#i wish i could like actually just cut off access to my room when she turns the heat on

[bromantically]

my wonderful mothers most favorite hobby in the world is turning the thermostat to heat when its 70+ degrees outside

[eye-of-the-phoenix]

I want to like CRY so much

I just finished replaying it and I have so many opinions, as always. This game is unique for me in that I WANT to like it so badly but it just doesn't quite work. However, I stubbornly replay it and ponder what it could have been because I wish I liked it more. I especially feel this way because I live in New Orleans and its just so CLOSE to being good!

More thoughts under the cut.

PROS:

I actually think they did a great job with the setting. It's raining so hard that the power goes out and the streets are too flooded for cabs? There are weird creatures and bugs around every corner, some of which are messing with your belongings? The best food is from some sketchy stand served by some random Shorty person? Accurate, welcome to New Orleans. I can even forgive Bess for eating crawfish with the shells on with a spoon.

The characters are also good. Lamont is completely underutilized to where I'd never believe he was the culprit, but I can imagine running into all of these people throughout my day and it makes sense that they would all also interact with each other off-screen.

The core mystery is really interesting. It's the classic Nancy-gets-sucked-in-to-a-case-on-vacation scenario, but she really does stumble into the situation by accident in this one and has a personal stake because she gets attacked by the skeleton man. The progression is believable as she starts to unravel the skull mystery and discovers that Bruno's death was actually kind of suspicious.

My favorite ND trope, secret room/hideout/study revealed midgame, with a lot of things to look at and click on, is present.

CONS

The music is kind of a miss. It's not bad, but it should have been so much better. It has this boring CLK old-timey feel and they kind of missed the mark in my opinion. I think a more upbeat track with some brass, maybe something bluesy, maybe something modern would have added more variety.

The puzzles. THE PUZZLES ARE SO TEDIOUS. I hate that we find this book Bruno wrote and it's just a walkthrough to getting a bunch of eyeballs through various boring puzzles for the sake of padding the game. I use a walkthrough for like half of this game every time because I don't find the puzzles fun. My least favorites are the sneeze contraption because there is ZERO confirmation as to whether you're on the right track when you do it, and the tombstone pun puzzle because walking back and forth around the cemetery is SO TEDIOUS and it has zero replay value.

Bruno's house doesn't make sense because it's fairly spacious and kept up on the bottom story and the top floor that we can access is just two horrible moldy rooms. Bruno, you dropped dead from breathing in black mold in your own house, not a heart attack. Trust me when I say I know it's humid and wet here, but there's just no reason for the upstairs to be that uninhabitable indoors.

On a related note, I wish there was more to explore, and no, the cemetery doesn't count. There should be more rooms for Nancy to snoop through (where is Henry sleeping?) and like one more place for Bess to go. Or more things to do and click on in Zeke's aside from just looking at that one box a million times. Or the option to poke around Renee's table when she's away. NOT nearly enough snooping for me.

It's so dark. It's too dark. It could have been like 10% lighter or had a partial daytime element so that I could actually see what I was doing even a tiny bit.

[nightcolorz]

Hiii. I love your acc and the analyses you've made of TVC characters; reading your posts has expanded and helped me articulate the ideas I already had. Anne Rice as an author was very revealing, I mean, by reading her books and analyzing the characters and their dynamics, you get a lot of information about her as a person. That's very interesting. I think all authors put a bit of themselves into their works, but with Anne Rice it feels more personal, maybe because there are quite a few books following the same characters. What do you think?

omg thank you so much 🥹❤️ the makes me so happy. I agree wholeheartedly with ur take on Anne rice. The books are suuuper personal, sometimes to the point where I almost feel like I shouldn’t have access to them 😭 like I’m reading someone’s weird diary. I think this was because her writing functioned as her only outlet. like iwtv was so visceral and sad bcus it was such a raw unfiltered expression of her grief, and the rest of the books all follow the same format (to varying degrees of quality lol).

When it comes to the characters, she was open about how every character is in some way representative of a part of her (especially Lestat and Louis). U can analyze for days how Louis and lestats evolutions r akin to witnessing evolutions of Anne rices mental health, Louis her former self insert created during probably the darkest time in her life later becoming a representation of what she considers the worst parts of herself that she is ashamed of and being basically cut from the series, and Lestat going from an embodiment of her fraught relationship with her husband in iwtv to in tvl a power fantasy who she wishes she was like to at the same time a mouth piece for her existential dread and loneliness and anxieties

The way that lestats religious crisis and manic breakdown from Memnoch to blood canticle aligns perfectly with Anne rice’s own religious crisis and sudden shift in her work is so crazy to me😭 and then there’s Anne rice literally using Lestat as a blatant mouth piece to scream at the audience in the iconic blood canticle opening monologue of course, how could we forget. A lot of the time the personal nature of these books makes the technical quality of them worse, but even still it is one of the major reasons why I love them so much. Part of it is that reading something so personal and unfiltered, where u get the impression that the author wasn’t thinking at all about how it would come off to people while writing it, makes it feel almost more real to me? Or more authentic? Reading tvc sometimes makes me feel like I’m reading actual history or personal accounts from real people. And the bad writing and offensiveness and heaps of bullshit and the pages of unrelated tangents adds to this in a way 😭. Like yeah this is exactly what reading a biography by a hundreds of years old vampire would be like lmao.

I love interpreting themes in these books so much because I often feel like Anne rice didn’t place them there on purpose. She had a very “I’ll just write whatever is in my mind and the themes will happen on there own” approach, and they did! and for someone like me analyzing it is super rewarding. Figuring stuff out that the author wasn’t even aware of, basically. Tvc are rich with meaning in a way that only these books are, and the personal nature and the lack of thought into meaning or themes is I think majorly responsible. For me when it comes to fiction, I like to do the work. And Anne rice throwing her personal as hell freak sex vampire yaoi with the most agonizing portrayals of trauma and mental illness ever no editing no forethought out into the world definitely gives me room to do the work 😭

Also, I tend to really only enjoy art if I feel like it is a messy reflection of the creator. I’m not sure why but I can never really get into something unless I can see some of the creators flaws or baggage reflected in the work 😭 I feel like art isn’t rlly art to me if I don’t feel like a know the person who made it a little too well after seeing it. There’s something really special about finding out the worst parts of someone in a book, honestly. I love reading these and being like there is so much wrong with this woman and I know way too much about it 😭 she’s horrible but I’ve lived in her mind and I don’t wanna leave.

I admire in a way Anne rices unhinged abandon with how blatantly vent-like and unfiltered her books were (literally unedited 😭). She got extremely lucky making a career from it, typing out all her insane thoughts and feelings into gay vampires and becoming rich and famous. A girl can only dream for that life, I do that shit for free on a03. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered anything published that has the same energy as tvc in this way. The only thing that comes close would be like, a quotev fan fiction I read for laughs written by a ten year old in 2010 who is unintentionally revealing way too much to me about their semi concerning home life 😭. It’s wonderful! Thank u Anne rice for ur beautiful scary lack of shame u have given me so many things to write about on tumblr

[seiya234]

cl--d--

thank you @marypsue for the help at the end ;)

----

“Soooo-”

Admittedly, the two of them were in their cups. But Lucy Ann still shot Dipper the biggest stank eye she could over the rim of her wine glass.

“Are you seriously going to ask me what I think you’re about to ask me?”

Dipper, who for a demon had some tells you could see a mile off, did a very bad job lying. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“Of course you waited for Hank to die first, Hank would have given you a disappointed face if he was around-”

“ l̨̥̜̜u̬̫͓̖̻̘̝c̪͠y̧ ̶a̺ ͏̙̹n̗͙̼̳͈̞͚ ̡̼̠͍ǹ̳͙̯̦̘̣ “

She just looked at him until he conceded her point.

Non-verbal communication was fun. But now it was hanging out there, so she just sighed and said, “Go ahead and ask, I know you’re dying to.”

“Okay so you’ve read-”

“Yes, but I liked the show better.”

“-and you know there’s a character-”

“Yes. Yes I know.”

Dipper put his chin in his hands and said, “Soooooo...”

Lucy Ann drained her glass because fuck she was going to need it. “So what Dipper? Use your words I know you’re smart.”

“Have you ever... I mean, have you ever felt, um-?” Suddenly Dipper was blushing, and Lucy Ann, who could smell metaphorical weakness, jumped.

“Kissed? Made out?”

“Hey-”

“Felt carnal urges that could not be sated because of my small body?”

“I uh-”

“Have I ever fucked?”

“ L̺͖̠̘u̢c̷̗͇͚̰̣y̵̺̙ ̵̗̫Ạ͕̲̪̹̙̟͞n̷͇̰̟̤n͎̳!̻̬̦̼̱”

She just stared at him. Dipper had the good grace to look away, ashamed.

Lucy Ann let him dangle there for a minute because he should be ashamed of the way he treated such a serious subject, before cutting him some slack because hell, who wouldn’t be curious.

“Look Dipper, I’m fine. With all of that.”

“Really?”

“I mean dude. I’m five. My body is five. And yes my mind, my soul are thousands of years old, but my body is still five. I never went through puberty; a lot of those systems never came online. Hell, technically I still have my baby teeth.”

“Wow. That’s...” Dipper paled. “Lucy Ann that is awful.”

She shrugged. “It is. And not going to lie, I’m really glad we aren’t having this conversation when I was like, two hundred. That was a super angsty time with me. But I mainly have more trouble with a society that treats children as chattel and lack of access than sex.”

She tapped her glass and Dipper refilled it. “I mean seriously, way more important things for me to worry about than that shit.”

Lucy Ann leaned back in her chair. “That being said, I’ve still not forgiven that woman for writing that book because like, no one asked me about that kind of thing.” She paused. “Okay, long life, it came up a few times, but not that often until her.”

“So what did you do?” Dipper refilled his own glass with wine. “I know you.”

Lucy Ann grinned.

“I snuck into her house, bit her on the wrist, and told her my life story.”

“So like-”

“I even dropped the title, I was so proud.”

“Okay but that seems like she would have been really into that.”

“Oh dude I waited until it had been like, several years and she was hosting parties with the people who thought they were vampires at her house. And then I looked her dead in the eye and told her no one would believe her, and left her crying.”

“Dude.” 

“Also I left Amazon reviews on every one of her books and pointed out ever inaccuracy.”

“Even the Jesus one?”

Lucy Ann waggled her eyebrows. “I am older than Jesus my friend.”

“Did you-”

“I’ll never tell you.”

Dipper burst out laughing then, and so did she a second later. Once it died down, Dipper became solemn.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“My feelings aren’t hurt per se. I just wish you had treated me and what you know must be a sensitive subject with a little more respect.”

Because Dipper had actually apologized, she did not add, “I’m concerned your manners and sense of what is and is not socially appropriate is fading now that the kids are dead. I’m worried about you and so are Hank’s grandkids and great-grands. Also you need to call them more.”

But that was a lot and the mood in the room was becoming lighter, also not her circus not her monkeys, so Lucy Ann let it go, and moved the conversation on.

“Do you know she responded to everyone of my reviews?”

“ Ņ̻̭͔̗̙ ͙̖̯̲̠͟o҉̶̢͓͕̤̱ ̶̼̥̳͚̬̘ “

[bolton-buried]

I still kinda wish we had something different to do episode three on than, well. You know. Not least of all because someone else had to take the footage.

