first time, and who has apparently met Endeavor before, but in spite of this he somehow is not Todoroki Touya; or (2) Dabi is Todoroki Touya.

I don’t know about you guys, but I know where I stand with this one lol.)

shit. what an ending. what a fucking arc this is turning out to be

[avidfanficwriter]

The Other Sister (Chapter 1)

Characters: Steve Rogers(AU!) x OFC.

Summary: After five years of marriage, Steve Rogers finds himself questioning everything that his wife, Annabel has ever told him thanks to the impromptu visit by her troubled younger sister: Addison; whose existence he’s just learned about fives years prior. His only question now is: who verison is the truth? His loving wife? Or the troubled sister? 

Ratings: M.

Warnings: Mentions/indications of depression, mentions of sexual abuse, indication of mental abuse, drug abuse, alcohol abuse. (Warnings will be updated as chapters come)

Authors Note: It’s not gonna be pretty. I’m sorry for the you know, skipping out on everyone and neglecting my blog. I’m better than that, you know that. I know that but I’m trying. Believe in me. :)

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. 

There's a scene in dramatic movies that always seem to be shot in the same way, a simple setting, two people, one is nervous while the other is calm.  The person who is lucky enough to be calm eventually notices the odd behaviors from the other and questions it. They're given a jaw-droppingly shocking statement. The kind that makes them choke on their drink or forget how to breathe. At first, they don't know how to react. It's a pot full of emotions, anger, sadness, annoyance or worst-case scenario disgust. They question how they are going to get over it or understand it.

That moment of being unclear how to continue is how Steve felt right now, only instead of just a flurry of emotions, there's a nauseous feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach.

"-ay for a while." He doesn't have the faintest idea what his wife is saying now, after the first few words she spoke, he's blacked out the rest. It takes a few moments to gather himself, followed by another to convince himself he won't vomit. "One more time..." he asks.

His wife, Annabel Shaw-Rogers cocks her head at her husband. "I said Addison needs a place to stay for a while." He nods. "I told her no but she was insistent on it, something about doctors orders. She's probably just got out of rehab again. Once a junkie always a junkie." She trails off in annoyance.

All Steve can do is nod in response, he's chewing on his bottom lip trying to not scream. "The sister who was in and out of jail the last few years?"

"Uh-huh."

Another nod. "The sister who pops drugs like they're candy?"

"Uh-huh."

He clears his throat and rests his hands on the counter, staring at the wall ahead of him. "The one you don't hear from unless she needs something?"

Annabel chuckles and walks towards her husband of five years, she reaches out to him, wrapping her tanned arms around his waist. "Baby, I only have one sister. All of the horror stories you are about to ask are indeed about her." She takes a moment to rub a calming hand down his chest. "She's going to have to stay here if not, she'll never let that be the end of it." The sentence is ended with a loving kiss on his cheek and she leans into his body, trying to use her affection as an apology for the cards they have been dealt. For Steve, it'll take far more than a simple kiss and hug to rid the horrid taste in his mouth. She'll invade their privacy, ruin their home, invade the wholesome environment they have. Her drug-diseased handcuff ridden hands would be all over his home, infecting it. The air would be toxic, everything would have to be replaced, their home would need to be replaced.

A new home, new furniture, new clothes. He'd be out of money by this time next year.

If that wasn't bad enough, Addison Shaw was trouble with a capital T. The woman had trouble etched in her bones, her blood was filled with negativity. The only way to explain young Addison was everything bad that one person can do, Addison had done and then some. The two sisters were miles apart, Annabel was beautiful, sweet and brilliant while Addison was problematic, untrustworthy and downright awful.

They were cut from two different strands, good and bad. To Steve, part of it would have made sense if one of them was bad if their daddy had a criminal history or even mommy but both parents were normal, average. Met in college, fell madly in love. Their mother was a stay at home mom, dad was a banker. They stayed out of trouble, minded their business, went to church on Sundays and said their prayers before bed. They were loving parents to beautiful girls, Annabel, their oldest, his wife. A dirty blonde haired girl who had dreams of being a singer. Their youngest, Addison was a brunette with-how he remembers hearing their mother describe as-big beautiful hazel eyes with the tiniest hints of green. There were no hopes or dreams used to describe her, no happy or cute memories that followed after any mention of her. It was always just Addison and then silence.

The idea of Addison... staying there in his home, ruining the atmosphere. Forcing he and Annabel to live on edge to accommodate her. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. However, this was his wife, the love of his life. He couldn't say no if she had already said yes. She had to be dealing with far more issues than his own, this couldn't have been easy on her.

"How long?" He finally asks with a deep sigh.

It takes her a while to answer which scares him, "A few weeks." That's an arrow straight in his heart. He's already envisioning his gravestone, 'Steven Grant Rogers. Died from: sudden cardiac arrest brought on by wife's junkie sister.'

"Fine..." He says with another sigh. "But she doesn't stay in the house."

"Where are we going to put her, baby? The doghouse?"

Steve smiles. "If we had a doghouse, that wouldn't be nice enough for her."

Annabel agrees, pulling her arms from Steve. "Where then?"

"The guest house."

"It's not finished with the remodel."

"The kitchen is the only part left, the room, living room, and bathroom are done. She can survive with half a kitchen." He remarks.

"Just means she'll have to be here when she wants to eat."

Steve wanted to strangle her, probably the only time on this earth that he had the urge to do so. A day he could handle, maybe two but an unspecified amount of weeks was hell on earth. Hell, literary, as if they had taken a one-way ticket to the bottom of Satan's ass. "I'll get the contractor to finish the kitchen within the week, pay him double if I have too."

The contractor comes as planned and is less than happy about the sudden change, "In a week? My guys are gonna be workin' double time."

"I know, I get it. I'll pay you double-triple what you were getting. I just need this done by Monday." With a heavy sigh, the contractor agreed, apologizing ahead of time for the noise they would soon be faced with.

They had noise and he was having nightmares, a horrible combination. Steve was on the brink of losing his sanity and the worst had yet to come. The impending doom of Addison's arrival was rapidly approaching. Each time he closed his eyes, it was followed by a possible outcome of Addison living with them. In one, she burnt down the house another threw a rager when they went out to dinner and the worst was her overdosing in their kitchen. Her arrival was eating him up.

"Addison is aware we are gonna have rules?" Steve asks over dinner one night, over the sound power tools echoing through the home.

"I'm sure." Annabel nods, chewing her food and staring at her cell phone.

"Are we going to have to hide all the medicine?"

Annabel drags her eyes from her facebook feed to stare at Steve blankly. "I hadn't thought about that." She clears her throat. "Probably. She'll probably wind up overdosing on cold medicine." The tone of her voice is full of malice and humor.

It was crude place in time now that Steve found himself chuckling at the statement, instead of being overtaken with disgust. He always saw the best in people, believed that everyone deserves a second (Or more) chance. He extended olive branches, forgave the unforgivable, he was the embodiment of a good guy but times had changed. "You're okay with this, right?" Annabel asks in a small voice.

"Of course." He lies.

"Steve, are you really?"

He exhales deeply, "Baby, she's your sister."

"Only by blood." She remarks. "Trust me, If you could change your genetics, I would be first in line." There's not a hint of humor in her voice, she truly would. As depressing as it sounded, Annabel was ashamed to admit she had a sister almost as much as her parents were to say they had two daughters. He remembers taking Annabel on their first date, they talked about their families, there was never a hint that she had a sister. Annabel had spun a web that led him to believe she was an only child.  

