#i had a completely ridiculous argument with someone recently and i want to try talking about it so bad but

[redbayly]

Had to do another rambling because some Antis got their panties in a twist.

After posting my very clearly tagged Zutara headcanons last night, I saw a post in the Zutara tag this morning where some Antis were ranting about their usual nonsense.

I would've just blocked and moved on, but something caught my attention about the post. I realized what they were talking about was very likely a reference to my post from last night.

I don't remember all the details (I did end up blocking them), but the crux of their complaint was that Zutara shippers steal Kataang dynamics or something. Specifically, they were calling out a recent post about Katara and Zuko traveling around helping people (which I talked a lot about in my post, so that's why I think it was me they were calling out) and that that is exclusively a Kataang thing that I stole and applied to Zutara. Also, someone in the comments had added that, if Zuko ever did go around helping people it would only be with Mai.

There was also a lot of whining about seeing Zutara stuff when they were looking for Kataang. As if I hadn't clearly tagged my post as Zutara and even used the word within the first few sentences to let the reader know what the post was about.

(For pity's sake, moderate your tags or skip over something with a tag you don't like! It's not difficult!).

But back to the main argument that Zuko and Katara wouldn't travel around helping people together and that that is exclusive to Kataang.

That is absolute bullshit.

First off, it was a headcanon of mine and I can headcanon what I damn well please (as can everybody else).

Secondly, what even is that argument they were making? Did they completely ignore the fact that both Zuko and Katara are good-hearted, helpful people who are trying to make the world a better place? We see numerous instances in canon of them helping others for the sole reason that it's just their nature to do so. In fact, if anything, they are more likely to seek out people to help out of pure altruism than Aang, who usually just sort of stumbles across people in trouble and helps because it's his job as Avatar.

(I'm not insulting Aang. I'm just saying that he's more likely to goof off and avoid getting involved in something if he thinks it's not serious enough, whereas Katara and Zuko are more likely to leap at opportunities to be helpful).

A third reason this is ridiculous is that Aang doesn't own a monopoly on doing good or helping the world. Zuko was already planning to make changes to heal the damage the Fire Nation caused. He's an "idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor." Do the Antis really think he would sit around on his ass while there are orphans to feed and towns to rebuild and justice to be restored? Also, why would Katara not be out there doing her all to help the world regardless of whether Aang is involved or not? Katara "never turns her back on people who need [her]" so I doubt she'd let anyone decide for her whether she travels around to fix people's problems.

I could go on and on about why this Anti-Zutara argument was stupid, but I've addressed the main points.

So, I'll say this one last time. If you dislike Zutara, read the damn tags and avoid the post you don't want to see. Don't whine about it and make up nonsensical arguments for your faux outrage. Leave Zutara shippers alone and let us have our headcanons.

You already got your ship in Bryke's canon. Just let us enjoy our headcanons in peace.

[thethingything]

Long System Ask:

14, 23, 24

-Natsuka/Shell Bailey

we got ditracted for a few days and forgot to answer this but here we go

14. Do you have any headspace pets?

🍬: initially I was going to say no because I couldn't think of any, but actually one guy we split fairly recently has a pet goldfish in the innerworld, so there is at least one. I think someone might have a cat as well but I'm not sure

23. Share an in-system joke!

🍬: there's a bit we like doing where someone will say something completely ridiculous, then someone else will counter with something equally ridiculous, and everyone doubles down on the points they've made and gets really dramatic about it with different people joining in with the fake argument, and it usually ends once someone starts laughing too much to continue. it's basically just spontaneous improv but everyone commits so hard to the bit

24. Has how you view your plurality changed?

Lucy: so when we first found out we had DID, we didn't have any internal communication and I found the idea that there was someone else in my body that I couldn't talk to terrifying, and we ended up repressing that knowledge for a while.

eventually we actually did get the hang of internal communication, but we were still repressing the knowledge that we had DID and that led to a really confusing couple of months of trying to figure out what was going on. there was a lot of stuff we saw online that made things harder to figure out because we kept seeing misinformation and not knowing what to think about anything.

at some point we remembered finding out we have DID and things started to make more sense, but we spent a lot of time in denial and a lot of time trying to figure out how to handle things and how the system actually works. we kind of got used to how everything seemed to function, and then our brain decided to make 🍬 the host and the system started functioning slightly differently so we had to get used to that, and then after this summer our brain's been functioning kinda dfferently to what we're used to so we've been figuring that out.

in hindsight it is really funny to me that when we first found out we had DID, I thought there were maybe 2 or 3 of us, and then later we were like "okay maybe there's like... 30 of us? maybe?" and we used to panic every time someone new showed up, and now we're just used to the idea that we have a really high alter count and new people show up pretty often and it's just how our brain works.

it's also kinda funny looking back at how scary the prospect of being plural seemed, given that now I absolutely would not want to be the only person in our brain. I love being plural and I'm so grateful for the rest of the system

[randomprosho]

On your recent post.

I consider myself pro-para from all I know and I didn't have any disagreements with your post (minus one possible remark*).

All communities are flawed and especially with a group with lots of various mental states so arguments or beliefs won't always be the most rational (such as in the "you have to like me" thing). For a lot of people this is their only place to be honest and open so when there's someone going against them, it's easy to take the "us vs them" mentality like with pretty much other groups. Doesn't make it "right", though. I think some of proparas could improve on more constructive answering, but I can also understand how people can be exhausted and hostile and constantly "on edge" and feel the need to defend their only/one of the only places they feel valuable/cared about.

I've seen your posts a few times and people acting specific ways towards you for being pro-sho, which I mean, yeah I completely agree that you can be pro-sho or otherwise pro-ship (though I find it frustrating and kind of confusing at times) while being anti-para (I of course am pro-para so I find this belief of anti-para to be kind of cruel perhaps is the best wording but proship is only talking about fiction which is different, and I think pro-para anti-ship is the most ridiculous one) and if I had an account and was braver, I might've said something in those conversations.

I also think the "being uncomfortable is absolutely wrong" belief is kind of annoying. I think treating the person as less isn't "right" obviously but blocking/not being comfortable around hearing any sort of content for whatever reason is definitely okay.

I'm also of the opinion that cross tagging when it's not specifically also about proship (such as just a post ONLY talking about desires) is kind of annoying, and yeah you can and should block, but it's better etiquette to tag appropriately in the first place and an understandable concern on both sides.

I write this more to say that I think most anti-paras who lean/are more sort of "neutral" are often just against various community aspects which even pro-paras share. You can call yourself whatever you want, of course. Just some thoughts I had on the matter.

* The things pertaining to being "proud of attractions" as I'm pretty sure a fair percentage of those people are more proud of "living in a world that hates them and surviving" sort of ordeal rather than the specific attraction itself. With constant hate or feeling unsafe, it is pretty normal to become absorbed entirely with it and feel the need to defend / idolize the thing to cope, though. So, I think it should be a case by case basis in my opinion of judging. Never judge someone only by a label, but circumstances regarding themselves and everything else. (Ending quote to sound cool...)

I don't understand when they say I'm being hypocritical. I know schediaphilia is a thing and I understand that there is more to being pro-para than just those certain 3 paraphilias... idk if that's the reason they call me a hypocrite? or is it because they believe lolishocons are pedophiles? (I am genuinely confused)

i have taken a bit of a step back which is why I made that post in the first place. I know that some pro-paras will see that post and think "well that kinda makes you pro-para"... I also do believe that even anti para posts shouldn't be tagged in the proship tag. I try not to do it so often..

for everything else you said, I pretty much do agree with

[girlwiththegreenhat]

so tired of ending arguments and disagreements with “we’re done talking about this.” it’s fine if the other person needs some time to calm down or do what they need to do before we return to the conversation, that’s good actually! it stops stupid things from happening! but nobody ever wants to return to the conversation. i can let go of some things pretty easily but why is this literally what always happens. some things we Need to talk about!!!!

[neckromantics]

Trips in the Regalia:

Chocobro Headcanons—

could be seen as platonic or not! whatever you want. :) SFW and gender neutral.

Went on a road trip recently so these just kinda popped into my head. Also I missed you guys. :)

Okay, so Noct or Ignis are in charge of driving, obviously. Poor Prompto is pretty much banned from ever touching the wheel unsupervised bc the one time they let him behind the wheel it ended in disaster.

You’re totally allowed to drive but you outright refuse to do so now-a-days because someone distracted you by standing up in his seat and you almost drove off into a ravine out of fright.

Ignis has been known to let one of you sit on his lap and steer just for fun. Sure it looks ridiculous, but he can not handle the puppy dog eyes that are sent his way whenever he's asked.

There’s a cooler in the back by your feet that’s stocked full of Ebony and tiny little seltzer waters just in case Ignis gets cranky or someone starts to feel a little car sick.

The glove box might as well be considered a medicine cabinet with the amount of curatives that's stuffed inside.

Long road trips ALWAYS become even longer road trips because no one in the car knows how to synchronize their pee breaks. You keep telling them to just go all at once but they never listen. Someone always insists they don’t have to go and then changes their mind five minutes after you’ve left the rest area.

Parking at the side of the road where said someone has to do the walk of shame to nearby shrubbery while everyone else stays in the car and talks shit about them.

The Regalia always smells strongly of whatever essential oil that’s been dripped into the USB powered diffuser Iris gifted to you guys. It's a godsend, especially after those particularly long hunts where you all could use a shower. If it weren't for her it'd always reek of sweat and desperation in there.

It doesn’t happen very often, but there have been a couple of times that you’ve miscalculated the distance to the next fuel station and had to push the car the rest of the way after running out of fuel a few miles away.

Now Ignis has to reassure you constantly that there's enough gas in the tank, but you still peer over his shoulder to check the fuel gage and start to nervous sweat whenever it drops below half full.

Prom’s always trying to initiate a game of I Spy and you’re the only one that will entertain it lol.

No one in the car is allowed to have the aux due to past music-based arguments. You all have a joint playlist on a music app that you take turns adding songs to, and it gets played on shuffle. The genre is almost never the same back to back, which makes things interesting and also ridiculous.

Naturally Prompto takes so many photos he has to bring what is essentially a briefcase of backup storage. Will crawl into the back seat when he’s bored to sit half on your and Noct’s lap to show you some of them instead of just handing the camera over like a normal person.

Whoever gets to be in the passenger seat has the privilege of feeding Ignis while he’s driving. Apparently, Iggy burns a crazy amount of energy at the wheel because he’s ALWAYS hungry up there. He could feed himself just fine, but where’s the fun in that?

Honestly everyone’s just always feeding each other for some reason.

At some point when Noct’s driving you sneak a carrot stick into his mouth instead of a potato chip and he tries to kill you. Like, I’m not kidding he slams on the breaks and throws himself across the car at you like a rabid animal. It’s not threatening at all because he’s mostly flailing around, but it does take all three of the remaining guys to pry him away from you. You are cackling the entire time.

Gladio spends most trips reading (and then re-reading) the book he brought with him. Will let you lean in close to read it if you ask nicely. Always waits for you to give him the go ahead to turn the page.

You, Noct, and Prompto play rock paper scissors to see who gets shotgun and somehow Prompto wins nine times out of ten.

Ignis is an excellent driver but for some strange reason he loves to do U-turns in the WORST places possible. Will miss an exit and say whatever posh equivalent there is to “My Bad.” and just do a complete one eighty like your lives mean nothing to him. Also? He will slam the breaks on if any of you start misbehaving and it’s hilarious.

Gladio likes to mess with people in passing cars.

He’ll do this blank, dead-eyed stare at them at red lights until they make eye contact with him.

If the top of the Regalia is up for some reason, he’ll roll his window down and motion for them to do the same only to immediately roll his window back up as soon as they roll theirs down.

There's a compartment in between the two front seats that has five sets of matching novelty sunglasses that Noct bought at the shop in Hammerhead. It also has some lip balm, sunscreen, and bandages for when someone inevitably scrapes their knee or something.

There's not a lot of room in the car with all of you inside, so naturally you're forced to sleep in the weirdest of positions. Half on one boy, half on another. An arm or leg hanging out the side of the car. Nearly upside down in the seat.

It’s safe to say the Regalia is like your tiny home away from home by now. Sometimes it’s easier for you to just to pull a blanket into the car and sleep rather than attempt to sleep in some strange, fancy hotel room. The bros will wake up wondering where you are, only to find you curled up like a baby in the back seat.

[voiceless-terror]

#21 and #46 for kiss prompts, maybe? I can't get enough your writing tbf

kiss on a dare- a little jonmartin season one fluff <3 All in all, this is one of Tim’s better Friday nights.

It’s been ages since Jon’s hung out with them, and never with Martin along for the ride. The Archives had been off to a messy start after the Dog Incident and Jon’s subsequent panic over the state of the place. What used to be an ‘every couple of weeks’ tradition turned into an almost-never one as the newly-assembled team got buried under more and more boxes of dusty statements. He’s pretty astounded that Jon agreed to dinner and drinks- although it’s a Friday night, Jon’s been apt to stay weekends more often than not. He figured if he arranged for it at one of theirs instead of a pub, Jon would be more likely to come. He always preferred less crowded settings.

No, the real feat was getting him to come knowing Martin was invited.

Jon’s been getting...better around him, that’s true. He was perfectly fine at his birthday party, going off about emulsifiers for a solid fifteen minutes. Tim’s always been rather fond of Jon’s infodumping, and if he’s comfortable enough to do it around Martin that must be a good sign. Despite an initial freeze-out, he now thanks Martin for his tea and saves his most pointed comments for Martin’s more egregious screw-ups (and even those have less bite than usual). Still, a colleague does not a friend make, and Jon’s never been good at opening up to people he doesn’t know all that well. However, Jon just nodded at the Martin caveat, seemingly not giving it a second thought. And Martin didn’t seem all that worried either.

Whatever, Tim’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s just happy they’re all here, having a good time. It’s late and Jon’s had enough wine to keep a smile on his face. He missed that. It’s nice how easily they slot together, even with all of the upheaval and a new addition. Martin himself isn’t so shy after a drink or two, more willing to engage in banter and keep the conversation going. This is what it should be like all the time, Tim thinks. Shitty archive job or not. 

It’s when they retire to the living room, drinks in hand, that he finally notices the little grin on Sasha’s face. And Tim, knowing exactly what that means, is both a little afraid and excited. Four-drink-Sasha has always been a host unto herself.

“Why don’t,” she begins, a hiccup interrupting her as she slumps into an armchair. Tim snickers and ignores the glare this earns him. “Why don’t we play one of our old games-”

Tim raises a glass in agreement as Jon, predictably, groans. Martin looks quizzically between them. Ah yes, time for your initiation, Marto! Not that they’ve played this in about a year or so, of course, but it's always fun to revisit the good old days.

