#i put it on her just to see and then i proceeded to debate with myself for a solid ten minutes

[invinciblerodent]

oh it sucks that i don't hate this

[brunchable]

𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿

Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? If you're not up for a few second-hand embarrassment sit this one out lol. Summary: Your coworker peer pressured you to look up SergeantBarnes in Pornhub, reason? Because apparently you're missing out. A/N: This would make a good mini series. . .but we'll see. I had a dream. . .that he was a guy next door, just wanted to-of course-add a twist to it asdfghjkl.

It was all Amy’s fault. And Trish’s. And okay, maybe you shared a little bit of the blame for caving to the intense peer pressure at work. But still.

You’d been minding your own business in the break room, scrolling through lunch menus, when Amy had sidled up, leaned in with that conspiratorial look on her face, and whispered, “Have you seen him yet?”

“Seen who?” your eyebrows creased as you asked, confused.

Trish popped up out of nowhere, clutching her latte in her hand. “Girl, SeargentBarnes. The guy is legendary—I mean, a literal internet icon.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference while they exchanged a look that practically screamed, amateur. They started talking all at once, dropping cryptic phrases like “too hot to handle,” ���you’re gonna die,” and, “you’ll never look at men the same way again.”

So there you were that night, alone with your laptop, curled up in bed and biting your lip as you debated whether to type it in. It’s just curiosity, you reasoned. Research purposes.

Your eyes widened as the screen filled with… well, humanity, in all its naked, unfiltered glory. Your face heated up so fast you could’ve sworn it was the same shade as your throw pillow. Videos lined up like some weird buffet, titles more scandalous than anything you’d ever whispered in confession, and… was that a whole category devoted to delivery men? You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from yelping, mortified at the intensity of it all. 

“I need to go to church after this,” you muttered, squinting like that would somehow censor the thorough dedication people were showing in their, uh, procreation endeavors.

“SergeantBarnes,” you muttered to yourself as you typed, fingers hovering uncertainly over the Enter key. Then, with a sigh, you hit search, and… oh.

You nearly choked on oxygen. Because there he was, in HD glory, right on Pornhub, with that cocky grin and those blue eyes that looked like they’d been crafted in a lab. And he wasn’t just standing there looking smug—oh, no, he was on a mission, shirtless, flexing, and smirking at the camera like he was the world’s best-kept secret. The scene panned to him sitting on the edge of a bed, peeling off his belt with one hand, a glint in his eyes that seemed to say, this is what you came for.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, equal parts horrified and morbidly fascinated, as he proceeded to… well, get very familiar with his costar. SergeantBarnes was apparently an expert at multitasking, using every muscle, every inch of his well-equipped arsenal. And the way he was delivering lines? He was clearly treating the camera like it was his soulmate.

By minute two, your jaw had dropped. By minute five, you’d set the laptop on your nightstand to “watch responsibly.” By minute ten, you were convinced Amy and Trish had permanently ruined your life.

And the costar—she was practically putting on an Oscar-worthy performance, her reactions so intense you half expected her to start speaking in tongues. Every time SergeantBarnes’s… rod of justice plunges deep inside, she gasps like she was witnessing a miracle. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Come on, is that really necessary?

As you watched, he gave a low, rumbling sound—half growl, half sigh—that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. His gaze burned through the screen with a confidence that was practically magnetic, and suddenly, you understood exactly why the costar was gasping. A new, unbidden heat pooled between your legs, making you shift uncomfortably, instinctively pressing your thighs together as if that could somehow stop the flush creeping up your face. Oh no, now I wish I were her, you thought, immediately cringing at yourself.

With a mix of half-laughter and half-horror, you reached over and slammed the laptop shut so fast it was like you were trying to save yourself from spontaneous combustion. 

“Holy—oh, wow,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your face. “Okay. That was a one-time thing.”

Or so you thought.

Except now, every time you even glanced at your laptop, SergeantBarnes was right there in your mind, reminding you exactly why he was internet-famous. It was becoming a bit of a problem.

× × × ×

The next morning, you stumbled out of your apartment, looking like something that had been left out in the rain and dragged through a blender, mentally cursing last night’s “research” session. The world had no right to be this bright, and your regret levels were at an all-time high as you lugged the world’s heaviest box down the hallway.

You were so absorbed in avoiding a complete breakdown that you barely registered the deep, too-familiar voice beside you.

“Need help with that?”

“Thanks, but I got it,” you muttered automatically, barely sparing him a glance.

Except...then you did.

You looked up, squinting in confusion. Because, standing in front of you, in the perfectly mundane hallway of your perfectly mundane building, was him.

You froze, your brain spinning like a buffering screen. Okay, this guy’s insanely handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, stubbled jaw, eyes so blue they should have a health warning on them. You stared, mentally cataloging each feature, when—wait a minute... WAIT. A. MINUTE.

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion prickling as your brain finally fired up. Is that…? No, it can’t be.

But it was. Oh, it absolutely was. 

SergeantBarnes, the very star of last night’s “educational” viewing, right here in the flesh. And suddenly, like a tractor beam had locked onto you, your gaze dropped right to his crotch, where you’d witnessed things you could never un-see.

This, of course, did not go unnoticed. His brows shot up as he followed your very obvious, very treacherous line of sight, glancing down at his jeans before looking back up at you with an infuriatingly smug grin.

“Uh… nice shoes?” you blurted out, your face feeling like it was on fire. You vaguely gestured to his boots, wishing you could vanish right into the walls.

“Thanks,” he replied smoothly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’re pretty sturdy. But, you know…” He paused, his voice dropping just a hair. “I don’t think they’re what you were looking at.”

Your heart sank as you forced yourself to look up, his amused blue eyes practically laughing at you. Abort. Abort mission. Oh God, we are way past mission failure.

“Uh—no, I just… um…” You floundered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that might save you from the hole you’d dug. But no words came. Not even the faintest semblance of a coherent thought. Just one long, silent scream echoing in your brain.

“Bucky,” he offered helpfully, sticking out his hand like he wasn’t SergeantBarnes from Pornhub, but just some guy offering to help with a box. “New neighbor, by the way.”

You stared at his hand like it was a booby trap, your brain short-circuiting as it reminded you exactly where those fingers had been. That hand had gripped… things. It had been places you’d only dreamed of, doing things you’d probably need a core workout just to survive. You could practically see the “viewer discretion advised” warning flashing in your head as you hesitated, still staring at his hand as if it might explode.

But, against your better judgment—and every shred of dignity—you slowly reached out and shook it, feeling your own fingers betray you by sweating as they made contact with his very… experienced ones.

“Uh… hi… I’m… yep.” you blurted, mentally cringing.

“‘Yep’? That’s a good name,” he said, smirking as he let go. “You sure you don’t need help? You seem… a little flustered.”

Flustered? Understatement of the century. If your dignity had been a cup, it was empty, bone-dry, and cracked. You forced yourself to focus, eyes straight forward, pointedly ignoring the very tempting crotch-level view. 

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” you squeaked, cringing at your own voice. Oh God, calm down!

But he just chuckled, that same dangerously cocky smile from last night plastered all over his face. “Alright, Yep. Guess I’ll see you around.”

As he turned to leave, you stood there in the hallway, clutching the box like it was a life raft, heart racing a mile a minute. You’d just had a very public staring incident with SergeantBarnes, your new neighbor, and all you’d managed to say was nice shoes.

I’m gonna need new coworkers, you thought, practically burying your face in the box as you scurried to your apartment.

The door slammed shut with a bang that could probably be heard across state lines. You dropped the box unceremoniously, ignoring the loud thunk as it hit the floor, and whipped your phone out, fingers flying across the screen like you were composing a manifesto.

Guys, you’re NEVER gonna guess who my neighbor is—

You paused, staring at the screen as the rest of the text formed in your mind: THE SergeantBarnes. LIVE. IN. THE. FLESH.

But then another thought stopped you dead in your tracks. Oh no.

You could already picture it: Amy and Trish showing up like rabid fangirls in their “I Heart SergeantBarnes” merch, carrying suspiciously flimsy plates of brownies. Trish would have binoculars. Amy would be taking notes, probably trying to “accidentally” leave her phone number under his door. You shuddered, imagining them cornering him by the mailboxes, all of them acting like they were definitely not the type of women who had his entire catalog bookmarked on their phones.

A horrible realization hit you. If I tell them, this man’s gonna be living a nightmare right next door to me. Not just a nightmare, a Trish-and-Amy-sponsored fan club nightmare, where they might even break into song—probably chanting, “SergeantBarnes! SergeantBarnes!” while he tries to get his groceries.

You looked back at your unsent message and deleted it in one go, feeling weirdly proud of yourself. Yeah, no. I’m not letting them anywhere near him.

Totally altruistic, of course. It had nothing to do with keeping the eye candy to yourself.

You took a deep breath, looking around your empty apartment like you were expecting the FBI to burst through the door at any second. Sure, you’d just been in the hallway with the actual SergeantBarnes, but maybe… maybe you were imagining things. It had been a long day. Moving was stressful. Stranger things had happened, right?

With a surge of resolve (and denial), you dashed to your bedroom, practically sliding across the floor as you went. Your laptop was waiting innocently on the nightstand, and with a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure you were still alone, you opened it up, clicked incognito mode like you were hiding state secrets, and went straight to the website you’d sworn off only hours ago.

“Alright… just to confirm,” you muttered to yourself, feeling your cheeks burn as you typed SergeantBarnes into the search bar, mentally bracing yourself for the flood of results.

And there he was. The whole page filled with him, in various… positions. You swallowed, scrolling until one video caught your eye: “Sergeant Disciplines the Bratty Recruit.”

You snorted, almost slamming the laptop shut. “Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

But curiosity was a dangerous beast, and before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger had already clicked play.

The video started, with SergeantBarnes in all his glory, wearing what looked like the world’s tightest military uniform. His face was as smug as ever, that telltale glint of mischief in his eyes as he muttered something absurd like, “Think you can handle me, recruit?”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, cringing as you half-covered your eyes but peeked through your fingers anyway.

But there was no denying it—the face, the voice, the ridiculous, smoldering look into the camera. There was no escaping it now. It was 100% him. The same guy who was now living approximately ten feet away from your own front door.

As the video continued, your disbelief only grew. This man… this man is next door, could eating cereal right now, you thought, torn between horrified fascination and the urge to laugh. Because there he was, in full “disciplinary action” mode, doing things you could barely process, and here you were, watching it again, just to make sure it was really him.

“Oh, I’m doomed,” you muttered, slapping the laptop shut. You weren’t even sure if you were embarrassed, impressed, or maybe just a little terrified of your own neighbor.

× × × ×

Over the next few days, it was like living in a twisted sitcom. Everywhere you went, he was there, lurking like some kind of sexy, mildly inconvenient specter. It was uncanny. You’d turn a corner, and bam—there he’d be, giving you that polite nod and a smirk that clearly said, I know exactly what you’ve seen.

It started small. You’d step into the elevator, praying for a peaceful ride, and ding! in he’d stroll, flashing that devastating grin. Instantly, you’d stiffen, gluing yourself to the opposite wall, practically trying to meld with the buttons, heart pounding like you were about to pass out. You couldn’t even look him in the eye without flashes of his, uh, “filmography” playing in your mind. Every single time, without fail, you found yourself studying the very clean floor of the elevator as he leaned casually against the wall, the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” he’d ask, all smooth, innocent charm. Meanwhile, you were there like, Oh, totally, perfect day to run into my favorite Pornhub star.

You were in the laundry room, blissfully alone, humming to yourself as you separated your clothes like a responsible adult. Whites here, colors there, delicates—well, you were kind of just tossing them wherever at this point. Then, suddenly, you felt it: a shift in the air, a presence. You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up, a sock suspended mid-toss in your hand. Why do I feel like the music should be getting dramatic right about now?

Slowly, as if sensing his approach, you turned. And there he was—Bucky, striding in with a laundry basket filled with a suspiciously pristine pile of perfectly folded, incredibly manly clothing. It was as if he’d just stepped out of some kind of… laundry commercial. Or worse… one of his own videos.

You blinked, eyes widening as a thousand clichés suddenly flashed through your mind. Oh no, why does this feel like the start of a porn? you thought, biting your lip as you realized the two of you were, in fact, very alone, surrounded by washing machines and suspiciously warm lighting. You mentally kicked yourself. Snap out of it! This is laundry. Regular, boring laundry.

Bucky caught your eye, giving you an amused once-over. “Doing some laundry?” he asked, his voice low and casual, but somehow it felt like the most suggestive question in the world.

You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Uh-huh,” you managed, trying to sound like a normal human being. “Just, uh… laundry.”

Your face felt like it was on fire as you realized half of your load was underwear, strewn everywhere. Panties, bras, socks—they were all there in their mismatched glory, practically screaming, We’re personal items! Pay extra attention! You yanked your gaze away from the pile, mortified, and flung the sock into the washer like you were trying to disarm a bomb.

You slammed the washer lid down, feeling like you’d just revealed way too much. But Bucky only grinned, strolling over with that maddening swagger. He tossed a shirt into the washer beside you, leaning against it with a smirk.

“Nice sorting skills,” he commented, eyes flicking down to the very obvious pile of bras and lace that you’d tried to hide. “Very… thorough.”

“Yep!” you squeaked, feeling like you might explode. You fumbled with the detergent bottle, struggling to open it as your brain went into full-blown panic mode. Why does this feel like one of those videos? Don’t look at him. Just don’t look. Pretend you’re alone. Pretend this is fine.

But of course, he wasn’t making it any easier. He folded his arms, watching you with a raised brow, the picture of calm while you were desperately trying to load underwear without dying of embarrassment. 

“You know,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh, “usually people try to separate colors from whites.”

“Oh, I do! I mean, I… it’s a system,” you stammered, feeling like you were caught in a lie by the laundry police. “Sometimes it’s… it’s an artistic choice.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with that insufferable amusement. “Artistic laundry, huh? Didn’t take you for the experimental type.”

“Yep,” you said, forcing a laugh as you stuffed in the last sock, your hands moving at lightning speed, desperate to finish and escape.

But as you turned to leave, he held up a stray bra that had somehow escaped your grasp, dangling it between two fingers with a raised eyebrow. 

“You forgot this,” he said, voice dripping with that same mischievous humor.

You stared at the bra in horror, feeling your face go molten. 

“Uh… thanks,” you mumbled, practically ripping it out of his hand and stuffing it into the washer, slamming the lid down one last time before you spun on your heel and speed-walked out of there.

Behind you, you heard him chuckle softly, his voice echoing in the hallway. “See you around, neighbor.”

Yep, you thought, already halfway down the hall, never doing laundry again.

By day three, it got ridiculous. You’d ducked into the mailroom, hoping he was out doing normal human things—maybe mowing a lawn or whatever. But no, as soon as you opened your mailbox, there he was, standing by his own, sorting through a stack of letters. You froze, briefly considering whether you could just flee and come back later for your electric bill.

And then… the grocery bag incident.

You were in the hallway, arms overloaded with bags because, naturally, you’d ignored the cart right by the entrance and had instead decided to carry it all in one go. You were so close to your door when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Need help?” he asked, that voice making you nearly fumble every bag in your arms.

You turned, scrambling to say, “No, I’m good,” but of course, in your panic, one of your bags tipped, and a lone, horrifying item fell out and hit the floor. You watched, paralyzed, as the little bottle of lube rolled out with an audible clatter, spinning lazily to a stop right in front of him.

You could practically feel the heat exploding from your cheeks. No. Oh no. Not like this.

You looked up, meeting his amused, slightly raised eyebrows as his lips twitched, clearly fighting a smile. 

“Uh,” you choked out, unable to form a single coherent sentence. Think fast, make it sound normal, you told yourself, even though every possible explanation was racing out of your head.

He bent down, picking up the bottle with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes, inspecting it like he’d just found evidence of some grand crime.

“Hey, everyone’s got needs,” he said, deadpan, but that twinkle in his eye was anything but innocent. “Don’t worry.” He tossed you a wink, handing the bottle back like it was no big deal.

Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as your brain scrambled to form a sentence. Finally, the words tumbled out like a train wreck, your dignity left somewhere back at the grocery store.

“It’s… it’s for my friend,” you squeaked, clutching the lube bottle with both hands like it was a sacred artifact. He raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too entertained for your liking. “She’s, uh, she’s constipated.”

A moment of silence.

“She needs it to… you know, help with a suppository.” You forced a grin that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “She, uh… can’t get things moving. Really jammed up in there.”

Bucky’s face twisted in barely suppressed laughter, and his shoulders shook as he struggled to keep a straight face. 

“Right,” he drawled, nodding with an expression that was one part pity and two parts are you for real? “That’s… thoughtful of you.”

You felt like you were overheating, a human furnace on the verge of combustion. 

“She’s desperate!” you blurted, doubling down on your ridiculous story, even though every fiber of your being was screaming to stop talking. “I’m just being a good friend, you know? Supportive. I mean, she’s the one who’s backed up.”

He nodded again, still fighting a smile, the look in his eyes a mix of amusement and something else that made your pulse race. 

“Sure,” he said, “nothing like helping a friend in need.” He paused, that wicked smile growing as he added, “In my experience, though, there are plenty of other uses for it.”

Your soul left your body.

He held out his hands in mock innocence, chuckling as your eyes widened to saucers. 

“Just saying,” he winked. “Versatile stuff.” 

And with that, he turned, strolling down the hall with a casual wave, leaving you frozen and mortified, clutching the bottle to your chest like a lifeline.

“Gotta… go,” you managed, voice barely a whisper, stumbling the last few steps to your door as you fumbled with the keys, practically falling inside.

The second the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, staring at the ceiling and whispering, “I’m never leaving my apartment again.”

Just as you were about to bury your face in your hands and live in the sweet, silent embrace of shame, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, still reeling from the lube disaster, and saw a text from your friend, Clara.

Clara: Hey!! Did you get the lube?? Need it ASAP, things are… not moving over here, if you catch my drift.

You groaned, staring at the message, letting it sink in that yes, this entire disaster had been real. 

You: Yes. Got it. Never speaking of this again.

Clara: Bless you, you lifesaver. My digestive system owes you a standing ovation.

You rolled your eyes, still red-faced. Clara had no idea you’d just had to explain the entire situation to your painfully attractive neighbor—who now likely thought you were a walking sitcom.

× × × ×

It started subtly—just a little teasing, or so you thought. But it quickly spiraled into a game you could only describe as Bucky Barnes: Merciless Teasing—Extended Cut. Every time you crossed paths, he managed to twist the knife just a little deeper, making you sweat, stumble, and practically choke on your own words.

The first time it happened, you were hauling a huge box out of your car, trying to look capable and independent, when he strolled up beside you, leaning against the car with a smirk.

“You act like I’m a celebrity,” he said, eyebrow cocked. “Every time you see me, you look ready to run.”

You fumbled, nearly dropping the box. 

“Nope! I’m just…uh, busy!” you squeaked, scrambling to walk away at top speed, box clutched to your chest like a shield. But you caught his laugh as you rushed off, making you want to evaporate on the spot.

The next time, you were in the stairwell, headphones in, desperately trying to avoid any more awkward run-ins. Naturally, the moment you looked up, there he was, lounging at the landing like some kind of paid actor in a commercial. You froze mid-step as he raised a brow.

“Look at that,” he said, giving you the once-over, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time you see me. Is it something I did?”

You stammered, turning pink. 

“No! Just, uh… headphones! Music! Loud music!” you blurted, before speed-walking up the stairs, praying he didn’t hear the Spice Girls song you’d been blasting. Behind you, his chuckle echoed up the stairwell like the final taunt of a villain.

But the absolute worst came at the coffee shop.

You were in line, looking at your phone, hoping you could just breeze in and out. The moment you placed your order and turned to leave, there he was, standing right behind you, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Hey, neighbor,” he drawled, eyeing your coffee cup like it was some incriminating evidence. “Funny running into you here. Or… do you keep running into me?”

Your face flushed, and you tried to think of something clever, but it was like all your brain cells had gone on vacation. 

“Nope! Definitely just getting coffee! I don’t even… live near here!” you babbled, immediately regretting everything.

“Oh, interesting,” he replied, his grin widening. “Because I could swear you live right next door. But hey, if you want to keep pretending you don’t know me, I’ll go along with it.” He handed you your coffee with a wink. “See you around… or not.”

But things took a turn for the mortifying when, one evening, you were pacing the hallway on the phone with Clara, trying to vent without actually collapsing in a pile of awkwardness.

“It’s him, Clara!” you hissed, oblivious to the fact that you were pacing right outside Bucky’s door. “I’m living next door to SergeantBarnes! Can you believe this? I’ve seen everything he has to offer! I’ve practically studied him!”

Clara was howling with laughter, but you were too wrapped up in your frustration to care.

“And he knows, Clara! He keeps showing up everywhere, saying stuff like, ‘You seem nervous’ and ‘You keep looking at me like you know something I don’t.’ I swear, he’s doing it on purpose!” You paused, sighing dramatically. “The man is basically torturing me!”

“Yeah?” Clara snorted. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing! I’m gonna hide in my apartment forever! I mean, the guy is—” You froze mid-sentence, sensing a presence that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Please, for the love of all that is holy, no.

You slowly turned, and there he was. Bucky. Leaning against his door, arms crossed, looking like he’d just won the freaking lottery.

“Oh… my god…” you whispered, feeling your soul leave your body. He was watching you with an expression of pure, unfiltered amusement, one eyebrow quirked, lips pulled into that infuriating, knowing smirk.

“Well,” he said, voice laced with mischief. “That makes one of us.” His eyes glinted with barely-contained laughter. “And here I thought you were just a fan of my boots.”

You could practically feel your brain cells going up in smoke. 

“I… uh… well… I…” you stammered, cheeks burning. “Boots… are great,” you managed, wanting to sink into the earth.

“Yeah? Because I seem to remember you looking… elsewhere last time,” he teased, stepping a little closer, enjoying every second of your embarrassment.

“Oh, no! Just… boots!” you squeaked, backing up, practically tripping over yourself. “I really should go… water my… uh… plants!”

He chuckled, savoring every second of your panic. “Good luck with that,” he said, throwing in one last wink as he slipped back into his apartment, leaving you in the hallway, feeling like you’d just gone through a slow-motion car crash.

Back in your apartment, you slid down the door, hands over your face as Clara’s laughter erupted over the phone.

“Boots?” she howled. “THAT’S what you went with? Boots?”

You groaned, banging your head back against the door. “Shut up, Clara.”

× × × ×

Determined to reclaim a shred of your dignity, you strode into the local coffee shop, praying for a quiet morning with zero embarrassing encounters. But, as if on cue, the universe had other plans.

There, right at the counter, was Bucky. He spotted you instantly, his face lighting up with that all-too-familiar grin that had haunted your dreams. There was no escape.

He waved you over, and before you could even think of pretending you hadn’t seen him, he was calling out, “Morning, neighbor! What’s your coffee order again?” His voice was loud enough that half the shop turned to look.

“Oh, um… it’s…” you stammered, but he’d already waved to the barista.

“Got it covered,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ve got a feeling you like it with extra cream.”

You choked on your own saliva, feeling your face turn crimson as he handed you the cup with a wink. 

“Unless I’m wrong?” he added with a smirk, feigning innocence.

“N-Nope, that’s right!” you managed, grabbing the cup like it was a shield. “Extra cream… perfect.”

He chuckled, gesturing to an empty booth in the corner. “Great. Then you won’t mind sitting down with me for breakfast.”

“Oh no, really, I should—”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, got somewhere better to be?”

You froze, helplessly aware that the entire coffee shop was listening in. You managed a nervous laugh, mumbling, “Well… no, I guess not…”

Before you knew it, you were sitting across from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes anywhere but his face, your cheeks burning as he sipped his coffee and watched you with a smug smile.

“So,” he said, leaning forward, “what’s a girl like you doing watching a guy like me online, anyway?”

Your jaw dropped, coffee cup halfway to your mouth. “I—I wasn’t watching—It was research!” you spluttered, already kicking yourself for falling right into his trap.

He chuckled, clearly reveling in your embarrassment. 

“Oh, sure, ‘research,’” he said, nodding like he totally believed you. “I get it. You know, it’s important to be informed.”

You practically shrank into your seat, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard. “Could you not say that so loudly?”

He smirked, taking a long, deliberate sip of his coffee. 

“Relax, I’m just curious,” he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell his aftershave. “Gotta say, it’s a little flattering to have a fan right next door.”

Your brain completely short-circuited. “Fan? I—no! I mean, not like that… I… I barely even…” You could feel the lie crumbling in your throat as his smirk deepened.

“Uh-huh. Then why did you look like you were about to sprint every time you saw me?” He tilted his head, studying you, eyes twinkling. “And I swear you turned pink the second you walked in here.”

Your hands shot up, covering your cheeks. “I did not! You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Because it’s like clockwork. Every time I’m around, you look like you’ve been caught red-handed. I don’t mind, you know,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

You let out a strangled laugh, ready to crawl under the table. 

“That’s… obvious,” you muttered, feeling as though you might combust at any second.

“Okay, so since we’re having breakfast together, how about you tell me: any favorite scenes?” He laughed, looking entirely too amused as he stirred his coffee.

You practically choked on your coffee, face flaming as you tried to hide behind your cup. 

“I—I can’t believe you just asked that!” you squeaked, horrified and unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, clearly enjoying every second. “It’s just small talk. I mean, who better to ask than a neighbor?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we please pretend this conversation never happened?”

“Nope. Can’t do that,” he replied, laughing. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

Just as you were starting to pray for an earthquake to swallow you whole, you glanced up at him, cheeks still flaming. 