In fact, Annabel never spoke about her, nor did her parents; it was like she never existed. It wasn't until their wedding that Addison dropped the bombshell of having a sister that left Steve speechless. It was nearly the end of their romance. "You have a sister and you just what? Forget to tell me about her?" He shouted in anger, slamming the front door behind him as he stomped into their new house. "We've been together for three years! Are those even your actual parents or are you waiting to introduce me to the real ones in another three years?"

Annabel turned to face him, sighing and running a hand through her hair. "Steve, calm down." She pleads.

"Don't tell me to calm down, you've been lying to me for three years."

"I wasn't lying, I just didn't tell you about her."

He groans, "That's the same damn thing." He heads to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and quickly gulping it down. The only way he can think to calm his nerves is drinking alcohol also another way to keep his mouth busy instead of shouting.

"Listen, Steve..." He ignores the next thing out of her mouth, pleas spill from her red-tinted lips about their upcoming wedding, 'it's only a month away', 'we can't call it off now! What am I going to tell my parents?'. Excuse after excuse yet she avoids the topic at hand. Her sister, a sister that she never once spoke about. That her parents never spoke about. Their family album had no pictures of another child, the pictures littered through their home was void of this mystery sister.

"Why?" He asks, refusing to divulge into talk about their wedding, one mention of it and that would be all she'd focus on. He feels betrayed and used. He starts to question everything she's ever told him, even questions the validity of their relationship. "H-how.... how does someone lie about having a sibling?"

"It's complicated."

Steve's eyes go wide and he leans in, chuckling. "Complicated?" he questions, setting his beer down on the counter in front of him. "Hey, Steve, I have a sister. Yeah, her name is Mary, she's nineteen; lives in Alabama, don't see her much. How is that complicated?"

Annabel sets her purse down on the counter in front of Steve, sighing heavily. "Okay... I was going to tell you, I planned on telling you but it just... isn't easy." She closes her eyes and swallows deeply, he notices her hands, she's squeezing her fingers. "We don't talk about her."

"We?"

"My parents, me; my family." Annabel lets out a nervous chuckle, realizing for the first time in years, she's confessing what is suppose to be a lifelong secret. "Her name is Addison and she's twenty-seven years old and... I don't know where she's living, I ran into her in Miami on the girls trip a few months back but I don't know where she's at right now, I haven't since she was sixteen."

It's even worse than Steve expected, however, he's not entirely sure what he expected. "What do you mean since she was sixteen? If she's twenty-seven now that means you're only two years apart." Annabel nods, ashamed. "What does that even mean?"

Annabel can hardly stand the look of confusion on her husband's face. There's no stopping now, she had to continue for both of their sakes. "You need to understand she put my parents through hell. She was horrible, a bad kid, beyond bad. She did drugs, threw parties, refused to go to school; refused to come home, drank. Anything she could do, she did. My parents tried, I tried. They sent to her to my uncles to try and help her but she nearly burned his house down." It's as if a weight has lifted off her chest, the lie that she had forced herself to believe is finally free. "She was unfixable. Getting worse as the days went by."

"And you just gave up on her?" Steve questions in an angered tone. "She was a kid!"

"No, we didn't!" She raises her voice, getting insulted by the accusation. "My parents tried like hell but it never worked. She never let it and they couldn't do it anymore, my dad was on the verge of losing his job, mom was having a mental breakdown. One day, my dad had enough he threatened her if she continued, he'd make her leave. She didn't change. The next day, she came home high and he packed her a bag and kicked her out. Called friends and family told them to not let her in."

"How old was she?"

"Sixteen."

"Six-Sixteen? She was sixteen years old?" He questions in shock. "Your father kicked your sixteen-year-old sister out of the house with nowhere to go?" The thought is unimaginable to him, an innocent child out alone in the world, battling the street of California with no one to help her. It made him sick, he could barely look at her.

"It sounds bad, I know."

He nods, chuckling being the only thing he can do that doesn't wind up with them ending their engagement. "I don't think you do."

"I wanted her to come back, I looked for her but I couldn't find her."

It's a lie or a comedy skit, it has to be. It doesn't seem plausible. He's met her parents, her fathers is the sweetest guy in the world, her mother loves with all of her heart. The first time he met her, she demanded a hug and that he comes over every holiday, birthday and Sunday for dinner. The idea that they, everyone's dream parents had kicked a child out of their home. "So, you guys just what? Woke up a few days later and said we only have one daughter. Gee, what a nice day?"

Annabel cocks her head in annoyance, "No, One month of her being gone, turned into three and then it was a year and before we knew it life was so much easier without her around. My parents weren't fighting, I wasn't missing school because of something she did. We didn't have any police around the house, it was just simple. Normal. A happy family." She finally sits down on the bar stool, feeling exhausted. "Eventually we realized anytime we talked about her, my mother got sad and my father was angered. People didn't understand it either when we said what happened and we found it easier to not talk about her. We just pretended she didn't exist."

Steve doesn't understand, he can't even begin to understand. If he had a child, he couldn't imagine turning on them. Casting them out with all dangers in the world that they could succumb to. No matter how horrible they were, he'd never give up on them. He couldn't. It wasn't in his blood. "You never heard from her until a few months ago?"

Annabel nods her head, brushing her hair behind her ear before she begins. Another jog down memory lane that breaks his heart even more.

It was a few years later before her name was spoken again in the Shaw household, they had a phone call in the middle of the night from a detective in Texas, Addy; It softens his heart just for a second when Annabel uses her nickname, it shows she still cares somewhere in there. Addison was found in a cheap, rat and drug infested motel unconscious with signs of sexual assault. It had taken her three days to finally talk to police and another three for her to confess her first name. it was luck or a miracle that they discovered her purse trashed in an alley.

"Do you know how late is it?" Her father, Gregory had shouted into the phone. His voice rough and full of sleep.

"Sir, I apologize for the disruption. This is Detective Amanda White from the Austin Police department, sir, I'm afraid I have some bad news. We've found your daughter, Addison Shaw."

The detective went on to confess the details of the case, Addison refused to talk, claimed it was a misunderstanding. An accident, she fell while getting dressed but all evidence said otherwise. They had found the doer but she refused to press charges and point the finger at him. He shrugged and simply told her, "I only have one daughter." In his mind, Addison had made her bed and whatever path she was on, was her own doing. After that, anything that reminded them of her was gone, pictures, drawings, baby boxes. She was merely a blip in their past. As far as anyone in their lives would know, the Shaw's had one daughter, Annabel.

"My dad didn't care," Annabel says with a look of pain. "my mom nearly died but she would have followed my father to the ends of the earth without second-guessing when he said never mention her, we didn't."

Annabel goes on about running into her baby sister in Miami on her girl trip. Her last trip as an unmarried woman, the last hurrah. It was the hotel she was staying in that she found Addison. Not recognizing her at first, it had been so long since she'd seen her that time had corroded her image.

"Addison?" She questions on a whim to the young girl with brown hair tied in a ponytail and dressed in a hotel uniform. "Addy?" It was her, beyond all belief. Their eyes met and Addison was a deer in headlights. It was an awkward reintroduction, two sisters split by time, coming face to face.

"I'm getting married!" Annabel shouted midway through the conversation, her happiness leaking through. "I want you to be there." The words came out before she had a second to rethink her sentence.

Addison said nothing in response. It was a brief silence and a deep sigh before she answered, in a distant voice with cold eyes. "I hope you have a good wedding."