“Seriously? We’re not children-”

Tim gives Jon a playful slap on the back that sends him flying forward on the couch, spilling a bit of wine on Sasha’s rug. He hopes she doesn’t notice. “C’mon, it’ll be fun, boss! Nothing like it to break the ice, and there’s definitely some ice that needs breaking.”

Martin blinks, hand tightening on his glass. He looks nervous, like he always does when he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. Which is a shame, because he’s been so nice and open all night. Even chatting with Jon. “Sorry, what are you talking about?”

Jon rolls his eyes, giving Martin a commiserating look. “Truth or dare.”

Martin lets out a disbelieving laugh, relaxing minutely. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.” Jon’s foot reaches out to shove at Tim’s leg. “Tim loves pulling ridiculous stunts-”

“-Hey, you loved the karaoke idea-”

“You sing?”

“No.” Tim would dispute that, but the look on Jon’s face declares it a bad idea. “And Sasha likes to ask probing questions.”

Sasha preens, though the remark was certainly not meant as a compliment. “What can I say, I’m the Queen of Truth-”

Tim snorts. “Hacking and blackmail more like-”

“Anyway-” Sasha sings out as Tim dodges a pillow to the face. “Tim….truth or-”

“Dare, always dare.”

“You’re absolutely no fun,” Sasha pouts, though it doesn’t take long for her eyes to narrow in thought. There’s very little Tim won’t do, but that’s a dangerous look. “I dare you...to text…”

“Text? You can do better than that, Sash.”

“Text...Elias.” That’s more like it. 

Jon immediately scowls. “Tim, no-”

“I don’t have his number-”

“I do-”

“Sasha!”

“Jon, it’ll be fine! He’ll just say ‘oops, wrong number’ afterwards, no harm, no foul-”

Tim takes this time to snatch at Sasha’s phone, sitting precariously on the arm of her chair. She doesn’t notice, too busy gesturing at Jon empathically. He scrolls through her contact list.

“And then it’ll come down on me-”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “How is he going to connect it to you? It’s not like he knows we’re all together-”

“Done!” Tim tosses the phone back onto the couch with a little grin. Sasha blinks, looking down in confusion.

“Wait, that’s mine-”

The screech and smack on the arm at Tim’s hastily fired off ‘u up? ;)’ to Elias Bouchard were definitely deserved. He’s sure he’ll face consequences for that in the near future, but Jon and Martin’s immediate laughter had been well worth it. Shouldn’t dish it if you can’t take it, that’s Tim’s motto.

In the next round, Tim manages to get Martin to confess to his poetry-writing habit, an admission that has him turning an attractive shade of red. Jon just giggles quietly to himself as Martin reads through one of his poorer attempts at rhyme saved to the notes of his mobile. Tim watches the two of them; Martin keeps looking up at Jon throughout it all like he’s the only one in the room and god, his crush is so evident and yet Jon is oblivious, smiling at him like he’s not on the receiving end of some of the most loaded glances of all time. 

Martin gets Sasha to admit to her most recent perusal through confidential institute records, which turned out to be previous archival expenses (solely to find out what Elias would cover with their new jobs, of course). At first glance, there wasn’t much in the way of extravagant meals or supplies, but a bit more digging had her finding Gertrude’s extensive travel budget. For an old woman, she certainly was a globe-trotter.

“All I’m saying, Jon, is that we could definitely do with a trip to China-”

“Yes, I’ll be sure to ask Elias about Gertrude’s trip to China, something I certainly shouldn’t know about, and he’ll have to let us go.”

“Refill?” Martin’s on his feet, taking Jon’s wine glass in his hand and Tim watches as their fingers brush- go Martin!- and yet Jon just nods his thanks, completely oblivious to the seduction taking place before him. Tim’s given it some thought and honestly, he thinks they’d make a cute couple. An odd pair, for sure, but Jon’s so soft once you get to know him, and Martin’s one of the funniest, sweetest guys he knows. They could be good for each other.

“Well, I still think it’s worth a try.” Sasha’s eyes are starting to blink heavily - she’ll be out for the count tonight, for sure. “Anyway, it’s your turn. I dare you-”

“I didn’t even pick!” Jon says, though he doesn’t seem too put out by it. This is the Jon Martin should know, the easy-humored, smiling man sprawled out before him. He’s even taken his little sweater vest and tie off, looking more like the familiar friend from research Tim knows so well. It warms his heart.

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Dare, I suppose. Seeing as how you already have one queued up.”

“I dare you to...to...to give a little kiss to someone in this room.” She waves her glass around imperiously. “Anyone you like.”

Silence. Tim gives Sasha a warning look that she ignores. She’s well in her cups, and he supposes any sense of propriety has gone out the window along with her sobriety. He’s actually seen Jon give quite a few kisses on a particularly memorable New Years Eve, but that was a different time. He doesn’t want him to feel pressured, not when he’s just starting to open back up.

 “Jon doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to-”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, you remember-”

“It doesn’t matter- Jon, you can skip this one if you like, we can think of something else-”

“Tim, it’s alright.” Jon puts a hand on his arm to stop the argument, and there’s a strange look in his eyes that can’t be attributed to liquor. It’s mock-serious, almost playful paired with his little sly smile. He thinks for a moment that Jon’s going to lean in and kiss him but instead he gets up from the sofa in a smooth motion and walks across the room to Martin, who’s just turned around with two glasses in hand. He freezes in place as Jon gets on his very tippy toes, takes his face in both hands, and kisses him. 

Jonathan Sims. Kissing Martin Blackwood. Against a kitchen counter. Martin Blackwood, who, once he’s over his surprise, puts the drinks down behind him and kisses right the hell back, arms winding around Jon’s waist like they belong there.

What. The. Fuck.

_____

“The leg bit was a nice touch.”

“Hmm?” Jon’s in Martin’s lap, sprawled out on his couch back at his own flat, eyes closed in contentment as he leans back against the other man’s chest. Martin’s got one hand in his hair, and the other entwined with Jon’s, twirling the black ring on his finger. It’s heavenly.

“Thought you were trying to climb me.”

“Well, you usually pick me up at that point, make it easier.”

“Sorry, next time.” Kissing Jon’s always fun but kissing him out in the open, in front of their friends? Was that something they could do now? “Should we tell them we’ve been dating for two months?” 

Two whole months since that night in Document Storage when Jon had finally let his guard down. When Martin had held him in his arms. Jon was very particular about keeping up appearances, though that all seemed to have crumbled tonight. Sasha rather fashioned herself a matchmaker, and Jon didn’t do anything to dissuade the fact. It’d been nice, having their relationship to themselves, the secret of it, the obliviousness of their friends who still thought Jon only tolerated him. It’s not that he wanted to keep it that way, of course, but it was nice while they were still figuring it out. 

“If you’d like. Maybe it’s time.” Jon tilts his head back, giving Martin a fond look. “Though I know how much you enjoy playing the lovesick fool-”

“There’s something so poetic about unrequited love, yknow?”

“All the more when it’s requited, I’d say.” Martin couldn’t argue with that. He leans down to give Jon’s forehead a peck. 

“Hmm. Give it a few more weeks. Act out the honeymoon phase for a bit, it’ll be fun.”

And when Jon squeezes his hand and smiles back, Martin thinks he won’t need to do much acting at all.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31318724

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - VII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warning: Mention of domestic violence

Previously on…

“The Court is holding session two weeks from now,” Y/N announced to the group.

“How do we know they’re going through with it after all the recent attention?” Damian challenged.

“They haven’t missed one in over over 20 years.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Dick asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, “We need a diversion.”

“Diversion?” Jason asked.

She nodded. “The Court has two kinds of protection: the Talons and then the protection they either buy or blackmail. The Talons are at every meeting, making sure nothing goes down and protecting The Court.”

Y/N eyed all of them before continuing – except for Bruce. The two of them hadn’t spoken since their argument, and Y/N hadn’t so much as acknowledged him.

“We need to do something to drag the Talons away from The Court – something big,” Y/N clarified.

“Like what?” Tim asked.

She didn’t say anything. Instead she just awkwardly shifted her weight.

“No,” Dick shut down, being the first to put it together.

“It’s the only way,” she countered.

By now the rest of them had figured out that Y/N wished to put herself in danger once again.

“They almost killed you,” Dick started to get heated.

“Yeah, and they’re even more anxious to kill me after the trouble we caused them. We all know it. The quickest way to get the Talons out of hiding is to dangle me in right front of their faces. Make it so easy that they can’t say no.”

They all went quiet.

“It’s a good idea,” Jason broke the silence.

Jason wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He was brutally honest. Also, he wasn’t scared of a risk. 

Dick glared at him.

But to his surprise, so did Bruce.

“We don’t use our own as bait,” Bruce finally spoke for the first time.

But he wasn’t even looking in Y/N’s vicinity.

That didn’t stop Y/N from rolling her eyes at ‘our own,’ as if she were actually treated the same as everyone in this family.

“Fine,” she snapped. “So what’s your genius plan for getting the Talons away from The Court and where we want them?”

Bruce was quiet, but clearly because he was thinking.

“B, we only have two weeks to get this together,” Dick tried to reason.

Y/N just continued, “While we’re distracting the Talons, the FBI and Gotham PD can raid The Court’s meeting. Security will be at an all-time low and they won’t be able to fight their way out with the distraction of a Talon defense.”

“We can think of another way,” Bruce said. Then he addressed all boys, “We’re heading out for patrol in 15.”

Dick stood up to join them.

To everyone’s shock Y/N and Bruce simultaneously said, “You’re staying here.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still injured,” Y/N argued. “You’re stitches aren’t even out yet.”

“You’re staying here with Y/N,” Bruce added on.

Tim, Damian, and Jason all looked at each other in amusement from seeing Bruce and Y/N gain up on Dick.

Bruce muttered out radiuses at the other three boys for patrolling.

“Just to be clear, I’m going back to being a lone wolf when this Court of Owls bullshit is over with,” Jason announced. “But I have to admit, the drama is entertaining.”

“Aww! Come on, J! You know you love the quality family time,” Tim teased.

“I personally can’t wait for him to go away,” Damian mumbled.

“Do you know what a swirly is?” Jason asked the youngest boy.

“No.”

“Do you want to find out?”

Damian looked at Tim for some kind of hint. But Tim just aggressively shook his head in warning.

“Enough,” Bruce warned, but he wasn’t all that annoyed.

When they all left for patrol, Y/N walked to her computers.

“What are you doing?” Dick questioned.

She gave him a look, “Uhhh…doing my job?”

“You did your job,” he countered. “Give yourself a break.”

Y/N knew he was technically right. She already had everything they needed to show the FBI and Gotham PD in order to take down The Court of Owls. Now they just had to wait – even if Bruce wasn’t on board with Y/N’s plan on playing bait.

“Plus,” Dick smirked. “I need someone to entertain me.”

She playfully glared at him. “Oh, I see. So this isn’t about me needing a break. It’s about you needing attention.”

He had no shame. “Maybe.”

Y/N shook her head at his ridiculous, but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“How about I teach you some self defense?” Dick offered.

“Dick! What part of ‘you’re recovering’ is so hard for you to understand?”

He had the audacity to laugh at her reaction. “Fine. Fine. But you should learn a few things at some point.”

Then Dick started walking to the training area, specifically where all the gymnastics equipment was.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone using it while she was down there, but she assumed it was mostly for Dick.

Without warning, Dick did a press handstand mount on the balance beam, and then he held the handstand.

“Dick! Stop!” Y/N said in a panic.

And she did exactly what he wanted, leaving her computer and walking down to where he was on the balance beam.

“What?” He shrugged as he now stood on the balance beam. “It’s just a handstand. Relax.”

“I swear to god, Dick Grayson, if you do a fucking flip on that thing…”

“You’ll what?” He challenged with a smirk. “Come up here and stop me.”

Y/N crossed her arms and glared at him. “Fine. I will.”

Dick was beaming from his success.

Y/N might not be a gymnast or a vigilante the same way as all of them, but she wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to athletics. She managed to lift herself up enough to sit on the balance beam.

However, standing up was an entirely different thing.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“You got it,” Dick encouraged.

But he was still walking across towards her as if the thing was a runway.

“Have these things always been this fucking narrow? I thought it was like width of bleacher seats.”

Dick chuckled as he offered her a hand.

“I got you. Come on,�� he urged her softly.

Y/N slowly stood on the balance beam, but gripped Dick’s hands tightly.

“I have some newfound respect,” she laughed lightly as she looked down at their feet.

“Harder than it looks,” Dick agreed.

“Do you think you could’ve gone to the Olympics?” Y/N genuinely asked.

He shrugged, “Who knows. Probably not.”

But Y/N knew he was most likely being modest.  

Then Dick let go of her hands to grip her waist, “Try walking.”

“I feel like we’re in Dirty Dancing. You know, like the scene where they’re working on lifts and walking across the log in the woods.”

He smiled.

Y/N lost her balance a little bit and panicked.

But Dick’s grip on her waist was strong. “You’re OK. I got you.”

It was hard to focus on balancing and walking when his gentle voice said things like that to her, making her stomach drop and her heartbeat quicken.

And it all proved to be too much when Y/N really lost her balance and there was no stopping her from falling. She shoved into Dick too hard, making him lose his grip as well.

But as they fell, Dick quickly maneuvered their bodies so he took the fall and caged her body protectively.

Y/N instantly sat up in hysterics.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you OK?” Y/N cried out as her eyes went down to where he still had stitches, half expecting blood to be on his t-shirt from the wound reopening.

But Dick was laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny!” She slapped his chest.

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N.”

She couldn’t keep her own amusement in check much longer and started laughing along with him.

But then Dick’s phone lit up and vibrated beside them. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when they fell.

Y/N didn’t mean to look. She really didn’t. But her eyes couldn’t stop from reading the name ‘Barbara Gordon’ on the screen.

Her smile dropped for some reason.

But Dick didn’t see the problem.

He casually reached over and looked at the message.

Y/N moved off of Dick. “Texting your ex?”

Dick narrowed his eyes at the framing of her question. “Do you know every woman I’ve ever dated?”

She smirked at that. “Maybe.”

“Yes, I am. She’s a friend.” He tilted his head. “Don’t you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

Y/N shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t really have any ex-boyfriends. Just…” she hesitated, “people I’ve hooked up with or whatever.”

Dick nodded slowly.

“Why hasn’t she been around?” Y/N changed the subject quickly.

“She’s been working her own case – had to go undercover for awhile.”

She nodded. But wasn’t looking at him as they talked now.

“You know…just because that’s what’s happened in the past doesn’t mean that it always has to be that way,” he told her quietly.

“Easy for you to say.”

Dick winced a bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze finally moved up from the floor to his. “You’re a serial monogamist. Being in relationships is easy for you.”

“That’s what you think of me?” Dick couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “You think I don’t know how to be alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” she quickly defended.

“But that’s what you were implying.”

Y/N got up from the mats and started to leave.

“No. Don’t do that,” Dick caught her arm.