But here it is.

[[Video ID:

Harold stands in front of the camera. His black coat drips water like someone has just dumped a bucket of water on him, and his bangs completely cover his eyes, only allowing the camera to see the bottom half of his dark features.

“This is not my side of the camera, but I was asked to open today’s video, due to my personal connection to the subject matter. When I was 11, my father developed a Hyde-esque alter ego, which drove him into a murderous fury whenever he encountered something paranormal. I was one of those things. Enough said.”

Cut to black. White text reads “Footage of this portion is unavailable, due to Charlotte’s failure to remove the camera lens cover.”

Charlotte’s voice can be heard.

“Mr. Bolton, can you please, in your own words, tell us about when this began?”

A gruff, masculine voice responds.

“A dozen years ago. I was hunting with an old pal of mine. Sorry, you said Harold is here? He can’t come in—he knows what I’ll—”

“Yes, we’re quite aware of that. Now please, your story?”

“Errr, yes, right. This force—I couldn’t see it—knocked me over. For a moment I imagined it was a wolf, which clawed at my chest, but my chest was fine afterwards, so that was just my imagination.”

“And after that?”

“That’s when I realized that my hunting friend was made of cockroaches.”

Cut to:

Talking head of Angie, a woman with blonde curls under a bandanna, dressed like a psychic medium. She is holding a piece of paper.

“According to news reports of the time, Nicholas Bolton went on to kill two people: his hunting companion, and a steward on the train he took back. Both bodies were found to be highly abnormal in autopsies. Though we were unable to access the autopsies ourselves, various sources reference the companion’s skin being found hollowed with a few insects nearby, and the steward’s was found to be just skin, all the way down.

“After reaching his home village north of Newcastle, Bolton went on to attempt to shoot his own son, chasing him with a rifle until the child fell in a river.”

Angie looks up, and her expression becomes agitated.

“Stop making that face—I’m reading the script, you don’t have to look all—”

Cut to black.

Back in the prison, but we actually have footage this time. The man on the other side of the glass is pale, but his hair is the same shade as Harold’s—and greasy enough to match the color of Harold’s hair being wet.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Just sometimes, when I meet someone, they have a smell about them, and then I start to see red, and then the next thing I know I’m standing over a corpse.”

“Interesting, so would you say you—”

Charlotte is cut off by a slight commotion, through which Desmond can be heard apologizing. The camera turns to show that he has tripped slightly on entering, and is regaining his balance.

“Dez! You’re not supposed to come in, with your—”

“I know, I know.” Dez waves her concern off. “I still wanted to meet my future in-law. Is that such a crime? Plus, he doesn’t seem to be reacting.”

The camera pans back to Mr. Bolton. He is still seated, calmly as before.

“In-law? You mean…”

Cut to black. White text reads “Irrelevant footage removed.”

Footage resumes with a talking head of Charlotte.

“We were unable to get much information from Mr. Bolton that isn’t already public knowledge. I wish I could share a closing word to recommend you all a way to avoid similar instances, but I don’t have any.”

The video seems to be ending somewhat abruptly, but then it cuts into a familiar, LED-lit room, with Dez front and center.

“Okay, so, nothing on the stalker front. I think it left when I went to speak with Nic—meaning it’s not mindless. Makes my life harder.

“I’ve been turning the angel over in my head. I mentioned the letters to Nic, and they were his originally. I don’t think he’s the angel—he’s too much a hunter.

“The angel is an avatar of the web. Hence the manipulation, and the spiders that seem to end up all over certain areas. That rules out Nic, Angie, and Charlotte, at least. I believe they did know Harry in-person at one point, which gives me three primary suspect groups.

“Institute employees, villagers up north, and people who attended Uni with Harold.

“I’m onto you, itsy-bitsy. Watch your back. Or did you forget what happens to you when it rains?”

[azzy141]

Hazbin Hotel - Vix x Vox

Part 1: Welcome to Hell

Blurb: When Vixen's friendship with Angel is derailed by Valentino, Vox picks up the pieces of her lonely heart and convinces her to sell her soul to him.

--------‐-----------------------------------------------

A blue chain suddenly appeared around my neck, yanking me forward, I fell to the floor with a thud, on my hands and knees in front of the man who owned my soul. I looked up to see Vox smirking down at me. How did I get here?

Approximately 70 years ago…

“Anthony, you really did it this time. They’re not sure you’re going to pull through, but you have to. You’re the only friend I have, the only person in my life I actually care about. What am I going to do with out you?”

I brushed a rogue strand of hair from his face. He had his problems, some serious ones, like the drug addition that landed him comatose in this hospital bed, but he was a good guy, a good friend. “I have to go now, my family wants to see me, probably to tell me yet again how disappointed they are with me. I’ll see you later… love you.”

I left the hospital and drove to my families manor. God I hate this place. Slamming my car door closed, I walk into the manor and down the hall into the main lounge. My mother was perched on the arm chair and my father was standing by the fireplace looking over some paperwork. My obnoxious, perfect brother was lounging on the chaise sofa, reading some piece of classic literature.

“Lexi, darling, thank you for coming today. We wanted to discuss some things with you.” My mother announced the second she saw me enter the room.

“Another speech about how I’m letting this family down?”

“No dear.” My father replied. “You have so much potential, but we’ve accepted the fact that you have chosen to waste that and not help you family. Of course your brother will have to pick up the slack, but he is more than capable. We just wanted to tell you that as of this moment you are free to do as you wish. But don’t expect anything from us, you will no longer have access to the family finances. You don’t want to be part of this family, consider yourself free from us.”

“Really? Just like that, you’re done trying to change me? Trying to use me?”

“Just like that.” My brother chimed. “You’re done. Bye sis.”

I scoffed. I couldn’t believe it. This is what I wanted but of course, just like everything my family had to ruin it. “Alright. Goodbye.”

They all went back to what they were doing, the conversation was over and they never gave a damn about me in the first place. Luckily I already had my own apartment, so I at least wasn’t going to be out on the street now that I was cut off. I got into my car, buckled up and let out a sigh. “I’m free.”

I started up the car and decided to head to the hospital. I just wanted to be with Anthony, I should be there as much as possible, just incase this was it. I drove down the long driveway from the house that lead straight out onto the little road that wound its way back to the main road to get me to the hospital. It had a few twists and turns but nothing you really needed to slow down for, not until the final bend before it joined the main road. I always sped down this road, i was so use to driving it, I always went to fast and it was never a problem, until today.

As I approached the bad bend I started easing on the breaks, with no result. I pressed harder, nothing. Shit!

There was no way I was going to make this bend at this speed. I was just going to have to minimise how badly I was going to crash. I tried taking the corner, I knew I was going to go over the edge and crash into the woods, I was just hoping I could avoid crashing into a tree for as long as possible. I missed seeing the fallen tree, the car went up on it and nicked another tree, throwing me to side, the car started to tip. Over it went and I began rolling into the woods. Despite the chaos I managed to engage a shield charm before slamming to a halt, as the middle of the car smacked into a large, sturdy tree.

“Urgh..” I slowly moved my arms, which way was up. I unbuckled the seat belt and tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. I banged against it again. No luck. Wriggling around I tried the passenger door, it creaked open and I crawled out of the car. Damn. I was lucky to survive that uninjured. I straightened myself up.

Blam! Darkness. Dull light.

“Welcome to hell.”

“Excuse me?” I turned around looking for who had spoken and spotted a weird looking… creature… sitting behind a desk in a dimly lit, shitty little room.

“Welcome to hell. You’re dead.” “I’m – “

“Dead. And now you’re in hell. Welcome. Now get out of here.” “But –“

“This is hell, there is no welcome package, no further explanantions. Good fucking luck. You’ll need it.” He said, pointing to a door behind me.

I considered protesting but knew there was no point. I left the room, and entered a long hallway with a large door at the end, other confused creatures were leaving other rooms and entering the hallway, looking around and slowly walking towards the large door at the end. They must have been other people who had just arrived in hell. Lost and confused like me. But why did they look so strange?

Leaving the building, I stepped out onto a busy street in what looked like a large city. This is not what I pictured hell to be. I looked around and spotted my reflection in a window… I got it now, everyone’s soul looked weird in hell.

A white and pink fox like creature was staring back at me. I brought my hands to my face, feeling my fur, my muzzle and my large ears. I was now my family name… there is no escape.

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/gypsy-blood-343/750465050757726208/hazbin-hotel-vixens-story-part-2-inseparable?source=share

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/gypsy-blood-343/751018648569888768/hazbin-hotel-vix-x-vox?source=share

Part 4: https://www.tumblr.com/gypsy-blood-343/751749340809379840/hazbin-hotel-vix-x-vox-chapter-4-no-rebuttal?source=share

[parragone]

I recently did this wip names game too, so I'm not doing it again so soon But gimme the tea on "r610nights2024" and the very eloquently named "document1 (2)" please xD

oh NO I didn't realize ;A; but now I get to go hunting for a post which is always delightful actually

onto the WIPs!

r610nights2024

This one is actually in reference to something I outlined in 2023 but didn't have the time to draft and finish, but I thought it'd be fun to do an Extraction AU what was sort of a mix of shippy and leaning into the existential somewhat eldritch horror. The idea is that they figure out a way to access the Chimera 'neural system' for direct communication, and the ten nights that are detailed each focus on one of ten pairs aboard the Pioneer. How each pair is bracing for what might come when they actually manage to bridge the gap of understanding. For all pairs, there's the question of wha tthe Praetorians really are, and - for one pair in particular - the very personal risk that comes with the experiment.

The pairs highlighted are AshMira, KapGlaz, Thermcher, DocMonty, VigilEcho, SmokeMaestro, CavTwitch, FinkaYing, BanditJaeger, and [ definitely unsurprisingly ] FuseMute. A lot of the focus is on the trauma suffered by REACT operators and how that's handled in their personal lives, along with the heavy question of "when does an operator give up too much", but there's also some theoretical xenobiology going on and some haphazardly tossed together sci-fi fun.

document1 [2]

Oh good god I'm scared, let's see -

oh well this isn't nearly as bad as I thought it was.

dusts it off

It looks like this particular WIP was an exploration of Team Rainbow operators in romantic relationships being interviewed by Harry for the sake of 'team solidarity'. A way for him to assess whether or not it would interfere with their field work while also getting a glimpse into their more domestic lives and who they are independently. I should get back to this, actually - I think it's something I'd enjoy writing now that I have a clearer grasp of how I write our beloved operators.

I seem to have planned a lot for it, but the only drafted part appears to be KapGlaz, so in exchange for my wordy summaries, have a [very unedited] snippet under the cut!