"No, Addy, I want you there. It's my wedding day and I want my family there, all of my family." Her sister is still silent, staring at her like she's never met her. Which is nearly the truth, they didn't know one another. Other than their names, they were strangers. It had taken some convincing before Addison had responded with, "If time works out, maybe I'll think about coming." Annabel left her phone number with her, asking her one last time before she left "Just come, okay? It'll be fun." She didn't think it would work but this morning when she woke up, there a text message from an unknown phone number that simply read. "When is the wedding again? And where? -Addison." She texted back immediately, eyes still blurred from sleeping and another text arrived a few hours later. "I can come if you still want me too," Annabel responded by sending her the ticket details and saying she couldn't wait to see her again.

"So, she's coming to our wedding?" Steve finally questions, rubbing his eyes and wishing he'd bought more beer.

"Yes."

"And what do your parents think?" He asks.

"I haven't told them and I'm not going to."

"Anna..."

"Steve, it's my day, if I want to invite my sister that is my choice."

"Fine." He agrees, walking around to the counter to engulf her in his arms. The good guy inside of him begins to think it could be the best thing to happen. The family could mend, forget about the past and begin again, Something good could come from their wedding. "This could be a fresh start. A way to move on from the past. A restart." He’s fooling himself with the agreement but his biggest flaw was always wanting to see the best in people, if she wanted her to be there, he would do that for her. For their family. 

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 42

We left the Gold Coast on February 13th, returned home for two days, then were off again…first to Berlin for a screening of ‘The Night Manager’ with a Q & A session, then on to Vietnam, where shooting began the day after we arrived. The entire experience there was life-altering, in a way. The people, who were so kind, generous, and welcoming, and the locations, some of which had never before been filmed, were majestic and evocative of a land time had, to our benefit, forgotten…but most of all, the opportunity to immerse myself in a culture I had little knowledge of was humbling, and miraculous, and I made every effort to be out and about with every spare moment I had. When production wrapped in mid-March, Jordan announced that he was planning on relocating to the area, and I found myself just the tiniest bit jealous. There was such a sense of peace there, despite such a tumultuous upheaval in the not so distant past…a testament to the human spirit, our ability to keep pressing onward, to continue to live, and even thrive. A lesson in perspective, I suppose.

Tom was due in Los Angeles on March 20th for a photoshoot, so we opted to go directly there instead of heading home to London and then back out again. The 21st was booked with interviews, which would be followed by the official ‘I Saw the Light’ premiere on the 22nd. This was the first time I’d be walking a red carpet with him, other than the brief appearance at the Cube. Though Tom normally preferred the Beverly Hills Hotel, we were staying at the Loews Hollywood due to its proximity to the Egyptian, where the screening would be held, and Sadie’s Kitchen, the venue chosen for the after party. Our room was on the 15th floor, modern décor in shades of grey, white and burgundy, with a view of the Hollywood sign…currently packed with a team of stylists, garment bags and rolling racks making me feel like a sardine in a tin. Granted, a very lovely tin, but a tin nonetheless. Tom was almost ready to go, his bright blue suit complementing his eyes perfectly, black necktie offering a bold contrast to his white dress shirt. I was still in my skivvies, one of the gals taping me into my strapless bra ‘just in case’. Despite the opportunity it created for an epic wardrobe malfunction, I was totally in love with my gown. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline, gradient purple, near black at the top, fading to pale lilac midway down in the front and plum in the back. The skirt was floor length and full, and both a portion of it and nearly the entire bodice were decorated with silver vines and leaves, cascading downward like a waterfall. I’d opted for dark purple heels, on the thick side because I figured there was less of a risk of tripping in front of the press line that way. Around my neck was my tourmaline necklace, and my hair had been pinned up in a loose bun. As I pondered what food choices awaited me at Sadie’s, the gal announced that my tits were secure and I was instructed to step carefully into the gown, zipped up, and released into the wild to fend for myself. Tom’s hands descended upon my shoulders as I inspected the contents of my clutch one final time, making sure I had a room key, my cell phone, tissues and a Snickers bar.

“You look gorgeous, as always.”

I turned my head to meet his gaze. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” He grinned, releasing me, and I spun around to get a better look at him. “Mmm. That is a nifty suit. To the left…to the right…where will…aha, LEFT. What’s that, eight out of ten or something?”

“I didn’t realize we were collecting data. Will the results be in the form of a bar graph or a pie chart?”

“A fifty page thesis, actually. Available for sale on Amazon. I figure we can fund our retirement with it.”

He laughed, interrupted by his phone chirping. “Car’s here. Let’s roll.”

“Walk. I’m going to walk. Probably. Rolling sounds like ‘a YouTube Star is Born’. But I suppose that could fund some shit too…”

We exited arm in arm, piled into the elevator with a bunch of other fancy people I didn’t know, then climbed into the black SUV waiting for us. It was still light out, the day bright and sunny. Our vehicle was sixth in line when we pulled up to the Egyptian Theater, and my jaw dropped at how old-school big-glam Hollywood it looked, the red carpet lining the courtyard, velvet ropes and press wherever I looked. It was far from my first rodeo, but it was the first time I’d be at such an event in the capacity of ‘movie star’s plus one’. A low whistle escaped my lips.

“Wow, so we’re like, really doing this. Surreal, Tom. Sur-REAL.”

He took my hand in his, pulling my attention away from what I could see outside the window. I smiled at the sight of the excitement written all over his face. “It is that, positively. And I’m…I’m…well, I’m like a live wire, Maude. Crackling and vibrating and super charged with energy because I’m not walking this one alone, you’re going to be right by my side and…” He let go of my hand, flinging both his up in the air and waving them around jazz-style as he grinned. “I. AM. UNCONTROLLABLY EXCITED!”

I leaned in to kiss his cheek, quickly wiping the lipstick I left behind away with one of my tissues. “My god you are just too cute. Does this car have a sick bag? Because the cute is going to make me barf, for sure.” I mock-gagged.

He continued to grin like a fool as he pointed to the window behind me. “We’re up! It’s time! Let’s go, my lady. LET’S GO!”

Before I could ask for a moment to get my shit together, he was out of the car, the roar of waiting fans greeting him as he ran around to my side and opened the door for me. I took his proffered hand and stepped out into the daylight, the roars growing louder, our names being shouted above the din by press and onlookers alike. As we made our way down to the entrance, Tom stopped to sign and take selfies as long as time would allow, and then it was time for us to strike a pose. The flashes were the worst part, a ceaseless strobing that made it very difficult to focus, but mid-way through my eyes and brain seemed to adjust and I found myself having a really good fucking time mugging for the cameras with the man of the evening. The interviews were a blast, Tom taking the lead and doing most of the talking, pulling me in here and there when it was someone he’d interacted with on previous occasions or mentioned my name. We were like a comedy improv team that sang on command, and by the time we made it into the actual screening I was totally high on fun. Not exactly the right vibe for such a serious, angsty, sad movie, but in the end I was grateful I went into it with a boost because the ended pregnancy talk scene was difficult to watch even though it was the second time around. There I sat, holding back tears with Tom’s hand in mine, shaking, and me rubbing his wrist with my thumb. As soon as the credits rolled we were ushered quickly to the car, and then it was off to Sadie’s. I was a very intimate setting, the décor an eclectic mix of woods, stones, metals and glass. The food was a bit too micro for my taste, and there were moments when I seriously considered grabbing an entire tray of hor d'oeuvres and making a break for the coatroom. Tom had been indulging in champagne all evening, and Rodney’s band was in the house, so I knew that it wouldn’t be long until an impromptu jam session occurred. I’d avoided going to the bathroom since we left the hotel, and the three sodas I’d guzzled made it impossible to postpone any longer. I kissed Tom on the cheek, leaving him with the drummer whose name I’d been given but could absolutely not recall and headed for the rest room. Fitting into the stall was the first hurdle, turning around was the second, and it actually got more and more complicated every step of the way until my hands were full of fabric and my ass was on the chilly seat. Figuring out how to wipe was the Rubik’s cube of the process, and I stared at the toilet paper dispenser for an untold amount of minutes. I heard the band begin to play Move It On Over, heard them finish, then start up with Long Gone Lonesome Blues. Tom’s yodeling snapped me out of my stupor and I bunched all the fabric in the crook of one arm, tore off the necessary quantity of sheets with my free hand and took care of business like a boss. As I thanked the gods for auto-flush, I unlocked the stall, dropped the fabric back in place and propelled myself outward…right into Lizzie, who was wearing a far more practical dress that wasn’t all floaty and poufy and just waiting for an accident to happen. She grinned.