“Did you… did you know I recognized you this whole time?”

He leaned back, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. 

“Of course I did,” he said, laughing. “Figured it out the second I saw that look on your face. I just wanted to see if you’d ever bring it up.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, feeling mortification seep into your very bones. “And you kept messing with me?”

“Of course,” he said, raising an eyebrow with a wicked grin. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take for you to crack. Guess now the ice is broken, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re the worst.”

He winked, finishing his coffee. “Yeah, but I make breakfast interesting, don’t I?”

You laughed, feeling the last traces of embarrassment fade away—well, at least enough to breathe normally again. But just as you started to feel almost… comfortable, Bucky tilted his head, giving you a curious look.

“So, neighbor,” he said, smirking, “I’ve gotta ask… what’s your name?”

You blinked, realizing with a jolt that you’d never actually told him. In all your attempts to dodge, deflect, and survive the relentless teasing, you hadn’t even bothered to introduce yourself.

“Oh… right,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I, uh, guess I never actually said.”

“Nope,” he replied, leaning in with a grin. “I just assumed you wanted to keep a little mystery between us.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Trust me, I’m not that mysterious.”

“Really?” he replied, eyebrows raised. “Because all this time I’ve been calling you ‘Yep.’”

Your face went red as you remembered the first time you’d stammered a barely coherent “yep” instead of an introduction. “Oh my god. You haven’t been calling me that in your head this whole time, have you?”

He shrugged, smirking. “It’s kind of cute. Suits you, actually.”

You groaned, but laughed despite yourself, finally holding out your hand across the table. “Alright. I’m Y/N. Officially.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, taking your hand, his grip warm and firm. His smirk softened into something a little more genuine. “Good to meet you, Y/N. Officially.”

His hand lingered in yours for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no innuendos—just the two of you, sitting across the table, smiling like two normal people who’d just met under… semi-normal circumstances.

Then, just as you were starting to think maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this weirdly charming neighbor situation, he leaned back, that mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes.

“Now that we’re on a first-name basis,” he said, winking, “you can tell me all about your favorite scenes. You know, for professional feedback.”

You burst out laughing, face in your hands as he watched you with a triumphant grin. Yep, you thought, already regretting nothing and everything.

[henneseyhoe]

Daddy’s Money.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader.

WARNINGS:lil bit of nasty smut, brief one sided relationship, lewis being pussy whipped, reader is heavily implied to be a gold digger(she is but shhhh! let her rock frl), daddy kink, money making reader hornayyy(me asf), not edited(idc rn i’m sleepy), there MIGHT be plot holes(again, i’m sleepy) and das it i think.

ps. also i’m ngl i wrote this halfway lazily, i just wanted to get back into writing sooo yeah.

✮✮✮✮

The arrangement was really an accident (at first). You were hired to fit and dress the man after practically begging for the job, needing the money to jump start your fashion career since your father had cut you off the month prior. It’d take nearly five years to do so, but with someone as easy going as lewis, time would fly fast.

Eventually he grew fond of you, and you of him..him a bit (a lot) more than you actually. Months after getting hired he began bringing you around for things that wasn’t about his style, things that someone would do for a budding romance. You didn’t mind either, it was working in your favor getting the extra hours to do nothing. You didn’t mean to snag a sugar daddy, a famous one at that, just like you didn’t mean to fuck him before the met gala, damn near making him late. It just…happened; Which is what you’d say to judgy bitches.

You also didn’t mean to point out that midnight black bag (and a few other things) you had been wanting when shopping for him the week after the met. Those things mysteriously showed up on your door step two days later to your surprise. You were beginning to think he was a little generous…so you tested something out.

“Ugh! Wouldn’t this look so good on me?”

You pout as you held the designer dress up to your body. It was originally intended to go to another woman they paired him with for an event, but seeing it up against you instead was all he had to see before he told his assistant to inform the woman she’d be wearing something else. In awe, you proceeded to wear that dress to the event that night, easily gaining eyes from guests and earning yourself a name as Lewis’s “sexy ass stylist” online when the pictures taken of you went viral.

Later on that night the dress was being ripped apart from the back and thrown to the floor by you know exactly who, him doing everything in his power to get to what was underneath.

You couldn’t tell if your pussy was good or if he was just that whipped for you after that night. Either way, you were having fun.

Before you could snap your fingers, whatever you were THINKING of wanting was at your fingertips. He had more money than he could spend, and you had no problem helping him find what to do with it! It was only fair, ya know, for his sake.

The first time you realized he was really wrapped around your little iced out finger was the last time you had wanted for anything for long.

“I could have anything I want? seriously??”

You looked to him in shock, the man shrugging as he debated on a pair of versace shoes. “Have at it, love” He responded simply with a quick endearing smile to you before waving over an assistant to help you. You felt like a kid in a candy store.

^Also the last time you referred to him as anything other than daddy when not in public, (or at least not noticeably to others in public).

He was liquid when you called him that. soft putty in your hands, ready for you to shape him into anything you desired.

“Come on, daddy. Don’t you wanna see your name in diamonds on me? Don’t you wanna mark me? claim me?”

You taunted him in a seductive tone as you rolled your hips onto him. You flipped your hair to one side of your shoulder so you could look back at the work you were putting in, Lewis staring back at you with hearts in his eyes and his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. Both of y’all’s jeans were halfway down with your pretty brown ass perched up for him to see the tip of his long dick teasingly slide between your lips and into your honey coated walls repeatedly. He was right there on the edge, you could feel it and you hadn’t even sat all the way down on him yet.

Really it was either say yes to the chain or be left to make himself cum, he understood that completely. As he nods eagerly in agreement, you plopped your plump self down into his lap and he came as fast as police in white neighborhoods.

By the seventh month of being together your closet was every woman with a fashion sense dream. Designer galore (and not the ugly shit neither). He got you designs that wasn’t on racks yet but straight off a runway, things that fit perfectly to YOUR body. (Seeing that he was getting to know it so well..He could probably draw a map of you with just his damn tongue.)

You began getting way more noticed by his fans and friends, not only for suddenly having a thing for wearing expensive clothes and jewels, but for also being close with Lewis. Dating rumors had started to run amuck. The first plan was to deny, deny, deny but it was hard to do that when you were wearing his name on your neck, hiding the chain under your shirts or wearing it backwards so no one would see the name plate.

But the chain wasn’t what caused the dam to break. It was when you posted bags and gifts with flowers, a card attached that had a heartfelt and flirty handwritten poem on it, forgetting to even scribble out his name. Fans and close friends were on the fence, some of his associates madder than an ant colony in the rain and some fans confused on where the hell you even came from and where you got off on gold digging. The clothes and jewelry were finally starting to make sense and you gave the saying “Look like money” a new meaning.

Lewis was quick to come to your defense in interviews, you had never seen anyone get so nice nasty or petty in your honor. He was witty and quick with comebacks, his polite tone masking rude comments at any interviewer that dared to have an opinion about you that he didn’t like. He made sure as everything went on online and your name trended for the second time that week that you didn’t lack reassurance ever.

“Look in the mirror and let daddy know who’s it is”

He pulls you by your braids up to the direction of the reflecting headboard, your back pressed against his chest as his hips met your ass with a hard smack. After hours of pleasurable “reassurance” there wasn’t a spot inside you that his dick didn’t hit, a place on you that his tongue didn’t lick. The chain you had asked for a bit ago clinked freely against your chest and a fucked out evil smile grew on your face as you look him in the eyes through the mirror. “It’s yours, daddy. you know it’s all yours” You would reply before your walls gushed around his dick.

✮✮✮✮

Fans who prayed on your downfall weren’t so happy when they got the news that you two married two years later in Greece. The wedding was private, but it was no secret that a fortune was spent and that didn’t make the gold digging comments better. (Even though your father paid)

Those comments followed you into your fashion brand era and though you chose to be mysterious about private life and yourself in general, (for obvious reasons) you felt it was only right to defend your honor at least once.

Like the great actress you were, you did what white women around him had been doing to you since the beginning and threw on the waterworks, crying in front of any watchful eye when the rumors were brought up with your amazing husband by your side comforting you immediately. How dare they say such things about THEE Lewis Hamilton’s wife?? THEE Y/N Hamilton???

Your newly grown fan base called it blasphemy. There wasn’t an online blog on beyoncé’s internet that went untouched when having something to say about you. Everything they said was untrue! You had your own money, your own brand, (funded by your husband) and your own name.

“They’re so mean to me”

You pout as Lewis carefully takes off your heels and kisses the top of your feet before standing and caressing your cheek. “You know how the media is, and I know nothing they say about you is true. I’ll have my team take care of it, okay?” He reassured and you smile, mentally noting to suck his dick before bed. As if you were rewarding a dog for jumping through a hoop, being soft and on your side at all times was Lewis’s hoop, and he had better jump through every. single. time.

To be fair, there may have been some superficial motives behind the building of this relationship (on your side at least) but he genuinely did grow on you, and that was before you knew he was a trick, that part just made it deeper.

You were in shock when he asked you to marry him originally, so much so that you refused the first time because it scared you. You avoided him for an entire week and refused to go to work until you realized you had grown so accustomed to being around him that you could barely function. Apart from the fact that you were opening doors by yourself and eating dinner alone, you hadn’t noticed how much you liked talking to him, being with him and simply in his presence.

Materials aside, you loved him, you were in love with him. Infatuated just as much as he was with you by now and you came too long of a way to be scared off.

In reality you telling him no wasn’t gonna stop him from perusing. He knew you were gonna be his wife for a long time now and nothing was gonna get in the way of him finding you (and he kinda duped you with the whole falling for him thing anyway because he knew what half of your motives were and played his role well), you just found him first and made him pop that question again, which that time you happily said yes to.

✮✮✮✮

[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains - Part 13

Series Masterlist

➪in which you go to bradley’s party and instantly regret it, but he manages to get you to talk to him long enough to tell you what really happened between him and briana.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.9k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Fratley ❤️❤️: Hey, I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, and that’s fine, I get it. I just wanted to let you know that I’m having a party tomorrow night and I’d love for you to come. I promise I won’t annoy you or try to get you to talk to me. I just wanted to invite you. Maybe it will be even better than the last one, but not likely since that’s when I met you. Anyway, I hope you can come. I’m sorry.

You were debating on whether or not to go to the party at Bradley’s place.

You really had no reason to, but for some reason you kind of wanted to. It had been a few hours since you stopped crying, and instead of feeling sad, you were now feeling rather pissed off. You wanted to go to the stupid party and yell at Bradley for making you feel so good about yourself, then hurting you so fucking bad. 

Maybe that’s exactly what you’ll do. 

You were laying on your bed on Tuesday evening, rereading Bradley’s text over and over again, but you have yet to respond. You decided that you weren’t going to, because he didn’t deserve a reply.

Swiping off his contact (after looking at his stupidly cute picture for a few more seconds), you were about to switch to another app when your thumb hovered over a different contact. One you never planned on reaching out to ever again.

You clicked it and read the last text she sent, and you pressed your lips together as a feeling of embarrassment washed over you.

Sammy: You’re so immature, walking away like that yesterday. I really thought that you would’ve realized by now how wrong you were for what happened with Luke and now with this Bradley guy. You ruined any chance with Luke, Y/n. And for what? A hookup with a hot guy? Fucking crazy. 

Instead of feeling more and more worked up, you just leaned back on your bed, your thumb hovering over the red button that would ensure that Sam would only get to talk to you face to face. You’d already blocked Luke, with the help of Bradley’s encouragement, and you felt better after you did that. You’d probably feel great if you were to add his sister to your blocked list too. 

You didn’t know how long you had been sprawled out on your bed for, but it was nearing nine when you finally pulled yourself together and threw on a simple outfit; jeans and your floral crop top. 

Since you weren’t planning on staying long, you didn’t bother with putting on anymore makeup, instead leaving on the natural look you wore to your class earlier. 

As you stepped out of your room, you passed by Sam’s door and felt a wave of anger wash over at how fake of a friend she’s been this whole time. Was she ever really your friend? Or was she just pretending for her brother’s sake? Whatever it was, it left you in a bad mood, and you decided to focus that energy onto what you were going to say to Bradley. 

Technically, he was still your boyfriend. You never broke up with him, you just asked for space, but as soon as you see him tonight, you’d break it off. You knew your worth now, and sadly it was mainly because of Bradley since he was so sweet to you about your confidence issues you got from being with Luke, but still. It was kind of all his fault. 

Since Bradley’s frat house was right across the campus from your dorm, you made it to the bricked structure in less than ten minutes. You were sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the walls literally shaking from how loud the music was inside, and you were now a bit hesitant, because you had just gotten rid of your headache from all the crying, and you did not need another. 

But, you wouldn’t be here for long, so you just took a breath and walked into the house you had a stupid amount of fondness for, even now. 

Inside looked as packed, maybe even more so, as it did the first time you ever stepped foot in the house. Almost instantly, you felt uncomfortable and overwhelmed, and you crossed your arms in a form of self-protection as you maneuvered your way through the crowd. 

Instinctively, you were already looking for Bradley, for comfort or confrontation, you weren’t entirely sure at this point.

The smell of booze and smoke filled your nose as you found yourself in the dining room that was slightly less crowded than the rest of the house, and you pressed yourself against the wall as you sighed. 

What were you doing here? This was dumb and you were out of your comfort zone right now, but you just wanted…what, closure? Is that what you wanted? Is that why you were standing in your soon to be ex boyfriend’s dining room? 

No. No, you were here to tell him how fucking stupid he was for throwing what you and he were building away, and how pissed you were at him for making you believe he was different from every single fuckboy to ever exist. 

But, the second you turned your head to the right and saw his pretty brown eyes staring back at you, everything you had planned to say to him left your mind, and your body heated up in the way it always did whenever you saw him. 

Suddenly you had no fucking clue what to say to him, so you just kept your mouth shut and turned to face him as he began walking towards you.

-

Bradley hoped you would come tonight. 

After fucking it up with you, he was desperate to make things right. How? He had no idea. You were under the impression that he slept with Briana, but you ran out before he could explain, or even come up with a way to explain that it wasn’t what it looked like at all. 

You never actually answered his text that invited you to this party, but he knew that you read it, and he hoped that he would be able to find you eventually, because you were the only good thing in his life right now. He missed you, even though it had only been a day. 

Bradley wandered around his packed house completely sober, a red cup full of beer held loosely in his hand as he subtly looked for you, hoping to anyone listening that you did come, and that he could hopefully get you to talk to him. 

When he walked into the dining room, he spotted you almost instantly, tucked away in the very corner he met you in. His heart leaped a bit as your eyes met his, and you looked so small and vulnerable, Bradley felt terrible for putting you through this, but he couldn’t deny how fucking and relieved he was that you showed up. 

He could tell that you had already put walls up around you as he made his way through the crowd, and he hated it. “Hey,” he said softly, and he wasn’t sure you even heard him over the loud music, but it didn’t matter. You were here. “I’m so sorry, babes.” 

He knew he told you that he wouldn’t try to get you to talk to him, but how could he not? He knew he was losing you, and he had to at least try to stop it. 

“Can we…can we go somewhere private? Or quiet at least?” He nearly begged as you crossed your arms and huffed. “Please? I’ll let you yell at me for as long as you want, but only after I explain things to you. Properly.”

“Why? So I can watch you cheat on me again?” You muttered, looking up at him with guarded eyes, and Bradley fucking hated it, because you had never looked at him like that since he met you. “I thought you said you wouldn’t bother me, Bradley.”

He furrowed his brows, knowing that he needed to be extra careful with his words right now because you clearly didn’t trust him at the moment, and he needed to change that. “No, baby, that’s not what I meant at all. I promise you, I would never cheat on you, let alone with Briana. What you saw is just a big misunderstanding, I swear,” he murmured, his voice genuine and sincere. “I want to talk, just the two of us, please? I don’t want to lose you, Y/n. I don’t want to lose us.” 

You looked away when he placed one hand on the wall next to your head, your voice barely heard over the loud music. “A misunderstanding? She was in your bed, Bradley, I-” you cut yourself off with another huff. “I don’t see how that can be a misunderstanding.”

Because you’re not letting me explain, he wanted to say but was afraid it’d just make things worse. 

Bradley closed his eyes, collecting himself for a few seconds before opening them again, and he was starting to sound a bit desperate. “I get that it looks bad, but I swear, I promise you that nothing happened. Briana passed out in my bed and I slept on the couch. That’s it,” he said, feeling a headache forming from both the loud thumping and from how terribly this was going. “I know I messed up by not explaining it to you better or sooner, but I’m telling you right here and right now that I did not cheat on you.”

You looked at him with a conflicted expression on your pretty face, and he had a flicker of hope that maybe, maybe, he could convince you to let him explain it better than that. 

“Please, Y/n,” he mumbled as he leaned in closer. “Let’s go somewhere and talk properly. I need you to understand.”

“Bradley,” you trailed off, and he felt his heart fall. But then you sighed and nodded. “Okay. Fine.”

He perked up at that and it only took him a few seconds to process your words before he was giving you a grateful smile and gesturing for you to follow him. “Let’s go to my room where it’s quiet, and if you still want to leave after I explain everything…then at least you’ll know the truth,” 

When he started walking after handing his untouched cup off to a random person, you thankfully went with him and followed him up to his room. His door didn’t block out all the sound, but it did muffle quite a bit of the loud music, leaving only a faint thumping. 

Bradley closed the door behind you and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, but you stayed by his desk instead of sitting next to him, which he understood. Still, you had never been this closed off with him before, and he hated it. “I’m sorry for making you doubt me. That’s the last thing I wanted to do, okay?” He started, but you were barely looking at him, and he didn’t know how to fix this. “Babes…come here, please?”

When he called you by your nickname, you quickly looked over at him and crossed your arms, a conflicted look on your face before you gave in. You sighed and moved to sit next to him, but not nearly as close as you usually do. 

He ran his hands over his face, because the distance between you and him wasn’t even just physical at this point, but emotional too. “Briana called me Sunday night a few hours after you left, and she was going on and on about all this random shit, and I was two seconds away from hanging up on her and blocking her number, then she started talking about a guy that wouldn’t leave her alone, and I didn’t know what to do,” he said, putting it out there right at the start that he had no intention of ever letting Briana back in his bed. “She sounded drunk and like she was on something, so I picked her up from this party across town and brought her back here so she could crash on the couch and leave in the morning, but she went up to my room and passed out on my bed before I could get her back downstairs.” 

Your gaze softened just a bit as you processed his words, your brows coming together as you looked away, and he had a small feeling of hope that maybe he was getting somewhere, so he continued before you could say anything. 

“I slept on the couch and went to wake her up to get her to leave, and I thought she did when I was getting ready for class in my bathroom, and that’s when you came in and saw her in my bed,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck that still kind of hurt from sleeping on the couch with no pillow. “You should’ve never seen that, and it should’ve never happened, but I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her at that party.”

You looked back at him and slumped your shoulders. “Why did she call you?”

Bradley let out a humorless laugh, shrugging. “Because she misses fucking me and thinks that I’d throw away what you and I have for a forgettable night with her, which didn’t happen and will never happen,” he answered. “I know I should’ve pushed harder to get her out of here sooner, but I was exhausted and annoyed, and I didn’t even want to be near her, let alone talk to her. You have to believe me, Y/n. Nothing happened between Briana and I.”

He watched your eyes soften even more before tears gathered along your waterline, and you looked down at his bed. “Bradley, I feel so embarrassed about everything…walking in here and seeing her in your bed, in this bed, it just brought everything back. I feel like I’m not good enough or that I don’t give you enough,” you whispered and Bradley narrowed his eyes, but you continued, “Nothing happened? Nothing at all?” 

“Nothing at all,” he confirmed quickly, moving a bit closer to you. “And you’re more than enough for me. Everything about you is more than enough. You make me a better person just by being in my life.”

The look you gave him was one he’d seen many times before, your eyes no longer guarded and distant. “Really?” You mumbled, reaching up to gently caress his jaw, and he nearly groaned in relief. 

“Really, baby,” Bradley whispered, leaning into your touch. “There’s nobody else I want, only you. Tell me what I can do to prove it to you.” 

You shake your head and give him a small, shy smile. “There’s nothing to prove, Bradley,” you murmured, waiting a few seconds before letting out a sigh. “So…you don’t want to get back with Briana? And you and I…you don’t think we’re rushing this? We’re okay?” 

The thought of ever going back to Briana made Bradley’s whole body cringe, and he shook his head. “With Briana and I…there’s nothing left between her and I but bad memories and regret. No, I don’t want to get back with her. Why would I? I have you right here,” he reached up and stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. “And no, I don’t think we’re rushing anything. I feel like I’ve known you for years, that’s how much you’ve impacted my life already.”

You nodded slowly, then gave him a guilty look. “I’m sorry that I said I wasn’t over Luke,” you whispered, moving towards him and settling down on his lap. “I swear, I’m over him. He doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. He was just my first boyfriend, that’s all.” 

Bradley smiled, because he didn’t believe for a second that you weren’t over that asshole, you were just saying that in the moment. “It’s okay,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to the side of your head as his hands gripped your waist, holding you firmly against his chest. “I know you’re over him, and I’m over Briana. I’m all in with you, alright? Just because you had some doubts for a bit doesn’t change anything between us.”

Thinking about it, Bradley probably would’ve lost his mind if he walked in and saw Luke in your bed, and there’s no telling what he would’ve done once the initial shock wore off, so he didn’t blame you for a single second for reacting the way you did. He trusted you, and he wanted you to keep trusting him. 

“Okay,” you said quietly, “I didn’t want to doubt you, Bradley. And I’m sorry I did, I should’ve listened a lot better.” 

Bradley grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “It’s okay, baby,” he rasped, “Let’s forget about Luke and Briana, alright? They don’t matter anymore. Only we do, right here and right now. Can we move past this and just start fresh?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, and Bradley couldn’t believe how much he had missed this feeling in so little time. “Let’s take it slow tonight? Just…stay in here with me.”

Bradley grinned and nodded, resting his forehead against yours. “Sounds perfect,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss you again as he cradled your face. “Just you and me.” 

There was no way he’d go back to the party, not when he had you back in his room and on his lap after being convinced that he’d fucked things up with you beyond repair. 

“You and me. We’ll keep it PG tonight, okay? But tomorrow…” you trailed off with a teasing smile before you looked down at your jeans and your pretty crop top he’s seen you wear a few times now. You always managed to look so stunning every time he saw you. “Got anything more comfortable for me to wear?”

Bradley hummed and nodded, giving your hips a firm squeeze before setting you beside him on his bed. “Actually, yeah,” he answered, walking over to his school bag and pulling out the UVA hoodie he had bought this morning after class. “How’s this?” He asked with a grin as he held it out to you.

“You have one?” You asked in shock, taking the brand new hoodie from him with wide eyes. 

“I do now,” he answered, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk. “Though, I’ll probably never get that back now, huh?”

You shook your head as you tugged off your shirt and pulled the hoodie on, and Bradley bit his lip. It was big on you and it fell to your mid thigh, and you looked really fucking hot in it. 

He couldn’t believe he had managed to save his relationship with you. 

“You’re never getting this back,” you confirmed, standing up and shrugging off your jeans before stepping towards him. You reached out and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down his legs until he kicked them off, leaving him in just his t-shirt and boxers. “Comfy?” 

“Very,” he replied, smirking down at you as he tried to respect your request of keeping it PG tonight. “Suddenly I can’t wait for it to be tomorrow.”

You grinned, leaning up to press your lips to his before taking his hands in yours and pulling him with you as you crawled onto his bed. “Me either,” you laughed, kneeling next to him while he leaned back against the headboard and grabbed his laptop, the party downstairs now completely forgotten about by both of you. “Thank you for explaining things…I missed you.”

Bradley smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you down against his side as he placed the laptop between your bodies. “Thank you for letting me. Thanks for giving me a chance tonight,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your coconut shampoo he had a large amount of fondness for. “I missed you too, babes.”

You hummed quietly, cuddling close to him as if he hadn’t accidentally made you cry yesterday because of a total misunderstanding. “Wait,” you mumbled, looking up at him before down at his sheets. “You…washed these, right?”

Bradley snorted and nodded, “Of course I did,” he answered. “Briana made them smell like beer and her nasty fucking perfume. I’m still mad about that, because they used to smell like you.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his jaw as you tangled your fingers with his. “Well then…guess I’ll just have to stay with you tonight,” you whispered, then you were kissing him deeply, and Bradley kissed you right back. 

Just when he was about to forget about the movie that was playing on his laptop, you pulled away and pressed your cheek against his bicep. “PG, remember?” You teased, and Bradley let out a laugh, because he would gladly let you get away with things like that if it meant he got to hold you in his arms like this. 

The next morning, Bradley woke up to the feeling of your lips on his neck, your nose brushing against his scars as you slipped your hand under his shirt. “Baby,” he mumbled, blinking slowly when he opened his eyes. “What time is it?”

The sun hadn’t slipped in through the curtains yet, so Bradley knew it was still a little early.  “It’s seven,” you answered, pressing soft kisses along his jaw as you hiked your thigh over his waist under the sheets. 

Fuck, he didn’t need to be in class for another three hours, but he couldn’t go back to sleep now, because your knee had brushed against his cock, and he felt it spring to life at just that brief touch. 

He was so gone for you already, it was almost pathetic. 

Bradley had no idea what the state of his downstairs was, but he didn’t even care, because you had fallen asleep in his hoodie and on his chest, and now you were slowly grinding yourself against his thigh. 

“What do you want, babes?” He groaned, his hands grabbing your hips when you crawled onto him and straddled his lap. 

“I want you,” you answered, gripping the sides of his face as you ground your body against his. 