Mornings were Timur’s favorite. Maxim had gotten up nearly an hour before him as he always did on their days off, and the hunter had taken Annika for her daily morning run. By the time Timur would get out of bed, Maxim would have already made breakfast, most importantly, begun making coffee. Which, of course, was the stage the sniper had reached; the break of dawn had banished any chance of staying in bed with sunlight that streamed through the window, so he had reluctantly climbed out of bed.  He paused long enough to steal one of Maxim’s coats from the chair in the corner of the room and tug it on over his undershirt. Timur claimed that his sentimental nature was limited to memories and a near-perfect visual memory, but the smell that clung to the collar of each coat his lover wore on a regular was one he could never get enough of. It was somewhere between fresh rain and well-loved leather, and Maxim continued to deny such a thing followed him. As expected, his partner was halfway through the morning coffee ritual, with Annika curled up at his feet; she was a lovely Brittany hound, though her age meant she did not get to hunt with Maxim as much as she once did. Maxim himself had stripped himself of the sweat-stained tank top he always wore for a morning run and, much to Timur’s delight, was shirtless and on full display; his tattoos suited him, dark ink against pale skin, thin and elegant lettering mixed into delicate line work, though Glaz wished he could replace the tattoos left behind from Maxim's undercover stint. He wore black sweatpants to keep whatever modesty they pretended to have in their own home, and the sniper could see that the man wore the Rainbow-issued watch on his left wrist, just as Timur did. Timur leaned down to pet the old hound's head and give her an affectionate rub of the ears before he stood and placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder, which only made the hunter hum quietly as he turned to look at the sniper. Bright eyes caught the light, the softness in them undeniable and as smitten as the day they had met. Maxim pressed a kiss to Timur’s cheek that was admittedly more smile than anything else before he pressed a proper kiss to his partner’s lips.

[the-capt0r-system]

Reading this from Beauty After Bruises. God we can relate to "but little me didn't exerperince the bulk of the trauma back then" so hard. Our little Ash has the most significant amnesia, for example still can't tell us what happened two years ago when they fronted for two days while the rest of us (all the adults who usually protect them) experienced a complete blackout, and they define their lower age range as 7 years old because they have next to no memories about being any younger than that. (In March they slid younger for a while but we're uncomfortable with how young that might've been so we haven't analyzed it further.) We have a single snippet of memory of being in the place we lived in before age 5, it only lasts a second or two and there are no feelings attached to it, and a similar snippet of being in our preschool, again no feelings just "I remember being in the room at some point"

This is why when our 30 year old host was told something significant and drastic happened to cause this, she didn't want to believe it. Why wouldn't we know that? Can the brain really shut down so hard that the actual memories are just gone?

But they aren't as gone now, that's the thing. Last year after our ex recorded audio porn of us it was like the trauma floodgates opened and we could access very specific anxieties that had been locked up our entire life prior. It's like there's no source memory, no "reel of video" as I've seen another system call it, but vague flashbacks of moments we've been trying to convince ourselves are imaginary, disgusted feelings that we must've had at some point and are just remembering now. TBH the alter who got us through it back then probably isn't even here, or has been dormant for so long that we have zero memory of who that might've been. It may be one of the alters I was before we integrated, but we can't say because not even she knows what happened back then anymore, just speculates and knows that she's chronologically the first alter (the "tomboy" that Ash started calling themselves as a child) and has a LOT of anger about what we know about how our parents could've gotten away with it.

"Rewrites my entire story from how I once knew it" yeah, the host (Larissa) is now mortified that ever she went around giving our parents any credit for their parenting skills and homeschooling us, when all it really was was selfishness, to keep us to themselves and hide their abuse. Wish when we left home at 17 we knew we were a system and cut the family off back then when we had more resources and a fresher start

But I (Sollux) have been trying to remind her and Ash and hell even myself of the sunk cost fallacy: continuing to do things just because you regret the time and money already spent and wasted on the things. Nothing we can do about changing the past, only way to survive is to ground ourselves in our present adult life, remind ourselves that the past-that-feels-present syndrome is a symptom of CPTSD and brain damage from stress, not something we chose to experience. Finding out we're a system just had that much of an impact

[steamishot]

heat wave

this past week was pretty socially busy. on tuesday, S came over to work out. i felt better about the whole moving thing after chatting with her, like i got her blessing to move and confirmation that we'll keep in touch/visit each other. i hope we will still remain close but she seems to be getting busier and busier as she takes on more private practice clients. shortly after this, R and her friend randomly asked if they could come up to use our restroom since they were in the area. i said sure and we got to chat for a bit LOL.

that same night, i met up with A, S, and LW for a comedy show. it was a bit awkward because A was the most excited about coming out (an excuse to get away from mommy duties during the weeknight) and everyone else was kinda meh. we initially planned to meet at 7, but ended up meeting around 7:45pm, right before the start of the show. it was actually nice to all meet up again, despite my nerves. felt like a full circle, since this group was my initial friend group in NYC.

on juneteenth wednesday, i invited new friend LG over to my place for lunch. i made miso mushroom spaghetti and we hung out for about two hours just chatting. we then walked over to the ceramics studio where i practiced for a bit before heading back home. i was pretty tired from the socializing and walking in the extreme heat. the studio was also more full than usual, i'm guessing due to the holiday and people wanting free AC.

i've been intentionally missing my sunday classes, and basically going into the studio on my own time. i prefer practicing when the room is emptier (not full like it usually is when class is in session). i'm socially awkward and i feel like my teacher doesn't like me or gravitate towards me. she's pretty hands off in general, but being there and kinda ignored in comparison to the other students makes me feel like it's not worth going. i officially signed up for another (and last) ceramics semester in brooklyn. it'll keep me occupied for july and aug before heading off to switzerland and moving back.

there has been a heat wave this past week or so. i've been lazy to move about, and been avoiding going out in the day time in general. it's kinda the reverse of the dead cold winters.

work: i don't know how i feel about the new girl A who is taking over my old position. it's been about a month now and she hasn't been much help and has still been working on trainings/gaining access. she also doesn't seem very eager to help out (in comparison to other new employees i've seen). we had a brief chat a few weeks ago on the phone, and i saved her number. this week, i texted her about something work related and included my name. her response was "i'm sorry, who is this?" *facepalm*

friends: this is pretty sad, but i was unfriended by B last week. it's the first time in my life that a "close friend" has ever done something like this. there has been drama surrounding her and her two sisters since her bachelorette and wedding last fall. because one of her sisters moved to NYC and the other one has visited, i would sometimes bring them up in conversation with B (i.e. i saw R/T recently for X, Y, Z). i wasn't sure if their fight was something temporary and they would eventually make up, but B emphasized that she wants to keep her sisters at a distance and asked that i stop mentioning them in conversation.

most importantly, i ended up breaking B's trust. she confided in me about her pregnancy and asked me not to tell anyone. i had kept it a secret until weeks after she told her parents. i had assumed that once the parents knew, it wouldn't be a secret within the family. and i assumed wrong, because me bringing it up to her sister R stirred up a lot of drama 😢. now, she probably sees me as siding with her sisters and it's easier to cut me off. just earlier this year, she also cut off her maid of honor/best friend for other reasons. i'm sorry for breaking her trust and wish her well.

leisure: matt went to jury duty 4x this week and they have been more or less ~6 hour days! it's so much better for quality time than the 12 hour days in a very stressful environment. we were finally able to chat more about the move, play overcooked 2 most nights (it's so fun!), watched some presumed innocent, and have ample sleep. last night, we attended our first concert together: odesza at MSG. it was a bit too loud and flashy for my taste but i enjoyed the experience more so as a one and done type of thing. it was the closest experience we've had to clubbing/partying out here.

logistics: tesla seems to have really bad customer service for such a huge company. it felt impossible for me to get in touch with anyone via phone, and they're not very responsive via the app or text. ugh. still trying to figure out the pick up thing. apartment searching has been tough, lol. we were considering just doing the easy thing and transferring to a different apartment within our current network, but the prices in pasadena are pretty outrageous. TBD.

[spaceman-earthgirl]

Hello, lovely, Jess! If you're open to a prompt, could you maybe do one with Lena texting Alex letting her know she'd be out of town, and Alex lets her know she's with Kara and Lena asks how's she doing and Alex tells her. Lena changes her plans (it could go either way with her postponing her trip or calling Kara up and inviting her to come along since they both could use each other's company with everything that's happened plus Kara leaning in and all that they have some things to talk about).

Based loosely on this prompt but also what I wanted to happen at the end of the episode.

---

Kara’s page is still blank, besides the title blinking back at her. She’d told Alex she knew what she was going to write for her article, but words aren’t forming in her mind, it keeps slipping back, to that fear, to that cold, the only thing keeping her grounded right now is Alex still pressed into her side.

So, she focuses on that instead, on her sister’s warmth, her steady heartbeat, the smell of her shampoo and the sound of each breath, reminding Kara that she’s still here, that she’s home.

Kara hears the message tone of Alex’s phone sound from her sister’s pocket, hears her sister shuffle slightly to get access to it. She wonders if it’s Kelly, wondering where her girlfriend is. She selfishly hopes it isn’t, hopes Alex doesn’t have to leave, hopes her sister will stay a bit longer. She’d meant what she said before, she doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Lena’s leaving.”

The words startle Kara. She knows, she’s been trying very hard not to think about it. She swallows. “I know, she called me earlier.” It had been a hard conversation, Kara almost asking her to stay as Lena told her she was leaving. But she hadn’t, she’d bit her tongue, held back her tears, and wished Lena good luck. She didn’t want to be selfish with Lena, she wanted her to be able to find the answers she was looking for, she deserves that much.

But that doesn’t mean she’s not upset that she’s leaving, that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t wish Lena could’ve stayed here, with her.

“Hey, are you okay?” Alex asks, Kara not realising that tears are spilling from her eyes again until Alex wipes a hand across her cheek.

“I-“ The words get caught in her throat as Alex wraps her arms around her again. She presses her face into Alex’s shoulder, her breaths coming in gasps as she thinks more about Lena, how she’s going away, how she won’t be near, how she won’t be able to just listen for her heartbeat across the city or drop on her balcony to see her.

She wonders if she listens now, will she still be able to hear Lena’s heartbeat? Or has she already left.

She doesn’t test the idea, not sure how she’ll react if she can’t hear it now.

“I’ve got you, you’re home,” Alex says, whispering reassurances as she holds Kara, Kara’s breaths coming quicker at the words, turning to sobs because she is home, but Lena’s also her home, and she’s acutely aware that she’s missing.

Eventually, Kara’s breathing slows, as she focuses on Alex, on her warm hand on her back and the quiet words she’s still whispering. She wipes at her eyes, shifts so her head falls to Alex’s shoulder, not quite ready to let her go but also not wanting to look her in the eye yet either.

Alex moves again, not away, but she reaches for her phone once more. Kara wonders if she’s texting Kelly, to tell her she won’t be home tonight.

She asks just in case.

“Will you stay tonight?”

“Of course.” Alex squeezes her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They sit like that for a while longer, Kara listening to Alex tell her stories of things she’d missed while she was away. Only the good things, Kara notices, but she likes that, likes to imagine that if she had never come back, they’d all be okay.

A knock at the door cuts Alex off mid sentence, both turning to glance at the door from their position still seated on the floor.

“I’ll get it, don’t worry, it’s probably just Kelly,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to the side of Kara’s head as she stands.

Kara doesn’t check, just turns back to her computer screen, the blank page almost taunting her now. Andrea is not going to be happy if she doesn’t write anything, but Kara finds right now, she doesn’t care.

“Lena?”

The name catches Kara’s attention, her eyes flashing quickly to where Alex is at the door, and there, standing in her doorway, is Lena.