“So? Enjoying the party? Or did you come in here to hide like, you know, I DID?”

I laughed. “So far, so good. Nice to know it’s not just me who seeks refuge in bathrooms, though. But this time it’s a legit visit. Which was terrifying.”

“Maude, there are more dresses in my closet that I wound up buying because they were unfit to return then I care to count. Wine, toothpaste, hair gel, lipstick, chocolate, things I don’t even know what they are and probably don’t want to…and lemme tell ya, I know all the best bathrooms for hiding in SO many cities all around the world. The private ones with really loud fans are just…” She sighed. “Perfection.”

Washing my hands, I nodded. “Oh yeah. Peace and quiet. If they only came with a Do Not Disturb sign…”

“Oh my GOD, there’s a bathroom in a restaurant in Toronto, I can’t remember the name but I know where it is, I can see it…damn…anyway, they HAVE that.”

“No they do not.”

She nodded, walking to the stall furthest from the door. “Yes they do! Best twenty minutes of my night a few years back.” Turning, she waved. “Okay, I’m goin’ in. If anyone’s looking for me…”

“I have no idea where you are.”

She blew me a kiss. “Bless you.”

As I re-entered the chaos, I was hit with an extra-loud, slightly slurred version of Hey Good Lookin’, and I couldn’t wait to round the corner and see Tom in action. And take a video. Which I’d totally post on Tumblr because surely it was something the entire world needed to see. The band had set up on one side of the dining area, which had been cleared of tables, and they were surrounded by cast and crew, some standing and clapping, others dancing. Tom was easy to spot, and as I worked my way through the crowd, I noticed that there was a woman hanging on him, her arm resting on his shoulder as she shimmied to the beat. She was waiflike, incredibly thin and tall, taller than Tom, even, in her white stilettos, her white mini dress so short I didn’t think it would be possible for her to sit down without putting on one hell of a show. There were triangular cut-outs at the waist, and her platinum blonde hair hung halfway down her back. Her eyes were huge, greenish-grey, and beautiful, the stand out component of her heart-shaped face with its perfect Cupid’s bow mouth. I’d never seen her before and had never asked him to point her out in the film, though I now recognized her from it, and as I registered that it was the woman he was terrified of running into, and that we’d forgotten the possibility of her being there, or at least I had, my heart began to pound in my chest. Claudia. Right there, in front of me, rubbing up against my fiancé.

As the song ended everyone cheered, and she placed her hands on either side of Tom’s head, turned his face towards hers, then kissed him squarely on the lips in far too intimate a fashion and for entirely too long. I heard a few gasps, but they were eclipsed by the roaring of my heartbeat in my ears, and I fought the urge to scream as I watched him gently push her away. He turned back toward the crowd, stone-faced, and when his mask slipped almost imperceptibly I knew he’d spotted me. I wanted to run, flee the scene, disappear into the night but this was a party full of his co-workers, part of the promo, and doing so would certainly hit the gossip rags in a flash and had the potential to damage the success of the film and so I stood, and I faked a smile as he walked toward me with the woman who possessed a cache of sex tapes starring them both at his side. Once they were two feet away, she opened her clutch and pulled out what I knew to be a hotel room key, as it bore the same logo as the one in my own. Her voice was a much higher pitch than mine, volume just loud enough for both Tom and I to hear when she spoke, pressing the plastic rectangle into his hand.

“Here’s my key. Panorama suite two. I’ll see you shortly.” She turned to me, smirking, then back to him, gesturing in my direction with her thumb. “You can bring her too, if you want, even though she’s not exactly my type. That giant cock of yours more than makes up for it.”

She grinned widely at me, then walked across the room, hair swaying back and forth as she rolled her hips, finally vanishing around the corner and into the hall that led to the exit after what seemed like forever. I heard Tom say my name, and I looked up, but I stared at the knot in his tie because I couldn’t look him in the eye. He took my hand in his, which I permitted, and after his first ‘good night’ it dawned on me that one, I should do the same because two, apparently he’d decided it was time to get the fuck out of there. As soon as we rounded the same corner Claudia had minutes earlier, I pulled my hand from his. Neither of us spoke then, and when he began to do so in the car, I silenced him with a terse ‘not now’.

The ban continued as we entered the hotel, and throughout the elevator ride. Once the room door was closed and locked behind us, I held up both hands, palms toward him.

“Tom. I’m going into the bathroom. I’m going to take this dress off. I’m going to take a shower. I’m going to try and calm down and return to some sort of quasi-rational version of myself. You are going to stay out here.” I could feel the rage bubbling up, words I shouldn’t say spilling out of my mouth. “Unless, of course, you’re planning on joining Claudia, which, FYI, I am NOT.” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for that. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid. I’ll be out when I’m ready.”

Once safely tucked away, I focused on each individual detail of every task. Zipper down. Dress off. Hang up the dress. Tape off. Bra off. Underwear off. Water on. Test water. Step into shower. By the time I’d dried off, I once again understood that the man on the other side of the door loved me, and that I loved him, and trusted him, and that we needed to discuss what had happened because there was a side to this story I’d yet to hear, and doing or saying or thinking anything without having that knowledge would be unreasonable. And wrong.

He was sitting on the floor, jacket and tie off, shirt unbuttoned ,back leaning up against the bottom of the bed with his knees up and his head in his hands. Hearing me pad across the carpet, he looked up at me, his forlorn expression shifting briefly to one of desire, which baffled me until I realized I was naked. Knowing that he wanted me in the midst of all this was strangely comforting, and empowering. I pulled a robe out of the top dresser drawer, wrapping it around myself as I walked to the bed and sat down, his body to the left of my own. His gaze was cast downward again, and I reached out and began rubbing the back of his neck, speaking softly.

“Will you sit with me and tell me what happened?”

He nodded, rising quickly and joining me on the mattress. His eyes met mine, and he inhaled deeply.

“I had no idea she’d be attending. I didn’t even think to ask. If I’m honest, I hadn’t given her a single thought in months, not until we watched the movie here, and even then the possibility of her turning up didn’t even cross my mind for more than a few seconds…and I pushed it away as me being paranoid. As soon as I started in on Hey Good Lookin’ I felt someone to my left, which wasn’t out of the ordinary as people had been all around me since we began playing, but the someone was incredibly close, and at first I thought you’d snuck up on me and were going to join in, but when I turned to look it was…her. And there I was, in the middle of a song, in front of everyone, and I wanted to stop and get away from her but…”

It was my turn to nod. “In front of everyone. I know that feel.”