Bradley hummed, his hands sliding down to your thighs as he leaned up to press his lips to the side of your neck. “Tell me what you need, baby,” he murmured, “I’ll give it to you.”

“I just need you,” came your whimpered response as you reached down to pull off his shirt. “I need to feel close to you.”

Even though you and Bradley had only gone a full day without talking or touching, it was clear that it felt like way longer to both of you, because Bradley needed to feel close to you right now too. 

“I’m right here,” he mumbled, tugging at the bottom of his hoodie and pulling it off your body. His hands instantly went to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he guided your lips to his in a deep kiss. “You’re so beautiful. Every inch of you is perfect.” He muttered against your lips and earned a soft moan from you. 

“Bradley, I want you to fuck me,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair as you pressed your bare chest against his. 

He pressed another kiss to your lips before nodding and sitting up, his hands reaching for your hips to guide you off him. “Okay, I’ll go get a-”

But then you shook your head and stayed on his lap, your eyes hooded and filled with lust and a hint of nervousness. “I want you to fuck me without a condom,” you added, and Bradley’s hands tightened on your hips. 

Fucking you without a condom was a serious step for the both of you, and he had never personally had sex without one before, so of course the thought of doing it with you had him harder than the wall behind him. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, his thumbs running along the edge of your panties. He wanted to make sure that this was something you wanted, and not a heat of the moment kind of thing, because the last thing he wanted was for you to regret anything with him. This would be only the second time you and he had sex, so he wanted to ensure that you really wanted this. 

With that being said, his cock was aching in his boxers at the thought of taking you completely bare. 

“I want to feel you. I’m on the pill, so it’s still protected,” you said, reaching down to palm him through the tight material that covered him. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay if I don’t want to, because I want to so fucking bad,” he said quickly, lifting his hips when you began to tug down his boxers. “I just need you to tell me again that you want to.”

“I do,” you mumbled, pulling down and kicking off your panties before settling back down on his lap with nothing covering your sinful body from his eyes. When your core brushed against his cock, his hips jolted and an embarrassingly loud groan left his throat, but you just grinned at him as you slowly guided yourself down onto him. “Have you done this without one before?” You asked, bracing your hands on his shoulders while he had to hold off on coming right then and there, because holy fuck this felt unreal.

You felt unreal, and Bradley tightly gripped your waist as he shook his head. “Nope,” he answered through his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Never. Only with you now.”

The look you gave him was so sweet and sexy, he had to bite down on his lip as you slowly began to ride him. “I haven’t either,” you confessed, tangling your fingers in his hair. “But I’m happy you’re my first.”

Fuck, he wanted to be your only. You felt so fucking good, Bradley guided you to go a bit quicker as he pressed kisses along your neck. “Me too, baby,” he grunted, “Faster, babes.”

You moaned quietly, gripping the back of his neck as you lifted your hips and then dropped them, making Bradley groan rather loudly. “Fuck, it feels so good,” you gasped, burying your face against his neck. 

“Do you like it like this? Just you and me with nothing in between us?” He rasped, his fingers digging into your skin as you rode him so good and nodded your head in response. “You feel fucking perfect.”

“Bradley,” you whined, pulling back to kiss him deeply as he started to thrust up into your soaked pussy, the lack of a condom making you feel like nothing he had ever felt before. How he went from not knowing where he stood with you last night to fucking you bare this morning, he didn’t know, but he also wasn’t about to keep questioning it.

He was already impossibly close, and he was actually surprised he lasted this long since he nearly came when you just rubbed against him. “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum embarrassingly fast. You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, sucking a mark onto your neck. “Do you want me to pull out?”

You bit your lip and nodded, bouncing on him a bit faster. “Maybe for this first time,” you answered, and Bradley groaned again. 

First time? So this was maybe going to happen again? And if it did, you were going to let him cum inside you? Fuck, he was in heaven. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, rocking your hips against his, and Bradley had to force himself to hold back so you could get there first before he had to pull out of your addictive body. 

Your eyes rolled back as you pulled hard on his hair, and he felt you become even warmer around his cock as you came, loud cries leaving your lips as you lazily rode him. “Goddamn, babes,” he grunted, waiting until the very last second before he lifted you off him and came all over your stomach and thighs with a deep groan. “Fuck…”

You moaned softly, watching as he painted your skin white, a sheepish grin on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “That was a lot,” you murmured and Bradley let out a hoarse laugh, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. 

“Yeah, well, if you could feel what I just did…” he muttered, not caring at all that both you and he were now covered in his mess. He was just so fucking happy that you were still with him. “I’m sorry for what happened on Monday. I promise, I’ll never do anything to break your trust again.”

You hummed, draping your arms around his shoulders. “And I’m sorry for overreacting,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. “From now on, no more running away instead of listening to the full story, and no more having your ex in your bed.”

Bradley laughed again and nodded, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “Deal,” he agreed, then rolled you onto your back and kissed you again.

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: CHANGBIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: PUBLIC SEX, ORAL (F. REC), HAIR PULLING, FEM!READER, PRAISE/DEGRADING, NO CLEAR DOM/SUB DYNAMIC, SIZE KINK IF YOU SQUINT, PET NAMES, FINGERING, MULTIPLE ROUNDS, FOOD MENTIONS, WALL SEX, UNPROTECTED SEX, CURSING ☾ ━━━ WC: 2.2K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Hot weather came on quickly. Which meant it was time to break out the flowy dresses and short bottoms and tops.

     It was one of those days and nights when it was just way too hot to wear clothes that clung to your skin, and Changbin was staying late at the studio. Y/n had offered to bring her boyfriend dinner to the studio— mainly because he was complaining about missing her while he was working— so she threw on one of her sundresses and grabbed the container. She texted Changbin that she was on her way to the company for lunch and got in her car. 

     Changbin was alone in the studio working on songs. Chan had a well-deserved day off while Han had already left for the day. He was debating on keeping his girlfriend here just to keep him company till he was done with work. He was playing around with a few adlibs, trying to see where they would sound the best when he heard a knock on the studio door. 

     The rapper got up from his chair and walked over and opened the door, smiling when he saw his girlfriend, “I love you so much.”

     “Love you too,” Y/n leaned in and pecked his lip as he let her into the studio, “You all alone today?” She asked as she set the food down on the table in front of the couch he closed and locked the door behind him

     “Chan’s off today and Ji already went home,” Changbin answered as he walked over and wrapped his arms around her. He’d noticed the dress when she walked in but now he was taking in the sight. He smiled, “Thankfully too.”

     “Eat your dinner,” Y/n poked his chest

     Changbin picked up his girlfriend, making her gasp in surprise, and walked over to their setup. He placed her down on the open spot on the table and brought his lips down to hers, hands gripping the fabric on her hips, “Later.”

     He’d seen her in a sundress before. Nothing new to her wearing them. They just usually ended up on the floor later. Same thing today. Something about the dresses gave him the urge to fuck her into next week. 

     Y/n gripped his biceps as she kept up with his lips. His hands pushed the fabric of her dress up and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in as close as she could. His hands moved up from her hips to her shoulders and pushed the sleeves of the dress down. Moving his kisses down her neck to her shoulders. Both their breathing had picked up as her hands slipped under his loose tank top.

     “Bin, off,” Y/n whined as she pushed the shirt up as she ran her hands up his abdomen 

     His kisses paused for a moment to pull the material off his body and toss it to the floor to deal with later. Y/n cupped his cheeks and pulled his lips back onto hers. Bin chuckled against her lips and grabbed the back of her neck with one hand while the other moved under her dress. 

     Originally meaning to tease her over the panties, but he quickly realized she was lacking panties. “No panties tonight?” he mumbled against her lips before pulling away and kissing down her neck. 

     “No,” Y/n smiled

     “Dirty girl,” Changbin said as he ran his fingers up and down between her folds before his thumb pressed against her clit. 

     Y/n let out a whine as her fingers grabbed at his hair. Bin peppered kisses all along her neck and left behind a few love bites before moving down further. Only stopping for a few moments to undo the zipper on the dress and get it off of her. Then proceeding to pull his chair over and take a seat and immediately pulled her to the edge, pulling her legs over his shoulders. 

     Y/n leaned back on her hands just in time for him to lick a strip up from her entrance to her clit, making her shudder. He was loving that she had just worn the dress and sandals to the studio. Less work for him to do and more time to enjoy each other.

     He let his tongue run up and down between her folds several times before wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking lightly. His hands held firmly onto her hips as one of her hands grabbed at his curly hair. The slight tug made him moan as he sucked on her clit. Y/n rocked her hips against him as he flicked his tongue against the small little bud. He looked up at her through his lashes. He loved watching her expressions as he went down on her, it was fun when he had her sitting up on his desk.

     He kept his eyes on her as he sucked and flicked the little bundle of nerves, his whines and moans flowing into his ears making him harder than he already was. He turned to harshly sucking and licking, ultimately making out with her cunt as her moans filled the soundproof room and her smaller hands gripping his hair as he worked her closer to orgasm. 

     “Binnie, I’m… almost there,” Y/n moaned. 

     The producer hummed in response and that sent her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed and covered his chin. Changbin happily drank every bit of essence that flowed out of her, like he’d just walked through a desert and found an oasis. 

     Y/n leaned back on her elbow as her other hand left his hair as he kissed his way up her body. “Come here,” Changbin pulled her down from the table to straddle his lap. 

     Y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he kissed her chest. Y/n cupped his cheeks and brought her lips onto his and rolled her hips against his erection straining against his gym shorts. 

     “Need you in me, baby,” Y/n mumbled against his lips

     “What do you say, doll?” He asked as his hands gripped her ass and pulled her flush against his chest.     “Please, Binnie. Need my big pretty boy inside me.”     Changbin smiled and stood up from the chair and walked her over to the couch they had in the studio and laid her down on the cushion, attaching his lips to her neck as he ground his clothed erection into her wet cunt. The action elicited a harmonious moan from her that seemingly edged him closer. He could get off on her moans alone but lord he wanted to feel her around his cock.

     He moved a hand from her ass and rubbed two of his fingers between her fold before dipping one into her. He pulled his head up just in time to see her throw hers back into the couch cushion. Her hands grabbed at the hair at the nape of his neck as she brought her head up to look down at her boyfriend catching his eyes as he smiled at her. Maintaining eye contact as he leaned down and kissed her breasts, slowly inserting a second finger.

     Y/n bit her bottom lip as her boyfriend circled one of her nipples with his tongue before taking it into his mouth. His fingers made scissoring motions inside her to spread her open for him. As much as she wanted to watch the scene on top of her unfold, the pleasure was almost too much. The back of her head dug into the cushion below as she felt a third finger pushing its way into her.

     Once the third finger was in, he thursted them in and out of her as quick as he could, “fuck, bin. Please… inside” Y/n whined as she grabbed onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

     Changbin popped her nipple out of his mouth, “need you all nice and open for me doll.”

     “Please, baby. Need you in me now.” Y/n whined as her head popped up and looked at him, with pleading eyes.

     “Fuck,” Changbin sat back on his knees and pulled his fingers out of her. A small whine left her throat at the loss of contact as he pushed his gym shorts and boxers down before tossing the fabric to the ground like the rest of their clothing. Y/n smiled as he grabbed her legs and pushed them up to her chest. 

     One hand took hold of his cock and rubbed the tip along the wetness between her folds before pumping himself a few times. Y/n watched him through the mating press he had her in before he lined his cock up to her and slowly pushed the tip in. 

     Her jaw fell open as he pushed in more. Both his hands held onto the back of her thighs as he mumbled a few curse words. “Feel so good around me doll.” Changbin groaned as he leaned forward a bit, fully sinking into his girlfriend then pulling out and fucking back into her at a steady pace. Small whines fell out of her throat every time he slid back into her.

     Slowly his speed picked up as he leaned into her more, her moans getting louder the deeper he went into her. She was teetering closer to the edge when he pulled his fingers out of her. Just him pushing his thick tip into her tightened that familiar knot in her stomach tighter. “Bin,” Y/n moaned out as she grabbed onto his forearms and involuntarily clenched around his thick dick.

     “You gonna come for me doll?” Changbin teased as he bullied his cock into her

     “Yes, please baby. Wanna come on your big cock baby.” Y/n begged. Feeling his dick twitch in her from her small amount of pleading.

     “Feel so good when you clench around me, fuck.” His head fell forward, eyes narrowing in on where he was disappearing inside of her with every thrust.

     Y/n moaned with each thrust until the knot in her stomach snapped and Changbin wasn’t far behind. Pumping slowly through their highs before he stopped for a moment then pulled out, releasing her from the position he had her in. He sat back against the couch and pulled her onto his lap and kissed her cheek. “Stay until I finish up?”

     “You work, I’ll feed you,” Y/n smiled, moving to straddle his lap, grinding on his softened —now Harding— cock

     “Keep grinding on me and I’m fucking you again doll,” Changbin warned 

     “Mm. Can I request it against the wall this time?” Y/n giggled as she leaned down and kissed his neck. 

     Without another word, Changbin picked her up and stood from the couch. It was mere seconds before she was pinned against the wall and smiled at him, holding onto his shoulders as one hand moved from her ass to pump his erection to full length before slipping into her again. 

     Y/n groaned as he kept her upright against the wall. His free hand came between them and ran little circles around her clit as his cock sat inside her. Her mouth hung open as his calloused applied the perfect amount of pressure to her clit. Slowly starting to roll her hips against him as best she could. Hands gripping onto his broad shoulders for extra support. 

     “Looks so good like this doll.” Changbin groaned as his head lay in the crook of her neck, 

     “‘M close baby.” Y/n moaned, still sensitive from their previous round and him just sitting in her contracting walls while he played with her clit was not helping the case. 

     “Come on, doll. Come on my cock again,” Changbin picked up the pace until he felt her hips stutter and stop their movement. Feeling her essence mixed with his previous cream pie drop down his cock. 

     Changbin moved his hand away from her clit and put both his hands under her ass, gripping tightly. He pulled out and quickly — and roughly— fucked back into her repeatedly through her orgasm. Grunting in her ear with each thrust and planting the occasional kiss on her neck. He pressed her hard against the while she grabbed the nape of his neck, lightly tugging on his hair. 

     Sweat rolled down both their bodies and mixed together. Their skin sticking together, Y/n’s heel digging into his back. Even though the heat outside was currently unbearable, they welcomed the heat emanating from their bodies right now from sex. And the heat that came from his hot ropes of cum shooting into her for a second time that night. 

     Changbin buried himself as deep as he could in her again as he came down from his high. Once the clarity set in he kissed her cheek, “How about I call it a night and we go home, yeah?”

     “Yeah. Sounds like a good idea to me.”

     “Go home and get you in the shower,” Changbin smiled as he pecked her lips then pulled out of her so they could clean up just a bit and get their clothes back on before grabbing everything else they needed and heading home for the evening

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

What it should mean to support ALL survivors—Fandom discourse and the depiction of sexual assault in media.

So. Okay.

Below is a video that, in my opinion, is a very well thought out and respectful critique of the writing decisions surrounding Angel Dust’s character and purpose in Hazbin’s narrative.

The author of the video does a great job clearly stating their thoughts and opinions, and put a lot of effort into explaining their reasoning in a concise and easy to understand way.

I really recommend giving it a watch—(TW for discussions of rape, sexual assault and abuse. )

However, one of the most important things about this video though, is that the author, Limus, takes the time to specify that the video is only her opinion, and that she does not want to invalidate the feelings of other people or survivors who like or feel represented by Angel Dust. (More below)

In their conclusion, Limus states, “…If you enjoyed “Hazbin Hotel” and Angel Dust as a character, that’s fine. I don’t want you to walk away from this thinking your opinion is less than mine. People have their own reasons for liking media, and the discourse surrounding this show and the harassment that people receive just for liking it is unacceptable. You can have your reasons for disliking a show, but people can also have their reasons for liking it as well. Everything I have said in this video is in relation to my own personal life…”

I was REALLY glad and really relieved that Limus took the time to specify this, because one of my biggest grievances with the discourse regarding Hazbin’s depictions of sexual abuse, assault and rape, is that I see a LOT of people, both critics and fans, disregarding the experiences and feelings of survivors with opinions opposite to theirs.

Specifically, I saw a LOT of people talking about the portrayal of sexual abuse in Hazbin, and media in general, as if it was something that could be judged as being OBJECTIVELY “good” or “bad”.

And then proceeding to argue with people over their opinions and feelings as if they were in some sort of debate and the other person’s beliefs could be disproven.

This was really frustrating to me, because I’m hyper-aware of how media is extremely subjective especially when it comes to serious topics like sexual assault, violence, substance addiction, abuse, etc. etc.

So, I’m going to talk, in detail, about what I see as a lot of hypocrisy within fandom and critical spaces.

This really started in January of this year (2024) when a trailer (or maybe a leak? Sorry I can’t remember) for Hazbin came out, and a scene from Poison was shown.

There were a lot of people who were really concerned with the way Angel Dust’s abuse was shown in the preview, a good amount of them survivors of sexual abuse themselves, and from there the discourse got pretty out of hand.

Worst of all though, people, both fans and critics, allegedly started demanding “proof” of survivor’s assault from those they disagreed with.

This was very gross behavior, and I don’t care what your opinion on Hazbin Hotel is, NO ONE should have done that. It’s not only incredibly invalidating, but also potentially re-traumatizing.

Seriously. I hope ANYONE who engaged in this behavior, REGARDLESS of if they love Hazbin and think it’s the best thing in the world or if they hate it and think it’s the worst piece of media ever, were able to take a step back and realize how hurtful and inappropriate their actions were. And hopefully grow from that.

What disappointed me the most though was seeing Hazbin’s creator’s reaction to all of this. It was, in my opinion, very hypocritical and set the stage for the sort of harassment that is continuing in the fandom today.

A Disclaimer—this is going to be one of the ONLY TIMES I talk directly about the creator of Hazbin Hotel, Vivienne “Vivziepop” Medrano. I’m doing so because she was engaging directly and openly with this discourse when it was happening, and I think it’s important to talk about her actions and reactions because it provides some context for the background in regards to the ongoing conversations surrounding Hazbin’s SA depictions.

I generally do not like publicly talking about or making judgements on creators as people based on the art they create, because while a creator’s art is almost always influenced by their personality and experiences, it’s not a good way to judge someone’s ENTIRE character. All people are multi-faceted, and the art or media we create usually reflects only part of someone. Additionally, people use art, fiction, and media to explore all kinds of things, including things they would never do or want in real life, and that’s valid and normal. Obviously.

But when a creator publicly expresses an opinion in regards to ongoing discourse, of course people are allowed to discuss it and have their own opinions. Especially when that creator has a lot of fans who look to them as a role-model. Not saying that Vivziepop is responsible for actions of her fans, but when you are a public figure like she is, I do think it’s important to be as mindful as you can about your influence.

With all of that said. Yeah. I was. Incredibly disappointed by Vivziepop’s reaction to this. Because, I actually do agree with a lot of the things she was saying about supporting survivors—

I 100% agree with this. Everyone processes trauma differently, and that should be respected. We should not judge survivors for how they cope or process their trauma.

If this statement was made in response to the all judgement and struggles that survivors generally have to deal with, I would not have any issue with it whatsoever.

But. It wasn’t. Vivziepop said this because people were criticizing Hazbin Hotel—specifically there were survivors who were upset and triggered by scenes from the musical sequence “Poison” that leaked prior to Hazbin’s official release.

Now, obviously, I can’t know her true intent or beliefs. But her bringing all of this up after she had received criticism from survivors about her show leads me to believe that she doesn’t really care about supporting all survivors. Especially since after she said this, she proceeded to dismiss the concerns that several survivors brought to her because “the show hadn’t come out yet”.

To me, this is just hypocrisy.

Now, to be fair. Im also an artist. I understand feeling like your art or story is your baby, and feeling really protective of it. In some ways I was conflicted when all of this was happening back in January, because I get the frustration and hurt that comes with people not liking your art or not giving it a chance.

That can be very disheartening, and definitely feels unfair. I can empathize with Vivziepop in regard to that, because I don’t know how I would handle the amount of criticism her art gets. I’ve had my art criticized pretty harshly online, and it does really hurt. I really can’t imagine how emotionally taxing that is on such a large scale.

But with all of that said, at the end of the day, as creator, especially a creator making something for widespread international audiences, you have to learn how to be okay with the fact that your art, whether it’s music, visual arts, storytelling, or whatever, will not be universally loved. That’s pretty much impossible, and it’s also okay.

And while you obviously don’t have to listen to EVERY bit of criticism you receive, I do think it is vitally important to listen to criticism and concerns when they come from a whole group of people you are trying to represent.

This was Vivziepop’s response to survivors of sexual assault who asked to have their concerns about Angel Dust and the portrayal of his assault also taken seriously:

In my opinion, these replies are all really dismissive. I agree with everything Vivziepop said about survivors who felt represented being spoken over was also wrong. But these are survivors being open about how Vivziepop’s show has already affected them negatively, and the fear that their reactions to and opinions on the show will be, or in some cases—have already been, invalidated and called into question by the Hazbin fandom.

Vivzie’s response to them is that the show hasn’t come out yet, so they are getting upset “preemptively”. It really comes across like their concerns did not matter to Vivziepop, and like it didn’t matter to her that they had already been triggered or felt as if the handling of the scene was fetishistic based on what came out.

She states that her fans are “speaking out on their own experiences and reminding that the scene isn’t out yet”. I’m not denying that some fans do feel represented, but to me, it doesn’t, and didn’t matter if the show hadn’t come out yet.

The full episode can’t magically “take back” the fact that a lot of survivors saw this small clip on its own and it was enough to affect them. And that is just as valid of an experience as people who felt represented.

And listen. No group of people is a monolith and that includes survivors. People WILL have many differing opinions about the way sensitive topics are portrayed, especially when it’s as traumatic as sexual assault and abuse.

I am not saying Vivziepop should have somehow magically concocted a show that handles sexual assault objectively perfectly and pleases every survivor ever. That’s impossible, and I would NEVER ask or expect ANYONE to be able to do that.

But, it’s very clear to me in the interactions above that the people who were upset only wanted their opinions and experiences to be heard and respected as well, and they were essentially told that their feelings didn’t matter.

And to me, Vivziepop’s reaction to all of this was really giving Sia circa 2020:

I really think that, a lot of this could have been mitigated if someone from the Hazbin team, not even necessarily Vivziepop, had just acknowledged, “hey, you’re absolutely in your right to not like the scene and those feelings are valid”.

But there is a very strange sort of hypocrisy that is almost like. Tinted with virtue signaling*??? About listening to all survivors voices, while simultaneously dismissing the voices of survivors that are saying they have already been hurt.

THAT is what bothers me the most. It really seems like the only survivors that a lot of people involved in this discourse, including Vivziepop, were willing to listen to or validate were the ones that already agreed with them.

If you are going to support survivors you DO have to ACTUALLY SUPPORT ALL survivors. Even if they disagree with you.

If you’re still with me, I really really appreciate it. I felt I had to go over all of this to add context, because the concerns those survivors talked about over 10 months ago, foreshadowed the EXACT situation that some people in the Hazbin fandom have now put Limus in.

All because, after the episode came out, they expressed their honest opinions on the subject matter and the way Angel Dust was written in a way fans disagreed with.

I find it really disturbing that, the whole point of Vivziepop’s dismissal was that the show hadn’t come out, and that she said she would “respect” if people had concerns AFTER it came out. But I haven’t really seen any acknowledgment from her that survivors, who after seeing the whole scene, were still negatively affected.

The below is a tweet Vivziepop liked shortly after the episode came out in full.

I agree that any survivors who felt seen by Angel Dust and the show and were invalidated and had their experiences dismissed and questioned by others deserve apologies. But I can’t help but think about the fans who didn’t feel the same, who were hurt, and triggered by the depiction of SA before AND after the show released. I don’t want to read to much into likes, because people like shit for all sorts of reasons, but Vivziepop liking this tweet saying she deserves an apology too does rub me the wrong way, especially after she was told that survivors have ALREADY been hurt.

Don’t those people deserve apologies too? Or at the very least just an acknowledgment that their hurt and concern was valid?? It just comes off to me as a confirmation that Vivziepop doesn’t really want to listen to ALL survivors, just the ones that haven’t criticized her and praised her show.

To clarify—just as Limus did at the end of her video—I AM NOT SAYING THAT SA SURVIVORS WHO DIDNT LIKE THE SHOW’S HANDLING OF SA ARE THE “CORRECT” SURVIVORS AND THAT PEOPLE WHO FELT SEEN AND REPRESENTED BY ANGEL DUST AND THE SHOWS WRITING ARE “WRONG”.

The WHOLE POINT of me going over ALL of this is to take a look at the hypocrisy of many people both in the fandom and outside of it who SAY they care about ALL survivors feelings and experiences, but then call those experiences into question the MOMENT a survivor has an opinion different than their own.

And sadly, I personally believe the creator of Hazbin also contributed hugely to this hypocrisy.

When we look at what happened in January, it now feels weirdly prescient. People are treating Limus’ opinion as if she is personally attacking them, or saying that their experiences are invalid. She did not do that.

It also seems like a lot of people who like Angel Dust and feel he represents them are taking Limus’ critique of the character writing decisions made for Angel Dust, who is not a real person and does not exist, as personal attacks on their real lived experiences. She did not do that either. She was extremely clear that her opinions were in regards to the way Angel Dust was written as a character.

But because Limus critiqued Angel Dust, her experience with abuse has been called into question, just like the above survivors that were concerned about all of this way back in January. This is absolutely fucking unacceptable.