Kara’s breath catches as Lena’s eyes meet hers, pressure building behind Kara’s eyes again. She tries to hold the sudden tears at bay and usually she wouldn’t listen to a conversation across the room, usually she’d let it just be a dull murmur, but not this time, this time she’s tuned in to every word, tuned into the quick heartbeat of the woman at the door.

“Can I see Kara?” Lena asks, her eyes still on Kara even though she’s talking to Alex.

“Of course, come in.”

Lena’s eyes never leave Kara’s as she crosses the room.

Kara thinks she might break under her look.

Lena only hesitates for a moment before she removes her shoes, taking the seat Alex had occupied only a moment ago, tucking her legs beneath her. She’s not touching Kara once she’s settled, but she’s close, close enough that Kara can feel her warmth beside her.

“Hi,” Kara swallows, fresh tears welling in her eyes despite her best efforts to keep them away. “What are you doing here?”

“Your sister texted,” Lena says, her voice low, the sound washing over Kara. “I wanted to come and see you before I left.”

Oh, so that’s who Alex must’ve been texting earlier.

Speaking of Alex, she can see her sister in her peripheral vision, lingering in the kitchen. She’s glad her sister is giving them some space.

“When do you leave?” Kara manages to ask as she reaches out, fingers brushing the hem of Lena’s jacket, just to make sure she’s actually here.

“Soon, the jet is waiting for me, whenever I’m ready.”

There’s a long pause after Lena’s words, her eyes still on Kara. It makes Kara want to retreat, want to hide, want to shut her eyes and hope Lena can’t see everything that’s going through Kara’s mind right now.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Kara eventually says, fighting back tears and the other words that rise in her throat, words that ask Lena to stay, or words that tell Lena how she feels. That’s not what Lena needs right now.

“Kara, I-“ Lena starts, stops herself as she looks away. When she looks back, there are tears in her eyes too. Kara reaches out when one spills, catches it with her thumb, wipes it from Lena’s cheek.

“Come here,” Kara says, tugging Lena forward and then they’re hugging, Kara needing the contact as much as Lena does, if the way the other woman leans into the embrace is any indication.

“Come with me,” Lena says, the words brushing against Kara’s neck as she says them. If Kara didn’t have superhearing, she might have missed them but she hears them loud and clear.

“What?” Kara asks anyway, pulling away to look at Lena, so close now in their half embrace.

“I want to find out more about my mother, I do, but that’s only part of the reason I was leaving.” Lena’s fingers tangle in the collar of Kara’s sweater. “I was leaving, or running is more of an apt description, I was running because it scared me, how much I felt, seeing you again. I was running to give myself some space to sort out my feelings, but then Alex texted and said you were upset and I couldn’t leave, I just couldn’t, not knowing you were upset. You mean too much to me and I was stupid to ever try to leave, not when the thought of being away from you again hurts so much.

“So, come with me, you deserve a break too. Or I’ll stay here, whatever you want.”

Kara’s crying now too as she leans forward, her forehead falling to rest against Lena’s. She takes a deep breath, feels like she can properly breathe for the first time since Lena told her she was leaving, knowing she’s not losing her.

“You’ll really stay, if I ask you too?” Kara asks, hands at the back of Lena’s neck, holding her close, hoping this isn’t some dream she’s about to wake up from.

“I will,” Lena says, the words brushing against Kara’s mouth as Lena tilts forward and then Kara doesn’t really think about it, she just acts, her chin tipping up slightly and then she’s kissing Lena, lips molding under hers as Lena kisses back, no hesitance in the touch.

It only lasts a few moments, before they’re pulling away, but it’s like Kara’s whole world has been flipped on its head, warmth spreading through her body, finally feeling warm after all those cold days and nights in the Phantom Zone.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Kara says, fingers tangling in the hair at Lena’s neck.

“You won’t,” Lena replies, and she sounds so sure, that Kara believes her.

“Can we stay here for a bit?” Kara asks, eyes finding Alex in the kitchen, who’s staring at them, wide-eyed. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who didn’t see this coming. “I’m not ready to leave Alex yet.” She turns back to Lena, finds the other woman smiling at her. “But then later, in a few weeks, I’d really like to go away with you, help you find more out about your mother.”

“Of course,” Lena says. She tilts her head again, but this time to press a kiss to Kara’s forehead. “I’d really like that too.”

Her article gets abandoned, but Kara doesn’t care, not when she ends up on the couch, a movie playing on the TV screen that’s she’s barely paying attention to. Alex is on one side of her, head resting on Kara’s shoulder, snoring lightly, and on the other is Lena, their tangled hands resting in Lena’s lap as Lena plays with her fingers.

Kara never thought she’d feel this happy ever again but here she is, back with her sister and her best friend who isn’t just her best friend anymore.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[bxcketbarnes]

Place in Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6700+

Author's Note: So, this fic is extremely long. I apologize in advance. I also hope you guys enjoy it. I'm worried that it's not up to par but we'll see I guess 🥺🥰 It's loosely based on the song Place in Me by Luke Hemmings. Beautiful song. Uhm, slight enemies to lovers which is unusual for me. Let me know what you though!! xox

"Barnes and L/N, you'll be partnering up," Tony states, and your eyes widen a bit before glancing towards the ex-assassin.

You notice Bucky rolling his eyes while crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair he's sitting in. "Is that the best plan, Tony? We've never worked together," he questions the man.

"That's the whole point, Manchurian Candidate," Tony mumbles while wagging his finger between the two of you. "You two are the only ones who haven't been on a mission together, so."

You stay quiet as the older man sets the debriefing folder in front of you. Your eyes meet his and you notice a certain emotion swimming in Tony's eyes. He raises his eyebrows slightly and you nod your head.

"You two look those over and then get to the quinjet. It leaves in an hour and your asses better be on it," Tony mentions while walking away from the two of you.

Silence fills the room and you avoid looking at Bucky. Your heart pounds in your chest as a sigh leaves the man's lips. You instinctively lift your gaze towards him, seeing his blue eyes already on you.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you look away, clearing your throat. "So, uh, s-sorry you have to work with me," you mumble loud enough for him to hear.

Bucky tsks before standing up from his chair. Your chest clenches when he doesn't say anything to you, watching the super-soldier walk out of the room. A heavy sigh leaves your lips, glancing down at the files in front of you.

"He'll come around," Steve's voice fills the room and you jump slightly, turning in your chair to see the blonde leaning against the doorframe.

You shake your head at his words, tears pooling in your eyes. "I don't think he will, Steve. H-He'll talk to everyone else except for me? I��� I don't even know what I did for him to hate me so much," you sigh, your fingers catching the tears that roll down your cheeks.

Steve walks further into the room and lays a hand on your shoulder. You chew on your bottom lip, breathing heavily through your nose to calm yourself. "He's jus- He's got a funny way of showing people he cares. I doubt he hates you, Y/N," the blonde reassures you, giving you a gentle squeeze.

"Coulda fooled me," you mumble before shrugging his hand off of you, standing up from your seat. "I have to go get ready."

You hold the files to your chest and walk out of the debriefing room, making your way to your quarters. Your lip trembles a bit as you continue to think about Bucky and his cold behavior towards you.

Once you're in the elevator, you let out a shaky breath before glancing at the ceiling. Tears continuously glide down your reddened cheeks and you try to shake the memories from your head.

"Let's just get this over with," you sigh to yourself as the doors open up. You pack all the essentials you'll need for the mission,  double-checking that you've got everything before making your way to the quinjet.

You notice Tony standing at the end of the ramp as Bucky walks into the jet, a bag hanging off of his shoulder. "If you truly need to get away from Barnes, let me know okay?" Tony mumbles and you give him a tight-lipped smile, nodding your head in response.

"I should be okay, Tony. Thank you though," you whisper to him before walking onto the ramp of the quinjet.

"You guys got this. I believe in you," Tony reassures the two of you and the ramp proceeds to shut.

You sit as far away from Bucky as you can, fiddling with your fingers for a few minutes before pulling out your headphones. You rest your head against the headrest and decide to rest your eyes.

Bucky looks over at you and wishes that you weren't coming along. In his mind, this mission is way too dangerous for you. You're not a super soldier like him or Steve. You don't have a suit of armor like Tony or Rhodes. You don't have powers like Wanda.

You got your training from Natasha, and sure, Natasha has incredible skills that she learned from the Red Room. But, you're still human. A sigh leaves his lips and tears his gaze from you, deciding to make sure you don't get hurt at all.

-

"Holy shit," you mumble in amazement, looking around the hotel suite that Tony booked for the two of you.

Bucky walks in behind you, not saying anything as he brushes past you. You bite your cheek, your eyes following his figure as the super-soldier makes his way towards the bedroom.

You let out a slight huff of breath, running a hand through your hair. "I thought Tony mentioned there being two beds?" Bucky asks and your eyebrows furrow.

"That's what he said," you mumble while heading towards where he is. "Is there only on-"

"One bed? Yeah," Bucky cuts you off and you gulp, taking a peek into the bedroom to see one bed in the middle of it.

"I-Great," you whisper as the brunette lets out a heavy sigh. "Sorry, Bucky, I didn't-"

Bucky grunts before making his way towards the living area. "I'll take the couch," he states and you slowly close your mouth, the words dying on your lips.

"O-Okay," you whisper loud enough for him to hear, walking into the room you'll be staying in.

You press your lips together before shutting the door, putting some space between you and Bucky. I should've backed out immediately. You think to yourself while setting your bag onto the edge of the bed.

After unpacking your bag, you organize your things so they're easily accessible. You open the file Tony gave you, looking over the schedule of your target. "Aha!" You softly whisper, pointing at the paper while reading how your target generally goes to the restaurant right about now. "I could eat."

You open the bedroom door and step out of the room, looking around for your six-foot-tall co-worker. You furrow your brows at the space, wondering if he's still here or actually left. He'd tell me if he left… right?

Bucky,

I left to go get some food and a little intel on our target. Schedule says he's in the restaurant around this time. See you later.

Y/N

You place the written note near his things so he'll see it before grabbing one of the hotel room keys. You exit the room and make your way to the elevator before pushing the button. The doors open immediately and you step inside, pushing the button to the lobby.

"Hold the door!" A voice shouts and you stick your hand out, stopping the door from closing. "Oh, thank you so much."

"You're welc-" you cut yourself off as you look up at the man, your heart dropping into your stomach.

The man standing in front of you is Gabriel Price, the target you're currently after. The doors to the elevator close once more as the air around you grows thick. "You okay?" He asks and you snap your head up, your eyes meeting his cold ones.

"Y-Yes, sorry. I was… I was stunned by your beauty," you laugh nervously and the man smirks while fixing his tie.

A chuckle leaves Gabriel's lips and he looks down at you. "Well, thank you, darling. You're a sight for sore eyes, yourself," he winks and you bite your lip.

"I-Thank you, sir," you blush, wishing that the elevator would open right about now.

"Please, call me Gabriel," he corrects you before sticking his hand out.

Your eyes glance from his face to his hand before shaking it. "Nice to meet you, Gabriel. I'm Sylvie," you come up with a fake name.

The doors to the elevator open up and you drop his hand before leaving the small space. "I hope to see you around, Sylvie," he grins before walking into the restaurant.

You can feel your hands shake a bit and you let out a deep breath before fishing your phone out of your pocket. You dial Bucky's number, pressing the device to your ear.