“Do what?” She challenged as she pulled her arm away from him.

“Don’t make up problems that don’t exist, Y/N.”

She huffed at that.

“Yeah, I’ve been in serious relationships for most of my life. Not because I didn’t know how to be alone, but because I loved them.” He shook his head. “I know men have treated you like shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same.”

“What are we even talking about, Dick?” She shot back.

How did they get from messing around on a balance beam to discussing their non-existent relationship?

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Act like it.”

It wasn’t until now that Dick saw how Bruce and Y/N were similar. He’d never met anyone else that could push people away like they did. But it was clear they both thought it was easier and less complicated to isolate themselves. 

Maybe that’s why they gravitated toward each other. Like if the faced it together than they were cheating their way out of their own rules.

Except Dick couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N’s life could look like with someone who really loved her, who showed her that she didn’t have to face the world alone. Obviously he wanted to be that person for her. But his ego wasn’t too proud to allow someone else to do that for her. Even if it hurt like hell.

“Dick, I can’t–”

But he didn’t let her say another word, and his lips crashed against hers.

She tried to be stubborn and pull away, but he wasn’t letting her get away.

Dick deepened the kiss. This wasn’t like the night of the gala. It wasn’t innocent and soft. No, this was filled with fire and infatuation.

Dick wasn’t being polite anymore. His hands slipped under her t-shirt to grasp her waist, needing to feel her and refusing to allow fabric between his touch and her skin.

Maybe he was trying to prove something to Y/N now.

But just when Y/N was about to push it further, Dick pulled away.

Their lips were both swollen.

And he kept close to her, tempting her with another kiss – but not giving in.

“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine.” His voice was raspy.

Eventually he’d push her to talk about them. For now, he’d let her figure things out.

“But don’t convince yourself that I’m no one to you.”

———————

Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her mind was restless.

She knew Dick had been right: she was trying to point out issues that didn’t exist, picking unnecessary fights.

Getting Dick frustrated was a great way to stop herself from actually reflecting on how she was starting to feel about him.

Instead of tossing and turning in bed, Y/N decided to go to the library. She hadn’t spent much time there – too busy practically living in cave. But it had intrigued her since she arrived. It was so beautiful, and even large enough to hide in.

She was a hour or so into a book she grabbed from the shelves when someone cleared their throat.

Y/N jumped in fright and looked up to see Bruce leaning against one of the book shelves.

His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Clearly he’d just taken a shower.

“You’re back early,” she noted.

It wasn’t even 4AM yet.

“Quiet night. The boys had patrolling handled.”

She just nodded and went back to her book.

But Bruce’s presence made it impossible for her to even focus enough on the words to keep reading. So, she faked it.

“I owe you an apology.”

Her stare snapped up.

“I should not have spoken to you the way I did.”

Y/N was silent.

“It was unfair, and I was mistaken. I apologize.”

Y/N watched him for a moment before saying, “Apology accepted.”

She expected him to leave after that. He’d checked his little box. Now they could both move on.

“I was scared,” Bruce confessed. “That I was going to find you dead. And then I was scared Dick would lose it and…” His words died out.

“Well… you hid that very easily.”

“I have to.”

“I know. But you don’t realize how frustrating that can be for other people.”

Bruce sighed and frowned. “I understand.”

Y/N finally put her book down and got up from the love seat to slowly walk to where Bruce was standing.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” she apologized softly. “And I’m sorry for scaring you. I was only doing what I thought was right.”

Bruce didn’t even realize what he doing until he pulled Y/N into his arms and felt her bury her face into his chest and hug him back. He tightened his hold around her, breathing in her hair.

Y/N was surprised by his hug, but she was grateful for it.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. It was either his body wash or his cologne, but Bruce always smelled like musk and wood. Y/N was rarely close enough to smell it this well. But when she did, it instantly soothed her.

“Why are you up so late?” Bruce asked when they finally pulled away.

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

“You do not know how to make tea,” she answered while trying not to laugh.

“I am not as hopeless in the kitchen as you’d imagine,” he told her with a smirk.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied, as she followed him downstairs.

True to his word, Bruce made Y/N lavender tea, making it just as Alfred had taught him as a child.

He gave her a smug smirk when he handed her one of the mugs and saw how surprised she was by him.

Y/N never expected he would linger. 

But an hour later, they were still sitting on the barstools at the island.

The conversation was slow, but light.

Now that Y/N had spent so much time with the family, she mostly talked about the boys with Bruce, asked him questions about each of them.

It was easier for him to talk about them than himself – or them. 

Little did Bruce know, Y/N was learning so much more about him from the way he talked about all of them.  

Bruce was subtle, but Y/N could tell how proud he was of all of them – even Jason, who he had a tumultuous relationship with. He loved them with all his heart, even though he was terrible at showing it.

“Damian’s the only one who still lives here. Tim has a penthouse in the city. And Dick is constantly jumping around place to place. But it’s been...nice having them around so much recently,” Bruce admitted with hesitation.

“And what about Jason?” She asked. “He never seems to stay here.”

Bruce hid his sadness and disappointment well, but Y/N could still see it.

“I’m lucky Jason even speaks to me,” he answered darkly. “He tends to like his space and prefers to…keep to himself.”

She nodded, not forcing the subject more.

But then her eyes got a glimpse of the clock. And she looked inside her now empty mug. How long ago did she finish it?

“I should probably attempt to get at least a couple hours of sleep,” she murmured as she got up from the stool. 

Bruce nodded, and did that thing where men stand up as soon as a woman does.

No matter how many times he did it, Y/N was always caught off guard by it.

“Thank you for the tea,” her voice was so quiet, but sincere. She smiled, “I’m sorry for ever doubting your skills.”

He grinned and watched her leave.

But when Y/N reached the edge of the kitchen she turned around. “If I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully? And I mean really answer.”

Bruce observed her for a few seconds. 

He knew she deserved his honesty.

They constantly answered each other’s questions with questions. It was like a dance – or a fight – which one probably just depended on the day.

He nodded.

“It’s okay if I am. Really, it is.” She took a short inhale. “But was I just another one of Bruce Wayne’s conquests?”

The desperation for honesty was so clear in her face and voice. If he said ‘yes,’ it would hurt her, but she would get over it. After all, that’s what she’d been assuming all this time.

Bruce did not have the words. Furthermore, he saw this for what it was: the two of them approaching dangerous territory.

But he owed her this.

Bruce didn’t break her stare as he carefully shook his head.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT/EARLY MORNING…

Bruce knew Dick would be in the gym in the manor.

Everyone trained in the cave, so Dick knew no one would find him there. And he could workout in peace without being reprimanded about resting and being cautious about his injuries.

Dick had been sprinting on the treadmill when Bruce walked in.

When he spotted his entrance in the mirror, Dick stopped the machine.

He was dripping in sweat, proving that he’d been training hard – too hard for his condition.

Wonder where he learned that from…

“What’s up?” Dick asked as he wiped his face with a towel.  

“I had a feeling you weren’t resting,” Bruce said as he crossed his arms.

“I’m fine,” Dick shot back.

But he did a double take when he realized how deep in thought Bruce seemed to me. He was staring off, an extremely unusual thing for him. 

“Bruce?” Dick asked with concern. 

“Y/N’s parents abused her,” Bruce told him firmly all of the sudden. “Her father was an alcoholic – beat her and his wife. Her mother emotionally and mentally terrorized her. After running away countless times, Y/N was finally able to emancipate herself at 16.”

Dick’s entire body froze. “How do you know that?”

“She told me.” 

Bruce didn’t mean to sound smug. 

But Dick still took it that way. 

“For obvious reasons, she didn’t go into great detail. But I filled in the blanks with research – though she’s hid her past well, as you can imagine. She was homeless after that. Broke in where she could. Tried to stay off the streets. Even dressed like a boy for safety.”

Dick felt sick as he listened. Stories like this were all too familiar to their family. 

“One day, she saw someone coding on their computer at a coffee shop. She had always overachieved at computer science in school, and it intrigued her. As you and I both know, she caught on rather quickly.”  

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she’s not going to,” Bruce replied as if it’s obvious.

Dick scowled, still not putting together the deeper meaning. They had never shared a conversation like this before. And it was confusing him.

Was Bruce trying to shove his past with Y/N in Dick’s face?

“I was the first person she ever shared her past with,” Bruce said slowly. “And it took me far too long to realize that I mishandled her trust. I did not deserve it.”

Dick could see the regret on Bruce’s face as he spoke.

But Dick finally understood what Bruce was actually trying to tell him: ‘If she does you the same honor, don’t you dare make the same mistake I did.’

“I understand,” was all Dick responded with.

Bruce gave a curt nod.

“Need I remind you that the cave has cameras?”

Bruce saw them kiss. But little did he know, it wasn’t their first.

Dick only quirked an eyebrow as if it say, ‘So? What of it?’

-----------

Part 8

Guys, I was 30 minutes early. You’re welcome. 

I want to point out that Y/N’s dark past was always part of the story. But I avoided actually including it because I am not a fan of fanfic writers often romanticizing abuse or mental health issues or other serious matters. I just want everyone to know that I take things like this seriously and I’m not just using them as a plot point. 

So here is a resource if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence. 

[luckysevenwrites]

I don’t want to keep things casual

Yuta is off traveling for work, Y/n is keeping busy with their job, and both of them are struggling with being apart from one another. When Yuta calls Y/n and Yuta have a conversation about their relationship and what they want from one another. 

Part of the long term couples series

           Walking through the house you have recently purchased you scribble down notes of parts of the home you are going to update, walls that are going to be removed, and any other ideas that filter through your mind as you pass each room. You could hear your partner in the front of the house talking to the rest of your team about when they should be here and if they would be working under you or him. Their voices fade as you enter the master bedroom. You loved this room it was the whole reason that you had wanted to buy the house in the first place. It was at the back of the house and had large French doors that led out to a patio.

           In your head you were picturing the future owner of this home waking up and walking through those doors and out onto the patio where they would sit in comfy chairs and eat their breakfast while sipping coffee. There would be lazy weekend mornings where they would spend their whole time out there enjoying the beauty of their yard and each other’s company. Your plan was to make the rest of the house feel as calmly as this bedroom and patio made you feel. It was going to be a lot of work the previous owner had not taken care of the place and let a lot slip. You could see the potential in this home and your partner could see it as well. That was why after walking through the home one time the two of you had put an offer in.

           This project had come at the perfect time. It was going to require a lot of attention and was the perfect distraction from Yuta. The two of you had agreed on just being friends with benefits. Yet, you found yourself wanting to be around him all the time and wanting to get to know him better and he seemed to be on the same page as you. When he had told you that he was going to be gone for a few weeks you had thought that it would be good for the two of you. It would remind you both that you were supposed to keep things casual. In reality all the separation has done is make you realize how much you want to be with him and miss him.

           “Y/n you done with your walk through?” Turning towards the doorway Alex stands there with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes accessing the room before they land on you. “I sent the team home and told them that we would get started tomorrow on everything.”

           “Thanks, and I think I have everything down that we need. I might do one more walk through just to make sure we haven’t missed anything. Are you heading out or staying?”

           “I got to head out. I promised the boyfriend that we would have date night tonight since I canceled our last one and I can’t miss this one. He might break up with me this time if I cancel.” You laugh at that there was no way that Alex’s boyfriend would break up with him. They loved each other completely and it would take more than a canceled date to break up the two of them.

           “Alright, tell Jun hi for me,” you hug Alex and walk with him back to the front of the house.

           “I will and he told me to tell you that you are not fooling anyone, and he wants to meet whoever you’re seeing soon,” your mouth drops open at that statement. How in the world did he know that you were seeing someone? You hadn’t told anyone about Yuta and had made sure not to give anything away about you seeing someone.

           “Don’t ask how he knows. I’ve learned to stop questioning his skills a long time ago. Just talk to whoever it is and let them know that their time as remaining a mystery is numbered.” Alex bumps his shoulder into yours before heading down the walkway. You watch as he gets into his car and drives off before turning back to the house to do your final walkthrough.

           As your writing down some ideas that you have for the kitchen your phone starts to ring. Looking over at it you smile as you see Yuta’s smiling face on the screen, requesting that you facetime with him. Picking up the phone you answer the call and hold it up to your face. In a few seconds you see Yuta’s smiling face, hair fanned out as he lays on his bed. Just looking at him steals your breath away and you are once again reminded how much you have been missing him these past two weeks.

           “Hi, did you just get back to your hotel?”

           “Hmm,” Yuta nods, “today was busy and I’m going to sleep but I wanted to talk to you and see your face before I did.”

           “Ah have you been missing me?” you coo while leaning onto the counter.

           “I have a lot actually,” Yuta admits, and you smile back at him.

           “I’ve been missing you a lot as well,” the admission comes out easier than you thought it would. You hadn’t planned on telling him that you were missing him but hearing him say it made it easier for you to tell him how you were feeling.

           “So much for keeping things casual,” Yuta laughs, and you join him. The two of you were ridiculous for thinking that this was going to be casual and for only realizing now that you’ve spent weeks apart that you don’t want to be without the other.

           “I think we were doomed from the start. We should have known from the moment that we had breakfast together that we weren’t going to be able to keep things casual,” thinking back to that morning you remember how you had felt when you saw him in your bed and then taken him to breakfast. You didn’t want your time with him to end and that should have been your first clue that the two of you were never going to be able to keep things casual. There was already so much chemistry between the two of you and the more time the two of you spent together the stronger your connection got.

           “It’s your fault if you wouldn’t have shared your breakfast with me, I would have dropped you right then and there,” stresses Yuta, you roll your eyes at that comment.

           “No, you wouldn’t of. You have been falling for me from the moment we met!” A blush starts to appear on Yuta’s cheeks, and he looks off to the side avoiding eye contact with you. When he looks back at you, you raise your eyebrows up challenging him to say otherwise.

           “Where are you by the way?” Yuta leans up closer to the phone like he is trying to get a better look at your surroundings and effectively changing the subject. “That’s not your place.”

           “It’s not I’m at work,” you confirm.

           “Work is someone else’s kitchen? Just what is your job?”

           “Nope nice try but I’m not telling you anything. If anyone is going to win this bet, it’s going to be me.” You stress.

           “Come on you should tell me since I’m the one who admitted first that I miss you and can’t do the casual thing.”

           “You didn’t admit that you don’t want to do casual you just admitted to missing me and sucking at keeping things casual,” you point out not wanting to let him win this argument.

           “Fine,” Yuta sits up and brings the phone close to his face, looking straight into the phone and locking his eyes with yours Yuta says, “Y/n I miss you all the time and I don’t want to keep things casual between the two of us. I want to be with you all the time. I want to tell my friends that I’m with you. I want to go out on dates with you instead of just holing up in your place with you. I want more. How’s that for an admission?”

           Dam you should not have challenged him. How were you supposed to respond to that? You were not expecting him to just lay it all out like that.