He shook his head. “I told myself to remain professional, to keep going, and I thought if I pretended that we were filming I’d be fine. Then she…she…she kissed me in front of everyone, and I just couldn’t believe it and she just kept going and I wanted to shove her off me but that would have looked…and so I did it as normally as I could and the whole time I was hoping you were still in the bathroom but then I saw you…” He paused. “And when I started toward you she came WITH me and then the keycard and what she said…then watching you keep yourself together when I knew you were…I’m sorry. So, so sorry. If that kiss makes it online…my god. I’m sorry.”

His head was in his hands again, shoulders shaking as he wept, and I recognized that this experience had been so deeply traumatic for him that he didn’t quite realize it yet, his unconsciously focusing outwardly serving as diversion. I wrapped my arms around him and held him to my chest, stroking his hair until he quieted enough to listen. When he was able to look me in the eye again, I began to speak.

“Thank you for explaining. That’s essentially what I thought had happened, and, I’m very sorry it happened to you.” His left brow rose. “What she did was so completely inappropriate…I mean, that’s not really surprising, but…yeah. Is it okay if I go through my thought process here?”

He half-smiled. “Yes.”

“Obviously, there’s a component of jealousy. That hit me first. This beautiful woman that’s been intimate with you kissed you right in front of me, and you look amazing together, and she’s tall and blonde and skinny…and the way she presented the keycard to you made it seem like you had an arrangement, a plan in place. Most of way back here all what was going through my mind was that you’d been secretly contacting her and set this all up. But, then I reminded myself exactly who, and what, she was to you, and the jealousy turned primarily to anger, directed at her, but there was still enough jealousy left to generate some serious nastiness on my part directed at YOU. And, like I said before, I wanted to avoid that because it was likely baseless and unwarranted, the jealousy. So I showered, and I listened, and DAMN that anger is way worse now and you should probably keep that room key far the fuck away from me…” I took a deep breath. “Sheese. Again, I’m very sorry this happened to you. However you want to handle it, I’m here to help. Whatever you need, okay?”

He reached out to touch my face, letting his fingertips drag across my jaw and down my neck before grasping my hand.

“I wasn’t even thinking of anything happening to me. I was afraid of what you’d think, and…”

I entwined my fingers with his. “I know. And I appreciate that. We’ve been through some shit, my dude, and I’m a runner. Or, I was. Now…you’re more important than my internal bullshit struggles.”

A smile lit up his face, but it faded quickly, replaced with fear, then sorrow, then anger over the next several silent minutes as he stared at me.

“Maude, all I know in this moment is that I’m finished being afraid of her. I remembered what you said back in New Orleans, our options, and…well, it’s time, I think, for her to know that what she views as having the upper hand…isn’t. Not anymore.” He ran one hand through his hair. “So. I’m going up there, and I’m going to deal with this for once, and for all. Unless you think it’s utter madness to do such a thing.”

My mouth dropped open as my brow rose. “Oh, it’s madness, alright. But I like it. Hmm…”

He laughed, then poked my collarbone softly with his finger. “Ah, a plan is afoot, is it?”

“No. A plan is a plan. Not a foot.” He groaned and covered his eyes briefly, gaze returning to meet mine as I continued. “Okay. Several things to consider here. Ideally, you’d do this alone. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Well, yes and no. Going in, absolutely. But when I visualize reaction scenarios, I am concerned that a situation might arise that would result in an unfavorable outcome.”

I snorted. “Yeah, as in her recording the entire exchange and then heavily editing it to paint you in a…a…let’s go with ‘negative light’.” He nodded. “The hotel security feed would take care of pinpointing when you entered and when you left, but everything in between is up for grabs, and that’s not acceptable. Having a witness seems warranted, but who’s the witness? Am I the witness? Does my bias preclude me from being reliable in reporting the truth?”

Tom nodded again. “Likely, yes. But you’re the only witness available who’s privy to all the details of the history involved, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else to maintain any sort of confidentiality.”

This was something I had zero desire to participate in, for a multitude of reasons. It was pre-Maude, and in that aspect, none of my damn business. But since Claudia’s future actions could significantly impact my life, even if said impact was short-lived, that made it potentially my damn business. Then there was what I knew…what she’d done with him, and, far worse, what she’d done TO him. Unsettling at best, rage inducing at worst…in other words, I’d be walking into a situation wherein keeping myself in check was questionable, but of the utmost importance. And there it was, another lightbulb moment in the life and times of Maude Gallagher-soon-to-be-Hiddleston. I chuckled, and he stared at me, confused, head tilted to the side as he attempted to discern what was amusing.

I patted his knee. “I’m just laughing at my own stupidity, because I totally forgot that I’m a member of your PR team and thus have a rather valid reason to accompany you since part of the discussion will include…PR. And it ALSO gives me a reason to behave myself. Total coup, right?”

His arms wrapped around me, kissing first one cheek, then the other. “Oh, yes. Check mate.”

“No, that’s just the check. The checkmate is me recording the whole exchange on my phone, which will be tucked in my bra. Or somewhere.”

He pulled back, eyes wide. “Isn’t this a two party state? I recall you mentioning that…”

“Yeah. It is. But that won’t stop me from leaking it if the need arises. You know, someone could steal my phone at any given moment. It’s totally possible. I’m forgetful. I leave things behind ALL THE TIME…”

“Maude, you are deliciously fiendish. And I love you so.”

“Aw, thank you, baby. And I’m a total hypocrite, because I just admitted to being willing to do what I believe she shouldn’t. Anyway…criminal prosecution for this sort of thing is very rare. She could sue, of course. But I don’t think I care. Do you care?”

“I do not.”

“Cool. Hopefully we’ll never need to use it.” I rose, both hands finger-gunning in his direction. “Let’s do this.”

He stood, tugging at the fabric of my robe. “Should you dress first, do you think?”

I glanced down at myself. “Oh. Right. This is not one of my ‘don’t fuck with me’ ensembles.”

Snorting, he began re-buttoning his shirt. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Thomas. I’m struggling to keep a firm grasp on my professionalism. Cease.”

“Firm grasp, you say?”

I pretended to not hear him and searched my travel wardrobe for something that would work, in the end opting for black leggings, a fluffy, grey, oversize turtleneck sweater and my Birkenstock boots. As I caught sight of myself in the mirror on the way out the door, I decided my choices were just the right mix of business and badassery…but a V-neck would have made hiding the phone a whole lot fucking simpler.

****************************************

There we stood, outside Panorama suite number two, me turned away from the door with my shirt lifted and bra on full display as I wedged my phone into it and hit record. Tom and I exchanged a few words, and then it was Titty Time again. I was relieved to hear the playback was nice and clear and began another session, putting a finger to my lips to let Tom know we were on the record, so to speak. He knocked loudly, then even louder when there was no immediate answer. When he paused, a clicking that could only be high heels on tile was audible, its increasing volume indicating the wearer was travelling in our direction. The door swung inward to reveal Claudia, now clad in white lingerie, a lacy bra, bikini panties, garters and filmy white stockings, all paired with the same white stilettos she’d worn to the party. She placed one hand on her hip, smirking widely.

“Well, well, well. Hello, Tom. I expected you to turn up, but not…” A thumb with a fuchsia fingernail jerked in my direction. “…her. Not exactly a pleasant surprise, but, whatever. Come on in. I’ve gotten off with my vibe three times already but I’m still SO fucking horny. Just one kiss from you, that’s all it takes…mmmm…”

Tom held up a hand, palm towards her. “Stop, Claudia. Right now. Control yourself until we’re behind closed doors, for god’s sake.”

She bit her lip. “Oh my, someone’s feeling forceful. Must be my lucky day!”