"Pick up, please," you beg, your eyes looking around the place to see if the super-soldier is nearby.

When your call goes to voice-mail, you roll your eyes, not even deciding to leave him a message. You slide your phone into your pocket before heading into the restaurant. You notice Gabriel sitting with three other guys at a table near the corner as you walk over to the bar area.

"Hey, can I get some food to go?" You ask the bartender and the woman nods her head before grabbing her pen.

"Of course, sweetie. What can I get ya?" She asks with a smile.

Your eyes roam over the menu and decide to get something small for you and Bucky. "Uhm, can I get the fish and chips and a bacon cheeseburger with fries," you tell her and you watch the woman write it down.

"Absolutely. Do you want to bill that to your room?" She questions and you nod your head in reply, telling her the room you're in. "I'll put it in for you. Should be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"Perfect thank you so much," you smile as she turns to head towards the kitchen.

-

After stealthily watching Gabriel while waiting for your food, you finally make it back to your room. You balance the to-go boxes against one hand while grabbing the room key with the other, unlocking your door.

"Bucky?" You call out after shutting the door with your foot, taking a glance around the room in front of you.

"Yeah?" He mumbles and pokes his head around the corner of the wall, noticing the styrofoam boxes in your hands. "What's that?"

You furrow your brows and quickly wet your lips. "Did you not get my note?" You wonder and Bucky shakes his head. A sigh leaves your lips and you mutter to yourself, "figures."

Bucky picks the note you wrote from the table in front of him as you set the food onto the counter in the kitchenette. "Wait, was he there? The target?" The super soldier asks while walking towards you.

"Yup," you mention and hand the man his food, not meeting his gaze. "Actually met him in the elevator, but you would've known that if you answered your phone."

You brush past him, your shoulder bumping into his as you head towards your room. You stop just before entering the space before turning to face him, feeling the anger flow through your veins. "You know… next time you should just ask for a new partner if you don't want to work with me. No need to be a fucking coward and ignore me. That's how people get hurt, Bucky."

His blue eyes glance towards you just as you slam the bedroom door shut, leaving Bucky to his own devices. The brunette opens the take-out container, seeing a cheeseburger and fries sitting in it.

Bucky's phone rings loudly, snapping him from his thoughts and he pushes himself off of the counter before grabbing the phone.

"Hey, Steve," he answers after checking who it is, pressing the device to his ear.

"Buck," the blonde greets, and Bucky can hear Sam yelling in the background. "How’re things going?"

A sigh leaves Bucky's lips and he scratches the back of his neck. "Uhm, alright, I guess. It's been pretty tense between Y/N and I," he informs his best friend while eating a couple of fries.

"Well, have you tried having a conversation with her?" Steve asks and Bucky furrows his brows.

"I- No?"

"You know, after you left her alone in the debriefing room I stopped by," Steve starts as Bucky sits down on one of the chairs, continuing to eat his food, "and she told me that she's got no clue as to why you hate her so much. So, Buck, what's the reason?"

The super soldier feels his stomach twist a bit, not knowing that's how you felt about his coldness towards you. "I… I'm not sure, Steve. I just- she- I don't know how to explain it," Bucky mumbles and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Figure it out then. You two need to be working together. The hostility between the two of you is going to get one of you hurt… or even killed," Steve reprimands the super soldier and Bucky finds himself nodding in response. "I have to go. Talk to you later."

Bucky sets his phone down on the table before glancing towards your bedroom door. He lets out a deep breath through his nose and continues to eat the food you got him.

You sit against the headboard with your knees tucked a bit, staring off into space. You look towards the alarm clock to see it's just past midnight and you press your lips together before leaning your chin on your knees. Your food grows cold as it sits on the nightstand, your appetite is forgotten after your altercation with Bucky.

Tears pool in your eyes as you run your fingers through your hair. "Why? Why? God, why?!" You cry to yourself and before you know it you chuck your phone across the room.

You hear the device smash as it collides with the wall and you see the screen all cracked. A sigh leaves your lips as you watch the lit-up screen turn black before cursing to yourself.

Bucky quickly sits up at the thumping sound echoing off of the walls, his blue eyes looking around the dark space. His eyebrows furrow as everything is in place and the super-soldier gets up from his spot on the couch.

A frown etched onto his lips when he walks closer to the bedroom door, hearing your cries coming from inside it. Bucky wets his lip and feels his chest clench a bit before he raises his fist to knock on your door.

"Fucking hell," he heard you mutter through the door and Bucky lowers his hand, deciding it’s best to leave you be so he doesn't make it worse.

He swallows the lump forming in his throat before making his way back towards the couch. Bucky lays down under the covers and stares up at the ceiling, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

"Steve's right," he whispers to himself, "I have to fix this."

-

You put your hood up as you follow Gabriel's men down the busy street. You stay a good distance behind them as you can lightly hear their conversation.

Apologies leave your lips as you're weaving through the sea of people, bumping into some of their shoulders as you pass by them. You wince when a burly man bumps into you, your eyes gazing up at the man while pressing your hand to your side.

"Sorry, miss," he smirks and you furrow your brows, mumbling that it's alright.

You stumble around the corner as the pain in your side spreads, removing your hand from the wound to see blood staining your skin. "Shit," you mumble and glance back to see if you can find the man that bumped into you.

Suddenly, your mouth gets covered by someone and you let out a scream as they drag you into the ally beside you. They throw you on the ground before another starts to kick your stomach.

"Don't fuck with us," a man growls and grabs a fist full of your hair, lifting you before shoving you against the brick wall.

Heavy pants leave your lips as the man's fist connects with your face. Pain fills your body as you double over, a couple of gaps leaving your lips.

"P-Please," you beg as another man takes a swing at you, blood dripping from your lips.

Your head gets pushed back against the wall as the older gentleman leans close to you. "Should've thought about that before following us, sweetheart," he snickers before gripping your cheeks. "I'm sure someone will find you."

You don't get a chance to say anything before the man smashes your head against the building. Your eyes roll back into your head as you get punched once more. The man lets go of your body and you drop to the ground as you become unconscious from the beating.

"We'll find her later, let's go."

Bucky knocks on your door in the hotel room, eyebrows furrowed as he hasn't heard from you all day. "Y/N?" He calls out your name before opening the door, peeking his head into the room. He walks into the room and sees the place empty. "Shit."

He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials your number. Bucky presses the device to his ear before walking back out into the main room. C'mon, c'mon. He thinks to himself while pacing in front of the couch.

A sigh leaves his lips when the call goes to voice-mail, his vibranium hand rubbing through his hair. The next number he dials is Steve's, deciding to tell the blonde what happened.

"Hey, Buck, what's going on?" Steve answers the phone.

"Y/N's missing," Bucky states, feeling his body start to panic at the thought of what could've happened. "I-She was here in the middle of the night and she hasn't left her room all day, so when I went to go check, the room was empty."

The brunette sits down on the edge of the couch, leaning his elbow on his knees. "Okay calm down. Did you try calling her?" Steve asks and Bucky scoffs.

"Of course I tried calling her, Steve. I'm not a complete idiot," Bucky mumbles.

"Goddamnit, Bucky. None of us can head out there right now. So, you need to get out there and find her," Steve informs him and Bucky nods his head in response, standing up from the couch.

Bucky goes to speak when the door to the room opens and you stumble inside. "She's here. I-I gotta go," the super-soldier breathes, hanging up before Steve could say anything.

You wince while shutting the door, leaning on it for stability. "Bucky," you whimper as he rushes over to you. You fall into his arms, your hands gripping his shirt tightly.

"Hey, hey, what happened?" He mumbles softly while leaning down to pick you up bridal style.

Bucky gently kicks the bedroom door open before walking into the room, setting you down onto the bed. His eyes roam across your body, seeing the bruises and cuts on your face. The brunette notices dried blood on your hand and his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Fuck," Bucky whispers after seeing blood on your shirt. He picks up your shirt to see a wound in your side, his fingers grazing over your skin.

He walks into the living space, grabbing everything he'll need to patch up your wound. Bucky feels his phone vibrating in his pocket as he wipes the alcoholic pad across your skin.

"Hey, Steve," the super-soldier answers his phone, putting it on speaker before setting it on the table beside him.

"She okay?" He asks immediately and Bucky swallows thickly.

"Uhm, not exactly. She looks like she got the shit beat out of her, and she got stabbed," he informs the blonde.

Bucky runs a hand over his face after patching up your stab wound, turning his attention to your face. "Shit, Bucky. Okay, I'll let Tony know and tell you what he says," Steve mumbles and Bucky nods his head in response.

The phone hangs up and Bucky shuffles towards your upper body, grabbing another alcohol wipe. "God, I'm so sorry, Y/N," he sighs while wiping the dried blood off of your face. "I'm gonna need you to pull through this, alright. I need you."

Bucky throws the bloodied wipes away before gently stroking your cheek. He pushes himself off of the floor and grabs a glass of water and some painkillers, setting them on the table beside your bed.

His fingers glide across your forehead, pushing some of your hair out of your face. "Please come back to me."

-

A groan leaves your lips as your eyes flutter open. Your vision clears and you see Bucky sleeping beside your bed, his arms crossed over his chest. A small smile comes to your lips as you attempt to sit up a bit, wincing slightly.

Bucky jumps awake at the sound of you, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Y/N, hey," he whispers, pulling the chair closer to you. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been hit with a truck," you chuckle while holding your side.

"Here," he mumbles and moves to grab the pills and water beside you, "take these." You mumble a quiet thank you before taking the medicine from him.

You notice his nervous behavior as Bucky sits back down in his chair. "Bucky, I'm fine," you tell him after swallowing the liquid, setting the glass down. "Nothing I haven't handled before."

A sigh leaves the brunette's lips and Bucky runs his fingers through his hair. "It doesn't matter if you've handled it before, Y/N. You went out- on your own- to follow a dangerous man and you could've been killed!" He exclaims with a huff of breath.

"Well, if you were capable of working with me, Bucky, then I wouldn't have to do it alone! Don't you see that I'm trying?! I'm trying so hard to be civil with you, but you don't budge. Probably would've been better if I died. Then I wouldn't have to subject myself to your coldness every fucking day," you practically scream, your chest heaving rapidly.

Bucky's eyes soften at your words, his heart hurting a bit when you said you'd rather be dead than deal with him. "I'm sorry," he whispers loud enough for you to hear and your head turns to look at him.

"You're sorry? For treating me as an outsider for over a year?"

"I… Look, Y/N, I don't have a good reason for my behavior. I wish I did, I really do, but can we start over?" Bucky stutters and hesitantly grabs your hand.

Your heart flutters in your chest as his flesh hand grabs yours, seeing the sincerity in his blue eyes. "Can you stay with me?" You mumble, your fingers interlacing with his.

Bucky smiles softly and nods his head. You smile at him, feeling him squeeze your hand. The sound of your hotel room door opening catches Bucky's attention and the super-soldier suddenly gets up from his chair.

"Buc-"

He covers your mouth with his hand while bringing a finger to his lips, silently telling you to stay quiet. Your eyes widen as talking from the other room finally hits your ears.

"Stay there," Bucky mouths to you and you nod your head, your hands gripping the covers.