           “Um it was pretty good,” you stutter, “but I’m still not telling you what my job is.”

           Throwing his head back Yuta laughs. You could watch him laugh forever you think, and you find yourself bringing the phone closer to you just to enjoy his face and laughter more.

           “Alright I’ll let it go for now. But I’m going to figure it out eventually. Especially since we aren’t keeping things casual anymore you can’t hide it from me forever.”

           “You can’t keep yours hidden forever anymore either! If we are really going to do this, I’m going to find out your job as well. And we can’t have secret between us anymore. Relationships are a completely different thing from hook ups.” You inform him wanting Yuta to know that if you two are really going to move from casual to an actual relationship that things are going to be different.

           “Oh, don’t worry Y/n I know that things will be different. I’m counting on it,” there’s a glint in Yuta’s eyes and you are starting to wonder what you have gotten yourself into.

           “Guess we’ll see who figures it out first,” you tell him not wanting to give in and enjoying the silly game the two of you are playing.

           “I guess we will! I should probably get going. I have another busy day ahead of me,” Yuta frowns and you understand how he feels. You don’t want to end the call either.

           “How much longer are you going to be gone?” You ask.

           “Two more weeks and then when I get back, I’m taking you out on an actual date,” you smile widely at that. An actual date with Yuta you couldn’t wait.

           “Hurry back then,” Yuta nods and right before the two of you end the call you remember what Alex told you and you get a wicked idea, “oh and before I forget you have to meet two of my friends, they already know about us!”

           “What?” Yuta practically shouts, his eyes wide. You laugh as you give him a wave goodbye and end the call. Laying your phone down you smile at it as you think over the conversation that the two of you had.

           When you answered the call, you had figured it would just be the two of you flirting with one another and making plans to get together when he returned. You did not think that it would lead to the two of you admitting that you miss one another and want more. You definitely did not think that it would lead to Yuta telling you that he wants an actual relationship with you and then him telling you that when he returns, he would be taking you out on an actual date. Your phone pings and you see a message from Yuta.

Yuta: If I have to meet your friends you have to meet mine. They were onto me weeks ago

Laughing you reply to Yuta and shake your head at yourself. How the two of you thought you could ever do casual was beyond you. You were both clearly bad at it, from hiding it from others, to keeping your feeling in check it was a failure a wonderful failure.

@readers-posts

[emisonme]

This will be big but i felt like sharing my thoughs. I love camila, so so much…but I feel like sometimes people are praising her too much. Camila loves fame, no matter how many of you deny it, it’s pretty obvious that she does. I’ve seen plenty of arguments on twitter regarding the 4H vs C topic and I can’t help but notice some people saying stuff like “camila didn’t choose to be in this position”, “all the girls treated her like shit when it wasn’t even up to her decide”. Well obviously I know the feud between the 5H girls was fake, but it really messes with me that people still continue to paint camila as the victim. Even tho camila may have not betrayed the other girls as they tried to make it seem, she sure as hell accepted this full of privileges position she was given since the beginning. And I’m not saying this is a bad thing, because honestly which one of us would deny such opportunity, if we were in her place? But most of us and I’m also talking about me, tend to forget that camila is also a person who has negative traits, not only positives. Unfortunately one of her biggest negatives, is that she grew to love the spotlight. And if you really think about it, it makes sense since she was always so shy around people and when she got a taste of the “pop star” life, she felt mesmerised by it. From my point of view, as soon as she got that taste she also started craving the “bigger” things. Big arena concerts, awards, people loving her. For example lauren might love her job as an artist, but she undeniably hates the fame that comes with it. She’s just in it because she truly wants to share a piece of her soul and justify the definition of a true artist. And I’m not saying that mila is not, she sure as hell wants to create art. But if you ask me, the difference between these two is that lauren would be completely content with singing in a room full of people who simply appreciate her art, whilst camila would prefer to be in an arena full of people who sing her songs and scream her name. Not that laure wouldn’t like that, but I think you get the point. And I don’t know if anyone noticed, but until a few years ago well actually before the pandemic started, her management continued to push down the image of this “goofy innocent” girl who was happy all the time. She also pushed it herself because that was her job! No matter how much we think we know her,camila is still a pop star in the music industry who plays a part, just like everyone else who works in that damned department. And based on the above I’d like to point out that (no matter how many of you disagree with this) nobody is forcing camila to stay in the closet. Yes I know I sound ridiculous but hear me out. There isn’t a single contract which can legally force someone to hide their sexuality. Yes her management may have warned her not to come out in fear of losing profits and even blackmailed her, but at the end of the day it’s her choice. If she desperately wanted to come out as we all make it seem, she would’ve done it by now. The fact that she doesn’t, should tell us, that afterall she does care about her image. Even if that’s taking a toll on her now, it was her decision to follow that path. It was her decision to stay in the closet, it was her decision to accept the pr with shawn and it was her decision to keep playing the “happy” girlfriend to the media. No matter how much she was manipulated by this hell hole, camila is a pretty clever person. If she didn’t want any of this and simply wanted to be authentic to herself and the rest of the world, she simply wouldn’t care if she lost the title of the pop princess. But she does care. And it’s completely normal at this point, cause in this industry either you lose yourself or you come out stronger. Unfortunately I believe that camila’s case belongs to the first occasion. I don’t think that present camila we see in interviews or shows or whatever is the real camila. That camila is long gone. Anyway sorry if this was exhausting and thanks to anyone who read it all,cause I really wanted to share this with someone

someone

Good Lord, Anon, that's a lot to unpack. I will start by saying, I agree with some, and disagree with some of what you had to say. Now, where to start...

You say it still messes with you, that everyone still portrays Camila as the victim. Are you going to deny that Camila WAS/IS victimized? The truth is, they were ALL victimized. They are ALL victims of an abusive Industry.

You said, "she sure as hell accepted this full of privileges position she was given since the beginning." You are either forgetting, or just plain don't care, that Fifth Harmony was a highly controlled entity. There was no choosing, or "accepting" privileges. They each did what they were told to do, said what they were told to say, and acted the way they were told to act. They were each given a role to play, and they were contractually obligated to play that role.

Yes, they were contractually obligated to act a certain way. There has been ample proof given, that none of the girls had any control over their PUBLIC image. Camila still has no control over her PUBLIC image, because there has been ample proof, she is still operating under her original contract.

Did Camila choose to sign that original contract? Yes, she did. Did she read that original contract? According to Lauren, probably not. None of them did. Did Camila agree to sign her solo contract? Yes, she did. But as I've explained before, if she wanted to continue in the music industry, she had no choice but to sign the solo contract they offered her. That solo contract is still connected to her original contract.

Camila is a human being. We ALL have positive and negative traits. Camila, all the ladies of 5H, you and me, we all have our positives and negatives. None of us are perfect.

You said, "one of her biggest negatives, is that she grew to love the spotlight." Why is that a negative? Hell, they ALL wanted the spotlight. Every person who gets into the Entertainment Industry, wants to get themselves in the spotlight. They all want to succeed in the field of their choice. To succeed, they have to garner the attention, and live in the "spotlight", in one way, or another.

Every one of them auditioned on a NATIONALLY TELEVISED talent show. They wouldn't have done that, if they didn't want to be noticed, and hopefully thrust into the spotlight of success. They ALL wanted that spotlight of success to be as solo artists. It's didn't quite work out that way. But, they ALL chose to try and achieve that spotlight as a group.

If one has been paying attention, from the beginning, Camila made no bones about her desired dream. She has stated from the beginning, she wanted to be a "pop star". Of course she wanted the spotlight. Lauren has said, from the beginning, she wanted to be "famous and travel the world". She wanted to be a famous star, in the spotlight.

Since you have chosen to compare Camila and Lauren, I'll answer to them. You seem to think there is this big chasm between the two. There really isn't. The only difference is the outcome, thus far. Lauren STILL wants the spotlight and fame, she just wants it on her terms. The problem is, it's damn near impossible to get that success on ones own terms, in an Industry that insists on dictating the terms.

That's a more recent decision on Lauren's part, by the way. You seem to be conveniently forgetting, that until 2019, Lauren also "chose" to play the game on THEIR terms. It was most likely, a two year PR contract, with a drug addicted gang-banger that turned her off of THE GAME. Lauren was pissed, that after all that, her debut album got shelved in 2019. I DON'T BLAME HER!!! I'm sure that also contributed to her decision, that THEIR TERMS suck ass.

Does Camila "crave" the big concerts, accolades, and people loving her? Yes, she does. They ALL do, or they wouldn't have signed solo contracts after putting 5H on hiatus. Instead, they would have said "this Industry sucks" and walked away. They didn't. They ALL craved more.

Lauren wants the same thing Camila has, just on her terms. Lauren doesn't "hate fame". She hates the negative side of fame. She hates having her life dictated by terms and schedules. She hates being told what to say, and how to act. She hates that fans get all up in her business.

She loves the nicer side of fame. She wants to see a lot of people come and see her perform. She loves to be on stage and see her fans singing and dancing to her music. She appreciates the accolades. She loves the love she gets from her fans. She would love even more, if her fans would multiply, and buy and stream the hell out of her music, instead of always bitching, telling her who she is, and how she should be, and getting all up in her damn business.

All one has to do, is listen to Lauren and the anger inside her about all this mess. She wants more. She wants more than a fucking "room full of people" enjoying her art. She wants a stadium full of people enjoying her art. WHO THE FUCK WOULDN'T. She just wants that stadium full of people to enjoy her art, and not expect more than that from her. I'm sure Camila would appreciate the same damn thing.

Unfortunately, that's simply not how the music industry is set up, these days. The difference is, Camila has accepted the fact, that she IS the product. Lauren has not. Lauren don't want to be a product. She wants her music/art to be the product.

I've said it a million times, the music industry hardly sells music, anymore. The music Industry sells the artist. The music has become a bi-product of the Artist. The Industry knows which artists will sell, and which ones won't. They know what image will sell, and which ones won't. Be the artist THEY want you to be, THEY'LL make you a star, and maybe even famous. If not, good luck.

Finally, you are completely right. There isn't a contract out there, that says someone can't come out of the closet. That would be blatant discrimination, and wouldn't pass the muster of the legal system. But, when you sign away control of your own image in a contract, that gives the contract holder the rights to dictate what your PUBLIC image will be. If they want you to have a straight PUBLIC image, then you'll have a straight PUBLIC image. If THEY want you to have a "good girl next door" image, then that's the PUBLIC image you'll have. You signed away your rights to be your authentic self, when you signed away the rights to control how others see you, period!!!

IN MY OPINION, Camila has come out of the closet so damn many times, I can't even count any more. She just has to do so, in a way that isn't obvious to those who have control over how others see her. Take her last video, for instance. When one listens to terms she chooses to use, and does a bit of research, you'll discover, what I believe is the hidden meaning behind that video. If I'm correct in MY THINKING, she has yet again, screamed her truth from the rooftops, for those who choose to listen, and understand.

As for the PR contracts...I was the first person to say, Camila made the choice to sign into those particular contracts. When one signs away control over their own public image, it also allows those in control to dictate that one MUST enter into PR contracts to help THEM present the PUBLIC image THEY want for that particular artist. The artist gets a say in which person that PR is with, simply because they HAVE to agree to sign the contract with that particular person.

So, did Camila agree to sign into this PR contract with the human hair ball? She absolutely did....And NO ONE should be surprised by it. It is quite clear that this shit has been in the making, since June/July of 2015. Hell, after that shit show with the British Bore, even the majority of the fandom was asking for it. The timing was right, and here we are.

Lastly, Camila is always stepping out of the closet, like I said above. IN MY OPINION, she wants her fans to know who she truly is, but that doesn't mean she wants to tell the world in definitive terms. Like Lauren, she wishes people could simply appreciate the music, and leave per private life out of it, but she also knows that's a pipe dream, and not reality.

She knows, the second she decides to speak her truth aloud, her career takes, yet another, blow. I also think, that's one of the reasons THEY, through the media, make sure her ignorant youth is continuously brought up. The more she has to fight to get through that hardship, the more she will want to keep her truth a secret. (yes, a definite manipulation tactic)

Camila could decide to say, fuck it all, and come out with her truth at any time, after her contract is up. She could also decide never to PUBLICLY come out. It's her choice, unless people in power decide to take that choice away from her.

Whitney Houston took her truth with her to the grave. Taylor lives with her truth, one foot in the closet, and one foot out. That's basically what Camila is doing now. IN MY OPINION. Her public foot is in the closet, and her music/art foot is out. If people cared more about the music/art, they would get the authentic truth. If you care more about her public image, you'll get exactly what THEY want her to be.

People try to tell you, and others this all the damn time. Take the recent interviews. If you notice, Camila, and others are always saying how vulnerable, honest, and authentic she is, IN HER ART. Her truth is in her craft, whether acting or music. Her PUBLIC image, is just that, an image to sell to the PUBLIC. Everyone in the Entertainment Industry has one...Even Lauren. Yes, she did play the game. She still has her toe in the game, she just isn't playing it at a high level, right now...and, unfortunately for her, it shows!!!

There! I answered your book with a damn novel. As always, I could be wrong with my opinions, but they are my opinions!!!!!! !! !!!!

[httpsaiki]

Congrats on 300 love! I don’t think I’ve requested something yet from you even though I love your writing! Anyway, could I request a fic where Teruhashi and the (fem)reader are dating(usually I don’t mind what pronouns the reader has but for this one it’s kinda relevant. But you can make it gender neutral if you want)? So the two have been dating for a few months. The reason Teruhashi entered this relationship wasn’t because of “love” but because she wanted to get her fans off her back and what better was to do that than enetering a relationship with another girl. She this that it may help get her male fans off her and at first it’s great. Then the reader starts to see the relationship declining. At first Teruhashi was sweet and kind but now she is kind of rude to the reader, saying things like how she is embarrassing her or that if Teruhashi is so perfect why isn’t her s/o capable of being that way too. Mean ik (I don’t like Teruhashi if you couldn’t tell), the reader is also dealing with comments from her fans saying that the relationship is a charity case and such so she is feeling horrible in the relationship. A fight happens between the two and mean stuff is said. They break up and the reader isn’t taking it well. Not because she is upset she isn’t in the relationship cause she is happy to be out but because of the backlash from fans. Seeing this either Kuboyasu (jabjshsk I love him sm) or Saiki (love him too) comfort her and they begin to hang out more till they start to date. The two are now in a healthy and loving relationship and the reader gets to see what that feels like and how that wasn’t what she had with Teruhashi... I really just write this whole fic out lmao. I was going to write it but I’m simply lazy and I wanted to request something from you. As always ignore this or change anything if you don’t like it an take your time please don’t rush or stress yourself out. Ily hun❤️❤️

Hi!! Thank you so much <3! I wanted to say that I adore this request and honestly was ready to drop everything to write it, what an amazing idea you have here! I’m worried I focused a little too much on the Teruhashi part but, man, I’m a sucker for angst so it was a lot of fun. I think I may have gone a little overboard, as I don’t think I’ve written something this long before. I’m sorry if it’s wrong or not quite what you wanted. Thank you so so much for this request, I love it!