We walked in past her, and she followed after closing the door and engaging the slide-bolt lock, stopping in front of the not-so-mini mini bar to face us.

“Anyone else want a cocktail before cock?” Neither Tom nor I replied. “Well I do. I need one. Who wears a turtleneck to a threesome? Christ.”

Tom’s jaw clenched, then released as he spoke. “I’m afraid you’ve misinterpreted the reason for this visit, Claudia. Hint, it’s not for a threesome. I’m only here to have a conversation with you, one we should have had quite some time ago. Maude’s presence is due to the fact that she’s a member of my PR team, and will serve as my advisor if necessary.”

She was stunned, silent, and the fingers she’d wrapped around a bottle of rum went white with the strength of her grip. When Tom noted it didn’t appear as if she’d reply, he continued.

“I’m not going to waste my time re-hashing the past, but I will say this…I made it abundantly clear that we were done when I discovered you were secretly filming our encounters. When I also made it clear that I didn’t love you, and pointed out that I’d never given you any reason to believe our relationship was anything more than purely sexual in nature, you threatened me. You threatened to provide a detailed account of our interactions to my family and friends, you threatened to publish all of the videos you’d made online, and you threatened to ruin my career and make my life a living hell.”

She’d done several double takes during his speech, looking at me, then back at him, then back at me, as if she couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that I might be aware that something had transpired between them. She finally relinquished her hold on the rum bottle, lifting her hands in surrender. “Tom, that was…I was…I just said all that because I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

He scoffed. “Really? You didn’t mean it? Yet you accepted a million dollar payout from me?”

“I thought we had a future, Tom. Together. The money was like…alimony.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, Claudia. What I want you to know is that from this day onward, you are to come nowhere near me. If for some reason we find ourselves at the same event or function, don’t approach me. Don’t speak to me. And most of all, don’t fucking TOUCH me. If you refuse to comply, I will not hesitate to file a restraining order against you.” He took two steps closer to her, his face now inches from hers. “Do you understand?”

She didn’t respond, and he repeated the question, his tone far harsher, volume ratcheting up five notches on the dial.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Crossing her arms, she sneered at him. “You know, I still have all those videos...it would be such a shame if they went public and Maude found out what kind of person you really are…”

And there was my cue. I pulled Tom backwards and away from her, then stepped in front of him.

“Maude is acutely aware of the contents of ‘those videos’, Claudia.” Air quotes. I felt like an Office Space character for a second, and really, really wanted to tell her that if she would kindly fuck off and die that’d be great. “Opting to publish them is entirely your choice to make.”

Her laugh bordered on hysterical. “So you’re fine with ruining his career and making yourself a laughing stock? That’s cool. I’ll totally publish them then.”

I shrugged. “Be advised that there will be repercussions that will affect you personally and professionally if you choose to take such action.” She opened her mouth to speak, and I held up my hand to cut her off at the pass, my right index finger pointing up toward the ceiling. “First, since you’ll be violating the terms of the NDA you signed, a suit will be filed for breach of contract wherein we’ll be requesting both expectation and disgorgement damages. That means you’ll be on the hook for repayment of the one million dollars you received as a settlement, as well as any lost revenue Tom incurs as a result of the breach. Secondly, criminal charges will be filed under California’s Revenge Porn Law, which defines said revenge porn as the publication of nude photos or videos of a person one used to be intimate with, without their consent, with an intent to cause serious emotional distress. Each video that was filmed in the state of California would incur a penalty of a fine in the amount of $1000 and up to six months in jail…based upon Tom’s estimate as to video quantity, you’d be facing a prison sentence of up to ten years. Thirdly, and lastly, criminal charges and a civil suit will be filed for your violation of the Invasion of Privacy act. California is a ‘two party’ state when it comes to audio recordings of confidential communication in situations and locations wherein there’s a reasonable expectation of privacy. Audio that’s a component of a video is covered under this particular statute, and penalties include a fine of up to $2500 and a year in jail. Long story short, Claudia…do you want to wind up in jail? Because publishing those videos is how you wind up in jail.”

While I spoke, I’d witnessed her face first going pale, then gradually reddening until it reached a final almost-purple hue. She was shaking with rage, and I just stood there, certain she was going to attack me Dynasty lady-feud style. But she didn’t, pausing, instead to digest what I’d said as best she could and find a way around it. Her eyes, now more grey than green, narrowed as she spoke.

“My attorney will drag out your breach suit for years, and if you win, I’ll hide all my assets and file for bankruptcy and you won’t see a dime, ever. As for the rest, there’s no proof Tom never consented to filming. Same with that distress bullshit. My word against his. I’ll take those odds, and when I’m acquitted of all charges I’ll sue YOU guys for damages and take even MORE of Tom’s money.”

Raising my brow, I leaned in a little closer to her. “Tom saved all your texts and voicemails. Every. Single. One. They’re tucked away, safe and sound, on the very phone you sent them to.”

If Tom hadn’t been paying such close attention, the highball glass she picked up and threw would have hit me right in the face. He’d jerked both of us to the side, and the glass shattered when it hit the wall. With me in front of him, he propelled both of us toward the door at top speed, slid the bolt and pushed me out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him in the midst of the sound of more shattering glass and her screams of ‘get out, GET OUT’. We headed for the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, rushed back to our room, entered and locked our own door, both of us unsure as to whether we were pleased, frightened, or a bit of both.

I reached up under my sweater to pull out the phone, hitting the stop button to end the recording. Tom placed his hands on my shoulders, eyes on mine.

“Are you all right?”

Nodding, I felt my mouth twist into a half smile. “That went better than I expected, honestly.” I stood on my toes and planted a kiss on his left cheek. “Thanks for rescuing me from death by assorted beverage containers. How do you feel?”

His eyes shifted down and to the side, then returned to my face. “Relieved. Like I’ve gotten some closure, and that I’m no longer at her mercy. The fear, the anxiety in regard to my past actions becoming public…that’s subsided significantly. But there’s trepidation present, resulting from her expression of violence towards you, which I’m not quite sure how to handle.”

I slipped my phone into his pocket as I wrapped my arms around his torso. “She just realized she’s powerless, and she was NOT happy about it. Probably best to let it go and hope she finds a new hobby. Or a good therapist. Or Jesus. Something.”

“Maude, if that would have hit you…”

“It didn’t, though. I’m fine, you’re fine, and…that was over the top, wasn’t it? Was she aiming for me? Or you? Or the wall? Wow, I’m kinda freaked out now.”

He pulled me to his chest, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry. I knew her behavior as I experienced it was abnormal, and I shouldn’t have involved you.”

I leaned back, reaching up to caress his cheek. “You realize I knew too based on your description of your experience, yes? I’m glad I went with you. She would have spun that visit in the worst way possible, Tom, if the opportunity presented itself. Now she can’t, and I’m glad for that. As for the rest…we have a plan in place if she releases the videos, and we’ll follow through with it. She knows now that you’re no longer afraid of that happening, and that you’ll fight back, and I’m thinking maybe that will take all the fun out of it for her.”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “I hope that’s the case, my love. Truly I do. And I’m not going to dwell on it, because allowing her to diminish our joy is akin to giving her precisely what she wants, and she’s stolen enough already. This shop’s doors are closed. Permanently.”

“That’s an excellent way to look at it, Mr. Eternal Optimist. The doors are closed and the shop’s in the rearview as we travel the road ahead of us into our future.”

He simply stared at me, a small smile upon his face, his eyes once again full of all those things that made me both weak in the knees and disgusted with my sappy-ass self all at once. I rolled my eyes.