I am saying this to CRITICS AND FANS of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, and fuck it, honestly ALL fandoms—If you have engaged in this sort of behavior, you have got to stop. I think the love and passion you have for the art that is important to you is beautiful and wonderful. But NOTHING justifies treating other people this way. It does not matter how much you love a certain character or how much they comfort you or what solace you find in them. There is NO EXCUSE for bullying and harassing someone over this shit.

I am saying this fully aware that it may cause people to get mad at me and want to send me hate. And honestly that’s fine. I will deal with it if it comes. But I couldn’t sit here and watch so many people shit on someone for talking about their experiences and opinions again.

Please, if you find the tweets/threads I referenced in this post, DO NOT ENGAGE WITH THEM OR HARASS THE POSTERS. This whole long massive post was all about why we should NOT do that.

When these conversations happen, I often see people just. Putting words into other’s mouths like it’s an Olympic sport. If someone says they don’t like the way Angel is written, they are not saying your experiences are invalid. If someone says they love the way Angel is written, they are not saying you have to love him and feel represented by him too.

Please. Please try to empathize with each other. Or at the very least, maybe just take some time to sit with your feelings instead of harassing others. I’m using Hazbin as an example because it’s a fandom I’ve had experience with recently, but this really does apply to all fandoms.

As I final note—if you love Angel Dust and think he’s the best written character and feel really represented and seen by him, that’s wonderful and I’m really happy to hear that the show was cathartic or comforting for you. Genuinely.

And if you hated the way Angel Dust was written and the show triggered you, I am so sorry that happened. It is so painful to re-live trauma like that, and I hope any that pain you felt from being reminded of what happened eased quickly and gently.

Both of your experiences and opinions are completely valid, and you have every right to express your opinions to others. Your trauma is real, and however you process it and cope with it should not be judged by anyone.

I just ask that we all be more respectful, and try to be curious about other’s perspectives regarding this stuff.

Thank you again for bearing with me through all of this. I hope you have a great day or night.

*I really really HATE the term “virtue signaling” because in MOST cases, I only ever see it being used to dismiss minorities and allies concerns about injustices. But, given the circumstances of this situation, I do think it’s actually appropriate here, given that survivors where expressing their concerns to Vivziepop and she was justifying her dismissal of them by saying the show hadn’t come out yet, and then went on to say that all survivors mattered. I don’t know whatever word I should have used, other than it just being hypocritical. Again I hate that term, and wouldn’t be using it here if I didn’t really believe it was appropriate and accurate.

[floweryxoxo]

Men we call Daddy | j.wy

sugar daddy! wooyoung x daddy issues! black! fem! reader

warnings: wooyoung is a soft dom, oral, unprotected sex, (bad idea chat), wooyoung is also a hopeless romantic.

note: this is for @frenchkisstheabyss bc she couldn’t find any wooyoung fics (she’s my favorite author and that might be the entire reason i wore this.) erm yeah. all of the links will be from pinterest!

some girls we call men. but jung wooyoung? we call daddy. but before we get into that, let’s start from the beginning. your dad and you just finished fighting again. you wanted to spite him, by getting a boyfriend. what you didn’t intend to do is get on a sugar daddy website. in your fit of rage, you ended  up clicking on a guy that was 28, named jung wooyoung. you guys started talking and ended up skyping. wooyoung did expect a pretty girl, just not one in tears.  he let you ramble on about your dad and how much you just wanted to get away from him. he ended up asking if he could take you to the local carnival on friday, and you said sure. you woke up on friday late, and checked you phoebe and then freaked out when you saw you had the carnival plans today. you stared at the wall for at least 40 minutes debating on canceling your plans or just telling wooyoung you’d be late. you ended up telling him you’d be late and he replied with “fine by me darling” with the smirking emoji. you start getting ready and do this outfit with this makeup.  once you were ready to go, you checked your hair in the mirror and texted wooyoung you were ready for him to pick you up.

when wooyoung got there, you weren’t expecting him to pull up in a pink lamborghini, which he proceeded to say was for you. “wooyoung i can’t take this, i mean it’s yours-“ he cut you off with a shush. “don’t worry cupcake, i have 23 other ones.” he says, smirking. that’s when it clicks. you realize you clicked on a sugar daddy website, not a regular one. you panic, because you genuinely don’t know what to do. “i’m guessing you just realized i’m a sugar daddy.” he says, turning his head to see you looking like you’re about to flair your arms up in the air. he puts a hand on your thigh to calm you down. “don’t worry, i’m only 29. i’ll be thirty in november.” he says, rubbing your thigh. you relax as you take a closer look at him and realize how intimidading he looks. and then you see how he’s very likely to be the same height as your dad. and it clicks. you realize he could be your #1 defender from the tyrant you are forced to call father. you relax into his touch and he smirks. “see? you love me already.” he says with a wink. you roll your eyes and told him to keep driving.

when you arrive at the carnival, you’re stunned. it looks amazing. there’s lots of people so the streets are bustling. you look around and you realize this will be one hell of a night. bay the time you two were on your way home, you had four giant plushies in the back, and four mini ones in your lap. wooyoung pulled up to your house and left the car on. he figured he get you in and then call his limo driver to come get him. but when he rang the doorbell, a very drunk man appeared and yelled “who the fuck are you!” very aggressively. “well sir i took your daughter on a-” he tried to reply but got cut off. “ my daughter? she’s a bitch. don’t bring her back.” he slammed the door in wooyoung’s face. he then realized that’s who you were talking about when you said you had a tyrant father. he decided to take you to his penny’s house instead, so he got back in the car and drove you over to his luxury penthouse. when you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room. all your plushies were next to you. you then smelled the aroma of bacon. you got out of bed and noticed you had a shirt on, that smelled delicious. when you got downstairs wooyoung was in the kitchen, humming to himself as he made breakfast. “morning sleeping beauty.” he says, in a teasing tone. “is this your shirt?” you ask him. “because it smells really good.” you say, while sitting down at the table. “it is darling. i’m glad you appreciate the way i smell.” he says smirking. he finishes up breakfast and puts your plate in front of you. “breakfast is served.” he says, while bowing. the doorbell rings and he takes her apron off while walking to get it. suddenly seven other men enter. “i forgot to introduce you to my friends darling. these are hongjoong, seonghwa, yunho, yeosang, san, mingi and jongho.” each man waves at you and you wave back. you continue to eat breakfast as each of the men make their plates and sit around the table. you all converse in some different things.

that was 6 months ago. now 6 months into your relationship, you’ve completely moved out of the apartment you lived in with your father, and live a life of luxury with wooyoung. right now he's eating you out like a starved man. "ah-woo!" you moan as his tongue hits the right spots. "cum for me babygirl." he says, the vibration of his voice pushing you to your edge and you cum, all over his face. "good girl." he says, coming up with juices dribbling down his chin. he then stands up and takes his pants and boxers off. you marvel at how big it is, and before you can even worry about whether it'll fit, he calms you down with "don't worry babygirl. it'll fit, it has before." he says, spreading your legs. when he enters, you let out a moan you didn't even know you were holding. you feel like every time you guys have sex, he gets bigger. he lets you adjust to his size and then starts to move. he's moving at an immaculate pace. it feels so good and you release at the same time. you lay there entagled in each others arms for awhile until you both eventually fall asleep. a few days later you're watching a movie with wooyoung, cuddled in his arms. you realize while there is men who we can call boyfriends and husbands, we can simply call jung wooyoung daddy.

[wow635]

Chapter 4! Not proof read btw, enjoy

The next morning Ms Weasley wakes us all up at an excruciatingly early.

I get up my eye lids heavy and get changed.

“Think this is alright?” I ask turning to Ginny and hermione, I’ve got a pair of shirts with a green tank top on. Muggle clothes.

Ginny looks me up and down with a critical eye, then gives a nod of approval. "Looks good," she declared. Hermione chimed in as well, "I agree." The three of us proceeded to help each other get ready, fixing our hair and putting on a touch of makeup.

Once finished, we headed downstairs to join the rest of the Weasley family groggily eating in the kitchen

Fred and George, ever the loud ones are embroiled in a debate over something, their voices animated and their expressions a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“Looks delicious Ms Weasley” I say chipper, going to grab a cup of tea

Mrs. Weasley beams at the compliment, her eyes twinkling with warmth. "Why, thank you, dear. You all look lovely as ever," she replied, her voice filled with pride and affection. "Now, come sit down and join us for breakfast before the day begins." She Ushers us over to the table.

—————————————

When we finish our breakfast we bid our goodbyes to ms Weasley and head off, it's still pretty dark out but we walk up the hill and down the plains to find the spot where our port key will be

Our footsteps crunch quietly on the grass. The sky is still tinged with a soft lavender hue, while the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. The air is dewy and cool, a gentle breeze sending shivers down my spine. Despite the chill, a sense of nervous excitement coursed through my veins. I don’t know much about quidditch but I’m still ecstatic for the World Cup

————————————

We continue walking a little ways before we hear yelling in the distance.

As the sound gets closer we can make it out. It’s a small man calling mr Weasleys name “Arthur! Arthur is that you?” I see him waving frantically I smile a little

Mr. Weasley's face lights up as he recognized the caller. "Amos!" Mr. Weasley calls back, a broad smile spreading across his face. "It's good to see you, my friend!"

Mr Weasley begins naming us off to the small man who I just found out is Ami’s Diggory “This is Fred, no wait- George...” we giggle at his struggle. “sorry that's Fred, that's George, my daughter Ginny, my son Ron and his friends Hermione Granger, and harry and y/n potter“

Amos’s eyes widen upon realizing who we were

"Ah, the Potters," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He seemed stunned and awed, as if meeting legendary figures.

I flush a little because… we’re not.

After speaking with Harry, Amos's gaze moves over to me but quickly gets refocused onto my scar. My self consciousness kicks in, and I involuntarily move my hair to try and cover it, as if to make it less visible. It was a reflexive gesture, born from years of being recognized by that mark.

Amos seems to realize the effect his staring is having, and he quickly composes himself. His expression changed from one of shock to one of respect and admiration. He reaches out to shake my hand, his grip firm and warm.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, y/n," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I've heard so much about you."

I smile akwardly

“This is my son Cedric” We turn our attention to where Amos is facing, and are greeted by the sight of Cedric Diggory, Amos's son, jumping down from the tree with a flourish. He landed gracefully on the ground, a crooked smile on his face. Cedric's brown hair was dishevelled from the jump, and his eyes sparkled with charm

I see Ginny and hermionie each other. Look the turn to me to give me the same look. I chuckle and roll my eyes. Cedric moves down the group shaking all our hands.

He reaches me “hey I’m Cedric” he says smiling crookedly and sticking his hand out. “Y/n” I smile back shaking his hand, but he doesn’t let go as quickly. His hand lingers in mine, his grip remaining gentle but firm. His eyes meet mine, and I can't help but notice a flicker of something— admiration, curiosity, or perhaps even something deeper-behind them. I feel both intrigued and slightly self-conscious. I laugh. nervously, breaking the slightly awkward silence that has settled between us

As Cedric releases my hand, I can't help but steal a glance at Fred. There is a look on his face that catches me off guard—a hint of jealousy? His brow is slightly furrowed, and his jaw tensed. It surprises me, as I have never seen him react that way before. Maybe he’s just tired from the early morning

————————————

The twins are a few steps ahead of us when we hear their elated cry’s. They are holding up a worn-out old sneaker, which was stained and had a distinctive odor coming from it. With a triumphant grin, they hold it up for us to see.

'We found the portkey!" they announce, their voices filled with excitement. "Let's get a move on, everyone!" They start to lead us towards their discovery, their footsteps bouncing with enthusiasm.

“That’s the portkey?” I ask confused, pinching my nose between my fingers. The others except for Harry just chuckle. I furrow my brows, I’ve never taken portkey before

As we approach the portkey, Mr.

Weasley explains how it would work. "Right," he said, his tone serious. "Now, you need to hold on tightly to the portkey. Once the connection is established, we'll be whisked to our destination. Remember, don't let go no matter what. Understood?" We all nod, our expressions a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, I gripped the dirty shoe tightly, my fingers brushing against Fred's as he held on next to me.

With our hands firmly grasping the portkey, the world around us begins to spin. The ground beneath our feet seems to give way as we are yanked into a whirlwind of colors and blurred scenery. My stomach lurches as we spin through the air, wind rushing past us at breakneck speeds. Just when I think it’s all too much, the spinning comes to a sudden halt and we land with a thud.

I manage to keep myself from faceplanting by extending my arms out in front of me, bracing the impact. Slowly, I lift my head and look around, trying to get my bearings. The surroundings were unfamiliar, and it took me a moment to realize that we have arrived safely at our destination.

I sit on my knees looking around awestruck. I feel a rush of excitement and wonder as my eyes take in my surroundings. Everywhere I look, I saw signs that we are in a magical community-flickering signs and shops that seem to be bustling with magical activity. It is a sight to behold, and my heart races with excitement.

As I am sat there taking in the sight, someone suddenly appears in front of me, blocking my line of sight. Startled, I look up to see who it is. It is Cedric Diggory, his presence filling my field of vision. His tousled hair frames his handsome face, and his eyes twinkle with admiration and interest as he looks down at me.

“You ok down there?” He smiles crookedly again. “I’m alright, never used portkey before” I respond

With a friendly smile, Cedric extends a hand towards me, offering to help me stand up. "Here, let me give you a hand," he says, his voice warm and earnest. I hesitantly take his hand, feeling a slight jolt as our fingers touch. With a firm but gentle grip, he pulls me up to my feet, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. Once I am standing, he doesn’t let go immediately; instead, his hand lingers on mine, the warmth of his skin a contrast to the cool morning air.

“Thanks” I smile

Cedric nods in response, his lips curving into a small smile. His hand is still holding mine, and I can't help but notice how his touch sends a strange flutter through my stomach. I shift awkwardly as the silence between us grows, unsure of what to say next.

The sound of laughter and chatter from the others draw my attention, and I tare my gaze away from Cedric to see them engaging in an animated conversation with Mr. Weasley.

I find myself gravitating towards Harry once again. As I stand close to him, I can feel the warmth of his body, providing some reassurance in my whirlwind of emotions. While my heart fluttered at Cedric's touch, my mind and instincts urged me back towards the comfort of Harry's side. It is a reflexive reaction, a subconscious desire to seek refuge near the one person who had always been there through thick and thin.

Harry glances down at me, his eyes soft and curious . He adjusts his glasses, a familiar gesture that I’ve seen him do countless times before. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he speaks. "Are you okay, y/n?" he asks, his voice full with concern.

I nod “don't worry” I smile Harry nods, accepting my assurance that I was alright. But despite my nod and the smile I offer, I can sense that he isn’t entirely convinced. There is a hint of concern in his eyes, and for a split second, I wonder if he can see through my façade. Perhaps he know me well enough to see the panic in my eyes

My attention turns to Mr. Weasley who is speaking with the man at the tent check-in station, the man's attention suddenly diverts towards Harry and me. His eyes widening as he takes a closer look, recognition dawning on his face. A gasp escapes his lips, and he stares at us as if unable to believe his own eyes.

The man fumbles with his words, clearly overwhelmed by our presence. "A-Are you-are you Harry Potter and u/n Potter?" he stutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Weasley turns around, noticing the man's astonishment. He places a comforting hand on the man's shoulder,

"Indeed, they are," Mr. Weasley affirms with a proud smile.

I chuckle nervously, as I do my hand involuntarily reaches up to rub my arm, accidentally brushing against the person standing next to me. I tense for a moment, expecting an angry response or a reprimand, but instead, a warm hand gently envelopes mine. Startled, I glance up to see Fred standing next to me, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Sorry” I say moving my hair instinctively trying to get the man’s attention off my scar

Fred's smile widens, and he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, silently conveying that there is no need for me to apologize. The man's attention, however, seems focused solely on the scars on me and Harry, his eyes full with fascination and curiosity.

Mr. Weasley, noticing the man's focus, clears his throat and steps forward. "Excuse me, my friend," he says firmly but kindly.

"Could you please guide us to our tents?" There’s a hint of authority in his voice, a subtle reminder that we are not there to be gawked at, but rather to enjoy the Quidditch World Cup.

After gently but firmly reminding the man of our purpose, we continue our walk to the tents. We navigate through the bustling campsite, the scent of freshly cooked food fills the air. The once-empty plains are now filled with a diverse array of wizarding tents, each adorned with colorful flags and enchantments that set them all apart. As we approach our tents, a feeling of anticipation and excitement washes over me. The World Cup was about to begin, and I can't wait to witness the magic unfold.

Next chapter ————>

[karizard-ao3]

Halloween Chapter Deleted Scenes 2

More deleted scenes from the Bless This Mess Halloween chapter.

BEGIN!

Mikasa didn’t know what she had been thinking when she decided to walk over to Eren’s carrying pumpkins. She’d figured it was only a few blocks so it wouldn’t be too much trouble if she and Mason each carried their own, but Mason had barely made it past the far corner of their block before he began to complain that his arms were going to give out, stopping every few feet to set down his pumpkin, panting and groaning and putting on a show. Mikasa got sick of it after the fourth break, since her own arms were starting to get a bit tired, and took his pumpkin from him, carrying them both, along with the bag containing their costumes and her purse, and cursing her own hubris in thinking they could manage. Also, she couldn’t get to her phone to check the time, but she was pretty sure they were late now. She’d told Eren they’d come over at 2pm to carve jack o’lanterns and have a little Halloween party for the kids before taking them all out trick-or-treating, but with the way Mason was dragging his feet and how the pumpkins were bogging her down now, she was sure 2pm had already passed and Eren, who had always been aggressively punctual, was probably starting to get antsy. 

“Mason. Can you please hurry up?” she snapped, looking over her shoulder at her dilly-dallying son. 

“Isn’t a beautiful day?” he enthused, stopping to inspect a single, perfect blade of grass. Mikasa’s shoulders twinged and her biceps twanged. 

“You can enjoy it when we get there,” Mikasa said. “These pumpkins are heavy. I want to keep moving.”

“Okay, okay,” Mason sighed, standing back up and skipping forward to join her. “So, who else is going to be at the party?”

“Eren’s friend from back in the day and her wife and daughter,” said Mikasa. 

“Is her daughter my age?” Mason asked. 

“She’s even younger than Adri,” Mikasa said, debating whether to put the pumpkins down for a second but electing not to as that meant she would have to pick them back up. 

“Oh,” said Mason, pausing in front of a house with elaborate lawn decorations. “Look, it’s a cemetery,” he said. 

“I see,” said Mikasa. “We’ll probably trick-or-treat there later. I’ll bet it looks even better at night. Keep moving.”

Mason took a few steps forward. “Who’s giving out candy at our house?” he asked. 

“No one,” said Mikasa. “We’ll swing by there when the trick-or-treaters come out and put out a bowl, just like every year.”

“Okay,” said Mason, stopping again to look at a big, fake web spread across someone else’s yard. “Can I make my jack o’lantern a spider?”

“You can make it whatever you want. But we have to get there first,” said Mikasa, shifting the pumpkins around as if that would make them lighter. “Move.”

“Okay,” said Mason, proceeding forward at a crawl. 

“Mason!” said Mikasa, just as her phone began to buzz in her massive purse. She sighed. “Mason, get my phone out of my purse and tell me who’s calling. 

It took him longer than Mikasa felt it should have to finally retrieve her phone and show her the caller ID. As she had suspected, it was Eren. “Answer it,” she said.

Mason fumbled with the screen controls, then put the phone to his ear. “Hi, Eren!” he said.

“Put it on speaker,” said Mikasa. 

“Hold on a second,” said Mason, obeying. 

“Mason? Is your mom there?” Eren was asking, his voice coming out thin and mechanical. 

“Hi, Eren,” said Mikasa. 

“Hey, did something happen?” he said. “It’s 2:06 and you’re not here yet.”

Mikasa sighed. “Yeah, we’re just a little delayed. I thought we’d walk over carrying our pumpkins and that… It wasn’t a good idea. I should have turned around and got my car, but now we’re more than halfway, so…”

“You on Rose Street?” Eren asked. 

“Yes,” said Mikasa. 

“Okay,” said Eren, hanging up. 

Mikasa motioned with her chin for Mason to put her phone back in her purse and resumed the trek.

“Is Eren worried about us?” Mason asked. 

“He’s probably excited to carve pumpkins,” said Mikasa. “We’re making everyone wait.”

“Oh,” said Mason, speeding up a little bit. His hustle didn’t last long, and soon he was back to stopping every few feet to admire the neighborhood Halloween decorations. Mikasa’s back and shoulders and arms were creaking and screeching at her, protesting their ill use. 

“Mason! Keep moving!” she snapped as he mimicked the swaying motion of an inflatable lawn ghost. 

“Mom, do I look like the wind is moving me?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” said Mikasa with a huff, turning to continue her pilgrimage. Mason could just catch up to her. Maybe that would light a fire under his butt. She noticed that someone was coming towards them and grimaced. Great. She couldn’t let Mason trail behind if there was a chance this unknown jogger might snatch him up and take off with him. She turned around. "Mason, I'm going to make you carry your own pumpkin again if you don't pick up the pace," she said, her ears pricked for the footsteps behind her. 

"I don't want to hold my pumpkin. It's too heavy!" Mason protested. 

"Then walk faster," Mikasa said, nipping off each word at the end as if she were fashioning a verbal string of individual sausage links. 

"But I'm tired!" said Mason. "I'm actually exhausted!"

"I guess you're not up for walking around getting candy tonight then," said Mikasa. "I'll call Eren and let him know we have to go home."

"No, don't!" said Mason, grabbing her arm and almost dislodging the pumpkin inside of it. "Eren! I can still trick-or-treat!"

Mikasa frowned. "What are you-?"

"That's good to hear, buddy," said Eren, behind her. "I hope you're listening to your mom."

Mikasa swiveled around, her heart thudding. "Eren!"

"Hi," he said, giving her a quick hug and taking the pumpkins from her in one smooth move. “I ran over to help.”

She pressed her hand to her chest as if the pressure of her palm could quell the racket inside. “What about Historia? You can’t just leave your guests all alone!”

“My mom and Adri are home. They’re fine,” Eren said, leading the way back towards his house, taking long, purposeful strides. “Man, that was a nice bit of exercise. I should jog more.”

Mikasa grabbed Mason’s hand and chased after Eren. “Thank you,” she said, once she had reached his side. “I’ll take one of them.”

“Nope,” said Eren, twisting away.

“My feet hurt!” Mason complained. “You’re going too fast!”

Eren looked back at him, easing his pace. “I’m sorry, buddy. I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s okay,” said Mason. “Are you excited to carve pumpkins?”

“I am,” said Eren. “Are you?”

Mikasa bit her lips between her teeth, only half listening as Eren and Mason talked about the afternoon ahead. She hadn’t seen Eren and Historia together since high school and, illogically, the thought made her nervous. Even if Historia had a wife, even if she was a lesbian, if Eren still had feelings for her, what did it matter? There wouldn’t make any extra room in his heart for Mikasa. Not that she wanted a spot. But… she snuck a glance at him, wishing that she didn’t feel like the same shy teenager she had been so long ago, nursing her futile crush with no hope of it ever becoming more. How much longer could she blame this desperate ache that carved through her stomach every time she was near him on mere nostalgia? She pressed her free hand to her abdomen, willing herself to get a grip. She wasn’t lovesick for him. These feelings were mere echoes reverberating forward from the past as she faced the prospect of entering her younger self’s own version of hell: spending an evening watching Eren love someone else. She was past that now. She was a grown woman, married, divorced, and attempting to raise a child on her own. She didn’t have time to brood over someone who had never wanted her. She nipped the inside of her cheek, letting the sharp burst of pain center her back on the present, and asked, with carefully polite interest, “Are you and Historia having a nice visit?”

“Yeah, it’s been great!” said Eren. “She got here yesterday around… midmorning, I’d say. And, god. When I tell you she hasn’t changed at all. Like, I actually think she got Botox but she won't admit if I'm right. Look at her when you see her and tell me what you think. My mom thinks it's just good genes but I have my doubts. Also…"

Mikasa nodded along as Eren rambled on, giving her a crash course in everything Historia Sommersprossen nee. Reiss. By the time they arrived at Eren's house, Mikasa was confident that if she were to go to trivia with Armin and the other faculty one Thursday night, and if there were a category called “Eren Jaeger’s High School/ Current(?) Love Interest”, she would crush it. It actually felt kind of rude to know this much personal information about a person she was not friends with. 

Eren set the pumpkins on his front step and flung his door open. “We’re here!” he announced, barging inside and standing aside for Mason and Mikasa to enter.

***

Eren sat on the toilet while Historia took the floor beside the bathtub, her dinky body fitting neatly into the available space. In the tub, Adri was singing a mermaid song she had made up and Junior was trying to grab the threads of the pumpkin guts their parents had scrubbed off of them out of the water. She captured one and put it in her mouth. 

"Stop that," said Historia, holding out her hand beneath Junior's chin. "Don't eat things out of the bath. It's dirty." Junior spit her pumpkin into her mother's palm with a mutinous expression on her face. "Don't you want room in your tummy for chicken nuggets? Momma and Mikasa are making them right now."

"Ooooh! Num!" said Junior, any plots for rebellion she may have been crafting thwarted.

"Mizkaka makes chicken nuggets bad," said Adri, pausing in her song to talk some shit. "Dey're yucky, Jooner."

“Num num nuggets,” said Junior, unpersuaded. She lifted her arms up. “Mommy, I eat?”

“When they’re ready,” said Historia, pulling her phone out of her pocket and checking the time. “Let’s get you in your costume while we wait!”

“Yeah! My cockoom,” Junior agreed, nodding as Historia lifted her out of the water. 