Small edit: I forgot to add I picked Saiki for this, as I think I write him a bit better than Kuboyasu!

— Reader is female! Warnings for slight angst, break up, fighting.

WC: 3041

Italics are Saiki “speaking” telepathically.

Teruhashi is the perfect pretty girl, on the outside at least. —————————————————–

“So, what I’m trying to say is… Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” Teruhashi asked on the rooftop one fateful evening after school. She looked as gorgeous as ever, trying to hide her slightly blushing face as she avoided your eyes. The wind was blowing gently through her hair, causing it to sway ever so slightly to one side. The sun was setting behind her, giving her an even more angelic glow to her appearance. You said yes, of course, how could you not? It was magical, especially when it was from the world’s prettiest girl. There was no way you could reject her.

The perfect couple. That’s how it appeared to be. For some time, that’s even how it was.

Teruhashi Kokomi. Your stunning, admirable, and perfect girlfriend. She’s amazing. A few months ago when she asked you to be her girlfriend you were exhilarated. The thought of dating what many considered to be the perfect girl was a chance you knew you just couldn’t pass up. All the time spent with her felt like cloud nine, she made sure you were happy no matter what, and of course, you tried to do the same for her. Her reputation truly held up, even in private.

Over those months, it amazed you what a wonderful girlfriend she was, having seemingly endless affection and love for you. It felt like she was more in tune with your emotions than you’d ever been. She was always ready to listen to your problems, whether you just wanted to vent or needed solutions. She was such a giver in the relationship that you even felt a little bad about it.

She knew that, but she’d never tell you. Not yet, anyway.

So many precious memories flashed through your mind as you thought about her. From getting ice cream on hot summer days to study dates amid a cold, snowy winter (where there wasn’t as much studying as there was cuddling). All the late nights you had spent with her, talking about everything and yet nothing. Video calls at the bright and early hours of the mornings just so she could get your opinion on what she should wear for the day. Every little thing you did together seemed as perfect as Teruhashi herself.

So where had it all gone wrong?

The relationship seemed like it was going great. What happened? What had you done wrong? Recently, Teruhashi had been acting anything but herself. She’s been aggressive, rude, and not interested in anything to do with your relationship at all. She’d avoid you, ignore your calls and texts. When she did see you, she’d throw insult after insult your way, blaming you for problems that were far from in your control, ones that her in her life, not yours. But that wasn’t even the half of it.

What made it even worse? That was only in private. In public, whenever she was with you (or without) she put on her little show of being Miss Perfect. You don’t know how you didn’t see through it before, looking back it was so obvious how fake it was. While in public you were sometimes able to convince yourself she still loved you, clinging onto a desperate hope that things weren’t nearly as bad as reality would tell you. Maybe she was just having a rough time? Her life must be hard, with the constant stalking and fans harassing her along with the need to keep everything in her life completely in order. She must just be tired of it and need somewhere to vent her anger. You didn’t mind being that person, but just not like this. You couldn’t always expect her to be perfect, and you hadn’t. You did your best to make it clear to her from the start that you didn’t need her to be perfect all the time and that you’d be there no matter what. If she wanted to relax in private with you, she was more than welcome to. She never did.

You had it rough, too. Her fan club was constantly harassing you as well. They called you names worse than she did, and had gone to extreme lengths just to get you to break up with her. They stole your things, drew on your desk, and were all-around horrible towards you. They claimed the only reason Teruhashi was dating someone like you was that she pities you, Teruhashi could do so much better. Deep down, you knew that may be the case, but she still asked you out for a reason, right? You never once complained about it, nor told Teruhashi. It would be okay in the end, and being with her was worth it.

Looking back, the red flags were there from the start. It would’ve been better if you caved to the fan club’s wishes from the beginning.

Your arguments seemed to only get worse with time. Insults being thrown your way more than once a day. During a particularly bad argument, she expressed how she felt she was the only one keeping the relationship alive, the only one that truly cared. For the first time, you fought back.

“How could you say such a thing! I do my best for you, I’m sorry we can’t all be Miss Perfect! I try so hard and yet it’s never good enough, is it?” You yelled in frustration, your voice was a lot louder and far more powerful than you intended. Teruhashi was visibly taken aback, despite her constant berating, you had never once raised your voice at her. She paused for a moment, clearly to think. You could easily tell just what she was thinking about.

You had no idea she’d been keeping track of everything you told her. Well, you did, but you never imagined your insecurities would be used against you in the way Teruhashi has been. Screaming them, bringing them up to your face, and forcing you to face them without warning. Using them to insult you, making them worse, and letting them dig deeper into the back of your mind. 

Her face contorted in anger, even angrier than before. Listing things “wrong” with you as if her life depended on it, Teruhashi began her angry ranting. She wanted to get it across to you that she’s perfect and you’re far from that. She listed everything you’d ever done that irked her, every annoying thing you’ve said, and every problem you’ve ever told her about. She mocked emotions you’d told her in confidence and confessed that she always found them dramatic and ridiculous. She expressed how embarrassing it was to be seen in public with you, how she should only be seen with people on the same level as herself. If that wasn’t enough, she dealt one last finishing blow.

“I never loved you anyway.”

She turned and she left, slamming the door to your house shut behind her.

Your mind went blank and you barely noticed your knees hitting the floor as you collapsed to the ground. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt the tears soaking into your shirt. You couldn’t see nor hear, everything around you felt numb and dark. Did she really mean all of that? There was no way you were that bad of a girlfriend to her. 

Why did you still not want to break up?

Days passed and you still hadn’t left your bedroom, let alone your house. Your phone was blown up with texts from your friends, asking if you were sick. You learned from glancing at a few of the messages that Teruhashi had told them that. Reading her name hurt, it made you feel ill as you remembered what had happened a mere few days ago.

Your phone dinged once again. You reached out and grabbed it with a weak grasp, not having the energy to do more than the bare minimum. The name on your screen made a wave of nausea come over you, the content of the message not helping either.

From: Kokomi♡

I’m coming over.

You really needed to change that contact name. That wasn’t what was important, though. Why was she coming here? What else could she possibly need from you, and what on earth else could you possibly offer? You didn’t have much time to think about it, you needed to appear at least somewhat put together by the time she got here.

Your hair was just finished drying as you pulled on clean clothes. You made sure the entrance and living room areas of your house were clean, along with the kitchen. The knock at the door sounded so familiar, Teruhashi always knocked the same way. It sent chills down your spine. Pulling on the best neutral face you could muster and forcing your legs to move, you opened the door.

She looked different. There was no glow to her anymore. She’d never looked less like an angel in your eyes. Even compared to when she’d been yelling at you. It was jarring, almost like she’s a total stranger. It’ll make talking to her easier, you mused.

You wordlessly invited her in, stepping aside as she avoided eye contact and made her way to sit in the living room. Even once you were sat in front of her, she still wouldn’t look at you. You couldn’t tell if that was because she felt shame or disgust. You just hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“What do you need?” You started the conversation, keeping your voice as steady as you could muster. You were quite impressed with how well you were doing.

“We need to break up.” She stated, still not looking up. You rolled your eyes.

“As if I’d stay with you after that.” You spit out, trying to keep your words from sounding too venomous. A moment of silence, you could feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest. The nerves were starting to get to you and one of you needed to say something before the panic could set in. Luckily, Teruhashi did.

“They were right, you know - the fan club?” She said quietly.

“What?” You were surprised, she knew about that?

“It was like a charity case. I only dated you to get them off my back. Didn’t work though. Shame.” Her voice was calm, way too calm to be saying something so harsh. She was fine just ending your relationship like that, no matter what you’d been through together.

“Oh... of course.” She really had never loved you. You were just a tool she could use to escape the mindless drones that claimed to support her. So it all had meant nothing. It was just too good to be true. 

She stood and wordlessly left, walking out of your life for good. Good riddance.

Your pain was only beginning to set in. You couldn’t care less that she broke up with you, you were miserable dating her anyways. No, the hardest part was you would be truly alone now. You knew once word got out that she broke up with you the whole school would blame you. There’s no way their perfect pretty princess could do wrong. It hurt to think about it, you’d probably lose your friends over this. There was one person, though, just maybe one person you could talk to.

Saiki Kusuo. An average looking boy, he didn’t stand out much. You had been friends with him months ago before you dated Teruhashi but she forced you to stop talking to him when you started dating. You never understood why, but she eventually told you that it’s because she used to like him before she got with you and she found it awkward for you to talk to him. You understood. The guilt ate you alive, but you complied. From that day on, you’d never again spoken a word to him.

You could tell just by looking at him he wasn’t like everyone else. He didn’t fawn all over Teruhashi when she entered a room and maybe that’s what drew you to him right now. He’d be the perfect friend, someone that wasn’t obsessed with her. You just hoped he’d forgive you.

“Hey, Saiki?” You asked, shyly walking up to him. He glanced up at you, an uninterested expression plastered on his face. He wasn’t visibly upset by you, but that only made you more nervous. You have no idea what he’s thinking. Realizing he wasn’t going to reply, you continued talking.

“I was just wondering if you’d be willing to have lunch with me. I-I know we haven’t spoken in a while but there are some things I’d like to clear up.”

Saiki knew exactly why you stopped talking to him. He wasn’t going to blame you for that, either. It wasn’t your fault. Sure, he was a little upset about it, you were someone whose presence he actually could tolerate. You were nice to talk to, mainly because you knew when was a good time and when to stop. Traits Saiki greatly admired and appreciated in a person. He might have even liked you a little.

He wasn’t about to let you go. Not as easy as the first time. “Sure.” 

His response was curt and blunt, but you couldn’t help the small smile that graced your features. It was your first genuine smile in months. Maybe the whole world wouldn’t be completely against you.

“Thank you.” You stated simply, turning to sit back in your seat. It seemed like such a meaningless thanks, but Saiki knew there was more behind it than that.

Lunch came quickly enough and before you knew it you were eating under a tree with Saiki. You explained everything that happened over the last couple of months, how awfully you’d been treated behind the scenes. You apologized more than necessary for abandoning Saiki, trying to convey that you didn’t want to, but your ex-girlfriend had somewhat forced you to. 

Saiki was forgiving, and far more understanding than he needed to be about the situation you were in along with the one you found yourself in now. Deep down, he was happy to have you back. Even if you weren’t super close before, he wanted to help you feel better and get over the torturous relationship you had just left.

So Saiki was there for you. The little lunch meets becoming a daily occurrence and he did his best to keep the Teruhashi fan club away from you. Talking to Saiki felt different, it was like he was genuinely listening and cared about what you told him. He was eager to help and aided as much as he could in your recovery.

Weeks passed as the routine kept up. On the weekends you’d meet for dessert and studying. Everything you did with Saiki felt right, it felt safe and healthy. You hadn’t realized how suffocating your old relationship was - even during the good days. 

It wasn’t until Saiki asked you out and you said yes that you truly experienced what being loved felt like. It was late, well after the sun went down. Saiki had snuck into your house, claiming that his parents were being annoying but you knew that was a cover for the fact he missed you. There was no way they were awake these early hours of the morning. He saw your tired face under the dim light that peaked in from your window, as you woke up from his sudden appearance in your bedroom. Saiki felt a small rush. He needed to tell you. Now.

“Y/N” He spoke. 

“Saiki?” The confusion was evident in your voice, “You spoke?” You were clearly tired after being disrupted from your sleep. Never having heard him speak before wasn’t helping with your state.

“Yeah.” He whispered, reaching a hand out to brush the hair out of your eyes, letting it linger on your cheek. It was a little more than platonic, just like the look in his eyes.

“I really like you, Y/N.” He whispered once again, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. 

But you did. Your eyes shot open, blinking a little in surprise. There was no way he just said that, you must be dreaming. There was no way this pink-haired boy that made you feel more than anyone else ever had was standing in your bedroom, at four o’clock in the morning saying he likes you.

You sat up, “You really mean that?” It came out without you intending it to. It probably sounded rude, but you were far beyond the point of being awake enough to care.

“Yeah.” He said, a small chuckle coming out, “I do.”

You didn’t say anything, all you did was slide back on your bed, making room for Saiki and open your arms. He took the hint and made himself comfortable next to you. He let out a small sigh, doubting he’d be able to sleep like this despite his relaxation. He wanted to protect you for as long as he could. He stared at you, probably a little more than he should. Saiki couldn’t help it, his eyes wouldn’t leave your form. You looked like you belonged in his arms, or so he thought. He was having a hard time processing his happiness at your figure in his arms. It had always been you, he was well aware of that now. 

“You still awake?” he asked, going back to his telepathic communication. You mumbled a small yes, prompting him to continue talking. “Thank you,” he started, “for asking me to sit with you at lunch that one day. For coming back to me.”

You let out a tired giggle, “You missed me.”

“I did.” He felt you tense when you said that as if you were shocked to hear it. That didn’t surprise him, he had his doubts you were told you were cared about enough, especially in your last relationship.

Looking down at you once again, he realized you’d fallen asleep. A smile grew on his lips as he made a silent promise to show you what real love feels like. He’d cherish you to the moon and back. It’s what you deserve and he was going to give it to you.

[honeyhan-123]

The Monster In Plain Sight ~ II

Series Summary: Steve’s been slowly biding his time, playing the role of the perfect Captain America, but now he’s sick of playing and he’s going to take what he wants.

Chapter Summary: You awaken to a little surprise... 

Warnings:Dark!Steve, explicit mentions of rape, male masturbation, porn, Steve being creepy. 

Word Count: 2.7k

AN: Sorry it took me so long but enjoy this lovely new banner/moodboard <3

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Despite his late night rendezvous, Steve Rogers was up with the sun, just like usual. He knew he still had plenty of time before you would awake and so he started his normal morning routine, with only a slight tweak. Instead of heading to the shower where he usually imagined your body underneath his as he fisted his raging hard cock, he lay in bed, pulling out the camera from his bedside table. 

His fist glided up down his cock as he played the video back. You had felt so good last night and watching the video just made him want you even more. He couldn’t wait until you were completely his, at his mercy. But most of all, he couldn’t wait until you were awake while he took you. He wondered if you would fight back like the others had, or if you would just yield to him like the sweet little submissive he would train you to be. 

He rarely got the chance to take someone while they were awake, it was far too dangerous and while he did have friends in high places and he knew that any claims would just get swept aside, if too many claims came up people would start to talk and he wanted to avoid that at all costs if he could. 

When he finally came all over his stomach it was to the vision clouding his mind of you, down on your knees, mouth wide open as you jerked him off. In his vision his cum coated your face, some of it dripping down to your chest and like the good girl you are, you swept some of it up with your fingers before licking them clean. ‘Thank you Steve.’