“Man, you’ve gotta lay off that adorable shit. We’ve got three months to go until the wedding and when you look at me like that…I just want to say fuck it and go find a judge and do it, like, right now.” Next came the tears shining, ready to spill over. “No. Oh my god, not helping, Tom. NOT. HELPING.”

He laughed. “I’m not even sorry.”

“Color me thoroughly unsurprised.”

“I’d rather color your inner thighs with love bites.”

“That can be arranged.”

Less than an hour later, we were spooning, and I felt his breathing change as he slipped into sleep. I lay nestled against him, wide awake until near dawn, trying to force myself to stop thinking about Claudia. Her actions seemed, as I reviewed the evening’s events, to indicate she hadn’t quite…let go. Far from it, actually. I wondered what she actually wanted, after so much time had passed. Was it more money? Was it revenge? Was it still…Tom? Was it all three, perhaps? And then I found myself wondering how far someone who behaved as she had tonight was willing to go in order to get it. Whatever it was she wanted. And it shook me, so I sang our wedding song to myself in my head until I calmed down, finally dozing off reminding myself that things which were terribly frightening in the dead of night were often immediately vanquished as nonsense by the light of day.

[smolfangirl]

A little fresa story IV

A certain ring to it

I know I always said I would never write this kind of prompt/au but I found an old silly idea I had back in April and I couldn’t resist fight me and it turned out to be a lot of fun while writing. Blame, eh, I mean Thanks go out to @huffletiika who didn’t know better than to encourage me - girl, you should stop me next time, my multichap feels neglected again ^^

Also a call out for @miris-xo because she called me out, I promise I am done writing this whole thing backwards now!

Another thing, because it was brought up several times now: @ac-ars and @sky-girls used the name Rory first. I used my own brain to end up with this name (also because of my roommate who is obsessed with Gilmore Girls and keeps trying to talk me into watching it), which is why I didn’t give them any credit.

Word count: 2.8k

///

„Luna, do you have any plans for tonight?“ Matteo asks her over breakfast. He knows the answer already, but he has to focus on keeping his tone as casual as possible and that takes too much effort to come up with a smoother, less obvious question.

Luckily for him, his girlfriend doesn’t suspect a thing. “No, I don’t. Do you have anything in mind?”

“I thought maybe we could go skating together. It’s been a while.”

Almost two months, to be exact. His tour is to blame, the small amount of time they spent together in between concerts was never enough for elaborated plans. But now he gets to chill for two weeks before the last part of the tour demands him to leave the country.

Those two weeks are just enough time to finally follow through with his plan.

Luna smiles at him while she steals the jar with her mom’s marmalade out of his hands. “Skating sounds great. And dinner, maybe? We haven’t been at my mom’s restaurant in ages.”

For a second, Matteo blinks at her, frozen in his surprise. Dinner wasn’t part of his plan, let alone in her mom’s restaurant. He needs this evening to be perfect, not the tiniest detail can go wrong, he only has this one shot and the added pressure of having her parents around is something he’d gladly miss out on.

But one deep breath later, he relaxes and sends her a smirk. “Only if you don’t step on my feet or make us kiss the ground.”

“Excuse me?” she shouts, her mouth half full of toast. She hastily swallows, and the grin on his face deepens. “I am the world champion! And do I need to remind you I won not only one, but two Olympic gold medals? The only thing you might kiss is my ass.”

“You’re a retired world champion, that’s different. And who knows what the break did to you and your skating skills.” Pleased with himself, he reaches out for the fruit plate and begins to nibble on a strawberry.

Luna watches his every move, her eyes turn into slits and never leave him, even when she takes a sip from her tea cup. The morning sun reflects in the green of her iris, adding a vivid, capturing sparkle to it.

“Did the truth take your breath away, chica delivery?”

A snort follows. “You wish, chico fresa. I’m just not sure how to tell you that one day, I’ll marry someone who supports me and is there for me and doesn’t mock me first thing in the morning. You’ll see, and then you’ll be very sorry.” Two strawberries land in her mouth and she munches on them with a wink in his direction, however her laugh sounds so happy and genuine, Matteo can’t possibly get mad or annoyed at her.

“Guess I’ll have to get you pregnant first then, so you can’t just leave me like that.”

“Because that worked out so well so far, huh? Besides, I could still leave you when I’m pregnant. Maybe I will.”

(Sometimes, when she’s about to win one of their banters, he misses young Luna. The sweet, innocent girl who stared at him speechlessly if he teased her enough. She’d blush, and he smirked at her and considered stealing a kiss or two. The Luna in front of him, however, stopped taking any shit long ago. She’s still kind and a ray of sunshine in his life, but also fiercer, more empowered, and braver than ever.

So, if he’s honest to himself, does he really miss the old times?)

His hand settles on his chest while he gasps and lets the spoon whirling through his coffee fall back into the cup. “No! You’d really take my baby fresa away from me? Oh, how cruel the moon can be!” With a heavy sigh, he pretends to faint on his chair before he joins Luna’s laughter.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, the snort she intends to send him turns into yet another giggle. “Jeez, if our kid is half as dramatic as you are, I might end up as the busiest mom on this planet.”

“And if it’s only half as mean as you are, I’ll consider myself the luckiest man on earth.”

Luna sticks her tongue out at him.

///

They spend the rest of their breakfast over more lighthearted banter. Now that he’s back by her side, at least for a while, Luna is in an extraordinarily good moon, and Matteo soaks it up like a sponge. Her smile gives him hope for tonight, her gentle touches are a silent promise and the kiss she gives him tells him how much she loves him. It’s exactly what he needs to soothe his fears, because sometimes his mind wanders, imagining all the ways this night could go wrong.

Of course, she notices when he’s not answering or stares at her without saying a single word. She notices, but she doesn’t ask why, just like he doesn’t spill a hint or blurts out the question already.

“You know I’d rather go back to bed with you than to see my parents,” Matteo admits as he puts on his jacket, the one that feels too heavy with the small box hidden in a pocket.

Luna tucks his scarf in, then lets her hand glide over her chest. “We can still do that tomorrow. Your parents are probably super happy to see you again, and I gotta visit Simón anyway, he seems to have some kind of writer’s block or something. And tonight, it’s just me and you, okay?”

Just you and me and a ring that costed me more than you’d want to know.

“Sure. Greet him from me, yeah? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

///

“Did I tell you already how beautiful you are, my little moon?” She is, indeed. Radiant and smiling and taking his breath away in this dress he likes so, so much on her. A fairy-tale princess has nothing on her, every detail of her outfit and her make-up ended up perfect, as if she knew his plan wasn’t just skating.

“Just 300 times already,” she smirks, “but I don’t mind you repeating it.”

With a chuckle, he caresses her cheek before he presses a kiss on her forehead. In return, she grants him a smile so soft, his heart sighs happily in his chest. For a moment, he’s sure this evening will be perfect, no matter what happens. Because he is with her, and with her by his side, he can do everything.

“You look pretty handsome yourself too, chico fresa.”

“Oh, I’m glad you noticed! I showered only for you, princesa.”

“What a great honor,” Luna snickers while she puts their skating gear into the back of her car. “Maybe I’ll even let you sleep in the bed then.”

Sneaking the car keys out of her hands paints a pout on her face, so he bops her nose and presses little kisses on her skin until she smiles again. “Really?” he mumbles, “Perhaps I should shower more often if I get to sleep…”

Her fingers wrap around his palm, reaching for the keys, and he has to grab her hand in order to stop her. “Uh oh, I don’t think so.”