“I want to put mine on, too, Daddy!” said Adri. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to play in the bath a little longer?” Eren asked. He was postponing having to leave the safety of the bathroom because he was now positive Mikasa was avoiding him. She’d come out of the house with his mom, holding a mug of something, and spent the rest of the jack o’lantern carving period sitting with her back to him, sipping her drink and chatting with Ymir and Isabella. He had tried dragging her into a conversation by posing Halloween themed questions to the group but she slipped in and out of the discussion without ever once meeting his eye or smiling at him. He wanted to die. 

Adri held out her wrinkled fingers. “I’s a raisin. Baff time is over.”

Eren grimaced, holding out a towel for Adri. He knew exactly who she had picked that up from. He could recall his own childhood bath time being cut short before he wanted it to end as Carla reached beneath the water to pull out the drain stopper, curbing his protests with a curt, “You are a raisin, bucko. Bath time is over!” She had done it to him again, by proxy. 

Historia was busy drying Junior off. "Do you need to sit on the potty, sweetpea?"

Junior shook her head. 

"When's the last time you went?" Historia asked, directing the question at herself more than anyone. “You went potty after lunch, and then…”

"Ummmmm…" said Junior with a thoughtful frown, then pointed at the bathtub. 

Eren and Historia looked at each other, drooping. 

"I'll get fresh towels," said Historia.

"I'll put the girls under the shower," said Eren. 

He was soaping them up when Historia came back in. "Mikasa and Ymir made dinner so cute," she said. “Mikasa’s even drawing little monster faces on the chicken nuggets with a toothpick dipped in ketchup.”

“She is?” asked Eren, his lower lip jutting out in a despondent pout. “They must look great.”

“They do. I’m going to post a photo of them on Instagram and take credit for them,” Historia said. 

“You’d better not!” said Eren. “Plagiarist!”

“Mikasa said she didn’t care,” said Historia, turning off the water and throwing Adri’s fresh towel at Eren. 

"Fine, whatever,” Eren grumbled, wrapping the towel around his daughter, his stomach twisting. Once again, he had no idea what he’d done wrong, and he was terrified that Mikasa was going to go home tonight and never come back again. She’d mentioned her parents were living in Florida now, taking care of her ailing, elderly grandmother. What if she left everything but Mason behind to go live with them there, in the muggy heat of the Florida swamplands, alongside approximately one fifth of the nation’s senior citizens? But what had he done to drive her away? Was he hugging her too much? He knew she wasn’t a very touchy-feely person, but he hadn’t thought she minded. He could stop. It would be hard, because he lived for the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest when he embraced her, and the clean, soapy scent of her skin, and the yielding firmness of her upper arm beneath his hand when he gave her a side-hug, and the thrilling question of what it might feel like if he were to let his fingers wander down past her stomach to her thighs and… He cleared his throat, dragging his thoughts back on track. Mikasa didn’t care if Historia stole her credit, and she didn’t care about him. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Historia asked, eyeing his flushed cheeks and furrowed brow. 

“I think Mikasa is mad at me,” Eren muttered, trying to throw his voice in such a way that Historia would hear him but Adri would not. 

“Why do you think that?” Historia asked, patting Junior dry.

Eren leaned towards her to answer, but- "Mizkaka is a bad woman," Adri announced before he could say anything, shaking her finger with a severe frown.

"Why?" said Junior, with very little interest. 

"Betause she tinks she's da boss of me and dat's not okay," said Adri. "And she's a feef. She takeded away my tings. And she talls me Aderana Banana, and dat's not my name. And…" She dropped her voice low. "She tilled someone."

"What? No she didn't!" said Eren. 

"Who did she kill, sweetie?" asked Historia. 

"She tilled da mailman," said Adri. Historia gasped. "She tut off his head!" Adri embellished, hoping for a similar reaction, which she received. 

"Why?" said Junior.

"Betause she's so bad," said Adri.

"She didn't kill anyone!" said Eren.

"That's not what Adri says," said Historia. 

"Do not encourage her," said Eren. 

“Fine,” said Historia, kissing Junior on her rosy, fat cheek and holding her in her lap, all bundled up in her towel like a baby. Eren prepared to work on Adri’s hair, trying to center himself in the moment rather than panicking over Mikasa’s imminent disappearance from his life. 

“Jesus, how many products does one child need?” Historia asked, eyeing the contingent of bottles on the side of the sink. 

Eren grabbed the first and began massaging leave-in conditioner through Adri’s dark ringlets. “She has curly hair,” he said. “I can’t just comb through it and call it a day.” He squirted argan oil into his palm and began to work that through her hair as well. 

Historia whistled and grabbed the comb, running it through Junior’s mousy wisps. Junior screeched and fussed, fighting to get away. “Sit still, honey!” Historia ordered. “You’re getting your snarls caught and yanking your own hair!” 

“Nooooooooooo!” Junior screamed, jerking her head around and indeed creating the circumstances of her own agony. 

“Oh my god,” Historia groaned. Eren reached over and spritzed the product he was now holding onto Junior’s hair.

“Huh?” said Junior and Historia in unison. 

“Detangling spray,” he said, spraying it liberally onto Adri’s hair now. “It helps.”

“Why?” said Junior. 

“It makes the knots in your hair go away, sweetie,” said Eren. “Then it won’t hurt when your mommy combs it. The only rule is, you have to sit very, very still or it won’t work!”

“Ohhhhhh!” said Junior. 

“Can you sit very, very still?” asked Eren.

Junior nodded, clasping her small hands on her lap. Historia shot him a suspicious glance and ran the comb through her daughter’s hair. It slid through the tangles like a hot knife through butter. Historia’s mouth fell open. “What the heck? Why did I not know this existed?” she demanded, rushing to finish Junior’s hair before she started squirming again.

Eren shrugged. 

“No, I’m serious. This child has two attractive, well-groomed moms. How are you the one introducing me to this?”

“Hey! I groom myself! Comb,” he said, holding out his hand. 

Historia relinquished it and Eren began to ease it through the ends of Adri’s hair, working his way up towards her scalp. Adri was keeping herself entertained by muttering a laundry list of Mikasa’s crimes under her breath and patting her thighs.

“She really doesn’t like her,” Historia marveled. 

“Told you,” said Eren. “Her, Mom, and Lara.”

Historia gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"Daddy. Tan I eat my tandy when we tum home?" Adri asked. 

"You can have one piece, maybe two. And we'll save the rest," said Eren, scrunching Adri’s curls in his hands and studying them with a critical eye. “Do you know what kind you want?”

"I is going to eat Twits," Adri announced. "I is going to get more Twits dan Mason and he’s going to try like, ‘boo hoo, boo hoo’. But I won’t give him any betause dey’re mine.”

"Is Twix your favorite candy?" Historia asked. 

"Uh huh," said Adri. “It’s sooooo yummy.”

“What about you, Junior?” Eren asked. “Do you have a favorite candy?”

“Um. Yes,” said Junior. 

“What is it?” asked Eren. 

Junior stared at him for a moment. “Um.” She looked at her mother. 

“What candy do you like to eat the most, sweetpea?” Historia prompted with a gentle smile. 

Junior put her finger in her mouth. “Brown triangle,” she said. 

“She likes Hershey’s kisses,” said Historia. 

“I see,” Eren chuckled. “I hope you get some tonight, kiddo.” He put aside the comb and slapped his knees. “Alright, peanut. Time to get you in your pjs.”

Adri stiffened. “I want to wear my tostume!” she protested. 

“You’re going to wear it on top,” Eren reminded her. “Your pajamas go underneath so you are ready for bed as soon as we get home, so let’s put them on.”

“No!” said Adri. “I don’t wanna wear my peejees! I wanna wear my tostume!” She began to cry. “I wanna go tricky-treating in my tostume, Daddy!”

“You will be wearing your costume,” said Eren. 

“NO! I want to wear my tostume!” Adri wailed.

“You can!” Eren shouted, trying to make himself heard over her hopeless sobbing. He caught Historia watching the scene with a faint air of superiority. “Just you wait,” he snapped. “You’ve got one year, and then you’ll be dealing with a whacked out threenager, too.”

"It's the twos that are terrible," Historia corrected. "And Junior is still pretty docile. That's because we practice gentle parenting."

"HA!" Eren bellowed, shocking everyone in the bathroom with the sudden, resounding guffaw. Junior covered her ears and even Adri stopped shrieking. Eren winced and softened his voice for the sake of the children. “You are in for such a rude awakening, it’s not even funny,” he hissed. “Come on, peanut. Let’s get dressed.”

“In my tostume?” asked Adri. 

“Of course. Once you put on your pajamas,” said Eren. 

Adri screamed in anguish. 

“Oh my god!” Eren groaned. 

The doorknob turned and Mikasa poked her head in, concern written all over her face. "Is everyone okay in here?" she asked, looking at the girls and Historia but not Eren. 

"Hi, Mikasa," he said. “Everything’s fine here. Did I mention yet that you look lovely today?”

“She’s ugly!” Adri screeched. 

Ignoring the unflattering outburst, Mikasa’s eyes darted to Eren’s, her lips curling into a frown as her cheeks flushed a soft, bubblegum pink. “Ummm… You didn't. Thank you,” she mumbled.

Emboldened that she was at least not giving him the silent treatment, Eren made another attempt at conversation. “Isabella seems to have-”

"Shut up, Eren. Mikasa, who's worse? Two-year-olds or three-year-olds?" Historia demanded. 

Bitch! 

"I told you! It's three-year-olds!" Eren snapped, irritated that Historia was cock-blocking his attempt at reconciliation. 

Historia dismissed his claim with a challenging scowl. "I asked Mikasa, not you," she growled. "Mikasa? Your kid is older. What's your opinion?"

"Well…" said Mikasa, reluctant to get involved but feeling compelled to once they both turned their jewel-bright stares on her. Jesus, they both had beautiful eyes. She averted hers. “I don’t know,” she said, then backed out of the doorway without resolving their conflict, pulling the door shut behind her.  

Eren deflated. “She hates me,” he groaned. 

“Because she didn’t side with you? That’s a weird takeaway,” said Historia. “Kind of childish. I’ve got second-hand embarrassment now, actually.”

“No!” said Eren. “Not because of that! Because she’s acting all distant and weird toward me!”

“Well, what did you do to her?” Historia asked.

“I don’t know!” Eren said, his voice listing towards a whine. 

Historia sighed, picking up Junior. “I’ll do a little digging,” she said. 

That’s just what Eren had been hoping for. “Okay,” he said. “But be cool about it, you know?”

“I’m always cool,” said Historia.

***

“So, Eren sucks balls, huh?” Historia whispered to Mikasa as the two of them spread out a blanket on the living room floor so the kids could eat while they watched Paranorman. Muted by the bedroom door, Adri was still wailing about having to put on her pajamas, her caterwauling counterbalanced by the low rumble of Eren’s pleas for her to calm down.

“Huh?” said Mikasa.

“You know,” said Historia. “Like, he’s the worst, right? I’ll bet he pisses you off all the time. What’s something shitty he’s done recently? Today for instance. You can tell me. I can keep a secret.”

Mikasa frowned, spreading her palms over the blanket to smooth out the wrinkles. “I have no complaints about Eren,” she said. 

“No?” said Historia. 

“No,” said Mikasa. 

“So… You think he’s perfect the way he is?”

Mikasa pinkened. “I’m just saying I don’t think he’s the worst,” she said. 

“Hmmmm,” said Historia. 

Adri let loose another blood curdling scream. 

Mikasa got up to fetch the kids’ plates, perplexed by Historia’s unexpected vitriol towards Eren, racking her brain for what could be at the root of it. “Is this about the two-year-old versus three-year-old debate?” she guessed. “Are you upset because I wouldn’t settle it for you?” She pressed her knuckle to her lip, concerned that she had inadvertently broken up their friendship but, at the same time, not all that torn up about it. 

“Oh, no, no. Not at all,” Historia said. “We agreed to postpone it until next year when Junior is three.”

“I see,” said Mikasa, loading her arms and hands with plates and gliding back to the blanket with them. Her old waitressing skills were still intact. She began distributing the plates. “I hope the big kids and Carla get back soon,” she said. Isabella, faced with the choice of staying with Gigi to hand out candy or trick-or-treating with her new, age-inappropriate [love interest] to help wrangle the younger kids, had elected to go trick-or-treating. 

“You’ll need a costume,” Carla had said. 

“I’m just going to wear what I have on,” Isabella had said with an adolescent shrug, which was somehow ten times more dismissive than any of the adults could manage.   

Carla eyed her. “You know what? Since you’re in trouble I’m making a costume mandatory either way,” she decided. 

“What? Are you trying to embarrass me?” Isabella screeched. “I’m too old to dress up for trick-or-treating!”

“Hardly. Your Uncle Eren got dressed up and knocked on doors with his friend Armin until he was fifteen. Think of this as a reminder that you’re still a kid and shouldn’t be making dates with grown men,” said Carla. 

Isabella gaped at her, wordless whimpers of protest bursting from her like bullets until she managed to find some kind of comeback. “I don’t even have a costume!” she said. 

“We’ll go buy one,” said Carla. 

“But it’s Halloween! All the good costumes are going to be taken!”

“Wow, that’s too bad,” said Carla. “I guess we’ll just have to hope we’re lucky enough to find one that fits.”

Isabella, in a touching homage to her temperamental little cousin, shrieked.

“Can I come to the store, too?” asked Mason. 

“Sure, sweetie,” said Carla. “If it’s okay with your mom.”

And so, with Mikasa’s permission procured, they had all departed to find Isabella something to wear while Ymir and Mikasa worked on dinner and Eren and Historia cleaned the pumpkin goo off the little ones. The idea was that they would all finish up their tasks right around the same time. Now dinner was done and the little girls were bathed and being put into their costumes. All they needed were the final three members of their party. 

Junior and Ymir emerged from Eren’s room. Ymir hadn’t changed into her outfit yet, but Junior was fuzzy and adorable in a hooded bunny suit, complete with a vest and an oversized pocket watch. Her bright pink pajama sleeves poked out from the cuffs of her bunny suit.

“You look so cute!” said Mikasa, sandwiching her cheeks between her hands while Historia squealed. 

“My bunny,” Junior explained, touching her miniature hand to her chest and doing a little hop that never quite left the ground. 

“Can I give the little bunny a pat?” asked Mikasa, sitting cross-legged on the blanket and holding out her hand. 

Junior nodded and trotted over, plopping down in Mikasa’s lap and relaxing against her chest.

“Oh!” said Mikasa, delighted, stroking the soft, false fur of Junior’s costume. Junior stuck her small, dimpled fingers into her mouth and began to suck them, running her other hand up and down Mikasa’s arm as she settled in. 

“Mommy? My fuckie?” she asked.

“She’s taken a shine to you, Mikasa,” said Historia, handing over the stuffed frog. 

Mikasa beamed, holding Junior in a loose embrace. “This is nice,” she said. 

“Hey! What you’re doing?” Adri demanded, having burst through her door in her peanut costume to show it off and immediately spotted Junior the Interloper getting cozy with Miss Caca. 

“Huh?” said Junior without much interest. 

“Move, diaper baby!” commanded Adri, storming over and punching Junior. Junior screamed with rage. “I said move!” Adri shouted over her protests, trying to pull her out of Mikasa’s lap. 

“No!” Junior yelled. “No! No! No!”

Adri crashed into Mikasa’s lap next to her, trying to crowd Junior out. “You tan’t sit here!” said Adri. 

“There’s- there’s room for both of you,” said Mikasa, surprised that Adriana was acting so territorial. 

Junior began slapping at Adri, punctuating each strike with an enraged shriek. Adri retaliated, grabbing one of Junior’s soft little arms and opening her mouth with the intention of tearing a chunk out of it. 

Eren and Historia dove towards their respective children, picking them up and separating them from each other. Junior began to sob, reaching for Mikasa, while Adri thrashed around. “Put me down!” she ordered. “I is going to sit dere!”

“Wow, Miss Popular,” Ymir commented. 

Mikasa shook her head, baffled, waiting while Eren and Historia eased their unreasonable daughters into a truce. Then, watched by their parents as closely as if they were feral dogs, Junior settled down on one of Mikasa’s knees while Adri took the other. Eren sat down on the edge of the couch nearby, stunned to see Adri go willingly into Mikasa’s lap. 

“I think you’ll both have to get off me when it’s time to eat,” Mikasa warned, rubbing each small shoulder and remembering when Mason was that little; the way he ran like a frolicsome baby goat, his faint lisp and dropped R’s, his little hands cupping her cheeks when he said, “I love you, mommy.” Of course, he had been cruel, too, and stubborn and insane, just like the girls, but those days were past and he was testing her patience in new ways now. She could spare a little nostalgia for the bad parts, too, because he would never be that little again. Her heart ached and she wished he were here now. He had gone from a baby to a third grader in a heartbeat, and it would be only another heartbeat more before he was grown and gone, and she would spend her days missing him as he started his own life as the man she had raised. 

As if in answer to her silent plea, the front door opened and Mason, Carla, and Isabella trooped in with their shopping. 

“Look, Mom! Adri's Gigi got me a fancy cup!” said Mason, swinging the plastic bag as he ran over to her and spotted the pile of small girls on top of her. His cheeks puffed out as he considered them, then forced his way in between them, sinking into the open space created by Mikasa’s crossed legs. Mikasa’s joints began to creak beneath the weight of so many youngsters, but she had no desire to complain. She was on top of the world.

“Hey!” said Adri, elbowing Mason away from her and trying to regain her claim on Mikasa’s entire left thigh.

“I want to snuggle my mom, too,” Mason said, refusing to budge. He dug into his bag and pulled out a skeletal goblet. “Look at this!”

“Tan I hold it?” Adri asked, trying to snatch it out of his hands. He held it away from her. 

“No, this is for big kids only,” said Mason.

“I’s big!” said Adri. 

“You have to be eight years old, like me,” Mason said. “I’ll let you borrow it then.”

“Oh, otay,” said Adri, nodding. 

Isabella came over and kneeled in front of Mikasa. “Want to see the travesty of a costume my step-grandmother forced me to get?” she asked, unloading her bag before Mikasa had a chance to answer, revealing a green, men’s full-size body suit and a headband with deely-bopper antennae bobbing from the top. 

“You’re going to be an alien?” Mikasa hazarded to guess.

“I’m going to be hideous!” Isabella corrected. “This dumb thing isn’t even going to be skintight!”

While Mikasa tried to soothe Isabella, Junior rolled off of Mikasa’s leg and went to sit with her nearest mother instead. It was getting too loud and crowded for her blood. Adri got up to follow her, but Eren snagged her before she could initiate a repeat performance of the battle for Mikasa. Eren had a feeling Junior would be a lot less willing to tolerate sharing one of her mothers. “Daddy!” Adri fussed. 

“It’s my turn!” he said, squeezing her tight and kissing her cheek, peeking past her at Mikasa. She was hugging Mason while he sat on her lap, resting her chin on his shoulder while she talked to Isabella. He sighed, nuzzling Adri. He just wanted to know why she seemed to be mad at him. 

“Mommy? Me nuggets?”  Junior asked, pointing at one of the plates set out on the blankets. “I eat?”

“Should we put on the movie?” Historia asked. 

“Yeah!” said Mason. “And we can go trick-or-treating after, right?” 

“Ugh,” said Isabella, stuffing her costume back in the bag. 

Eren got up and put Paranorman on while Ymir handed out juice pouches and matched each kid up to a plate of monster chicken nuggets, toxic-green mashed potatoes, and toothy mouths made of apple slices, peanut butter, and miniature marshmallows. Mikasa got Mason off of her lap and went to sit on the couch. 

Eren picked his way around the minefield of women and girls on the blanket to take a seat,  waffling between sitting next to Mikasa (in a casual way) and sitting next to Adri to keep her in line. The duties of fatherhood won out, and he took his spot next to his daughter. “What are the adults eating?” he asked, swiping some of her mashed potatoes with his finger.  

Isabella looked up from her plate. “Oh! Are we eating something different?” she asked. 

“You’re not,” said Eren. “You dingus. What did you think was going to happen when college boys showed up on your doorstep and found a couple of thirteen-year-olds?”

Isabella scowled at him. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” said Eren, his eyes darkening. “Me, either. But I can tell you that, worst case, your dad and I would be finding them both and kicking their asses. Or worse. You’re so freaking dumb, Iz. Find someone your own age.” 

“I don’t have to listen to you,” said Isabella. “I’m practically an adult.”

“Shhhhh! Da movie!” said Adri, stuffing a chicken nugget in her mouth. “Stop talking.”

“Why don’t we finish this conversation over text?” Eren whispered. Isabella shot him a dirty look and Eren grinned. “Oh, wait. That’s right. You’re grounded from your phone, because you’re still a kid with no common sense.”

“Why are you being so mean to me, Uncle Eren?” Isabella whined. 

“Because I love you and you’re dumb,” said Eren. 

Isabella got up and flounced over to sit on the couch next to Mikasa. “Did you hear what he said to me?” she griped. 

“I did,” said Mikasa with just the barest trace of amusement.

Eren repositioned himself slightly so he could better see them from the corner of his eye. 

“No one wants to treat me like an adult,” Isabella complained. “It’s so stupid! I’m not a child! I’m mature!”

Mikasa nodded, impassive. “You know,” she said, in a soft voice. “There’s nothing wrong with being a kid, though. You have your whole life to be grown up, but such a short time to be young. There’s no rush.”

“Being thirteen is the worst,” said Isabella. “No one takes you seriously, you can’t move out, and everyone is always in your business.”

“I miss it,” said Mikasa with a wistful sigh, letting the movie drown her out so that only Isabella (and Eren, who had since laid down on his side, serving the dual purpose of forming a wall behind Adri with his body that she could lean against and getting his ears closer to the conversation on the couch) could hear her. “I miss goofing around with my friends after school and having my parents and my brother with me in the same house. I miss believing my life was going to be spectacular. Kids don’t know it, but adulthood is so disappointing and so lonely. I promise, Isabella. You won’t regret slowing down on your way there. You know what they say.” She pinched the girl’s arm with a gentle smile. “Stop and smell the roses.” 

Isabelle slouched down on the couch, hugging her arms around her chest, her lips twisted into a sullen but thoughtful frown. “Maybe,” she muttered. 

They lapsed into silence and Eren returned his attention to the movie, snacking off Adri’s plate. 

“Wait, so what are the adults eating?” he asked. 

Historia twisted around. “This is your house. Every single one of us is your guest. Shouldn’t you be the one making the decision and handling it?” 

Eren blushed. “I’ll see what we have,” he said, pushing himself off the floor. He and Lara had traded off cooking when he was married, but now that he was back home, he’d already grown accustomed to his mom taking care of all his meals. He snuck a peek at Mikasa on his way past, to gauge whether she was judging him for his blunder, but she just turned her head when he went by so she wouldn't have to look at him. His stomach churned, and eating didn't sound so good anymore. 

Carla was already in the kitchen, eating an apple and flipping through a magazine. 

"You didn't want to watch the movie?" Eren asked.

Carla shook her head. "I'm going to watch something later while you're all out trick-or-treating."

Eren nodded and began looking through the fridge and cupboards, debating what to make. 

"What are you doing?" Carla asked. 

"The adults need dinner," said Eren. "I'm the host, so…"

"I was going to make a build-your-own sandwich platter," said Carla, going to the fridge and getting out the cold cuts. "Here. I've got ham, turkey, and roast beef." She reached into the fridge. "Some different kinds of cheese… I just have to cut up the tomatoes and whatnot."

"I can do it," Eren said, relieved and ashamed that his mother had already considered this for him. 

"No, I've got it, sweetie," she said, getting down the serving platter. 

"No, really Mom. I should be doing more around here," Eren said, crowding her away and tearing open the first bag of cold cuts.

Carla tutted as he arranged the meat on the platter. "No, Eren. Don't do it like that. I had a specific way I wanted it to look."

Eren frowned. "It's okay, Mom. We're just going to eat it."

She shook her head, tapping his arm with an authoritative frown. "No. If you want to help, go cut tomatoes or something."

Eren scoffed, but he did as she said, letting her take his place at the counter and going to get the tomatoes out of the crisper. He was rinsing them off and thinking about Mikasa's conversation with Isabella when his phone began to buzz. 

He checked it. Lara. He sighed. Of course she was calling now, while they had guests and the kids were in the middle of a movie. It was like she had a sixth sense for being inconvenient, but, if he didn’t answer, he knew from past experience that she would start throwing around terms like “parental alienation” and threaten to get her wealthy family’s team of very expensive lawyers involved in a custody dispute. "I'll be right back. Don't touch the tomatoes," he said to Carla, then answered the video call as he made his way back to the living room.

"One second," he said. "She's watching a movie with some other kids."

"Okay," said Lara. Eren had expected that to be it, but then she added, "How have you been?"

Eren blinked. "I've been good," he said. "I'm getting settled in with work. Got my website up and I'm searchable online, so I've been getting plenty of jobs."

"Good, good," said Lara.

"Um, how have you been?" Eren asked. 

"I've been well," said Lara. "I'm going to a big work conference soon."

"Fun," said Eren. 

"It will be a good networking opportunity," said Lara.

They lapsed into an awkward silence that only lasted another moment as Eren arrived in the living room. There was a certain melancholy to how stunted their interactions had become, as if all that remained of their marriage were the fights, as if they had never spent quiet evenings together enjoying each other's company. He may not have loved Lara the way he had hoped to, but he had still loved her. He had still dedicated seven years of his life to her. Maybe this stilted exchange was the beginning of them becoming a divorced couple like Mikasa and Eduardo, who got along and did things together as a family for the sake of their child. Perhaps they could begin to care about each other as friends. “Hey, Adri. Mommy’s on the phone,” Eren said, handing it over. 