Bucky stealthily walks towards the bedroom door, pressing his ear to the wooden structure. "The tracking device says she's here," a man states and Bucky furrows his brows. Tracking device? "Check the bedroom."

Footsteps grow louder and Bucky quickly makes his way back towards you before lifting you off of the bed. Your arms wrap around his neck as the brunette quietly hides the two of you in the closet.

Your fingers stroke the back of his neck soothingly, keeping your gaze on his face the whole time. You notice his jaw clenching as Bucky focuses on the sounds around you.

"She's not here. She must've found it and left it behind," a different voice proclaims, another agreeing with the statement. "Let's go. We'll let Gabriel know."

You swallow thickly as Bucky's eyes meet yours. You can feel his breath fan your face, realizing the distance between the two of you is closer than you thought.

"Is it clear?" You whisper and Bucky gently sets you onto your feet.

"Hold on, let me check," he mumbles while his hands grip your waist, making sure you're steady before releasing you. "You good?"

You nod your head in response and Bucky's hands slip off of your waist before slowly walking out of the closet. You run a hand through your hair as you wait for the super soldier to come back.

"It's clear, c'mon," Bucky tells you and holds his hand out for you to take.

You wince a bit while walking out of the closet, grabbing ahold of Bucky's hand as he leads you back towards the bed. "Did he say something about a tracking device?" You ask him and Bucky nods his head in reply.

You lower yourself onto the bed and think about the event of yesterday. Bucky's eyes meet yours, watching your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Can you think of when they might've placed a tracker on you?" He asks while crouching in front of you, resting his hands against your thighs.

"I…" a short gasp leaves your lips as you remember a guy smirking at you after stabbing your side. "No way…"

"What?"

You pull your shirt over your head and Bucky's eyes widen before looking away. "My stab wound," you whisper.

Bucky snaps his attention to you as you take the bandage off of your side, exposing the wound. "Shit," he mumbles and lifts himself off of the floor. "If you can grab a towel and lay on it. We have to get it out."

You nod your head as he leaves the room. Another wince leaves your lips as you walk into the bathroom, grabbing a fluffy towel from below the sink. When you enter the bedroom again, Bucky stands at the edge of the bed sorting through the different utensils.

"This is gonna hurt," he informs you as you lay back on the bed, one of your hands gripping the sheets.

"It's okay," you whisper while nodding your head.

Bucky gives you a small smile before kneeling beside the bed. Your chest heaves rapidly as the super-soldier re-opens your wound. His blue eyes flit up to your face as you stare at the ceiling, trying to keep your mind distracted.

"I'm going to dig around to try and find the device, alright?" He reassures you and you nod your head, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Bucky's flesh hand rests on your stomach, feeling his thumb gently stroke your skin. Two of his vibranium fingers dip into your stab wound, a hiss leaving your lips at the uncomfortable feeling. "B-Bucky-"

"I'm sorry," he apologizes as the metal fingers move around. "It'll be over soon."

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down harshly. A cry escapes your lips as Bucky's fingers travel deeper, tears pooling in your eyes. Sadness fills Bucky's eyes as you whither beneath his touch, wishing he could find the damn tracker faster.

Bucky's brows raise when his metal fingers graze against something cylindrical. "I got it, doll," the nickname slips out and your heart flutters in your chest, turning your head to face him.

His eyes are already on you, seeing the concerned look swimming in the baby blues. "Agh! Bucky-" you breathe out as the device scrapes along the inside of your skin.

"Sorry," he whispers and manages to pull the tracking device out without hurting you anymore, crushing the tiny object between his vibranium fingers.

You take deep breaths as the super-soldier quickly gets up so he can replace your bandage. You keep your gaze on Bucky the entire time as he tends to the wound. "You're pretty," you whisper, not being able to stop the words from leaving your lips.

Bucky looks up at you through his lashes as he releases a small laugh. Butterflies swarm around your stomach as the man leans forward to press a gentle kiss to the fresh bandage, your breath hitching in your throat.

"You're prettier. Let me get you some water," he mentions before leaving the room once more.

He thinks I'm pretty. You think to yourself as a smile comes to your lips, bringing your gaze back to the ceiling.

-

"Tony, you don't get it. They know someone's after them. I think we should hold off until they're less suspicious," you hear Bucky talking in the other room. A sigh leaves your lips, the argument continuing on as you inspect the bruises on your face in the en suite.

You wince at the tenderness, rubbing the arnica ointment around your left eye. "Look, Bucky, the best I can do is move you to a different room and extend the mission. We can pull out on this now. We're too close," Tony says before hanging up the phone.

"Fucking hell," Bucky mutters as you leave the bathroom. You walk into the living area to see Bucky throw his phone onto the table before plopping onto the couch. "He's not letting us leave."

"I heard," you sit beside him, tucking one of your legs under the other, "I mean he's right in a way. We're so close to capturing this guy. I should've been more careful, I'm sorry."

The blue-eyed man glances towards you, leaning against the furniture. "It's not your fault. You were just doing your job. It's my fault that I made you believe you had to do this yourself," he mentions and you press your lips together.

"Well, good thing we're starting over, yeah?" You ask and Bucky's eyes widen, his lips parting slightly. You chuckle softly at the shocked look on his face and gently press your fingers against his chin, shutting his mouth.

"Y-Yeah, yeah, sorry," Bucky whispers, running a hand through his hair.  You watch as he glides his tongue across his bottom lip, low-key wishing you could taste his lips. "So, we should probably figure out which room Tony moved us to."

You and Bucky proceed to make your way to the lobby and talk to the reception desk, hoping the billionaire already called to make the arrangements. You keep an eye out as Bucky talks to the woman, your fingers drumming along the mahogany desk.

"Ah, yes, I just got off the phone with Mr. Stark. Here are your new room keys," she says with a smile, and Bucky politely thanks her while taking the keycards into his hand.

"C'mon," he mumbles and hesitantly grabs your hand, his blue eyes looking around the place.

Your eyes widen upon seeing the elevator door opening, a few men you recognize standing inside of it and you push Bucky towards the wall.

"Y/N-"

"Kiss me," you whisper and his blue eyes widen as he looks down at you.

"W-What-"

"Public display of affection makes people uncomfortable," you state, remembering Natasha mentioning that if you were ever in a sticky situation.

Bucky wets his lips and nods his head in agreement. "Yes, they do…" he trails off and you let out a huff of breath.

You grab a hold of his shirt, pulling him closer to you as you lean on your toes. Bucky places his hand against the wall, stabilizing himself as your lips connect with his. His vibranium hand grips your hip, a short moan escaping his lips as your fingers card through his hair.

Your heart flutters in your chest at the feeling of his soft lips. It takes Bucky a few seconds before he starts moving his lips against yours, deepening the kiss. You hear the men muttering to themselves as they walk past the two of you.

"Fuckin' kids," one of them grunts.

Bucky leans forward, pressing your back against the wall as he pulls away slightly. You keep your eyes closed and you breathe heavily as his nose nudges yours lightly.

"Are they gone?" He whispers against your lips.

You flutter your eyes open and look over his shoulder, seeing them walking out the main doors of the hotel. "Y-Yeah," you mumble, causing the brunette to take a step back. "Sorry about that, I just… didn't know what else to do."

Bucky shakes his head, mumbling that it’s alright. He reaches for your hand again, leading you towards the elevator. You chew on your bottom lip as the two of you stand in the elevator in silence, feeling the tension between the two of you thickening.

“Why don’t you head to the new room and I’ll work on transferring our stuff?” Bucky mentions and you nod your head in response.

“Sure,” you mumble and grab one of the room keys from his hand, watching the muscly man step out of the elevator. “I’ll see you up there.”

After a short ride up a couple of more floors, you step out of the elevator before heading towards your new room. Maybe one with two beds this time. You think to yourself while placing the key into the lock. You step into the room and let out a gasp, seeing rose petals everywhere. “Oh, no,” you mumble and shut the door quickly, trying to gather as many petals as you can. “What in the actual fuck, Tony. I swear to God,” You mumble to yourself while rolling your eyes.

The door handle to the room begins to turn and you rush towards it, opening it just a smidge. Bucky glances down at you with a concerned look as you try to find the right words. “What’s going on?” He asks you and you press your lips together. “Y/N?”

“Just… don’t take it out on me, okay?” You whisper and Bucky furrows his brows as you fully open the hotel room door.

Bucky’s eyes widened after seeing rose petals everywhere, causing him to curse under his breath. “I’m going to kill him,” he states and a chuckle leaves your lips.

You grab your bag from the hallway before shutting the room’s door. You watch Bucky aggressively pick up flower petals from the floor and furniture. “Maybe this was the only room available,” you chuckle while heading towards the bedroom.

“I doubt it,” he mutters bitterly as you open the secondary door.

“Oh, come one,” you groan as you notice the large king-sized bed sitting in the middle of the room. “Bucky!”

“Yeah?” He calls out, hearing his footsteps grow closer to where you’re standing. You glance over your shoulder and see his lips part in disbelief. “You’re joking me,” Bucky sighs before rubbing his fingers against his forehead.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and wet your lips. “I’ll take the couch this time,” you tell him and Bucky glances down at you.

“Y-You have bruised ribs, Y/N. I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch,” he mentions and you shrug your shoulders in response.

A sigh leaves your lips as you slap your hands along your thighs, turning to face Bucky. “Well, if you’re willing to deal with me… you can sleep in the same bed. I don’t mind,” you shyly tell him, feeling your cheeks flush. You begin to panic when Bucky says nothing and you clear your throat, scratching the back of your neck. “O-Or you don’t have to. I just wanted you to be comfortable.”

Bucky’s blue eyes soften at your words as he watches you walk further into the room. The man wets his lips before running a hand through his hair. “We can share,” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear.

“A-Are you sure?” You stutter, your eyes meeting his and the brunette nods his head in response. Bucky gives you an awkward smile and you let out a tiny giggle, taking a step towards him.

“What are you laughing about?” He huffs and you bite your lip, bringing your hands to his face before lifting the sides of his lips. Bucky playfully rolls his eyes and swats your hands away from him.

A genuine smile graces his pink lips and your heart flutters at the sight. “There’s a real smile,” you tell him, both of your cheeks heating up. “Should do it more often, Bucky, it looks good on you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bucky whispers before walking out of the room to gather his things.

-

“Okay, so, I managed to gather some more intel on Gabriel,” Bucky mentions while walking into the bedroom. The super-soldier grabs the laptop Tony supplied him before sitting down on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

You lift the ice pack from your ribs and glance down at the bruised skin. “As good as I can be, I guess. It still hurts to bend over a bit, but I manage,” you chuckle as Bucky glances over his shoulder, seeing the purplish skin. “What’d you find out?”

“That he’s got a business meeting in the restaurant later tonight. Turns out the man he’s meeting has ties to HYDRA,” Bucky informs you while typing out what he discovered.

Bucky closes the laptop after finishing the report, making sure it is sent to Tony before fully turning the device off. Your eyes watch him gracefully move throughout the room, feeling a bit useless after getting attacked over twenty-four hours ago. “Do you need help with the meeting?” You ask him and the super-soldier shakes his head. “Buck-”

“You still need to heal, Y/N. I got this,” he mentions, and you sigh, running a hand through your hair.