He showered and dressed quickly after that. On his way out of the apartment complex he stopped by your room, letting himself in with the key he had snagged from the landlord weeks ago. Your body had barely moved from when he had said goodbye, your nipples still pebbled from the cool air and a mess slowly seeping out of your cunt. 

He could feel himself harden again as he fixated on his dried cum coating your pussy lips. He hoped it took, but if not there was always next time. 

Steve had to physically force himself out of your room because he knew if he stayed he would take you again and you would probably wake up while he was inside you, which would ruin everything. He had to play this smart if he wanted it to work. So instead, he blew you a kiss from the doorway before heading out for his daily run, more eager than ever to return. 

+

You awoke slowly, a soft smile drifting across your lips as you remembered the dream. It had been more vivid than most, in fact, you could almost have sworn it was real. They were happening more and more often recently. Ever since he moved in next door. The living Adonios. 

You couldn’t help it. Not really. Not when he looked like that. You blamed the most recent one on dinner the night before. He had seemed so sad at the prospect of eating alone and so you had offered to cook for him. The smile that had graced his face had completely eased you of any anxiety at inviting a stranger into your home. 

When your eyes finally opened, the warm contentment turned to ice in your veins. 

Your body jolted up and you grimaced as you felt a pang between your legs. Where your sleep clothes had once been, there was nothing but naked skin. The ice in your veins turned to shards when you dipped a hand down, in between your legs. You didn’t have to be able to see it to know what it was. 

You didn’t make it to the bathroom in time. 

Instead you emptied what little was left in your stomach into the waste paper basket by your bedside table. You couldn’t think of anything as you lay on the floor, heave after heave convulsing through your body. 

You didn’t know when they started but tears were freely flowing down your cheeks and sobs joined the dry heaves. How had this happened? How could this have possibly happened? What had happened?

You almost didn’t hear the knock over the noise but then you heard his voice call out. ‘Y/N? You there? Is everything okay?’ Your unease lifted slightly and you scrambled to cover yourself with a dressing gown. If anyone could help you it was him. Captain America. 

A part of you didn’t want to face him, you didn’t want to face anyone. Not like this. But you knew that you should. He was a good guy and he’d be able to help. You chanted that mantra over and over again as you approached the door, wincing with every step.

You were just about to unlock the door when a flash of your dream came back to you. His godlike face twisted in pleasure as he rutted into you. It raised bile in your throat and you had to force yourself to swallow it back down. 

You were being ridiculous. You knew you were. Yet you still couldn’t quite bring yourself to open the door. 

‘Y/N? I’m starting to get worried, is everything okay?’ Concern laced his voice and you knew he was just trying to be friendly yet still you couldn’t bring yourself to open the door. Instead you tried to find your own voice.

‘No… Steve. It’s not.’ You barely managed to choke the words out but you knew he heard you. 

‘Let me in Doll. Let me help you.’ His voice was earnest but still you shook your head.

‘I can’t.’ The words were whispered against the wood. ‘I just… I can’t even think about it.’ 

‘Doll, you’re really worrying me. Let me in and I’ll help you, I promise.’ Steve’s voice pleaded at you through the door and a part of you longed to open it for him. 

‘I’m not decent…’ Even you could tell how feeble your excuse was and it seemed like Steve had had enough.

‘Doll… Open the door or I’ll break it down. I’m really concerned.’ Despite the threat, you knew he was just trying to help you and the thought of not having a door anymore sent a chill down your spine. Not that the door had helped much last night… ‘You have until the count of three. One… Two…’

The door creaked open before Steve could get to three and he relished in the sight before him. 

You had your arms wrapped around yourself, as though you thought you could physically hold yourself together and there were dried tear tracks down both your cheeks. Steve had to hide his glee at seeing you so defeated. Now wasn’t the time for gloating, it was the time for comforting. 

‘Oh Doll… What on earth happened to you?’ Your eyes were locked on the floor, refusing to meet his as he searched your face. You even recoiled as Steve reached out to cup your chin in his hand. ‘Doll? I need to know what happened.’ Steve tried to make his tone firm yet still comforting, wanting you to feel safe with him. 

‘I… Well…’ Steve could tell your words were failing you and now wasn’t the time to push but he so longed to hear you admit it. 

‘Doll?’ There was silence for a beat as you thought.

‘My apartment… it was broken into last night.’ 

‘Oh Doll, I’m so sorry. What did they steal?’

‘I-nothing. At least I think…’ You slowly drifted off, your eyes quickly darting around the small main room.

‘Oh, well then what’d they do? Did you wake up?’

‘No… I only just woke up…’ Your vague answers were starting to annoy Steve. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

‘Doll, what aren’t you telling me? I’m trying to help you but I can’t do that if I don’t have all the facts.’ 

‘No I don’t - I don’t want your help. I’ll just call the cops or something.’  

‘Doll,’ he gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him. ‘I’m an Avenger. I’m here to help. I’ll be far more useful to you than those pigs. I mean… Do you really think they’ll help someone like you? We both know how useless they are and how little they care about anyone but themselves.’ Steve was careful with his word choice. He didn’t want to seem too eager but he also needed to persuade you to confide in him. 

‘Plus, the Avengers have far more resources than the NYPD could even dream of. I want to help you and I want to put your fears at ease.’ Steve could almost hear the argument raging in your head. He knew how little you cared for the city’s cops due to past experiences and was gratified when you seemed to come to a decision. 

‘Okay, but… Well, it’s not really an Avenger level threat.’

‘I assumed as much Doll. But don’t worry. I’m your friend first and Captain America second. I wont tell the others.’ Looking into his cerulean blue eyes you could see nothing but earnestness and maybe a little excitement at the thought of helping you and so you made up your mind. No matter how embarrassing it was, you would feel better with him helping than some random cop. So you gave a little nod at your ascent which was met by America’s most charming smile.

‘So what happened?’

‘Well… Like I said. My apartment was broken into last night.’ Your eyes were locked on your fingers as you spoke. Not wanting to have to say any more. 

‘But they didn’t take anything?’

‘No. I’m pretty sure they didn’t.’ 

‘So what happened?’ You took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for saying it outloud. 

‘I… they… When I woke up…’ Your words seemed to be failing you but Steve was determined to wait it out. He was determined to hear you say it. ‘I don’t know how it happened but… they… I was… I was violated.’ 

‘Violated like…?’ Steve let his question hand in the air.

‘Sexually. They raped me.’

‘They raped you?’ Steve repeated your words back to you as if double checking that he had heard right. You couldn’t help the flinch as if his words alone could physically hurt you but you nodded your head. ‘How?’

Despite yourself you shot him an exasperated look. ‘How do you think? They broke in and they fucked me while - while I was… while I was asleep.’

‘And you didn’t realise?

‘No… At least not really…’ You blanched at your admission, inwardly begging he wouldn’t ask what you meant. But obviously whoever out there didn’t care about what you wanted. 

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘It doesn’t matter.’ You tried to shrug off his question but his eyebrows rose and he locked you in with an unyielding stare. ‘Well… I didn’t notice… at least subconsciously. I had a dream.’ 

‘A dream?’

‘Yes a dream. But it doesn’t matter like I said.’ Your cheeks flushed with heat at the mere mention of it.

‘And it was sexual?

‘Yes.’

‘Who was it with?’

‘Excuse me?’ 

‘You might have subconsciously picked up things about your attacker in your dream. It’ll help us narrow the search.’ Steve seemed to sense his misstep and quickly tried to justify it. 

‘No. It wasn’t him so it won’t help.’ Steve opened his mouth as if to argue but you steeled yourself with a glare and said in the firmest tone you could manage, ‘it won’t help.’

Steve seemed to sense your resolve and dropped the topic, instead focusing on what had happened. ‘So I guess it happened in your bedroom?’ You nodded and followed him as he crossed the room. ‘So obviously since you were asleep you didn’t really notice anything but what makes you so certain something happened?’ 

You couldn’t believe he was seriously asking you that. ‘I know something happened because… well when I woke up I could tell and there was… stuff.’ You couldn’t bring yourself to call it what it was. 

‘Stuff?’

‘Bodily stuff.’ You urged him to understand and thankfully he did. His mouth dropped into a little ‘oh’. 

You watched as Steve walked around your room, occasionally pausing here or there to pick something up and examine it. He didn’t stop until he got to your pillow. 

‘Have you seen this?’ He held out a little piece of paper in his hand and you shook your head.  ‘Thank you so much for last night baby. I can’t wait to see you again.’ You shuddered as he read it aloud. ‘Have you seen the handwriting before?’ 

You shook your head as you stared down at the paper. It was completely unfamiliar. ‘That’s okay, I’ll take it to the lab and see if we can get a handwriting match or any fingerprints. But I think perhaps you shouldn’t be staying here anymore. Do you have some friends or family in the city?’ 

‘Uh no not really. All my family is interstate and I’m pretty new to the city.’ 

‘It’s no matter. Honestly probably for the best. The Avengers have a series of safe houses, the highest possible security and protection. Maybe you should stay at one of those.’ 

‘Are you sure that’s really necessary?’ 

‘Do you want him to come back?’ 

‘Of course not.’

‘Then yes I’m sure it’s really necessary. We have one upstate, close to the compound that I think will work nicely. Why don’t you pack a bag?’ 

+

You packed like a machine, barley even pausing to think. There was no rhyme or reason as to what you were placing in the small weekend bag, anything you could get your hands on. You shoved in a pair of bathers along with your thermals used for snow and then an old hiking shirt.

Steve had left very briefly to make some phone calls and pack a bag of his own but you barely noticed when he returned, a small red bag in his hand. You watched confused as he handed you a little glass tube, a Q-tip inside. 

‘Here, I found this in my first-aid kit. I figured you would want to do a test.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s for DNA. I’ll take it to the lab and we’ll see if we can find a match in the system. So if you could allow me to just…’ You quickly caught on as a blush coated Steves cheeks while the blood drained from your own. 

‘I can do it.’ 

‘We can’t let the chain of evidence be in question. If it’s called up in court…’ You shook your head vehemently. 

‘Please Steve. I mean, the evidence is already on me. It’s hardly breaking the chain of evidence.’ 

Steve sighed but nodded you away towards the bathroom and you scrambled away. Your hands shook as you swiped the Q-tip along your folds, trying to get as much DNA as you could on the little head. Revulsion wrecked through you as you decidedly fixed your gaze on the hot water tap on your sink. You analysed how the rust had crept up the side of the handle instead of thinking about what you were doing. 

When you were finished you headed back into the bedroom where Steve stood waiting with a glass of water in his hand. 

‘The drive should only be a couple of hours and I can drop that off at the compound once you’re at the safe house.’ You nodded and made for your bag, hitching it up over your shoulder. 

‘I’m not sure if you’ve thought about it much, but I imagine you probably want to take this.’ He handed a little white pill out to you along with the glass of water. ‘It’s a morning after pill, they come with the rape kit.’ 

‘Shit, yeah. I hadn’t even thought about that. Fuck that’ll be awful wouldn’t it? Just my luck too.’ You threw the pill back in one swallow and smiled graciously at Steve, not quite realising just how forced his smile had now become. 

‘C’mon, let’s get out of here.’ Steve pulled your bag from your shoulder and left the room. 

You cast a small once over of the bedroom one last time, not noticing the little Tylenol wrapper in your waste paper bin. 

+

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[yungbud]

Silent Treatment+X

Req? Yes! @madonnasinn said: Can you write a smut about Dom ignoring y/n over a petty fight they had a few days ago, and y/n parades in a very tiny skirt around him when they go out to have dinner with his friends (to get his attention). He then gets really mad because all the guys keep eyeing her, which she knows he hates so she tempts him and fuck in the restaurant bathroom 🤭 just a lil idea i had LOL

Word Count: 2.4K

Tw:Light choking, semi-public sex acts, a little bit of thigh spanking/smacking, idk smut obviously.

A/N: Feast

—

You sat in the kitchen with Dom. Well, Dom sat, you stood, washing the dishes as he talked to you about how the album was going.

“I’ve just been so stressed for the past three fookin weeks trying to get this done. I just want it to be perfect, you know? And I keep wanting to go back and tweak it but Gav tells me not to.” Dom ranted, absentmindedly picking at his nailpolish while he did. 

You reached for the knob of the faucet, turning the water on to rinse off the dish in your hand, accidentally turning it too high and ending up being splashed with water, soaking the bottom half of your shirt.

That reminded you, tomorrow you had to do the laundry, then clean Dom and your shared room, then you’d have to shower– No, that wouldn’t work. You’d have to shower then do laundry before you leave, or else you’d end up being late for your appointment.

God, these last few weeks had just been so stressful. You felt like you barely had a chance to breathe, you’d finish one thing and up would pop the next. Oh, and you couldn’t forget lunch right after your appointment. You hoped there wouldn’t be traffic, you can’t be late because (Y/B/F) would only be visiting you on their lunch break, they’d have to go back to work straight after. 

Who were you kidding, it’s LA, of course there’d be traffic.

Should you reschedule? You were both so busy as is and this was the one time your schedules had allowed you to meet up in what must’ve been months. 

Shit, you thought, how long had it been? You began replaying the last few months in your head as you absentmindedly scrubbed at the plate in hand.

“And you’re not even listening.” Dom pouted.

“No, no I am. That’s great sweetie.”

“What’d I just say.” He tests, looking at you, his raised brow doing very little to hide the fact that he’s annoyed.

“You were talking about the uh- The uhm,” You paused, mustering all your brain cells to remember what he had just been talking about. The towel squished between your hand and the counter as you leaned against the sink, your fingers coming up to stroke the bridge of your nose as you thought “The drums, you just finished the last of it, right?” 

The oven dinged, signalling the food needed tending too. Your mind flipped as you searched the kitchen for the oven mit.

Where could you have possibly put it if not right next to the oven where you could’ve sworn you left it. You spun, searching the other counters, even going as far as to look in the sink before realizing it had slid to the floor right below where you put it. Sighing, you leaned down to grab it, pulling open the oven to tend to tonight’s dinner.

“Uh, what else happened today?” You ask, trying to keep your mind on track. You were careful not to burn yourself as fussed with the food

“Shit, babe can you hand me the tongs?” You ask, reaching a hand out behind you. That’s when you realized he hadn’t responded.

“Babe?” You try again, turning around only to realize he’d already left. You scoffed, grabbing it for yourself before leaning back. Standing straight, you take a moment to bask in the warmth of the oven before closing it. 

*~Three days later~*

Dom raised his head to look at you, your spoon clinking against the side of your bowl signalling your entrance of the living room. He looked back to the TV just as soon as he had looked over, obviously too invested in whatever he was watching to acknowledge your existence. A sigh of relief left your lips when your butt hit the cushions, leaning back into the inviting, cushiony supports.