Adri took it. “Daddy, pause my movie,” she said. 

“Take the phone in your room,” said Eren. “Our friends are watching it, too, and they don’t want to stop.”

Adri pouted, looking between her mother and the film, weighing her priorities. 

“Go ahead and pause it, Eren,” said Historia. In the phone’s screen, unnoticed, Lara flinched at the sound of an unfamiliar woman’s voice. “We’ll wait for you, princess. Talk to your mommy.”

Eren paused the DVD and Adri beamed into the phone screen. “Hi, Mommy!”

“Hi, Adriana. Daddy said you have friends over?” said Lara. Her new discomfort oozed through the phone speakers. 

“Yeah!” said Adri. “We’s having a party!”

“How fun!” said Lara, although there was a strained quality to how she said it, as though she were walking through a haunted house, anticipating a jump scare. “Is it with friends from school?”

“No,” said Adri. “I don’t go to school again yet. Dey’re too busy.”

“I have her waitlisted at a few places,” said Eren. “My mom’s watching her for now.”

Lara nodded. Her lips were thin and her nostrils flared, the way they did when she was trying to hide that she was feeling nervous or insecure. Eren was startled by the old, reflexive impulse to reassure her. He bit his tongue. “I won’t talk long,” she said, turning her attention back to Adri. “I just wanted to wish you a happy Halloween, Adriana.”

“Fank you,” said Adri. “Want to see Mason? Dat’s Mizkaka’s boy I told you about. Look!”

Mason crawled over to look in the phone. “Hi!” he said. 

“An’ Isabella and Jooner are here,” said Adri. 

“Hi, Aunt Lara,” Isabella called. 

“Hello,” Lara replied. 

“Junior says a really bad word,” said Mason. “It starts with F. Do you want me to spell it?”

“No, that’s not necessary,” said Lara. 

“She’s trying to say froggie when she says it,” said Mason. “So my mom says it’s okay.”

Lara forced a cheerful smile, but her nostrils were as dilated as her nasal anatomy would allow. “I think your mom is right, Mason,” Lara said, stumbling on the words in her failing effort to appear cool and unbothered. A surge of unexpected sympathy flooded Eren, the tides of it briny with guilt despite the fact that he could have spared her this attack on her self-esteem if she had a better attitude about him ignoring the occasional phone call.

“I tan say froggie better than Jooner,” Adri bragged, oblivious to adult concerns. "Listen! Froggie!"

"Wow," said Lara. "You're so smart, Adriana."

Summoned by all the talk about her, Junior crawled out of Historia's lap and wandered over, clutching her toy. She squeezed in between Adri and Mason to peer at the phone screen. "This me fuckie," she said, holding up the frog, then hugged it to her chest and stuck her fingers in her mouth. 

"How nice," said Lara. 

“Mommy! I’s a peanut for my tostume! Look at me!” said Adri, getting up and laying the phone down on the couch to twirl around. Without saying a word, Mikasa reached over Isabella and picked it up, angling it so that Lara would be able to see her daughter through the camera. Lara also had a front row seat when Adri stopped twirling and noticed Mikasa was holding the phone now. “Dat’s not yours!” she shouted as Mikasa extended her arm to return it to her. “Bad girl! I is talking to my mommy on dat, Miss Caca!”

“I know, Adriana Banana,” Mikasa said in a hushed tone. Adri’s enraged grimace twisted further as an irate giggle slipped through her fortifications. On the phone screen, Lara’s lips had thinned to almost nothing, and her eyes were like saucers. She had never heard Mikasa’s voice before.

“Den you shouldn’t steal it!” Adri reprimanded. 

“I didn’t. I was just helping you. See? There’s a camera, right here-” Mikasa pointed at the spot - “and your mommy can’t see your beautiful costume if the camera isn’t looking at you. I was just helping it to see.”

“Huh?” said Adri, coming closer. 

“Look,” said Mikasa, craning around to see the phone screen without entering the camera’s field of vision. She wanted to avoid Lara as much as Lara wanted to avoid her. Mikasa pointed at the window on the screen that now contained Adri’s face. “See right here? That’s what the camera sees. But if I move the phone…” She angled it away. “Now your mommy sees your daddy!”

Adri squinted at her parents in the phone screen, then scrambled over to stand in front of Eren, beaming at the sight of all three of them together. 

“Would you like to hold the phone again?” Mikasa asked, stretching to hand it to her. 

“Fanks,” said Adri, taking it in both hands and leaning in to study the camera’s small eye, consequently filling the selfie window on the screen with a large, blurry shot of her own thick-lashed one. “Dat’s da camera,” she said, tapping it. 

“Mmhmm,” said Eren.

“It’s looking at me!” said Adri. 

“Yup. That’s how Mommy sees you when she calls,” said Eren, realizing that he probably should have tried to explain this to her long ago. 

“Oh!” said Adri, leaning back. “Hi, Mommy!”

“Hello, Adriana,” said Lara. “I love your costume. Did you pick it out?”

“Yes!” said Adri, patting one hand against her shell. “Daddy says I’s tute, but Hissy says my tostume is stary betause peanuts do a… a… Um, dey do a fantastic shock to people dat’s allergic.”

“Anaphylactic shock,” Historia corrected with a fond chuckle. 

Adri turned around so that Historia was on the screen behind her. “Dere’s Hissy!” she said. “Dat’s Jooner’s ovver mom.”

“I’ve met Historia,” said Lara with a tight smile. “When your dad and I started dating.”

“Hello, Lara,” Historia said, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a condescending sniff.

“Mmm,” Lara hummed, dismissively. “Well, Adriana. I’m going to let you get back to your movie. Can you give the phone back to Daddy? I’ll schedule our next call.” 

Eren took the phone and turned the movie back on, moving into Adri’s room to finish out the conversation. On the screen, Lara was struggling to maintain her composure. Eren sat on the edge of Adri’s bed and grabbed one of her stuffies - a skunk- and squeezed it in his hand while Lara gathered herself. “Are you okay?” he ventured after what felt like ten minutes but was probably closer to thirty seconds. 

“Yeah,” said Lara in the tone of voice that meant, No.

“I can see that you’re not,” said Eren. 

Lara rolled her eyes. “I know it’s going to sound stupid if I tell you, Eren.”

“So?” he said. 

She sighed.

“You’re jealous,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of fact. 

Lara made a non-committal sound from the back of her nose. “You don’t find it a little suspect that you spent our entire marriage saying you weren’t interested in that little goth bitch who tutored you, only to turn around and throw yourself at her as soon as we split up?” she asked. “How am I supposed to take that, Eren?” 

Eren bristled but made the choice not to take the bait. “I’ve seen on Facebook that you’re dating,” he said, keeping his voice carefully even. 

“...Casually,” Lara conceded. 

“So… it seems like you’re moving on, so… I’m not sure why…” He gave the skunk another squeeze. He was going to stay calm. They were going to communicate. “I guess I just… I don’t know why you care what I do or who I spend time with. You left me.”

“I know,” said Lara, smoothing her hair back from her forehead, her lips pulled tight and thin into a defensive line.

“I offered to go to marriage counseling,” said Eren. “I tried to make it work. Nothing I did was good enough for you.”

“Don’t blame this on me!” Lara said. 

“You’re the one who asked for the divorce!”

“You didn’t waste any time signing the papers!” Lara glared at him, the old, familiar complaints piling up behind her eyes. He didn’t love her. He didn’t listen to her. He didn’t care about her feelings. He wished she were someone else. He would be happier without her. Heaps of unfair accusations teetered at the brink of collapse, ready to topple and bury him. And how was he supposed to defend himself? He had spent the past year finding himself again, and his travels had brought him back to the very people she had been threatened by. She would never see him as anything but the liar she had always believed he was, no matter how pure his intentions had been. His hackles raised. 

“You know what, Lara?” said Eren. “I had to put up with seven years of this shit. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“What ‘shit’ exactly are you talking about?” Lara challenged. 

“This shit,” Eren said, gesturing with the skunk to encompass the entirety of their relationship, both as a couple and not. “You’re suspicious. You’re jealous. You treat me like I’m your enemy. We’re not even together! Jesus. I thought I was finally free from this shit when you showed up with the divorce papers.”

Lara’s death glare would have cracked the phone screen if it had any physical weight behind it. She exhaled sharply. “I’ll call again next Sunday at 4pm. Please don’t have anyone over.”

“Fine,” said Eren. 

Lara ended the call and Eren threw the stuffed skunk to the ground with an infuriated growl. He was so fucking sick of always being made to feel like the villain. He dug his elbows into his knees and rested his forehead against his clenched fists, seething. Talking to Lara was like throwing himself against a brick wall, again and again, until his entire body was too battered and bruised to continue. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch the wall. He wanted to cry. He wanted to go out into the living room and collapse onto the couch next to Mikasa, and rest his cheek against her shoulder, and squeeze her until he felt all right again, but, of course, he couldn’t. She didn’t even want to talk to him, and he didn’t know why. He dug his knuckles into the corners of his eyes, sucking in one deep breath, then another, letting the influx of new air crowd out some of the agitation writhing through his guts. Then, once he had regained a modicum of his equilibrium, he picked up the little skunk, brushing it off and patting it on the head. “Sorry, little guy,” he muttered, looking into its sightless, plastic eyes and feeling foolish. He put the plushie back in its place on Adri’s bed and stood up. Time to act like everything was okay. He still had tomatoes to cut.

***

Mikasa watched Eren from the corner of her eye while the movie raced towards its conclusion. He was writing out a text. As soon as he hit send and set his phone face down on his knee, Historia’s phone would light up and she would commence her own text. Sometimes, they would shoot each other meaningful looks. Mikasa refused to spend any more time thinking about why the knot in her stomach pulled tighter with every text message they exchanged, but she couldn’t make the hot, pinching sting of jealousy bound up inside it go away. Her sandwich sat on its plate at her feet, barely touched. The slice of bread that made up the top had an air bubble in it, and the sandwich fixings beneath peered out at her through the hole as if through a judgmental, mustard-rimmed eye. 31-year-old moms don’t lose their appetite over cute boys, the turkey, tomato, lettuce, and cheese chorused inside her mind. Mikasa picked up the sandwich and took a bite, just to prove a point, but it was as flavorless on her tongue as the quinoa salad Armin had brought to the Halloween potluck luncheon the Art Department faculty had hosted on Thursday. Mikasa had been obligated to try some of it when he had come to stand next to her while she dished up her plate and said, “I made this same quinoa salad for Annie’s lunches this week. It’s low sodium! You’ll love it!” She’d had to admit it looked promising, but it tasted like shit. Just like this sandwich. She set it back down and curled up again. Unlike the quinoa salad, it wasn’t the sandwich’s fault she couldn’t enjoy it.

Eren had looked haggard and dejected when he emerged from Adri’s room after talking to his ex-wife, and even more run down when he came out of the kitchen about ten minutes later holding a bag of sliced bread and a platter of sandwich meat, cheese, condiments, and produce. Mikasa had tried to catch his eye, pulling herself out of the mud puddle she was wallowing in to offer her support if he needed it, but he didn’t look her way once, just called everyone’s attention to the food and took his seat next to Adri, where he started texting the friend he actually wanted to talk to. Mikasa wondered if this was the end of her own nightly text conversations with him. Had she simply been a placeholder?

Well, if that was the case, what else should she have expected? Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so candid with Isabella, but it was true that adulthood had proven to be nothing but disappointing and lonely for her. She didn’t know what was wrong with her that made it so hard for her to get close to people, or why they never wanted to stay, but that was life as she knew it. Maybe it was karmic retribution for how she had ended her friendship with Eren without giving him a chance to explain himself. Maybe she was just a broken person. She had never really fit in, always lurking at the edges of social situations, shying away from large groups. She was better one-on-one, and she wasn’t even good at that. That was one of the things she liked about Annie, and that made their friendship work. Neither of them were the bubbly, effervescent type. They were slow to warm up and perhaps a little too content with their own company. They did not talk just to talk, and Mikasa liked the absence of social expectations when they were together. She could never be like Armin, who was bright and inquisitive and interested in other people and what made them tick, nor could she ever replicate Eren's effortless and improbable charisma. He had been popular in high school, well-liked despite being, if she were completely transparent, kind of a little shit. Eduardo had been the same, in the way that an apple is like a pear, and she supposed that similarity could very well be what had drawn her to him, seeking the old, familiar ease of belonging she had relinquished when she believed Eren was a liar and had removed him from her life. She had been stupid to think that having her dearest childhood friend back meant she was spared from the isolation of adulthood. She sighed, pulling her knees up closer to her chin. Across the room, Historia tapped her phone and set it down, cuing Eren’s phone to buzz. He read the message, then snorted and put the phone down, shaking his head at Historia before he began composing a new message. She looked down at her plate, the knot on her stomach strangling the last breath of appetite from her body. Mikasa was aware that it was juvenile and petty of her to sulk about being excluded like this when she’d been trying to distance herself all evening, but it still smarted. She had so few friends. She turned to return her attention to Paranorman, but her gaze snagged on her sandwich’s critical eye. You do this to yourself, it said. She frowned and turned to watch the film. She didn’t care if the sandwich was correct. She was not having a mental conversation with her dinner.  

When the movie was over, she unfolded herself from her corner of the couch and stretched. Her joints were getting so creaky. Around the living room, the other adults hissed and grunted as they stood up, just as stiff as she was. At least she wasn’t the only one feeling her age. 

"Mom!" said Mason, looking around for the first time since they unparsed the movie. "You didn't eat all your dinner! You can't have any candy!"

Mikasa looked down at her plate again. Don’t be such a lone wolf! Join the pack and try to have some fun! the sandwich encouraged. Mikasa pressed her fingertips to her forehead. Why couldn’t her subconscious speak to her without using food as a vessel? 

“Um… Do you have a headache?” Eren asked, taking a hesitant step in her direction, his hand twitching towards her, then falling to his side when she ducked her head. “Do you… Do you need an aspirin or something?” 

“No, I’m fine,” she said, bending over and picking up her plate, pretending that was why she hadn't been able to look at him and not because she was trapped by past Mikasa's inability to cope with her unrequited feelings for Eren. “I’m still full from lunch.” 

Eren pursed his lips together, doubt written across his face. “Well… Let me know if you need anything,” he said.

Mikasa nodded, hastening away to dispose of the sandwich, feeling a bit like a murderer as it landed in the trash and fell apart. Christ. She needed to find a better confidant than a turkey and cheese on white.

Taking a page from Eren and Historia’s book, Mikasa got out her phone to text Annie. She would normally turn to Armin first, but he spent most of his free time chatting with his fellow Februbaby Mommas these days. She didn’t want to intrude. 

No. She was definitely using that as an excuse to avoid having to tell him she was reliving her high school years in the most pathetic way possible: by obsessing over their childhood best friend again.

She sighed. And, really, she couldn't text Annie either. Even if she promised to keep it a secret, she'd let it slip eventually. Armin had a way of picking up on things when he wasn't preoccupied with micromanaging every aspect of his unborn baby's uterine experience. She tried to think of who else she could text, but she was coming up blank. Eduardo probably wouldn't mind talking to her, but she didn't like discussing her love life with him. He always found some way to make it weird. She couldn't text Eren, since he was the person she wanted to talk about. She supposed she could text her mother, but, if Kasumi was too sweet to her, that might lead her to cry and she sure didn't need to draw that kind of attention to herself in front of all these people and especially Carla. Mikasa put her phone away, aware that if her sandwich had been truly sentient, it would have been disappointed in her. 

She had decided to go fuss with Mason’s costume to keep herself busy and was just heading over to do so when Ymir came to stand next to her, bumping Mikasa’s shoulder with hers. “Aren’t they so rude?” she asked, indicating Eren and Historia with her chin. They were sitting beside each other on the floor, supervising their daughters as they played, still texting back and forth. “Were they this obnoxious in high school?”

Mikasa blinked, a slow, shy smile creeping across her lips. “Well…” she said. “I didn’t really know Historia, but… I don’t think Eren has changed much.”

Ymir grinned at her. “You’ve been married to a man before, right?”

Mikasa nodded. 

“Is this what it was like? Being relegated to the side with the other wives while the dudes bro out?” Ymir asked. 

Mikasa considered this. “My husband mostly played games with his friends online, so I didn’t even have the other wives to hang out with,” she said. 

“Shitty,” said Ymir.

Silence fell between them and Mikasa wished she could think of something to say to keep the conversation going, to do her sandwich proud.

“Do you want to see a funny video of a goat?” Ymir asked, pulling out her phone. 

“Yes! Please!” said Mikasa.

“Ugh! I miss my phone!” Isabella whined from the couch. “I’m so bored!”

“Kids these days,” said Ymir, rolling her eyes. “When I was your age, Isabella, we had to amuse ourselves by committing petty acts of vandalism. Have you ever felt the simple joy of carving a weiner onto a public bench with a safety pin?”

Isabella stared at her, bug-eyed. 

“This is what Tik Tok has done to the youth,” Ymir lamented. “None of you know how to have fun anymore.”

“Isabella, let’s see your costume,” said Mikasa. “I’ll change into mine, too.”

“Let’s all get changed,” said Ymir. “I have a feeling the first trick-or-treaters are going to come knocking soon, and I want to get out there ASAP once they do. Junior needs to compensate us somehow for all the money we spent making her.” 

“Oh my god!” Mikasa laughed. 

“My costume is so ugly,” Isabella complained, dragging herself off the couch and fetching her bag. 

“Maybe we can find a way to spruce it up,” said Mikasa. “Go try it on.”

***

Mikasa slipped out of the bathroom in her costume, combing her fingers through her hair and wishing she’d brought some makeup to jazz up her face.

Isabella, who had gotten dressed in the bathroom first, sat up straight. “Wow! You look so cool!” she gushed, covering her mouth with her hands. The overlong, bright green sleeves of her bodysuit hung well past her fingers, creating a curtain that dangled down past her chin. From the easy chair, Carla snorted, her eyes glued to the pages of the horror novel she was reading to get into the holiday spirit.

“Oh, this is nothing,” said Mikasa, waving away the compliment and shooting Carla a timid glance. “You should have seen what kind of stuff I dressed up as when I was your age.” She looked down at the fitted skeleton jumpsuit she’d made a few Halloweens ago and had reused every year since. “I mostly wear this because it’s easy to chase kids in.”

 “I love the different flowers,” said Isabella. 

“Thanks,” said Mikasa, running her hand over one of the clusters of hand-stitched blooms she had laboriously crafted and then sewn amongst the bones. “They each represent death.”

“So cool!” said Isabella. 

“My mom sewed it!” bragged Mason, who had changed into his cat costume long ago. “She made mine, too. We went to the fabric store.”

“Oh my god! You’re so talented, Mikasa!” Isabella said, batting her eyes. “Can I call you Mikasa?”

“Sure,” said Mikasa.

[wifetomegatron]

this is a half-baked drabble and if i wasn't so burnout from university i would actually have the strength to write something of substance on the topic. but just imagine the lost light having a temporary replacement for the human liaison — who is on a much-needed shore leave — and its the teenage girl they (the liason) have mentored back on earth (considering that there is an academy/institution to train members diplomats working on behalf of the council of worlds ).

clever, overachieving and uptight she had just turned twenty and is currently the youngest intergalactic diplomat from earth. and the council decided to put her under the care of rodimus and co. can you even imagine the chaos?

on the first day, the captain had backflipped into the bridge to kick start her orientation, not expecting the girl to look at him with a brow raised: unimpressed if not appalled by the lack of professionalism. his disappointment was enough to make half the ship erupt in laughter, and ever since then, it had become rodimus' mission to win her over. ( it was also the day the influx of betting began.)

megatron was somewhat impressed at her passivity towards him —her courage borders closer to disinterest, the same way she regards everything outside of her work — if not a little insulted. she doesn't seem to care if she was talking to the mech who wanted to blow up her planet only half a decade ago. as long as he signs the forms to gainher to access the ship's database, he was just another walking, talking authorisation code.

the common opinion was that minimus would be pleased by her diligent work ethic if he wasn't somewhat concerned, and that was rare, coming from him — he sees a lot of himself in her. in a way, she wore her own magnus armor: the cold, serious exterior was evidently a way for her to hide the crippling fear of never being able to measure up. (she fumbles her fingers together in worry and taps her feet against the tables when she thinks no one is looking.)

confident and very much vain, she would always get into heated debates with perceptor. brainstorm enjoys the challenge, finding it amusing how she always ends up storming out of the lab with both arms crossed. the ambitious, know-it-all would always find a way to stubbornly have the final word, even if it meant dragging the argument for weeks on end. which was the birth of the iconic three-month debate that only ended because megatron had to intervene. 

the first ones to truly see her, beneath the cracks and past her line of defenses, were the medics. ratchet knows deep down, underneath the pompous, snobby exterior, she's just afraid. she's afraid of the responsibility shoved into her arms and the burden of representing an entire planet. velocity is in charge of her monthly checkups and she strongly advises against the levels of paracetamol she's taking: knowing that the only solution against the ever-present migraines was for her to unclench her jaws and stop working. and yet the girl is always hunched over the table, typing, writing, studying — first aid doesn't have the slightest clue about coffee and its significance on the human body other than that it keeps them awake. but he knows drinking over five cups a day can't possibly be healthy. 

her prodigious intellect had unknowingly dragged in the interest of prowl — who, for his own opportunistic goals — had offered to mentor her before her arrival aboard the ship. the former autobot prosecutor had used his title during megatron's title to declare himself sufficiently reliable in teaching cybertronian law to her, claiming to be more dependable than even minimus. they had handed her away to him too quickly, without ever remembering that this was the same ruthless mech whose borderline-cruel reputation proceeded him. and so when he called her incompetent over the phone for a single, silly typo, she had burst into tears. pushing past the med bay doors to cry above ratchet's servos.

she cried and cried and cried, and suddenly everyone remembers the fact that she is a child — no more than twenty, which is barely half a lifespan and less than a minute for these titans — held together by the expensive frills of her clothes to hide that they were the only thing holding her together. without her facade, she is lonely and empty, drained to the bone even if the tears don't stop.

ever since then, rodimus had switched his goals up a little, trading it for the ingenious plan to give her the big, stress-free, holiday she'd been too afraid to even dream about. they go on leave for strange, exotic new planets where she can play poker with brainstorm and perceptor instead of arguing about who's smarter. where nautica and riptide help her learn how to surf — the brainiac had mastered it in less than an hour and rodimus being jealous was an understatement. he ignored ratchet's remark on how he was even too heavy to stay afloat on water to begin with. chromedome and rewind takes turn in blocking prowl's attempts at calling her when she's relaxing, going as far as to even 'accidentally' toss the her phone out of airlock. she wasn't very pleased by swerve is doing an excellent job at distracting her with his jokes. even cyclonus was part of the plan, going as far as to teach her how to meditate.

it was working : velocity announces that her weight was back to normal. she starts to laugh more, no longer bothered by the loudness of her joy. the colour returning to her cheeks.

movie nights with tailgate became a weekly routine, and now and then, bots would bend down to ask the tiny human if she had drank water, stretched, or even slept. flustered by the oncoming attention, she was almost overwhelmed when whirl had appeared in the hallways to chase her down with her waterbottle — yelling about how she still had to finish it before the day ended. 

[torialefay]

☀️ Everyday Idol 🌙 (Chapter 5)

✨ possible bangchan x reader (f), possible jungkook x reader (f)

✨ head on over to my masterlist if you haven’t checked out the previous chapters!

✨wc: ~6.6k

✨ friends to lovers? possible love triangle? obsession? angst and future smut??? a little fluff.

✨ summary: JYP Entertainment launches a new show and y/n somehow gets recruited. Even though she doesn’t particularly care about the outcome of the show, she does particularly care about one of the artists she met: Chris from Stray Kids. Does Chris feel the same or will a potential relationship with one of his friends overcome what y/n feels for him?

✨ author’s notes: pls pls pls let me know if you’d prefer shorter, more frequent chapters like this one, OR longer chapters posted about once per week. i’m heavily debating lol

✨ warnings: cursing from time to time.

Previous Chapter Recap:

“No need, I already told him!” Felix winked down at you, nudging his elbow into your side. What the hell?

“Oh really? I didn’t know you two were close like that.” Literally not once had you seen any sign that they’d spoken to each other, let alone were good enough friends to keep in touch about girls they were taking to lunch.

“With Chan-hyung? We’re about as close as two people can get,” he laughed. “No way. I knew all along. And you’re welcome by the way. I may or may not have encouraged it hehe.” You watched as his eyes sparkled while they smiled. It would have been adorable if you had any clue what he was talking about.

All you could do was stare blankly at him. A confused expression must have been on your face long enough for Felix to notice.

“We are talking about Chan-hyung, right?”

“No… I got the flowers from Jungkook,” you said sheepishly.

You could see Felix’s eyes shoot open, going into panic mode. Fight or flight, I guess.

“Wait, are you talking about? OHHH those flowers! The ones from today. Ohhh okay, nevermind. Sorry, I was thinking about something completely different,” he rapidly mumbled out. He looked like he could start sweating at any minute, waiting to get your eye of approval.

‘Okay, so 2 possibilities. #1: Felix needs a lot more sleep. Or #2: Chan was going to give me flowers?!?!’

Note: Character relations you can refer back to if needed.

Y/n- Changbin’s mentee

Anna- best friend, Felix’s mentee

Kara- Seungmin’s mentee

Sunnie- Han’s mentee

Mindi- Hyunjin’s mentee

Nisha- Lee Know’s mentee

Alyssa- Jeongin’s mentee

Jenna- Chan’s mentee

——————————————————————————

Y/N’s POV:

You settled back into your usual sphere of friends in the filming room. Just you, Anna, Kara, and Sunnie. Of course some of the boys jumped in on the discourse.