“Matteo… don’t you wanna go home?”

Yes. No. I don’t know.

His vision blurs at her question, his heartbeat picks up until it’s the only sound in his ears. The right side of his jacket seems to wear him down, like an anchor dropped in an ocean of rejection and loneliness, pulling him deeper and deeper. A thousand thoughts pass him by, rush past him before he can get a hold on them.

What if this is too simple?

After all, she got bigger love declarations from him before. Fancy ones, with bouquets of flowers almost her size, declarations in front of the whole world, immortal on his albums. This time, there’s no stage, no flowers, no cameras. Not even his guitar.

Just him.

Because he wants her to see him, to listen to him, to say Yes to him and only him. With all his flaws, his imperfections, his mistakes.

But she loves him already, no? Through day and night, she’s been there, and she’ll love him no matter what.

Matteo takes a deep breath and finds her gaze on him, expectant. Waiting. “No. I want to go to the park.”

“Now?” She glances up at the sky. It’s a dawn in early Spring, crisp but clear, and above them the sun paints shades of rosé and soft blue into the sky. Next to her appears the moon, accompanied by the first stars and the view is stunning in its perfection.

Matteo smiles. “Yes, now.”

Her hand accepts his lead, although some hesitation still lingers in her voice. “Aren’t you afraid there’ll be paparazzi?”

“Nah. There’s this huge movie premiere tonight and they’d be dumb to not be gathered there. Tonight, no one cares about me and you.”

“Thank the stars,” Luna sighs, and he can’t help but chuckle at the relieved sigh she lets out. “I am sick of all the paparazzi and these stupid magazines article. According to them we’d have what, a whole skating team of babies now?”

They cross the street and find themselves in a corner of the park, still far away from the place he intends to go to, so he allows himself to dive into the topic. “Don’t forget all the times I cheated on you.”

“Right. By the way, did you know we’re not a couple anymore?”

“Really?”

She wraps her arm around his back, pressing herself closer to him. Perhaps the little breeze gets under her jacket and she only wants to feel the heat his body radiates, nonetheless, her gesture warms his heart. “Yeah, I finally broke up with you because I couldn’t stand that you were away on tour while I am also four months pregnant according to… ah, I don’t remember which magazine spread that rumor.”

Matteo inhales sharply, half stopping in his tracks as he stares down at her. “Damn! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have taken you out for skating then.”

“My bad,” she grins, “I only heard of it yesterday morning. So, surprise, I guess?”

For a few seconds, he manages to keep the shocked expression on his face, but then they both break into laughter and it doesn’t matter that they scare some pigeons away who take off into the dawn.  

He pulls her into a hug, pecking her hair while he whispers, “I’m so glad I get to be with you, Luna.”

“I love you, chico fresa.”

“I love you more.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.”

“No.”

He’s about to answer when her fingers in his sides demand attention, out of nowhere they pester him, tickle him without mercy or caution. Back and forth, left and right, back and forth, he tries to avoid them, and it takes a while for him to escape her attacks.

Catching his breath, he’s about to complain how cruel the moon once again was, when he spots it.

The bridge. Still painted red, still surrounded by the ponds full of fish and water lilies.

Trying to ignore the adrenaline immediately flooding his veins, Matteo leads Luna closer until her eyes widen in recognition. “Remember that?” he asks, smiling.

///

“How could I forget this place?” Luna asks. She turns away from him, her hand running over the railing as the memories start to play. They were so young, so in love, and so hopeful for the future. Not all these hopes grew the wings to take off into the world, some crashed under life’s pressure, some never even made it off the ground.

But they’re still together.

In the end, that’s what matters to her, that she can count on him like he can lean on her, and that they made it through everything life threw at them.

Luna wants to ask him if he thinks there’s any chance of rain when she faces him, but the words die on her tongue.

Matteo kneels in front of her.

A box in his hands.

A ring box.

She gasps. She gasps, and she clasps her hands over her mouth and tries to remember how to breathe regularly, and he’s kneeling in front of her.

“Matteo…” A breathless whisper into the night, barely audible.

“I do love you more, Luna. I started to love you the day we first met, and there hasn’t been a single moment since then where I didn’t love you. I…” he takes a deep breath, a little crease hushes over his forehead as he searches for the right words, not that it makes any difference, because she can already feel the first teardrops on her cheek either way.

“I love your strength, and your kindness, and how you never give up on something that matters to you. Or someone. You’ve never given up on me, even when it would have been the easier way. You never gave up on me or us, and there are no words for how grateful I am for that. And I’m sorry, I promise I had a whole speech prepared but…”

“It’s okay,” she quickly says, although her voice doesn’t come off smoothly or loudly, and she has to wipe more tears away. Tear after tear, while a part of her isn’t even sure yet if this is real.

The smile Matteo sends her almost knocks her off her feet, it’s too much for her trembling knees and racing heart, it’s too much. “I love you, Luna. To the moon and back. Don’t tell Gastón I said that. But I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

His fingers fumble with the box.

Her breath hitches.

And then she sees the ring, this huge blue plastic ring that sparkles, and a laugh erupts from the deepest corner of her lungs and stomach. It mixes with sobs and a shake of her head, she can barely see him now, but she’s sure he’s grinning.

“You really kept that old thing?”

“Of course I did,” he promptly admits, “But…” His fingers reach out to her, silently ask for her attention. Her laugh ends in a small hiccup, which none of them notices because he pulls the ring out to reveal a beautiful, beautiful silver ring.

A ring meant only for her.

“Will you marry me, Luna?”

///

Their chica fresa escaped through the bedroom door. For a toddler, and one who hasn’t learned how to walk yet, she shows an amazing speed and Luna would admire it if she didn’t have to focus on catching her little runaway.

With a sigh, she rushes into the hallway, ready to collect that troublemaker, but before she takes one more step, her husband walks around the corner, a fidgeting Rory in his arms. “Your esposo fresa caught a wild crawling toddler in the living room - could that be our daughter trying to stay awake past her bedtime?”

“Looks very much like it, yes.” Looking at her daughter, Luna adds, “Aren’t you tired, darling?”

At the same time, little Aurora yawns loudly, making her parents snicker in amusement. It’s not the first time she pretends to be wide awake, and it’s definitely not the first time she is in fact very, very exhausted and ready for bed either.

Luna follows Matteo back into the bedroom. He’s already humming Rory’s favorite lullaby, a simple song he wrote for her months ago, and it takes all her self-control for Luna to not climb into their bed and space out in a heartbeat.

Her daughter whines in her crib a bit longer, but when the temptation to sleep takes over, they leave her alone.

Three minutes later, Luna dozes next to Matteo on the couch.

“Please promise me you’re not gonna spend our honeymoon with sleeping,” Matteo snickers while he pulls her into his arms and dims the noise of the TV.

She shifts until her head rests on his lap, this warm and gently moving pillow that fits her perfectly, and sighs. “I won’t.”

“Of course not.” It almost sounds like he doesn’t want to tease her.

“Matteo?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for putting her to bed.”

Slowly, his hand begins to crawl over her back, in delicate lines and circles over her spine, and she thinks she never wants to move ever again. “Sure, little moon.”

“Guess after all I really married someone who supports me.”

A huff follows and for a moment, his touch leaves her. Luna groans. “But you said I’ll be sorry then, and I’m not,” Matteo states, before she groans again and his fingers return to caress her. With eyes half shut, she blinks up at him. The slightest smile tugs on the corner of his mouth and when he notices her gaze on him, it turns into a wide grin.

“Me neither,” she admits. And she means it with all her heart.