“Ugh, this week has been so stressful. I feel like I haven’t had the chance to sit in like… forever.” You say, your eyes focusing on what was playing in front of you. It was an old episode of the great british bake off. 

You laughed a bit, but it came off more as a hum.

“You know, I heard when contestants would cry, Mel and Sue would stand by them and use un-airable language so the footage wouldn’t make it to the final cut. Isn’t that so thoughtful?” You say, trying to perk some conversation out of the boy sitting next to you. 

He wasn’t responding. Your eyebrows furrowed as you searched through anything you might’ve said to upset him recently. You couldn’t think of a single thing, come to think of it, what was the last thing you had said to him? Hell, when was it?

You realized quickly your last exchange was in the kitchen, and even that had been cut short by him leaving. 

Yes, that’s right. When you had crawled in bed with him that night, he had been asleep and you were in such a rush the next morning you couldn’t remember if he was awake next to you when you woke up. He wasn’t exactly avoiding you as much as he was not talking to you.

Had he seriously been giving you the silent treatment for that long? 

“Is everything okay?” You tried, sure you were only getting in your own head. Your eyes had completely left the TV at this point, focusing solely on the quiet boy next to you. There was no response, not even so much as a nod.

“You haven’t talked to me in almost a week.” You continued

“Doesn’t matter. Even if i did, you wouldn’t be listening.” Dom retorted

“I’m sorry i made you feel that way. It honestly was not my intention, i’ve just been so caught up this week.” You were sorry, but it seemed awfully ridiculous to have gone this long giving you the silent treatment just because you had been distracted.

The conversation ended entirely there.

Dom hadn’t said more than two words to you since your argument, doing everything in his power to avoid you. It wasn’t hard, after all he was a very busy man. Especially with the release of his new album coming up, there were interviews and meetings to be had, but at a certain point they became less of a responsibility and more of an excuse.

You were on twitter, you had seen his fans practically begging him to take a break, but taking a break would mean seeing you, and that just wasn’t something he had been in the mood to do recently. It was bad enough already that he had to go to dinner with you.

That was okay, you would help him get in the mood. Or, rather, out of his mood. If Dom wanted to be petty, fine, you could be petty.

You slipped the soft material up your legs, admiring your reflection in the mirror. If Dom was going to ignore you, you were going to give him something to ignore. 

You knew this skirt would do the trick, every time you saw another girl or, fuck it, boy, prouncing around and one of these skirts even you nearly fucked them. Everybody looked good in these, it was a fact of life, you’d decided. You knew you definitely looked good, you almost had to stop for a moment and touch yourself to the sight, but glancing at the clock you realized you didn’t have nearly enough time for a bit of self pleasure.

You were practically already running late, spending all your time getting yourself ready to grab Dom’s attention. You added some finishing touches before heading out to the living room where Dom sat, waiting for you patiently. 

Any other time Dom would’ve been right next to you in the bathroom, admiring your work on your makeup, outfit and hair, but today he stayed in the living room

You tried not to smirk as you made your way into his line of vision. The look on his face was completely worth the hours of tireless work, though. He’d turned his head to look at you, a distinct glare replaced by shock, his eyes widening a bit as they landed on your outfit. It was tight and loose in all the right places and only added to your stunning features. 

“What?” You teased,

He tried to recover quickly, returning to his pouty state, not even bothering with a response as you followed him out the door.

You were sitting at the table, surrounded by you and Dom’s friends when someone finally made a comment on your appearance.

“You look really good, (Y/N).” Tom commented, everyone nodding in agreement as the conversation momentarily shifted to you.

“Thank you! I thought so.” You praise yourself, smiling down at your outfit.

The conversation drifted off again, a newfound confidence bubbling up in your chest. You reached over to Dom, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. It stayed there for a moment before he moved it, and it continued on like that. You did everything in your power to remind him of how good you looked and how short your skirt was until he motioned for you to stand. A couple eyes turned to you as you walked off, but no one asked any questions.

Dom was practically dragging you, your feet fumbling as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. When you realized where you were headed you glanced at him, eyes wide, but he wasn’t looking back. His eyes were focused on the bathroom doors ahead, his jaw clenched, gorgeous green eyes shadowed by his black eyeliner.

“Dom, what are you doing?” You began to plead, uncomfortably aware of the fact that you were about to walk into a bathroom with your boyfriend in front of the whole restaurant. You glanced around, checking for any cameras or onlooking eyes. There were none in sight, but you knew that didn’t mean much.

Your head clobbered light as he pinned you to the stall, his eyes burning into your own. Your gaze faltered, looking everywhere but him. Normally sex with Dom never made you nervous, he had always managed to make you feel safe and comfortable, but going from complete silence to being pinned against a stall in The Olive Garden so abruptly made you timid. His hand pressed down on your shoulder, your legs bending until your knees hit the tiled floor, staring up at him through your lashes. Dom hastily unbuttoned his pants, maintaining his gaze, er, glare on you. Your eyes flickered from his own to his hard dick springing from its constraints, watching as he stroked himself achingly slow before his tip slid past your lips, sliding himself across your tongue a few times, his head leaning back as he felt the warmth of your mouth surround him. 

You hollowed out your cheeks, eyes remaining on his expression. When you reached up to replace his hand with your own you felt a harsh tug on your hair. It took you a moment to realize what he wanted from you, but when you realized you let your jaw go slack. Dom’s hand remained wrapped around the base of his cock, shoving it down your throat unexpectedly, causing you to gag.

Your mouth hung open, weary not to let your teeth scrape against him as he thrust into your mouth. You pulled back a bit as you gagged, your head lightly hitting against the wall behind you. Dom continued to push forward, his hard cock pushing farther and farther back in your throat. You were pinned between his thrusting hips and the bathroom stall, you had no choice but to let him fuck your throat.

Not that you were complaining.

Well, you couldn’t.

You gagged around him, hands coming up to grip at his hips as he continued to use your mouth to get himself off, angelic moans falling from his plush lips.

Dom finally took mercy on you, pulling away and grabbing your chin with his thumb and forefinger, staring down at you.

“You look so pretty gagging on my dick.” He says, wiping the tear coming from your eye. His hand makes its way down to your neck, wrapping around it and pulling you to your feet.

 “Or maybe it’s just that fucking skirt.” He adds, slapping your thigh before lifting the skirt up to reveal your lace underwear. A groan slips past his lips, bringing his fingers against your core. You let out a sigh of relief as his fingers rubbed against your clit, glad to finally get some relief after all this time. It was short lived, though, as he pulled you to your feet using the grip he had on your throat, tilting your head up to look at him.

The air around you seemed to freeze, your eyes roamed eachothers faces, desperate for one another. His lips came against yours slowly and then all at once, his hand remaining around your throat as his tongue slipped its way into your mouth. The hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat remained between your legs, working steadily at making your legs shake for him.

It was almost embarrassing how ready you were for him, so needy that the slightest touch beckoned a whine. Things became heated again quickly, his hands moving from your neck to your thighs, a quick hop before you wrapped them around his waist. 

Dom reached between your legs, trying his best to move the material without dropping you, eventually giving in and letting you do it instead. Reaching between your legs, you wrapped your hand around him, lining his hard dick up with your aching core. He paused there for a moment, enjoying the feeling before pushing himself in. His lips reconnected with your own, thrusting into you a few times before sighing and setting you back to the floor. Your eyebrows furrowed up at him, unsure what to do before he was spinning your around, pinning your face against the wall. You felt him slide between your lips once more before pushing in. It took him a moment to find his rhythm, but soon you were being pounded against the bathroom stall, pathetic moans falling from both your lips, Your senses clouded by pleasure leaving you completely lost to your surroundings.

You would have to be petty more often.

[keeroo92]

Flights of Fancy

My NSFW contribution to @jackpot-dantezine, where Dante and Reader discover they share a hobby. Enjoy!

Word count: 1,679

------

Dante hummed and adjusted the focus, bringing his latest quarry into view. Brown feathers, a pointed beak, the last remnants of the avian’s breakfast still hanging from its beak. A robin, male, maybe a year old or so judging by the plumage. Gorgeous, though common. 

It had been a productive morning; he’d catalogued a young pair of goldfinches and a plump great tit already. The spring always brought more activity, but this year was truly a treat. Now, if he could just spot that evasive starling...

“The heck are you doing?”

He dropped his precious binoculars and whirled to face you. Shit, how was he gonna explain this? The last time he told someone he watched birds, they’d laughed him right out of the room.

“Uhh…”

You kicked off your shoes and came closer. His palms were sweating. Shit, shit, shit. You weren’t supposed to come over until six. Why the hell were you so early?

“Spying on the neighbors? Anything good?”

Dante swallowed, his mind frozen. That sounded like a trick question…

“Uhh…”

Your hands wrapped around his binoculars and raised them up, fiddling with the dial to focus them. All he could do was watch as you peered across the divide and into the next building. 

“Oh, wow! Is that the lady with the border collie? Hard to tell from this angle…”

Fuck, this can’t be happening!

He was so screwed. Either he confessed to his ridiculous hobby, or he surrendered and let his partner think he was a voyeur. Talk about getting stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“You know, if you’re into watching, all you had to do was ask,” you said with a coy smile, lowering the binoculars to meet his panicked gaze. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? 

“Wh- what?” he stammered.

You stepped back and ran your hands lazily across your chest. “I’d be happy to give you a show.”

Still trying to assemble a coherent sentence, Dante didn’t resist when you pushed him down onto the cushion of the reading nook under the window he got the best views from. If this was going where he thought, he had no complaints, but it didn't sit well that your teasing came about from a misunderstanding. 

You turned away from him and bent over, your ass swaying exaggeratedly. The first stirrings of heat came to life in Dante’s groin as your hands slid across your body, taunting him and toying with the edges of your clothing. 

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” he said. He’d be kicking himself if you stopped, but still.

You looked back over your shoulder and winked at him.. “I know.”

Dante’s mouth went dry as you slowly faced him, your hands drifting to take off your top. Each button you released revealed a few more inches of your body, the slowness of it close to torture. He licked his lips and tried to relax, but his mind refused. This wasn’t right. 

“Wait, just… hang on a sec.”

“Why? Do you not like it?” you replied with a slight frown. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I love it, babe. I just… I gotta tell you something.”

You bit your lip and shifted your weight. “That doesn’t sound good…”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, searching for words. This really shouldn’t be so hard, it wasn’t like he was trying to dump you. 

“I wasn’t peeping. Voyeurism isn’t really my thing,” he began. “At least, not when the person doesn’t know they’re being watched. What you were doing, that was hot.”

You rolled your eyes and took a seat beside him. “You just haaaad to say something...”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Do you have any idea how often you've left out your bird book? Pretty dead giveaway.”

Dante groaned and shook his head. Of all the stupid-

“Did I ever tell you about the time I spotted a Hawfinch?”

The red-clad man’s thoughts screeched to a halt. Those little fuckers were some of the rarest birds in the region. Just to hear their call was basically winning the lottery. Nobody who didn’t take part in his hobby was likely to even know they existed, which meant…

He stared at you in disbelief. “Wait, you too?” 

You shot him a smile. “Yeah, though not much recently. I lost my binoculars when I moved here.”

Dante’s heart flipped. No, it soared - just like his beloved birds. Joy and warmth formed the air current lifting it, suffusing his chest until he could barely breathe. 

How could you possibly be so wonderful?

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he said, “So we can do it together.”

You hummed. “Sounds great. But you know, there’s something else I was hoping we could do together today.”

Your weight shifted as you faced him, body language and the lingering flush in your cheeks enough to drive home the hint - that dance was meant to rile him up. Never one to deny the chance to tease you, Dante wrapped his arms around you with a smirk. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” was your husky reply, lids lowered and breath catching.

He leaned closer. “Like what?”

“Like this,” you replied, pressing your body against the twitching bulge in Dante’s pants. Gente fingers brushed aside his snowy locks and your lips descended, planting kisses up the column of his throat. 

“Fuck, babe…” he growled. You hummed in response, dragging your hands across his broad chest.

The moment you came up for air, his lips crashed against yours, hungry and haphazard. He didn’t care when his teeth clacked against yours, or that your lunch lingered on your breath. It didn’t matter when his jaw complained or how his tongue strained to meet yours. It was all worth it.

The heat of your body, so close to his. The scent of your skin. The soft exhale of your breath. Your existence enveloped him and cast a spell on his senses, somehow too much and never enough at the same time. He’d never get tired of being with you, not ever. 

His lips danced from your mouth to nip at your pulse, teeth and tongue toying with your flesh. Need overwhelmed him as you responded in kind, tearing at his shirt and belt until you found skin. Warm hands on his body, nails scratching each time he found the right spot to suckle; it wasn’t long before two sets of clothing lay discarded on the floor.

And then, his favorite part - when you took him inside you and welcomed him home. So deep, your body responding to his as if his touch kept you alive. Moans and gasps mixed with murmured curses, hips slamming together and spreading his need across your thighs and ass. He braced against the windowsill and thrust harder, stealing needy groans from your kiss-swollen lips.

“This what you were after? Huh?” he panted.

Your spine arced, body tightening around his length. “Shit, yes!”

Dante growled and flipped you over, his eyes fixated on beads of sweat rolling down your shoulders and spine. You buried your face in the upholstery, sharp cries leaking past the fabric each time he bottomed out. Lost in the throes of pleasure, he didn’t care that anyone who happened to gaze at the window had a full view of his passion. 

He grunted and tugged your hips against him, grip gentle yet firm. He knew how you liked it, and giving you what you wanted came automatically to him after so long together. The look of euphoria on your face was gorgeous as your voice broke, your body clenching around him as your core spasmed. Dante reached around to tease at your front, elongating your bliss as he followed barely a beat behind. 

“Fcuk, I’m - ah, shit!” he cried.

Energy surged from his body, searing a blazing path to his cock and into your body, thick ropes of his completion dancing against your innermost muscles. Dante’s vision flashed, his body arcing as if doing so got his seed any deeper. His hips stuttered, moving without any sense of rhythm or coherence until he came back to himself at last.

Panting breath spilled from his parted lips, beads of sweat cooling as they rolled down his brow and back. His body felt light and heavy at the same time. 

“You good?” he asked. 

But your attention was elsewhere, eyes locked on something far away. Dante pulled out with a quiet groan and peered through the window, looking for whatever stole your focus. 

“What is it, babe?”

You didn’t blink. “Hand me the binoculars.”

The tenseness in your tone and the set of your shoulders allowed no argument, and Dante did as he was told, pausing only to grab his boxers. “Here.”

As you brought the lenses to your eyes, he set a dish towel beside you for whenever you were ready for it. Whatever you saw, you’d tell him eventually. 

Then, a sudden gasp. 

“I don’t believe it…”

Dante crossed his arms. “What?”

Still staring out the window, you adjusted the focus. “It’s a pied flycatcher.”