“Can I at least be on comms when you go? I'm tired of just sitting here and doing nothing," you bargain.

Bucky doesn't answer you while pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it on the chair that sits in the corner of the room. "Fine, you can be on comms," he mumbles and you grin as then throws the covers back before getting on the bed.

"Thank you, Bucky," you whisper as the super-soldier lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

He turns his head towards you, his eyes noticing the fading bruise under your eye. He shuffles so he's laying on his side before reaching his vibranium hand out. Bucky notices how you don't flinch, seeing the smile steady on your lips as his metal fingers glide across your under-eye.

"Does it hurt?" Bucky whispers and you shake your head.

His eyes flicker down to your lips for a hot second before meeting your eyes again. "Have you ever kissed anyone before me, Bucky?" You ask him as you shuffle a bit closer to him.

You notice his cheeks blush and you teasingly smile at him. "I- No," he confesses and you tuck your lip between your teeth.

"C-Can I ask you a serious question?" You whisper, feeling his breath fanning your face. Bucky nods his head against his pillow, feeling a bit nervous about what you're going to ask. "Why do you hate me?"

A sigh leaves his lips as his blue eyes flutter shut for a few moments. Bucky wets his lips before sitting up, leaning his back against the headboard. You sit up as well, keeping your eyes on him as you notice the gears turning in his head.

"I don't hate you, Y/N. I really don't. I just… I guess I was jealous of you. I mean," Bucky pauses and slaps his hands against his thighs, "I don't have a good reason for being cold to you. Steve's right, you know? I do have a hard time showing my feelings."

Bucky's hand gently grabs yours and strokes the back of your hand. "It took me getting hurt for you to realize," you mumble softly and Bucky's chest clenches.

"I'm sorry that I let you down. I was so apathetic and I know it's pathetic, but I'm going to be here for you here on out," he exclaims and the corner of your mouth lifts into a small smile.

"Promise me?" You whisper as Bucky brings his free hand to your face.

His blue eyes search yours for a few moments before gently kissing your lips. "I promise you."

You rest your forehead against his, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as your heart pounds wildly against your chest. Bucky's hand slides along the side of your throat before resting on the back of your neck. Your lips meet his again while running your hands along his torso.

The kiss didn't last long before the two of you lie back down, your head resting on his chest. "You'll always have a place in me."

-

Taglist: @wkemeup​ @jessalyn-jpeg​ @queen-of-mischief​ @metalbuckaroo​ @thewxntersoldier​ @bumblebet-20​

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Seized

An addition to Approval. Do not read this until reading that first. 

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader // Damian Wayne x Batmom

Summary: What happens when Talia Al Ghul learns that someone has stolen the affections of her past lover and her son?

Word Count: 3,000 [One Shot]

“Delinquents have been detained. I can hear the sirens,” Damian stated calmly in his comms.

“Good work, Robin. You know where to meet me. You have a minute,” Bruce responded as he whipped the bat mobile through Crime Alley to grab his son.

Just as Damian opened the door and hopped in, an alarm went off within the vehicle.

“The Manor,” Damian thought aloud as he read the screens with his father.

Bruce ignored his comment and was calling Alfred immediately.

“Master Wayne,” the butler instantly picked up. “I followed protocol, but they were already gone when I arrived.”

“Y/N…” Bruce immediately asked.

“They took her,” Alfred told him, distress clear in his tone.

Damian’s head whipped to his father to watch his reaction.

But Bruce’s jaw only tightened and he sped the batmobile even faster.

Returning faster to Wayne Manor than ever before, Bruce jumped out of the batmobile and up the secret entrance to get to the main house.

Damian was hot on his heels. He’d already sent an encrypted message to his brothers, informing them of the situation. It was only a matter of time before they were at the manor as well. Though Damian suspected Jason would not come, instead already starting to scour the streets of Gotham for Y/N and her captors.

Alfred was already waiting for them. “Master Wayne, I am so sorry.”

Bruce ignored him and walked to the master bedroom. Y/N would’ve been sleeping when the attack occurred. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been awake, she had no training in self defense. She was merely an innocent civilian.

“Father,” Damian muttered quietly.

Bruce turned around to find his son ripping a shuriken out of the door frame.

They shared a look, both recognizing the particular shape and color.

“The League…” Damian muttered quietly, saying what they both were thinking.

——————

Y/N was barely awake.

They clearly had drugged her with something to make her more compliant. Everything was foggy and muffled.

Yet they still tied her hands and ankles together, as if her brain could even manage to get her body to move.

But Y/N could feel the effects of the drugs losing their strength, yet keeping their hold on her.

She squinted as she looked around. The air felt different. It was colder and dryer, making Y/N believe that she was no longer in Gotham. Little did she know, she wasn’t even in the country any longer.

“I do not know what he sees in you,” a woman hummed from somewhere in the room.

Y/N blinked as he listened, but her eyes could not adjust to the low lighting and she didn’t even have the strength to turn her head.

“You are weak. Ripped from your own bed without so much as a fight.”

Then she heard the grunts and clashing of metal.

The woman smiled. “Right as expected, my son.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed at ‘my son.’ Then she finally lifted her head and took in her surroundings. There were swords and other weapons stored everywhere, and there was armor hung from the walls.

“Talia?” She whispered.

The woman chuckled. “Weak, but not utterly foolish.”

Then the door of the room was thrown open.

Y/N looked to see Damian in his Robin uniform.

“My son, finally returned," Talia greeted with a smirk.

“Mother.” Then his gaze flickered to Y/N. Very subtly, he was scanning her body to access any possible injuries.

His gaze turned back to his mother. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You have forgotten where you come from, Damian. You are not just the heir to the Wayne family. Before anything else, you are my son and the heir to Ra's al Ghul’s throne.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Damian said with a gesture to Y/N.

“She has everything to do with this,” Talia snapped. “She has made you weak.”

Damian said nothing.

“She has taken you both from me,” Talia growled.

“Father does not love you,” he growled.

“A small lapse in judgment on his part, but not something that cannot be remedied. Our love gave us you, and I fully believe he will return to me.”

“His heart belongs to someone else. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can give up your fantasy.” Then he hesitated to say the next part. “I never plan on returning to The League of Shadows. I wish to stay with father.”

Talia’s amusement vanished at her sons words.

The next second, she unsheathed her sword. “Perhaps I should just kill her and remind you of your place, my son.”

With that, Damian rushed forward and intercepted Talia’s attack with his own sword.

“Do not touch her,” Damian growled.

Their swords continued to clash as the mother and son fought each other. The fight raged on for what felt like forever. Too evenly matched, but also both too terrible at hiding that neither actually wanted to kill the other.

In the distance, Y/N could hear even more fighting. She could only assume it was Bruce fighting his way to her and his son.

Talia and Damian’s swords locked again, both of their stances shaking from the hold.

“Do you really think you and your father stand a chance against the entire League? Why do you think we lured you all the way here? You are outnumbered.” Talia hissed.

“You think us foolish enough to come alone?” Damian smirked right before there was a boom that shook the entire compound.

Talia’s focus slipped half a second, allowing Damian a window to go on the offense.

He flipped his mother’s sword out of her grip and held his own to her throat.

“Yield,” he growled down to her.

“You truly choose her over your own mother?” The hurt in her eyes was clear.

“You abandoned me, used me as a tool to disrupt father’s life. She taught me that there is more to life than killing and destroying. She loves me and care for me, even when I gave her no reason to do so.”

“And it will be the death of you,” Talia warned.

He glared at her. “Yield!”

But he knew she would never. So he whipped out a dart and blew it to her neck – a sedative.  It knocked her out within seconds.

Waiting until he was sure it had worked, Damian sheathed his sword once again and ran to Y/N’s side.

With a knife, he cut the ropes around her wrists and ankles.

“D-Damian,” her voice was still slurred from the drugs and she was weak. How long had she been here without food or water? “I don’t think I can walk."

Damian helped her to her feet. “Y/N, please try,” he begged as he wrapped her around around his shoulders. He was still just a boy, one that was shorter than her. But he wouldn’t give up that easily.

There was another explosion.

“What’s-What’s happening?” Y/N asked as she dragged her feet and held on tightly.

“That would be Todd, most likely taking his job of distracting to an unnecessary level.”

“You all came?” She asked in shock.

“Of course,” Damian scoffed.

Suddenly an object came flying at them and Y/N cried out in pain.

“No!” Damian bellowed as he looked up to see that another League member was attempting to stop their escape. And with it, they had thrown a shuriken that had landed in Y/N’s side.

She dropped to the ground.

Damian screamed as he unsheathed his sword once again and charged the assassin. It wouldn’t take him long. He knew that every minute spent fighting was a minute Y/N was bleeding out and edging closer to death.

He didn’t hold back like he had with his mother and quickly disarmed the enemy. Then thrusting his sword into a nonfatal area of his body, enough to neutralize him. 

Damian rushed back to Y/N’s side, where a pool of blood was forming from her wound.

He knew it was useless, but he still tried to lift Y/N into his arms to carry her. He cried out in both panic and frustration.

The building had now caught aflame due to Jason’s explosions. Damian would need to call for backup, hoping one of his older brothers could help.

Then a shadow was cast over him.

Damian tensed, believing it to be another attack.

But he looked up to find his father standing before them.

However, Bruce’s gaze was on his unconscious girlfriend.

With the arrival of his father, Damian’s cold and calculating disposition melted.

“She’s hurt,” his voice trembled and tears formed in his eyes. “Help her.”

Damian rarely cried. He cried less than grown men. He was raised that way. It didn’t help that his father was not a great example of healthy emotional expression.

But Bruce knew what his sons tears were for: Damian was frustrated, he felt weak, and he thought he had failed his mission. But most of all, Bruce knew his son was crying for fear of Y/N’s death. Because the boy had grown to love her.

As if there were a world when Bruce wouldn’t give his own life to save Y/N.

Bruce bent down and carefully brought Y/N into his arms.

Damian heard her mutter his father’s name, though still delirious from both the drugs he’s sure his mother pumped into her and the blood loss.

“Red Robin, get the jet to my coordinates immediately,” Bruce instructed through his comms.

Damian wondered how his father could be so calm when the woman he loved was bleeding out in his arms. This wasn’t bat business, this was personal. But Bruce spoke like it was just another night of patrol.

A few minuets later, Damian and Bruce had fought their way through the flames and burning compound.

Tim lowered the platform of the jet.

Damian made sure his father and Y/N got on before he followed. He turned and gave one last look at the burning compound that would no longer exist come morning. He did not fear for his mother’s life. He knew someone from the League would come for her – if she didn’t save herself first.

When he boarded the jet, his father already had Y/N on the surgical table that elevated from the jet floor.

Bruce had taken off his cowl, allowing Damian and his brothers to study his expressions.

Damian had been wrong about his father handling the situation like any other mission. For now he could see the terror and worry in his father’s eyes, despite him trying to control his emotions.

Damian looked to Jason, who still had his Red Hood helmet on.

“My grandfather?” He asked his brother.

“Escaped,” Jason muttered.  

Damian stepped forward to help Bruce with Y/N’s injuries.

“She’ll be OK,” he muttered to his father.

All of them had high-level medical training to know.