“Alright Hannie, be honest,” Sunnie questioned, still standing in the group. “Who out of us,” she motioned to the rest of the girls in the group’s circle, “do you think will mess up the most during our shoots?” She put a big grin on her face.

“Uhhh, I mean I think you’ll all do really great to be honest so-“ Han tried, but got cut off.

“Kara obviously,” Seungmin interrupted. “As her mentor, I can confidently say that I have trained her to be a menace.” He was joking, of course but GOD he never looked like it. “Well, not as good as me, but she will learn.”

Kara laughed and fake smacked him on the arm.

“No, but really, be honest. What do we need to worry about? You are literally our mentors so you can’t let us look lame,” Sunnie started again. You knew that Changbin proceeded to give a sarcastic response, but the hint of a figure passing by caught your attention instead.

Chan had arrived. He looked so good, but so out of his normal. You realized then that it wasn’t just Changbin who surprised you, but you’d never seen any of the boys dress up before. You and Changbin looked killer- all black, and honestly kinda sexy. You surprised yourself even.

But not Chan. No, he was in soft colors. Pastels. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen him in something like that- just so NOT like him. You silently wondered if he would come to your group to converse with everyone else. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to or not.

You made sure not to turn your head too far in his direction. You didn’t want him to see you glancing over, but you definitely didn’t want any of your friends in the group to notice you looking either. You tried to focus your eyes back on Han who seemed to be the only one who would give actual advice.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Felix shift slightly, lifting his head up. You saw him look in Chan’s direction, then look down to see if you had noticed. You quickly darted your eyes away. Satisfied that you were paying attention elsewhere, he directed his head toward Chan across the room and open his eyes wide. Somehow he had a look of both questioning and embarrassment on his face. You didn’t dare move to look at Chan’s reactions.

After a minute or two of trying to zone in on Han, you gave up. You shifted your weight and crossed your arms, shrugging your shoulders up and rolling your neck around to “try to get a kink out”… if that meant trying to get a secret look at Chan of course.

You found him in your periphery on the other side of the room. He was standing with Jenna and Alyssa, making small talk or prepping them for the filming, you guessed. You could see Jenna’s almost-matching pastel outfit and it made you want to vomit with how sweet it was. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a tiny bit jealous that she was matching so well with Chan. You’d be lying even more if you said it didn’t bother you that he’d momentarily rested his hand on her shoulder while talking with them. You’d be lying even more if you said she was too pretty for him. ‘FML.’

Chan had such a wild smile on his face, staring down with his big dimples. You couldn’t believe he was actually getting along with the both of them. They were literally like talking to a wall… Maybe the wall opens up and changes its appearance a little for a cute guy though.

Damn, if this was the shove you needed to move you in Jungkook’s direction, it was definitely working.

Kara, standing a couple people over from you in the circle, must have noticed Chan coming through in his displaced pastels as well. He was a magnet, what could you say?

You noticed her scoffing over. Everyone else noticed as well.

“Kara, everything okay?” Anna asked, being the last to notice but the first to call her out.

“I was just observing,” she smirked, nodding her head in Chan’s direction. Everyone turned to look as Chan lightly nudged an elbow into Jenna’s side.

‘God, please kill me.’

Sunnie fired back with a smug look. “Oooo so *that’s what Felix was talking aboutttt,” she dragged on.

… The guys, including you and Anna, looked around, staring blankly at each other.

“What do you all know that I don’t?” Seungmin asked, staring down both of the girls.

‘Agreed,’ you thought.

“Did you literally not hear Felix at lunch?” Kara looked up at him. All the Stray Kids members looked confused.

Felix looked defensive all of a sudden. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant! I was just joking I swear!” He tried to force a laugh. “I swear it was just a joke!”

“Yeah rightttt,” Kara scoffed. “It’s so obvious that she’d be that way. It makes so much sense.”

“Okay, what are you guys talking about?” you finally piped up.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Changbin backed you up.

Felix looked off, like he would just ignore the question forever. Kara ran her eyes across his face, then rolled them back into her head.

“Oh so NOW you are shy?!” she threw at him. “Well Felix kinda let it slip that Chris was crushing on someone who was already accounted for, but that it would all work out.”

The boys all looked at him, wide-eyed.

“Oh my gosh, that’s not how I meant it! I mean I was just joking around!” Felix plead, acting fake hurt. “Literally we were just talking about who YOU ALL found cute, and then yeah, I said that Chris was wanting someone who was already accounted for but, but-“ he started to fumble his words. “I mean I was just messing around! I meant that Chris was into me, but I’m accounted for of course,” he let out a nervous laugh.

“Accounted for? By who? And your mom doesn’t count.” Seungmin smirked.

“No, with Binnie!” Felix put on a fake pout again, grabbing Changbin by the arm. “And don’t you talk about us that way!” Everyone got to laughing, and I guess Felix’s explanation was good enough to put everyone’s mind at rest.

‘Nice cover, Felix.’

Kara wasn’t completely sold though. She motioned for everyone to scoot in closer before leaned her head down and began to whisper. “Listen, I’m serious though. I don’t mean to step on any toes, I swear I don’t… But the rumor going around really is that Chan’s got his eye on one of the mentees,” she looked up to see everyone’s reaction. “Now, if you guys say that it isn’t true, then it isn’t true, but that’s what’s been going around. AND word on the street is that she is also fucking Jungkook.”

‘GODDAMN IT. I AM NOT FUCKING JUNGKOOK! HOW IN THE HELL DOES ONE DATE EQUATE TO FUCKING THIS MAN?!’

‘And now, if anyone does see us together, I’m royally fucked… May even get kicked off the show for the bad publicity. I’ve got to find a way to shut that shit down.’

You secretly watched Felix’s face drop. In that moment, he had confirmed his previous theory that you had been seeing Jungkook and rejected Chan.

‘Welp, this is awkward.’

“Alright well if someone’s fucking Jungkook, then they’re fucking Jungkook. None of my business. But if Chan was into someone, he would have told us by now,” Changbin chimed in.

Felix looked to the ground.

“I mean maybe... Unless he was embarrassed. Sure doesn’t seem like it now though,” she glanced back over. You let your eyes follow in that direction. Chan was now propped up with one hand against the wall, smiling down towards Jenna with a smirk on his face.

‘I don’t even care,’ you thought.

But you did. You knew you did.

———————————————————————

Felix’s POV:

Filming was about to start. The directors had each of you pair up into your mentor couples and wait for more instructions.

“Hold on, I have to go find Chan real quick!” Felix told Anna.

“Alright, you know where to find me,” she smiled back.

Felix quickly made his way over to where Chan stood. Next to Jenna of course.

“Hey, can you come here for a second? I have a question,” Felix directed toward Chan, offering a polite smile when Jenna looked his way too.

“Yeah sure,” Chan said, letting Felix lead him toward the back of the room away from everyone else.

Chan was totally on edge. Felix could tell.

“What the fuck happened?” Felix questioned.

“What happened with what?” Chan retorted, pretending he didn’t know what Felix was getting at.

Felix just stared at him, rolling his eyes up. Annoyed. He stood there in silence, not letting himself be the one to give in. Finally Chan did.

“Look, I saw her with Jungkook, bro. He gave her flowers and she looked happy. End of story. Nothing else to talk about,” he huffed, ready to walk back. He was holding it back well, but Felix knew him well enough to know he was hurt.

Chan looked down and shook his head, imagining what Felix must be thinking. Felix had encouraged him early on to message you… but he just never did. Not until he was scared someone else was interested in you that is.

“Whatever mate, but just know this whole look-“ Felix pointed a finger, dragging it across the path to Chan and Jenna, “isn’t a cute one. Almost every other contestant has something bad to say about her.”

“Come on man, she’s not that bad.”

“Literally look at her face right now,” Felix motioned over.

A look of pure boredom and disdain was washed over her. She glanced down to her nails, then back up to her surroundings, almost as if she was trying to size anyone and everyone up. She was off on her own, not attempting to strike up a conversation with any of the 40+ people in the room.

“So she has a hard exterior,” Chan tried to cover. “But she’s actually really nice once you start talking to her.”

“Tell me one nice thing she’s had to say.”

“Well she was talking about how excited she was to see me.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“She was also talking about how I looked good in pastels. Told me that they suited me more than black and that I should switch it up.”

“That doesn’t count either. What is ONE nice thing she’s said that wasn’t about you?”

Chan stood for a moment. “Well, I mean,” he grabbed his neck and looked down. “Like I said, she’s a hard one to crack.”

“Do what you want, but going after your own mentee isn’t a good look. I’ll tell you that if no one else will.”

Felix turned to walk away, but spun right back around on his toes. “By the way, someone is now spreading a rumor that whoever you’re into is fucking Jungkook. Just thought you should know before you made anyone look bad.”

With that, he briskly walked off.

—————————————————————

Y/n’s POV:

Shooting actually went really well. Way better than you’d expected. It wasn’t nearly as scary as you thought it’d be, and you think you actually got some great takes.

They had let you talk about medical school, and what it was like to train in today’s world post-COVID. You got to talk about the reason you were interested in medicine in the first place, and how the 7-year-old you would be so proud to see you now, living out your biggest dream. They asked all the right questions, and you gave all the right answers. You were starting to feel hopeful that you could make a connection with the audience of the show.

Of course, all of the scenes with Changbin were perfect too. You silently thanked the heavens that you got paired with the coolest guy to be your mentor. The banter between the two of you was perfect. One moment that specifically stood out was when they shot a scene of Changbin trying to give you tips and that, as his mentee, you were gonna have to be tough and do some of the heavy lifting to make him proud. He made you practice an example, as he bent himself face-down at his hips and pulled on your arms to rotate your body into the air and land on the other side of his.

“See, easy! Now you try,” he had instructed.

And try you did… But FAIL you also did. You tried your best to keep your legs firmly planted on the ground, but with the weight of Binnie directly over top of you, you couldn’t help but fall to the ground, letting him fall along on top of you. Neither of you got hurt, but you both almost died of laughter, holding onto each other on the floor. You laughed so hard you thought you’d cry.

It may have hurt your ego a little, but damn if it wasn’t gonna make for some cute content for the show.

You felt a quiz buzz coming from your pocket. You took it out to check the screen, showing a text from JK. After the date, you had decided that exchanging numbers was way better than having to talk through instagram.

You smiled at how interested he was in your life.

You shoved your phone back in your pocket, warm feeling still coming on.

“Are you coming to the dinner later?” you turned to Changbin.

His eyes lit up. “I mean I hadn’t really planned on it, but are you going?”

“Honestly, I think it’s mandatory for us to go. But I’m excited anyways. Everyone should be there. Have you been to the restaurant?”

“Which one is it?”

“Nine Mile.”

“Damn, that’s a pretty nice restaurant. Especially if the company is paying.”

“Then you’d *better come with me,” you laughed, nodding your head his way.

“Alright, alright. It’s a date,” he smiled. “Only for the food though.”

“Well of course.”

—————————————--

After a quick trip back to the hotel with Anna to freshen up and get caught up on all of the day’s happenings, you felt exhausted. I mean, today was probably the most eventful day of your life. You went on a date with Jungkook, got blown off by Chan and then had to watch him flirt with another girl, and then get through 3-ish hours of filming for a TV show you didn’t even think you belonged on. You really just wanted to lie in bed and talk with Anna, then pass out for the night.

But you couldn’t. The night must go on. You reminded yourself that you should be grateful for every opportunity, no matter how tired you were.

JK had texted you back, letting you know he also had plans for the night, but to have fun at the dinner with Changbin. The emotions you felt were still extremely mixed, but you decided to just take each moment as it came. Otherwise, you’d be too overwhelmed to even think.

Once you had finished freshening up, you and Anna set out to the restaurant in your normal, everyday clothes. You couldn’t lie, being in medical school made you adopt a new sense of fashion. Corporate baddie? You realized this quickly when you came to Korea and saw the street style that most others wore. You and Anna couldn’t help it though- your closet now consistent of only 2 things: (1) scrubs, (2) trendy oversized blazers. Out of the 2 options, the only one you deemed appropriate to bring was the latter.

You didn’t mind standing out a bit though. Some people in Korea even had similar styles, just a bit more muted than the two of you. It was obvious from the looks you got while walking the street- not bad looks, the reverse actually.

You looked down to examine your black heels and matching black oversized blazer. You made sure to pair it with dark jeans and lots of jewelry to set a more casual tone… and also to stop yourself from looking like you could pull out a reflex hammer and give a full-on neurological exam at any moment. But it was night time after all, and it was freezing. You had to cover up as best you could.

You couldn’t lie, you also had to make sure you spritzed on a couple sprays of your favorite sensual perfume. Just for good measure. You never knew who you would see.

There was a reason you and Anna were besties, you thought as you looked to your bestfriend walking next to you. She complimented both you and your style so well. Business casual, but make it hot.

You finally arrived at the restaurant two minutes early. But to your surprise, the huge reserved section in the back was already almost completely full. Everyone was really making sure they were on time, you guessed.

You both meandered your way in, stopping to say “hi” to some of the other new trainees that you recognized. From a distance, Changbin flagged you down. He motioned for you to come to where he was sat.

“I figured you and Anna would come together. I saved you both a seat!,” he said, standing up out of his chair. He grabbed the chair seated next to his and pulled it out for you to sit down.

‘Too sweet,’ you thought as you took your place. “Thanks Binnie!”

The other seat next to you was presumably for Anna, so you waited for Changbin to pass you and pull it out for her as well.

“Anna,” he caught her attention, instead turning the other way to take his seat. “That seat is for you!,” he smiled, pointing down to it.

It was hard to hear with the loud noises coming from the crowd around you, but she understood what he was saying and took her spot.

Sitting in front of you were a few other trainees that you had met a couple of times before. Both girls and guys- all super nice. You exchanged formal “hello’s” and “how are you doing?”.

You scanned the room to look for the other boys, but only Felix was in sight, standing far in the other corner of the room and talking with some of the new male trainees.

“Binnie, did none of the kids come except Felix?” you looked at him.

“Nah, they were all working on stuff. But don’t worry, I’ll always make time for you!” He spread a loving smile across his face.

You couldn’t believe you were so lucky to get Changbin as your mentor. Hardly any of the mentors were here. You had made sure to carefully check for any sight of Chris, but to your relief, he was nowhere to be found.

———————————————

The rest of the night was filled with plenty of amazing food, fun conversations, and new deep connections made with other contestants.

But if you were being honest, you definitely knew you had a few too many drinks. You were feeling good, yes. But almost past the point of feeling good. You could feel your stomach start to get the tiniest bit queasy and the world around you started to blur the tiniest bit. Your head felt like it was floating.

‘Okay y/n, you are cut off,’ the last ounce of soberness in your brain thought. But that is where the final sober thought ended.

“Binnie, can I be honest?” you leaned into him, almost letting your face touch his chest.

He looked down at you with big eyes. “Of course, what’s up?”

“I’m just…” you trailed off, beginning to look at his lips and then back up to his face. “I’m just really happy you’re here with me.” You smiled.

“I’m happy too. Thank you for inviting me to come.”

“Well you are always invited to come anywhere with me. I want you to know that.”

He blushed.

That should have been your signal. That should have been your warning to stop yourself. In your drunken state, you couldn’t sense that your words would come across as flirty. You didn’t mean it in that way- not in the slightest. You just wanted to express your love and appreciation to your friend. It was innocent, honestly. But Bin couldn’t tell that.

“You’re so sweet, y/n.” He leaned down further into you until his lips were hovering just above your head. “And if I’m honest, I’m really glad that I’m getting to know you better.” He let out a soft smile.

You went in for a hug, burying your face into his chest in the process. His chest was so strong and warm. “I needed to hear that… I wish everyone else felt the same,” you accidentally let slip out. Again, you didn’t even realize what you were saying. You were too far gone and you needed to go home.

“Like who? Is anyone giving you a hard time?” Changbin asked.

“No, it’s- well maybe. I don’t know. It’s nothing…” you paused. “Binnie, I think I’ve done all I can do tonight,” you accidentally leaned over into him. “I think I need to go home.”

“Yeah of course. Stay here for just a second. Let me get Anna.”

He gently got up from his chair, so as not to startle you too much, and walked a few steps toward Anna who had moved into a group of people who were stood chit-chatting.

He returned to you a few seconds later. “Anna is going to stay around for a while. Is it okay if I walk you to your hotel?” He reached his hand out for you to take it.

You happily obliged, using his hand to lift up all your weight in your stupor state. You felt a little unbalanced, but nothing that you couldn’t manage. Nothing that you couldn’t walk off on the way back to the hotel anyway.

Bin swiftly moved behind you, using one arm to stabilize around your waist and the other to reach out in front of you to continue to give your hand the needed stability. This way, he could see you right in front of him as you walked and make sure you didn’t trip over.

You both took slow steps toward the exit, breezily waving goodbye on your way out.

Your eyes caught Felix’s on your way out. You tried to wave, just a simple acknowledgment.

You may have been drunk, but not drunk enough to make out the the panic on Felix’s face. You couldn’t ponder on it for too long though, as a slight step up past the doorframe caught your foot.

You felt yourself lose balance, about to topple over, but Changbin felt your change in positioning and clung onto your tighter. As suddenly as you felt yourself begin to fall, you felt yourself stay stationary in the air.

“Ahhh,” you mumbled.

“Alright, come on. Up, up, up,” Changbin said lowly while pulling your body back to standing.

You giggled once he got you up. “I didn’t know you were that strong!” you said, excitedly, as you collected yourself enough to step forward again and out of the restaurant.

He moved his arm now to link up with yours. “This is why I train up! So I can catch you apparently,” he laughed.

You let out a giggle as you stepped into the cold wind. It caught you off guard, not remembering how cold it had been when you’d arrived. One more step and one huge gust of wind almost knocked you off balance again. You felt your leg start to teeter.

“Woah, woah!” Changbin laughed, catching your body from the side this time. “Be careful or you’re gonna take us both down!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this was. Was it funny because of the alcohol? Absolutely. Without it, you’d be humiliated beyond belief. But now, you were more amused than you had been in the last week. You couldn’t stop giggling, cueing Changbin to start chuckling back at you.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he said, once you stabilized.

“Okay, okay,” you took a deep breath in and then snapped your fingers. “I’m good. I’m good! Okay, I’ve got this. Let’s go,” you smiled.

He roped his arm back around yours to give you an anchor as you both walked, now both stepping out past the side of the restaurant, no worries in the world.

——————————————————————

Chan’s POV:

He sat on the couch of his studio for a moment, taking in his surroundings.

He didn’t know why he’d done it. He didn’t know why he’d done any of this. Why he canceled on you, why he brushed you off when you clearly wanted to speak with him, why he tried to make you jealous earlier.

After all, Felix told him that you had something with Jungkook. What did he expect? That it was just a rumor? That if he texted you right then, any plans you had with JK would just magically disappear?

Did he expect you to just drop everything and fall in love with him?

The only reason he got the balls to message you in the first place was because Felix told him you were going to see someone else. So why was he backing out now?

He guessed the stress of ACTUALLY seeing the two of you together- physically present in front of him- set him off. He didn’t even want to think about you being that close to another man, let alone see it.

It should have been him doing that with you. But, like always, he blew his own fucking chance.

He freaked out. He shut himself down and shut you out. He wanted to make you feel the same way he felt seeing you with someone else.

He sat and pondered for a moment.

‘It’s all in your head anyways, Chris. She’s not jealous over what you’re doing. She probably hasn’t even thought twice about you since. All you’re doing is making yourself look like a dick who goes after their own mentee…’

‘And Felix is right, it’s not a good look. Jenna objectively sucks. You don’t want to be associated with that. Hell, the conversations you had today were bone dry. You still have to support her, but from a distance will be fine.’

‘It’s just… ahhh,’ he threw his elbows down to rest over his knees, bringing his head down to his hands and letting them trace through his hair. He started pulling harshly at the strands of hair sliding through his fingers.

‘Why is it so fucking hard for you? Why can’t you just forget about her? You’re not going to, are you?’

‘But it doesn’t matter, you’re too much of a pussy to do anything anyways. You had her literally coming to your studio, and then you backed out like a fucking coward because of what? Because you saw someone else has a crush on her?’

‘Damn right Jungkook has a crush on her- he’d be crazy not to. But she only likes him because she doesn’t know how good YOU could be to her. You haven’t said or done shit!’

‘So why in the fuck are you sitting here moping, when you could actually apologize for being shitty and weird? You’re literally gonna just watch and do nothing and hope that nothing comes of this so you can have your chance?’

‘No, you’ve got to talk to her. So what, she’s been on a date or two with JK? It’s not like they were official or anything- if they were, you would have definitely heard about it.’

‘She could be way more into you than she is into him if you just TRY. Just do it. COME ON.’

Chris jumped up off the couch. This was probably the best timing he was going to get, and it was now or never. He had already checked with Felix, so what was he waiting for?

He looked at his reflection in the camera app on his phone.

He’d looked worse, he thought. He was just grateful to be changed out of those god-awful pastels.

He threw his black fluffy jacket on and grabbed the flowers he had purchased for you this morning, silently thanking himself that he didn’t throw them away earlier in a jealous rage.

Heading out of the company building, he kept the pep talk going in his mind as he quickly dashed toward the Nine Mile restaurant. He silently thanked god that it was only a few minutes away.

‘You’ve got this, Chris.’

‘It’s nothing, it’s nothing! It’s literally nothing.’

‘All you have to say is what you feel. It’s that simple. You want to get to know her more and you’d like to see her sometime, not at the company.’

‘She doesn’t have to know everything else. She doesn’t have to know you saw her earlier. She doesn’t have to know that’s why you canceled on her.’

‘But damn you may have some explaining to do if she brings something up about you and Jenna.’

‘No, she probably didn’t even notice or care.’

‘All you can do is lay it out on the table. If she doesn’t want you, then she doesn’t want you. But at least you can say you tried. You can live with no regrets.’

‘Come on, don’t back out. You can do this. You can do this,’ he repeated to himself as he saw the glow of the restaurant’s sign quickly approaching.

He quickly looked down to check his phone and get the time. He was hoping you hadn’t left yet by the time he got there.

As he went to put the phone away, he heard a familiar voice.

“Chan! Hey, what are you doing?”

Fuck. It couldn’t be.

The voice was recognizable, but the outline, not so much. All black outfit with a black mask. If Chan hadn’t heard him speak, he’d have no clue it was Jungkook. He was just standing there, leaning against the wall of the business directly next to the restaurant. It was a little ominous really, hidden away in the shadow of a street sign- the light of the moon not even able to hit him.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Chan tried to play it off like he wasn’t internally freaking out.

“Ah, I was just about to meet a friend. What about you? Are you headed to the JYP party in there?” He motioned to the restaurant.

‘Okay great, so he’s here to meet a “friend” and just so happened to know that YOU would be here… a SECOND date with him in one goddamn day?!’

Chris got extremely flustered. All of the confidence he once held was now leaving his body entirely.

Did he want to be brave? Yes.

Did he want to prove that he could be better for you? Yes.

Did he idealize in his head how this night was going to go and now that’s all going to shit? Yes.

Chan was officially in panic mode.

“Ah you know what, I was going to head in for a bit, but damn, you just reminded me! I ran off and left my wallet. I’m gonna have to go find it before someone else does. Ah fuck,” he lied through his teeth.

“I’m sorry man, that’s the worst! Do you need me to hold your stuff for you til you get back?” JK said, looking down to the flowers in Chan’s hands.

“Oh these? Yeah, it’s a ... friend’s birthday! So I had picked these up. But uhm… Actually, if you want them you can have them! By the time I walk back and turn everything upside down to find my wallet, I don’t know that I’ll actually make it back here. The flowers are probably gonna die tonight without water anyway, so I’ll have to buy another batch tomorrow. Please feel free to take them off my hands if you think you or someone else could use them. Seriously."

Chris didn’t really know why he said this. He didn’t know why he had lied about so much. He owed NOTHING to JK. Were they friends? Sure, but not close enough to feel bad about liking the same person.

He just needed to be out of this moment quick.

There he was again- a coward. Running away from his feelings, he knew. He knew he was ruining it yet again. But he couldn’t confront this reality. Not now. Not so openly and in front of everyone. He needed to get out fast.

“I mean sure man, I’ll take them if you don’t want them. I’ll find someone to give them to at least,” JK smiled down and took the bouquet into his hands. “Be careful going back in this cold! It’s getting ridiculous.”

All of a sudden, Chan heard it. It was unmistakable. His favorite sound in the world. Your laugh was coming closer.

He looked off a few yards away to see you stumbling out of the restaurant, holding tightly to Changbin.

In that moment, he was cursing his luck that Changbin got to have you as a mentee instead of him.

He knew you'd be searching for Jungkook at any moment. He needed to get out fast.

“Yeah, you too man. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Chan turned on his heels with his head down and sped away. He didn't dare look back for fear of what he might see. He knew he couldn't take it again.

In that moment, he was thankful for the strong wind chill hitting his face, drying out the singular tear rolling down his cheek.

At least he knew his flowers would get to you somehow.

----------------------------------------

Y/n's POV:

You held on to Binnie for dear life, making small strides so as not to lose the little bit of balance you had.

"I've still got to have a mentee for the show, so we have to get you back in one piece! If not, I'll kill you," Changbin said, letting out a chuckle.

In your drunken state, it made you cackle.