Now it was Dante’s turn to gasp. They were one of the ten rarest birds in the region, never seen within a hundred miles of here. What the hell was one doing here?

“Lemme see, come on!”

You still didn’t look away as you held out the binoculars to him. “It’s on one of the higher branches of the oak tree.”

He held his breath as he searched the branches, his well-trained eyes used to spotting feathers among foliage. There it was, its brown plumage granting it camouflage against the trunk. It was preening.

“Holy shit, I see it! I see it!”

You laughed and tugged him down to sit beside you. He settled in to watch the little bird for a while, his free hand reaching out to touch his beloved partner every few minutes. The two of them took turns with the binoculars, laughing and sharing the joy of their hobby for the first of many times.

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Our Story - Prologue

theA/N: My first Chris Evans series. This is just a fluffy little series that has been floating around in my brain for a while, and because I've recently fallen head first into the Chris trashcan, I figured he’d be the perfect person for this little love story AU. I mean absolutely no disrespect with this, it's just a work of fiction. I also want to give a huge thank you to @percywinchester27​ and @girl-next-door-writes​ for being my betas for this story. You are both amazing and I'm so grateful for your help on this. 

Chapter: One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (unfortunately no Chris in this part) 

Warnings: Absolutely none. 

Wordcount: 1850

Four weeks after my twentieth birthday, I left my childhood home in Savannah, Georgia, and pointed my nose towards New York. It was hard to believe that eight years had passed already, but my twenty-eighth birthday approached in large strides to remind me of how much time had passed, and how much had changed. New York City was a stark contrast to Savannah, the city that never sleeps VS the most charming city in America. When I first moved here, it was my intention to stay for only a year, then I would be back in Savannah with my family and the man that I loved so deeply, Josh. 

However, life never really turns out how you intend it to, no matter how much you plan for your future. Josh and I used to talk at length about our future together, and I honestly couldn't wait to get started on it all, house, careers, and then a family of our own at some point. Then, after eight or so months of long-distance we finally broke and admitted to ourselves that it was just too hard. I know you might think that since we had stuck it out for that long, we surely could manage a few more months, but by then I had been asked to stay on in what was supposed to be a temporary position, and I had fallen in love, not only with the city, but with my work. I asked Josh to come to me, told him we could find ourselves a little apartment in Queens, or the East Village, something we could afford, and we could spend a few years together here before moving back home to start a family. I guess you’ve already figured it didn't turn out that way, and it ended, as long-distance relationships often do, in heartbreak. It was my first real heartbreak- amicable, civil, and soul-crushing. It was also then I realized, as we all, unfortunately, do at some point in our lives, that love does not, in fact, conquer all. 

If I'm being completely honest, I knew within my first month in this magical city that I would never want to leave, and after things ended with Josh, I felt as though I had deceived him in some cruel, unintentional way. Every conversation we had, had after that had been filled with lies and promises I never intended to keep. I had fooled myself as much as I had fooled him. After our break up, although completely heartbroken, I felt free and unburdened, which strangely made me feel even worse about the whole thing. Our love didn't end in some big blowout argument, or because we didn't want to be with one another. It ended because of the thousands of miles that separated us, and because in the months we spent apart, I changed in a way that could not have been foreseen. Never did I imagine myself in a big and busy city, but as I said, New York and me, it was love at first sight. 

You might be wondering what job took me from my safe and comfortable life in Georgia, thinking that it must have been some grand, once in a lifetime thing. It was not. It was a temporary job as a personal assistant. I found it as I sat by my computer one night, daydreaming about what kind of life I would live if I had all the money in the world, what life Josh and I could create for ourselves. That's when I came across the ad. A woman, Mrs. Wallace, needed an assistant. She was a very wealthy woman in need of someone to keep track of her very busy social calendar, amongst other things. I knew she was wealthy because she lived on Fifth Avenue, not that I had ever been to New York and really knew what that entailed, but I had seen movies and read books placed in the city and knew very well that Fifth Avenue was a very expensive street. There was little to no description of the job or what Mrs. Wallace was looking for in an assistant, other than that they had to be organized and were able to juggle multiple things at once. Beyond that it really came down to compatibility. I was nothing if not organized, so before I knew it, I had compiled an application letter and sent to her email. I told no one about this, because it was ridiculous for me to think I'd even get a reply back. In all honesty, it had all been forgotten by the next morning, and I didn't think of it again until three days later when, at dinner with Josh I might add, I got an answer. She would like for us to meet. We sent a couple of emails back and forth where I tried to, as politely as possible, explain that I did not have the means to travel to New York just for an interview. I stated that I appreciated her interest, and apologized profusely for not being able to make it out there. It was then she asked for my details, and about fifteen minutes later I got a confirmation from American Airlines that my ticket had been booked and paid for. Two days later I was sitting opposite Mrs. Wallace at a restaurant that I would never be able to afford, listening to her talk about the job I had applied for and what she expected of me. 

The very first thing that struck me about Mrs. Wallace was her age. For some reason, I had imagined someone in their fifties, full of botox, fillers, and whatever else middle-aged women put into their faces to look younger, but Mrs. Wallace was not that much older than me. At the time we met, she was twenty-seven, so younger than I am now, and strikingly beautiful. Thick, black hair that looked professionally blow-dried and sculpted so that not a single strand was out of place. It draped over her shoulders in loose Hollywood style waves and stood in sharp contrast to the white blazer she wore. Her skin was olive, her eyes deep brown, and her cheekbones could probably cut glass. When you put that together with her long, model-like legs, an hourglass waistline, and a very ample bosom, the woman looked like a greek goddess. To top it all off she had a warm and kind smile, and a kick-ass sense of humor. Kate, as she insisted I call her, was far from the stuck up, nose in the sky, botox filled woman that I had imagined in my head. We hit it off, and before dessert was served, I had a job offer. 

It's hard to explain, but I felt as though I needed to take this opportunity, that this was an experience I was meant to have in some inexplicable way, and I accepted right then and there without a second thought, or even a conversation with my family or boyfriend. Josh was angry with me at first, but supportive, so two weeks later I stood in front of 1040 Fifth Avenue and looked up at the towering building with its limestone and intricate carvings here and there. Kate greeted me at the front door as I stepped out of the car that she had sent to pick me up from the airport. This place even had a porte-cochere to protect the residents from rain as they walked from the door to their private chauffeur-driven vehicles. I would be staying here with the Wallace family, in the staff quarters with the rest of the staff of course, so that I could be available to Kate at all times. And that's how my New York adventure started. 

Eight years later, I am still working for Kate, still living in my little room in the staff quarters, but I love it. I have a little bathroom and everything I need. Food is prepared for us all by the cook, Rosalia. She is a little, plump woman in her mid-fifties, kind and compassionate, not to mention deeply passionate about the food she prepared for the whole household. Along with me and Rosalia, the other staff in our quarters are Magdalena, the housekeeper, and Mitch, who is Mr Wallace’s assistant. There was more staff, of course, like the private chauffeur’s, who didn't live on-site and throughout any given day, people would be in and out of the place like it was a busy office space as opposed to the home that it actually is. 

Now, Mr Wallace was a very busy man, working non-stop whether it be at his office, or at his home office. It seemed as whenever I saw him, he was walking in fast strides, either on the phone, or confirming things with Mitch who half sprinted behind him with his I-pad, trying not to trip over anything as he tried to keep up and take down notes at the same time. Henry, that was Mr Wallace’s first name, was a little older than Kate, not so much that you could accuse her of being a gold digger, but he was approaching his fifties now. He didn't look it though, he was a very handsome man, and kind. Imagine George Clooney, a man that just seems to get more gorgeous with every passing year. Kate and Henry were busy, always had their hands full with whatever it was, but somehow they always found time to share a meal together every day. Even if it meant having Rosalia heat up some leftovers for them at midnight. They were very much in love, and it was clear in the way they looked at one another, and how they always made sure to have that little moment to themselves every day. A couple of years ago, Kate had confided in me that she could not have children of her own, it was something that had weighed on her since she was only sixteen years old, but with Henry, she said, ‘I have all I need with that man, all the love I could ever wish for.’ It was a shame really, because I knew that Kate would have made an amazing mother, and Henry a great dad. ‘I'm alright,’ she had assured me. ‘I've come to peace with it, and learned not to dwell on something that will never be.’ 

So, that's the short version of how I ended up here, doing a job I adored in a city I loved with all my heart, so I think it's about time we move forward. Jump to the part where my real story starts. Spoiler alert; it involves a warm summer day in Central Park, a ruined dress, and an extremely handsome man named Chris. 

******

If you liked what you read, how about slamming that reblog button and help spread my work? If you leave a little comment on top of that, you’ll be in my heart forever. 

Want a tag? I got you!! Just send me an ASK and I'll add you. 

Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss

[vanquishedvaliant]

So there’s this trend I’m seeing on social media about people boycotting / encouraging people not to buy the upcoming Mass Effect remasters.

The reasonings being somewhat varied, some valid, others not, but mostly centering around one thing in specific; cut content relating to same sex relationships that didn’t make it into the games.

Now, I understand not being interested in the product being offered; I’m probably not going to buy it myself for a lack of specific features like multiplayer and... just not needing the buy the game for my fifth or sixth time. It’s completely valid to think the remasters are just not doing enough for you to justify a purchase, or that their faith in the company doing it properly in their current state isn’t there. I get that.

But the mood that’s come up lately isn’t just disinterest; it’s downright outrage. Violent, ideologically charged opposition to even the concept of the remasters because of a perceived failure to meet their extremely specific and often high standards and notions of progressiveness.

Now it’s not exactly news that Bioware has had a rocky relationship with inclusivity over the years, with queer characters flitting in and out of recognition and prominence, appropriation of queer archetypes, and less than stellar execution of what characters they do include. I’ve had my complaints with these myself from time to time, though it’s still always struck me historically as a generally positive, if clumsy attempt at progress that I appreciated despite the flaws; remember that the original Mass Effect 1 came out in 2007, and was the focus of a major media scandal about even including romantic relationships at all in the game, nevermind same sex ones. That’s 14 years ago! The most recent game in the series is 9 years old!

We can talk about the social standards of the times and the progress we’ve made, and we can also talk about the merits of restoring and improving media as it was, or recreating it to more closely reflect the values of today and which or both of them is a worthwhile pursuit, but I don’t think that’s what’s being sincerely argued here.

What we see instead is some protestation that failure to make the exacting changes that they see fit according to their personal ideology is some kind of radically regressive statement, as if it’s a conscious, malicious decision and not either one made in good faith or not at all. This movement has collectively decided that the remaster needs to contain exactly the changes that fit their fleeting whims or the entire thing’s at best a wash and a wasted effort, and in some cases a ‘homophobic’ statement of hatred, or cynically callous laziness. 

Let’s remember; the focus of this argument is the presence of available simulated dating options in a 14 year old game. The arguments posits that some of these alternative options are ones that were cut from the release of the games, notably the first one, and have some or numerous assets that exist in various forms within the game files that with some work can be accessed in the game with user-made modifications. Some of this is true; though much of it is exaggerated or misconstrued in terms of its scope or viability.

Many of these people just assume that this cut content that someone else has restored in a mod somewhere is just some sort of simple toggle done in moments without effort, ignoring the work those modders did on their own time and money to introduce those features. 

Even if we just hand wave any standards of quality or continuity or polish and integration these mods have, you have to consider the dozens to hundreds of volunteer man hours of labor these fans put into many of those mods to make them viable that a company paying it’s employees a fair wage and time to do without overworking has to budget. Which I should mind to you is something also incredibly topically relevant in game dev these days. Adding new content costs money. Restoring old content, still costs money.

Even then, the viability of many of those original assets is at question in itself; the 'ingredients’ used to create the content are not equivalent to the ‘cooked’ content found in the game files, so some of them are difficult to work with or lacking in features or quality. Hell, we know for a fact that half of the god damn development data for ME1 is just fucking gone, which is why the DLC isn’t making an appearance in the remaster at all; it just doesn’t exist anymore and would need to be remade from utter scratch.

Now there’s a dozen reasons undertakings like these would or wouldn’t make their list of priorities for remaster given the other work they are doing re; texture and model uprezzing, gameplay updates, etc. It’s not exactly strange for them to recreate the game largely as it was with a more limited scope of changes. Perhaps the decision was made to preserve some parts of the game largely as it was; with mostly minor cosmetic changes to things like Miranda’s camera angles; things that don’t have much overhead or ripple effect. Perhaps restoring the content was considered, but didn’t make the cut- maybe for the same reasons it didn’t make it into the game in 2007. Maybe for different ones.

Only the people involved know.

Now, would I like to see some of that content restored and improved? Sure! I think it’d have been a great thing if they’d promoted the series as having new or restored content; if they’d promised us such things. But they haven’t, and while it’s one thing to praise taking an initiative like that if they had, I think it’s completely unreasonable to be outraged that they didn’t.

We can celebrate that kind of outstanding and excellent steps forward in inclusivity, but we have to understand that while someone not being ahead of the curve may not be exciting or even disappointing; it is not in itself an act of directed aggression. And treating it like one is a waste of time and energy that we can direct to protesting actual aggression, or celebrating those outstanding steps.

But here’s the major thing that kills me; all those mods they love and praise aren’t going anywhere.

The remaster will come out and unless Bioware is so completely tone deaf and media blind from the past year they pull a WC3, the old versions of the game will all still be available. All those user made mods they cite in these arguments about “how easy” it is to add content to the game will still be there, ready to play as they always were. Some of them might even work or be easily made to work with the new versions!

All of that will still be there! And we’ll have access to a new version of the trilogy that is far more accessible to new players who haven’t yet been exposed to so much of the games content that they are desperate for more of it.

Just look at Mass Effect 1; that game has not aged well, and it was kind of a sloppy mess even when it came out! How many new players can we get to enjoy all the good things the series has to offer with an easily accessed, more enjoyable package to play through the entire series without issue? I’ve done numerous replays of the trilogy through the years, and Mass Effect 1 is always a huge stumbling block. It’s just a pain in the ass, straight out. Don’t you want at least the option to fix that?

And if not, you don’t have to buy it and no harm is done to you! Enjoy your existing version with your mods and familiar features and flaws.

And if you truly, genuinely care so passionately about Bioware improving their record of inclusivity; look instead to the new game that’s coming out and look forward to that instead. Every game in the franchise has been better than the last at this; ME1 cut the same sex relationships, but ME2 had some. ME3 had even more, and then Andromeda had yet even further than that after patching!

How many will the new game have?

Look forward to that and make it clear to bioware you’re looking for that in their games; just.... ease off this ridiculous vitriol in trying to get people to avoid the remaster because it’s not good enough for you. No one needs to have this bullying done to either the developers themselves or the players looking to buy the game for themselves or others. It’s simply not productive.

Especially with this franchise’s sordid history with excessive media outrage and entitlement that’s been absolutely exhausted.

Just... relax. And have some perspective.