"You couldn't kill anyone Binnnnnnieee. You're too sweet," you smiled and booped him on the nose. You felt yourself lose your footing the slightest bit, but quickly moved your hand back to your side to stabilize.

"I'm sweet, but that doesn't mean I couldn't crush you in two seconds," he teased. "One squeeze while I've got you in a headlock and you're a goner."

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try!" you challenged him, stopping mid-stride and taking one step back.

"Oh you're on!" he made quick work to pull your arm around to your side, moving your whole body along with it until you were turned away from him. One swift movement had his bicep around the side of your neck, arm extended around the other half, until his hand reached your opposite shoulder.

Suddenly, you felt yourself working harder to breathe.

He took his other hand and harshly rubbed it as fast as he could on the top of your head. "Noogies just for good measure!" he yelled.

"Okay, OKAY, you win! I give up!" you choked out as best as your could.

Suddenly, he released the pressure off of your neck and you took a deep breath in, your red face trying to tame itself.

As you panted, Changbin teased you. "So what were you saying about me not being able to absolutely destroy you?"

You playfully, lightly shoved into him. "Shut up. Knowing that, I don't know if I want you to walk me back now! Wouldn't want to risk anything, ya know?"

"I promise to not use my skills anymore tonight. Deal?" he laughed and held his extended arm out for you to loop your own into.

"Deal," you smiled and wrapped your arm around his, starting back on the journey to your original destination.

As you went to turn your head, you noticed something in the corner of your eye. A dark figure gently shifted in the shadow behind the restaurant. Fully black clothed, mask on his face. But the shoes- the shoes were a dead giveaway.

'Aren't those the shoes Jungkook was wearing earlier?'

You'd never forget them. Black, but with golden laces and a bit of golden detailing on the slight platform. You'd made a mental note earlier of how nice they were. You could barely make them out in the darkness, but there was no mistaking that they were the same pair.

You were looking back now, trying to make full eye contact. Why wasn't he coming to say hi to you?

His body shifted back further into the unlit cove.

An overwhelming feeling of uneasiness washed over you. You snapped your head back around to the front, focusing now on your walking. You started to pick up the pace as best you could.

"Woahhh, you okay?" Changbin said, noticing the shift.

You honestly didn't know.

'Why would Jungkook be here? Let alone be lurking in the shadows instead of coming to talk to you?'

'He knew you'd be here,' you told yourself. 'And he knew you'd be here with Bin. Is that what this is about? He's jealous already? Jealous enough to freaking follow you around all night? How could he not "trust you" if you weren't even together?'

You felt your heart begin to race inside your chest. Looking down at the ground, you whispered, "Binnie... I may be paranoid but think I might be getting followed."

Your strides were even wider now, as Changbin tried to follow suit.

"Why? Did you see something?!"

"There's this guy I know standing back there at the corner of the building where it was totally dark. I told him earlier that I'd be here with you. He didn't even acknowledge that I was here. Please just get me home!"

You both started moving as quickly as you could toward the end of the street, rounding a corner. You looked back to see if Jungkook was still in site. You didn't see anything, but that didn't mean he wasn't still following.

Changbin flagged down a cab and pushed the both of you inside.

"The JYP Building, please. Quickly." he instructed the cab driver.

"That's the opposite direction of my hotel! Here, it's actually-" you tried to chime in until Changbin cut you off.

"If someone is following you, do you really want them to know which direction to take for your hotel?"

'Good point.'

"JYP Building please!" you yelled toward the cab driver. You clung tight to Changbin's arm, swerving your head frantically to get a view through all of the windows.

--------------------------------------

✨ Continue to ➡️ Chapter 6

✨If you enjoyed, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging <3

✨author's note: i know the past few chapters have been a bit tough, but i promise the next chapter starts to look up :)

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c24. Christmas.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: La sera dei miracoli, Lucio Dalla.

abstract: It's Christmas. it's Alba, I'm better now. I know you weren't expecting all that sweetness last chapter hu? brace yourselves, this one is even worse (literally nothing happens). anyway, I'm a fucking chef.

It was December 24th. She spent all day cooking and cleaning. It was surreal, she had come to life again to be the perfect housewife. She woke up at seven, took Jinx out, who was very happy to see her run with him and play fetch in the park. She cleaned her apartment, she did the laundry, swept the floors. She turned on the humidifier, put in lavender essential oil inside (yes, she really liked lavender). She proceeded to start cooking after lunch, she did dessert first. She made a simple chocolate cake that didn't require an extensive preparation and didn't need to rest. It was meant to have a fragrant external crust and be softer inside. She put on some music, she was singing along, she had her whole fridge restocked with fresh ingredients for Christmas dinner. She was a whole different person. It was probably too much food for two people. Two people as in her and Simon. He did, unbelievable I know, agree to Christmas dinner at her house in the end. 'Sure, okay', he had said, probably too embarrassed to say no in that moment. He had nowhere to go anyways… She asked him if he was allergic to anything, she was gonna make sure to add it to her shopping list. He said strawberries. She told him to bring wine, white wine. Goes with fish, cause yes, she was gonna cook fish. In Italy they don't eat meat the day before Christmas, a religious deal. She was going to have a fish based menu, it sounded fancy and she wanted to impress him. It was the first time she had ever had anyone over at her apartment. Salvo didn't count cause he was practically her brother and they usually had instant ramen together. She wanted to make a good impression, she hosted quite a few big dinners when she was in uni, hundreds with Salvo, and when she visited his family in San Francisco she always helped setting the table all pretty and cooking with his mom. She prepped two large cod fillets by marinating them with a few herbs and lemon. She checked on the cake, trying not to have Jinx jump inside the oven to eat it. She was almost anxious to have Simon over, not because of the fact he was who he was, but mainly for the cooking, and the menu and her apartment which was small and not too great…

He showed up exactly at eight, the time they had agreed upon. He had a bottle of wine in one hand, a box of chocolates in the other. Cause what the fuck are you supposed to bring for a Christmas dinner? Let alone, Christmas dinner at her house, them two together. He couldn't show up empty handed… Or maybe he could, he wasn't sure, he wasn't used to this. He debated on cancelling on her, he thought about it all week. He didn't have her phone number and he didn't want to ask Price, it would have sounded suspicious. He had to stop showing up at her workplace, so that was a no. Showing up at her house just to tell her that he wasn't going to that stupid Christmas dinner was gonna be even weirder. She had asked him in the worst timing possible, she had been crying and nearly got killed, he didn't feel like upsetting her further. And he had to come up with an excuse as well, one that wasn't that he hated Christmas for reasons he couldn't tell her. Last time he celebrated was so long ago he didn't even remember, he usually spent it at base, or drinking alone until he fell asleep. He sometimes went back to Manchester, though he stopped for a while. It was a time of sadness, a time of sorrow and deep anger. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to eat, he wanted to be alone in his grief. He got the stupid chocolates cause he wanted to be polite, and he used to bring chocolates to his nephew back in the day when he went to see him… The only thing that kept him from cancelling was the fact that she was alone as well, for Christmas. He felt like he could endure an awkward dinner, so she wouldn't be alone. He felt out of place, he walked away from base like he was sneaking out. And he kinda hated himself for it, he was sure many men would have been be thrilled to be invited to dinner by someone like Alba. He didn't look the part. He wasn't made for that, and he wasn't going to change.

When she opened the door he knew he was doomed. The house smelled heavenly, there was music playing, the lamps were giving the living room a fait and tender orange aura. She was standing there, smiling. She had her hair up tied with a hair clip, she was wearing a black t-shirt and sweats. She was dressed to spend a night in, but still looked extremely put together. She looked gorgeous, that is. At her feet, Jinx was trying to get out the door and whining for attention. She said hi and let him step in. She was thanking him for the wine and telling him to put the jacket on the sofa. When he noticed the table he understood how much of a mistake going there was. She was fucking too much, she was unbelievable. What the actual fuck did I get myself into…

There were two tablecloths on the kitchen isle, a cotton one and a paper one, the ones you can throw away after use. She had drawn on the white paper with a black sharpie. She had drawn two plate shapes, two round shapes where the wine glasses stood and wrote 'Simon' on the side. He stood petrified looking at his name in that beautiful cursive handwriting, the letters majestically floating just above the plate shape. 'Alba' was written in the same handwriting on the other side of the isle. Simon and Alba. He didn't belong there… 'I saw it on Instagram', she said, circling him and getting to the fridge. 'The drawings', she added once she noticed he was still standing in the middle of the living room. He managed to swallow the lump in his throat and put down the wine and chocolate. 'Oh, thanks, these look nice.' She took the box and inspected the flavours list. She would tell him later that dessert was covered… She gave him a bottle opener while she got the appetisers from the fridge. 'So this is hummus I made, and this is a ricotta cheese spread with basil and honey', she set two plates on the counter in front of him. She had two types of tortilla chips in a little bowl, and in another plate, cucumber and carrots to dip in the whatever she had made. She set everything in front of him and finally stopped to properly look at him for a second. He looked incredibly lost. He looked small, he clearly was out of his comfort zone. He looked out of place, behind him was her small home library and her paintings on the wall, he looked like a fish out of water. She let her sight linger on the features that weren't covered by the black mask. His messy hair, his forehead, his cheekbones. His nose looked more crooked than usual, his eyes a mixture of frightened and surprised. For a second she thought the drawing was too much, or maybe the food was too fancy for him. She quickly changed her mind, the hummus was fucking amazing and homemade, what more did he want uh? Plus, she had pasta and fish to serve, it's not like he would starve…

'Sit down.' It was an order, but her voice was too soft to sound intimidating. Jinx had immediately started bothering him, trying to get him to give him some food. 'You can take off your mask, I'll turn around.' He looked at her turn to the stove, getting a pan and removing something from it, then he heard the sizzling of onion or garlic or something like that? She was moving like a professional, chopping stuff and stirring what looked like spaghetti… He didn't know how to feel, it was like he stepped into another reality. The smell of fish and rosemary, the faint music, her. She had turned around so he could eat. It was considerate of her, no? He tried the hummus, which was very nice and spicy. The other dip was fresh and aromatic, a good balance of sweet and sour, he was impressed. 'You're not gonna eat?' She didn't turn around. 'Yeah later, this is just appetisers.' He nodded even though she couldn't see him. She took the lead of the conversation. 'What wine did you get?' He quickly grabbed the bottle and started opening it, so he could keep himself busy. 'Hum… chardonnay?' he said. 'Good choice.' He wanted to tell her it was probably a cheap bottle. He realised he should have gotten a better one. He should have gotten more chocolates and maybe something else, he wasn't at her level. She strained the pasta. He asked her if Jinx could have a chip, she said only a small piece. 'Can I turn around?'

Now, he really didn't expect she would ask. He didn't really eat around people, when he drank in public settings like a pub, he kept his mask on his nose or made sure to have it on most of the time. She already saw half of his face when they ate that burger together. He thought about it for what felt like hours, deep down he wanted to be normal, he wanted to feel at ease and just relax for a second, she had even asked him permission... He put his mask back on and told her to turn around. When she did, she placed a pan on the table. 'Calabrese', she said. 'It's from a region in the south of Italy, I had a roommate that was from there.' She served him a good portion of spaghetti, topping them with the sauce that was at the bottom of the pan. 'Melted anchovies, chilli pepper, tomatoes…', she grabbed a small bowl, '…toasted breadcrumbs and basil, which are optional but recommended.' She raised her eyes to look at him, in sitting quietly on the small stool with is shoulders curved foreword. 'I can go eat on the sofa if you want, it's not a problem.' She wanted him to trust her really bad. The fact that he had that fame of unbreakable soldier with a hard past intrigued her, she wanted to know him and she felt like she had the power to do so. She was polite, she was respectful of his boundaries, she was understanding and would not push him. She wanted him to feel alright in her presence.

He felt that from the way she was talking to him. He felt dizzy and uncomfortable, she was putting him in a position of complete control over the situation, she was giving him a choice and offering to keep his face concealed, his identity protected. Protected from what, he wasn't at war, fucking hell. He was with the girl he had thought about at night, truth be told. He was with Alba who he had talked to before, in situations in which he went to see her because he craved her presence. He was with her right that second. She had cooked all that just for him, she let him into her house, him specifically and only him, her fucking dog was licking his shoe right that second.

'No you can stay', he slowly peeled off his mask and put it aside.

'There's your name written on the table.'

notes: nice… pasta recipe soon?? also December 24 and it's chapter 24, guys I'm a witch.

notes: i hope you liked the' first hug' moment in the last chapter and this kinda first moment alone together. a reminder, these two have a enemies to colleagues to major enemies to lovers kinda trope sooooo... I don't know, we'll see what happens I guess, I have a few more chapters written down and then it's season two. we'll just have to wait and see eheheheh. love y'all.

taglist:

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[soraviie]

Already from a distance, Jimin's eyes can be seen glinting deviously the second you take a step out of the car. You whip around, ready to push the vehicle back to the city should it be needed, but your friends grips your shoulders violently spinning you around.

With a huge angelic grin that doesn't match the predatory look in the eye, Jimin walks down the mountain path you promised to hike together. Well, your friend promised, when exactly and in which format had you agreed to do so was still debatable.

See more than anything in the world Park Jimin liked to fluster people, that much is known and more than anything in the world, you were famous from being a motherfucking tsundere. And in the same way a cat sensed someone was allergic and proceeded to jump in their lap, Park Jimin was all over you the second he caught your presence.

"Please, I cannot stand this dude!" you whisper frantically, looking for any means of escape. "Please, let me die! I'd rather die right now!

"Oh, please," your friend rolls her eyes. "Just hop on that dic-"

"You're talking about me, ladies?"

You force your eyes shut, pretending you were somewhere, anywhere else. Maldives! Maldives seems like a good option. Oh for the love of God, how can you feel his stare even with closed eyes?!

The pressure on your elbow eases but it's instantly replaced by a warm breath ghosting across your nose.

"Bro, your breath smells," you hiss, trying to preserve whatever dignity was left.

"Of mint," Jimin smiles, leaning back and giving a flirtatious wink.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," you grumble, despairingly watching as your friend disappeared with Namjoon already in far distance. Just you and this demon.

Oh, wonderful.

"You like my hair?" he asks, trailing by your side with enviable ease. Soon you'll be gasping for breath. And yeah not entirely because of the mountain. "I dyed it brown."

"I didn't notice."

"Well shouldn't we look at each other?" he leans down into your line of vision with an obnoxious smirk. Your fist tightens by your side.

"You're so shameless!"

"Hmm, is that why you like me so much?"

You aim your fist at his shoulder but he manages to evade it at the very last second.

"Alright, alright, I will let you be," he laughs, putting up his hands in a half-assed defense. "But one day, you'll be mine. Just see."

send in a picture of the boys and I'll write a scenario

[danisbrainrot]

katniss everdeen x reader not going to say this is an au where finnick lives because he survived the mutts? he and annie are raising their son in district 4? suzanne collins confirmed this herself?

it had been almost five years since the war, so, to celebrate, everyone had gathered at katniss' house. you were reflecting on life before and during the rebellion—what had started as traumatic memories, ended in laughter and silly stories as everyone proceeded to get drunker.

finnick was telling a story about how he and annie's first kiss was incredibly awkward—garnering laughter from johanna, peeta and haymitch. katniss however rolled her eyes, taking a large sip from her glass. "wait until you hear how our first kiss," she chuckles, grabbing a hold of your hand and winking at you.

you raise an eyebrow in confusion, "i'm interested to hear about this as well," you reply, katniss sits up straighter, mimicking your expression. "because how i remember it, you kissed me in the meadow while the mockingjays sang above us. it was very romantic," peeta glances between you and katniss, trying to work out when that happened.

katniss snorts, "that was our second kiss. our first was when you got drunk and cornered me in some alley and confessed your feelings," the room goes silent except for johanna's quiet laughter; you stare at katniss indignantly.

"that sounds exactly like something you'd do," johanna teases. you put your hand up, signalling for her to be quiet.

shaking your head in disbelief, you let go of katniss' hand. "that didn't happen," you scoff, before turning to face your friend, "and that isn't something i'd do, because i didn't do it," johanna rolls her eyes and mouths 'sure' before sipping from her glass again.

katniss shakes her head, "of course, you don't remember that, you were drunk," she states plainly—almost suspiciously too plain for katniss.

the conversation went back and forth for some time before peeta finally piped up. "katniss is right, it was behind the bakery. i saw it all," he confirms.

your eyes narrowed at the blonde, "you were holding that piece of information for quite some time," you reply suspiciously.

"he's not lying, he's the worst liar in the world," katniss jokes, receiving chuckles from haymitch and finnick—both men knowing just how good of a liar peeta was.

in the end, after some debate, you concede and agree with katniss' story, assuming that was the true events of your first kiss—even if you don't remember it.

once everyone had left later that night, you went to bed early while katniss cleaned up after the gathering. it's dark when she creeps through your room; she pulls your waist closer to her before snuggling into your side and burying her head into the crook of your neck.

you sigh contentedly, embracing the warmth she brought. "they're all gone now, you don't have to pretend that's how our first kiss happened anymore," you mutter.

"i swear that's how it happened," she mumbles against your neck, kissing down it softly. you're still not convinced, wondering how you both remembered two entirely different first kisses. you refused to believe you'd ever been that drunk.

"finnick put you up to it, didn't he? to try and get back at me for teaching his son to swear?" you ask, turning to face katniss and staring deeply into her beautiful blue eyes.

she shakes her head softly, chuckling lightly, "no, he didn't," she promises. you sigh, snuggling into katniss' chest. eventually her heartbeat and warm arms lull you into a deep sleep.

it isn't until the morning when johanna comes in laughing hysterically and hands katniss some money do you find out that everyone was in on it. it was a prank to see how stubborn you were—how long you'd be adamant that you were right. finnick had come up with it, to get back at you for teaching his son those words; katniss had lied to your face about it last night.

you'd put up a good fight, but not long enough for anyone but katniss to win. she knew you so well that she got the exact time you'd give up fighting her and let her win. you didn't know if it meant she was romantic or you were predictable—you'd like to think the first one.

you no longer felt bad about teaching finnick's son swear words—in fact, you were already coming up with a few more colourful phrases to teach him.

[verdemoun]

feels like a very dumb ask as its not related to your timewarp au but do you have any darragh and sean headcanons😔

catch me jumping through the inbox seeing darragh and just jumping ahead through my queue i promise fellas i am working through it

it was only ever sean and darragh. sean never really asked because he knew that lots of boys didn't grow up with mothers and he was so lucky that darragh tried so hard to make sure he had everything he needed instead of sending him to the workhouse

... sean's mother was actually the daughter of one of darragh's political opponents who happened to be a unionist sympathizer. while she was never going to be mrs macguire, when she realized she was pregnant she very merrily followed her father's wishes to go to a mother's home but used every ounce of influence being upper class to tell darragh he was a father and he was absolutely not letting his son fall into an adoption scheme or left to die of neglect

sean absolutely never learned this because the implication is his mother was in fact at least partly english. he is not the pure irish terrier he assumes and that would probably kill him -150% max hp in psychological damage

darragh macguire, the ever complex articulate highwayman who could also run circles around politicians and protestants in civil debate vanished entirely from public eye for the first two years of sean's life. there was no parenting courses let alone fathering courses and while his gang were an extension of his family much like the VDLs he did not tell a single one of them he was a parent because he knew they would see having a child as a distraction from the cause.

he didn't know how to change a diaper or look after a baby. learning to bottle feed a baby was his personal nightmare. sean absolutely had a murder bottle. darragh absolutely put a touch of whiskey or opium medicines on the nipple almost daily to get sean to settle for a few minutes of peace.

he lost days worth of sleep watching sean wondering what the holy hell he was doing trying to look after a baby and sometimes convincing himself in a 'i'm not a bad person wishing my son dead but the fact is most (80% holy hell) babies do not make it to two years old'. he kept the cash on hand to pay for a funeral at all times even if it meant them both going without necessities

he only figured out supporting a baby's head because thankfully sean was as vocal as a baby as he was as an adult and basically became his own life alert.

it wasn't until sean was approaching two, already in the full throws of the terrible twos running around the house squealing his favorite word being screaming NO!!! in response to any question and a hurricane of energy and bad choices climbing up furniture and the walls, while darragh is trying to sit and read hiding his coping beverage behind the paper, that darragh actually realized oh shit i am a da. this thing is not leaving my house and oh no i love him

any conversation with sean was the classic trying to tell a story while jingling keys in an attempt to keep him focused but once finally darragh accepted he was in fact the sole parent of this bundle of constant self-inflicted bruises from his own clumsy recklessness he very much embraced it

yes sean did his absolute head in: trying to plan a heist as he refound his outlawing roots while kid is tugging on his pants asking a million questions and demanding his attention to show him cool rock/bug/glass bottle/DA LOOK A KNIFE :D

darragh would regularly forget sean was a child and not in fact bulletproof. throwing sean too high in the air accidentally dropping him and sean lands on the ground peter griffin style only to bounce up with a blood nose screaming again again again!!

sean was only four the first time darragh took him out on gang activities instead of leaving him in the care of a trusted neighbor and it was a core memory. he held his son simba style and let him throw the match that proceeded to set a landowner's fields ablaze

darragh was a goofy parent being a responsible adult was not natural to him like imagine young john if john actually cared levels of stupid. sean could say the dumbest thing and darragh just nods thoughtfully yes let's we absolutely should go sling rocks through windows and run away, yeah i reckon if you flick a spoonful of mash potato at me i can catch it in my mouth let's try it

bedtime stories were just darragh reading unionist handouts with voices and the pacing of a picture book 'the poor irish boy was so hungry his raggedy clothes fell off because they were too big for his scrawny shoulders but the big nasty fat englishman still said he needed the food more!!' sean was indoctrinated into anti-british sentiment before he could even write his name.

[therealgchu]

Snippet Sun-Monday

thanks for the tags, @eridanidreams!

i have more than a snippet, i have a chapter for To the Shore!

fuuu, i thought i had a chapter. i guess ao3 is down for maintenance.

ok, here's the snippet however. the new chapter, Family, will go up tomorrow.

i can't even put in the stupid urls cos ao3 down. fuuu

sneaky peeky is better than nothing

By the time Hwa and Barrett made it back to the Solar Flare, they were laughing like loons. Barrett had to drag her away from one of the xenos as she wondered if she could tame and ride it into battle.

“And I thought I was crazy!” he laughed as he slumped into a chair on the main deck.

She threw herself on the floor by his chair, holding her stomach from laughing so hard. “Come on, that was pretty awesome,” she said.

“I gotta get out there with you more often!”

“Only if you let me tame the xenos,” she answered back.

“You tame them, I’ll cook them,” he answered as he got up and headed to the galley. He returned with a couple bottles of beer and handed one to her. “I’m not getting down on the floor with you. There’s no way I’ll be able to get my butt off it again,” he said as he clinked his bottle with hers.

She was quiet for a couple minutes as she peered at him.

“What is it?” he asked.

She took a pull from her bottle, “You remind me of my brother,” she said softly, looking away.

“Oh, is he as good looking and charming as I am?” Barrett asked with his trademark grin. She looked up at him and upon seeing her face, immediately regretted his light tone. “I’m sorry. What happened?” he asked.

“He was killed when I was ten and he was twelve,” she answered after a moment. “He was…” she paused, looking down again, “he was the only family I had. We grew up…” she paused again, taking a deep breath before starting again, “let’s just say we grew up very badly.”

Barrett nodded, “I had guessed you had a rough childhood.”

She snorted derisively, “Yes, Sarah said the same thing. She said I wasn’t as clever as I thought at keeping my past secret.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s more like we all have our pasts and our own pain. And, pain recognizes pain,” he reassured her, his voice kind and gentle. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

She shook her head, “Not really. Sam knows. It’s hard to talk about.”

He nodded, “I get that, I really do. It took me years to process Ervin’s death. And some days, it still feels fresh.”

Hwa nodded, then was silent for several minutes trying to make up her mind about what she wanted to say. Being around Barrett was very different than being around Sam. He made her feel good in a different way. Like Seong did when he looked after her when their mother would disappear for days on end. He’d make her laugh, and they’d play games, and he kept her out of trouble. He was her big brother and her protector. He stood in the way when their mother went into her rages and took the beatings that were meant for her. And, once they got to the Syndicate, he still looked out after her even though he knew he didn’t have to anymore. 

Something finally occurred to her in her love-starved existence: love came in many different shapes and forms. She loved Sam with every fiber of her being. For her, the sun rose and set with him. But, that didn’t preclude loving other people. In the short weeks of traveling with the rest of Constellation, as she began to feel comfortable around them, a new emotion started surfacing. She looked at Barrett and realized that in the time they traveled together, she developed similar feelings towards him that she had for her big brother. She’d never want to replace Seong, but she certainly had space for another big brother.

“I grew up in the Seokguh Syndicate on Neon,” Hwa declaimed explosively. She’d been holding her breath debating whether to tell Barrett or not. Then, it all came tumbling out. “My mother sold us when I was seven,” and she proceeded to tell him her life’s story in short, quick sentences with no embellishment. Oddly enough, it was easier to tell Barrett than telling Sam, probably because she’d done it once already. She didn’t dare look at him all the while and was silent for several seconds after.

Barrett only nodded and patted her back. “Dusty,” he said softly, “it’s OK. Really, it is.” She finally looked up at him. “It does go a long way in explaining how you were so effective at Vectera for a miner,” he mused, then gave her one of his cocky grins. “But, not as good as me.”

She chuckled softly, “You wish,” she replied back.

“Yeah, you’re right. I do wish,” Barrett nodded. “Anyway, come on and let’s make some food. I was hoping you could help me with some stuff I’m having to do with Ervin’s estate.”