Thankfully the assassin’s aim was not great and didn’t land in lethal place on Y/N’s body. But she still lost a lot of blood and would need many stitches.

All the brother’s shared a look when Bruce ignored the statement. 

———

Y/N woke up to someone gripping her hand. She recognized from the smell and the feel of the bedding that she was in Bruce’s bed at the manor.

She winced as she opened her eyes to find Bruce was the one holding her hand as he sat in a chair only inches away from the side of the bed.

“Hi,” she whispered to him with a sad smile.

“Hi,” he said back with a smirk.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.”

Then Y/N looked past Bruce to realize there was someone else in the room.

Damian passed out on the velvet chaise that was pushed against the windows.

“He hasn’t left your side,” Bruce told her. “Dick had to convince him just to take a shower for 5 minutes when we first got back.”

Y/N’s heart melted at the revelation.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The sound of Bruce’s voice as he said it made Y/N’s gaze snap back to him. Had it shook? Or was she imagining it?

Y/N squeezed his hand that was still wrapped around hers. 

“I know,” she told him with a sympathetic look.

He hid it well, but Y/N knew Bruce. And she knew that her being kidnapped from his own home probably drove him mad with guilt. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already designed an entirely new security system to prevent something like that ever happening again.

Bruce took in a shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

He wanted to say that he always feared her being with him would put her in danger like this. 

He wanted to say that maybe she should stay away from him. 

He wanted to say that him and the kids didn’t deserve her. 

He wanted to say that the only reason this happened is because Talia hated that she loved her son better than she ever did.

But Bruce had never been good at saying how he actually felt – or even acknowledging he had any feelings at all.

So Y/N brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Bruce, I know,” she said once again.

“I won’t let it happen again. I promise you,” he told her evenly.

“Bruce, I knew what I signed up for when you told me you were Batman. If I wasn’t willing to face the reality of it, I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“No one would’ve blamed you if you hadn’t.”

There was a knock at the door and then it opened a second later.

Damian jumped awake at the sound. But then he quickly brought his attention to Y/N. “You’re awake.”

But everyone’s attention was on Dick, who was standing at the open doorway.

“Hey,” he greeted Y/N, surprised to see that she was awake. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Tired. But I’ll be alright.”

He seemed to relax from her answer.

Then he winced when he looked at Bruce. “They put the signal up.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

He was about to open his mouth to ask them to handle it, not wanting to leave Y/N alone now that she had woken up.

“Go, Bruce. I’ll be OK.” Y/N told him, reading his mind.

“I think it’s the Joker,” Dick added with a serious frown.

“Bruce, go.” Y/N repeated.

And he saw the sincerity in her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, deciding he didn’t care if his two sons were witnesses to the intimacy.

Then Bruce kissed her forward. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Alfred will be here if you need anything. Do not hesitate to call.”

Y/N nodded.

Bruce stood up and acknowledged Damian and Dick. “Let’s go.”

Once they were ways down the hall, Bruce heard Damian stop.

“Father?”

Bruce and Dick both turned to face Damian.

“I wish to stay with Y/N.”

Bruce and Dick shared a look, and then Dick decided to give the two a moment alone and muttered something about waiting in the cave.

Bruce walked back to his youngest son.

Damian’s gaze was glued on the floor. “Mother truly would’ve killed her?”

Bruce sighed. “Most likely, yes.” He saw no point in lying to his son.

“Because she knows that you and I love her?”

“Yes.”

Damian was quiet for a moment. But Bruce knew he had more to say.

“I used to think I had to earn it.”

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Mother’s love. I had to earn it. Win in combat. Successfully execute a target. Outsmart a puzzle or challenge.” Damian looked up at his father with a broken expression. “Her love always came with a price.”

Bruce kneeled down to his son.

The boy shook his head. “But Y/N made me realize that I don’t have to earn anyone’s love. I don’t have to prove that I’m worthy of it.” He bit his lip. “She’s not my father or my brother. She didn’t have to love me. But she does…even when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Everyone is deserving of love, Damian.” Bruce gripped his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for not teaching you that myself.”

Damian nodded. “So, may I please stay with her tonight? I don’t want her to be alone.” But then he quickly corrected himself. “Unless of course, you require my assistance, father.”

Bruce smirked at him. “I think we will manage, Damian.” Then he squeezed his shoulder. “Look after her for me, alright?”

Damian relaxed and quickly nodded his head. “Of course, father.”

When Bruce returned hours later, Damian was cuddled next to Y/N in the bed. But clearly laying in a position to be mindful of her injuries. Both were fast asleep. The bright television was the only thing lighting the room, as it played a Pixar movie.

Bruce couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“I got him,” Dick whispered to him before stepping into the room and carefully lifting the boy in his arms, clearing the space in the bed for Bruce to join Y/N.

Bruce moved about the room as he changed into cotton shorts and went without a shirt.

Y/N woke slightly as he joined her in bed.

“Everything OK?” She whispered sleepily.

“Everything’s fine. Did Damian keep you company?”

Y/N smiled and shifted her body so she was cuddle into him. “Yes…my little protector.”

Bruce smiled at that. “Don’t let him hear the ‘little’ part…”

She chuckled. “Good call.” 

And then she was fast asleep once again.

-----------------------

Please, please, please let me know what you think! 

[avenirdelight]

Something in Disguise | PART 4

John Stones

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“It’s cold, what are you doing out here?”

The deep voice literally made her jump on her feet. She turned around, getting a second mini heart attack when she saw a figure standing in the shadows between bushes. 

“Holy sh*t! You scared me!” she swore with her palm against her chest. “Don’t do that!”

It was John who had scared her, still in his England tracksuit like she was, both hands tucked into the jacket pockets because like he said, it was cold. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologised.

“What are you doing here?”

They were standing in a little garden just behind the hotel building. They had just gotten back to the hotel from Stadion Narodowy an hour ago, drawing the match one-one to Poland, and she’d wanted to go for a walk before bed. She’d accidentally found the garden and decided to spend some time there to clear her clouded and tired mind. But apparently John had found her and it felt like an intruder had broken into her little sanctuary, breaking the peace she was having.

“I… I was looking for you. Chilly and Mase said they saw you went out somewhere,” he explained. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing. Just trying to get some air. I was— I was going to go back to my room, actually,” she said as she left her spot, suggesting that she was going to walk away. But John took a step to his left, blocking her access to the exit, preventing her from leaving.

“Nah… Stop avoiding me, please.”

She stopped just a few steps in front of him, a bit taken aback by his statement. Shaking her head, she said, “I’m not avoiding you.” But they both knew it was a complete lie.

John sighed, glancing up to the dark, starless sky. He looked gloomy. Maybe because he was tired or because there was something bugging his mind. It was probably the latter; somehow she could sense it.

“You’ve been running away from me for five days,” he muttered. “We’re going home tomorrow. I don’t want to go home with us being in a complete mess like this.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “A mess? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she tried to deny.

But John wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head ever so slightly, looking utterly frustrated. He was still upset that they had conceded a late goal in added time today, in a match he thought they should’ve won, and he didn’t think he had the energy to go the rough route she wanted to bring them through.

“Come on, I know we’re both tired, so let’s cut the rubbish,” he said firmly. His eyes, which were now filled with upset, had found hers again. “You want me to say it? I’ll say it. We are in a f*cking mess, me and you. We’ve been acting like children this whole time and I suggest that we stop.”

Her heart dropped upon his words. She’d initially wanted to fight John as she normally would, to argue everything he said. But to be honest, she was tired too and John was spitting facts, which to her surprise, didn’t actually make her upset. John’s suggestions to stop acting like children and cut all the rubbish didn’t all sound too crazy for her.

So she didn’t fight John this time. She stayed silent, folding her arms in front of her chest, trying to provide herself some warmth.

“Look, I know it’s all my fault,” John began. Both his face and his voice had softened up. “I stepped off on the wrong foot on the day we met and believe me, I regret it.”

“Really?” she asked, still sounding a bit cold and uninterested. She kept her face straight despite actually being so surprised that John had suddenly wanted to do The Talk. 

“Yes. I wish I wasn’t being rude to you. But I just broke up with my girlfriend that day, the day I met you, and I was rude to everybody.”

She snorted, her shoulders shook as she did. “It seems like you’re the expert on being rude.”

“Yeah,” John nodded in agreement, even though for some reason it hurt more that the insult came from her. “I know. I heard it a few times.” John sighed as he dropped his gaze to the ground. He took a moment, realising that his heart was pounding hard on his chest. Part of it was because it was cold, but mostly because he was so nervous about the things he had planned to say.

The big words were heavy at the tip of his tongue. John took a deep breath before he searched for her face again. He stared deep at her tired eyes who were looking back at him; his heart broke seeing the pain that filled them and he hated the fact that he was the one who caused it. It assured him that he just needed to let the words escape.

“I’m sorry,” John said with all sincerity that he could possibly convey through his voice. “I really am sorry. For everything.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. She stood there, speechless, staring at him in silence, as she felt her heartbeat racing.

She was astonished, more than anything. She was astonished that those words could come, sincerely, from John Stones. But unfortunately, the astonishment also came with hurt and disappointment.

Maybe it was a little bit shameless of her to think that John had hurt her more than she had possibly hurt him, only because he was the one who ‘started’ all of this. A little bit selfish of her to wish that John had done better when the fact was that she hadn’t really tried to be any better either.

But all this time she felt like she hadn’t had the power to repair the damage, bearing all the responsibilities on John’s shoulders. So it upset her that John had taken way too long to finally say the words, especially when she had always been expecting it.

“But you had months, John… You had way too many chances to say sorry.” The mixture of disappointment and confusion was clear in her voice.

“I know. I’ve always wanted to say sorry, but I always got too scared. I kept losing the courage,” he confessed. “But I’ve found it now.”

They fell into silence again as she avoided his gaze. John said they’re a mess, John said it’s all his fault, John broke up with his girlfriend, John said sorry — she tried to remind herself of the things John had said so far, because everything was too much to take; she was so overwhelmed. 

“I thought you hated me,” was all that she managed to say.

No. It was the complete opposite. John liked her. Ask Jordan, Kyle, Jack, Tyrone, Conor, Tripps, or the two Harrys about it. Those lads knew, since they were the ones who helped John to figure out his feelings and constantly lectured him about how poor he had always acted towards her, saying that his life would be much easier if he could just man up, acknowledge his feelings for her, and try to fix their relationship.

“Hate is a very strong word,” John objected. “I don’t hate you, never. I’ve always cared about you. I just don’t know how to show it.”

I’ve always cared about you. Her heart leaped at that. It was something that was supposed to be hard to believe, but she did believe it. At least she wanted to.

“Do you hate me?” John asked.

She shook her head almost instantly. She wasn’t even sure why she answered the question so surely when all this time, hate was the word she’d use once in a while to describe her feelings to John. But maybe she didn’t hate him. Even though most of the time she wanted to scream at John for his sarcastic remarks or punch him for his annoying little attitude, she never hated him.

“I don’t hate you, John. I…” The shrug and the slight frown showed that she was confused, unsure of how she should put her true feelings into words. “I guess… I’ve always wished that we weren’t like this.”

She stared down at her feet, at her carelessly tied shoelaces that were now threatening to break loose — she wanted to do that too, let her feelings break loose. She didn’t know how tonight she had gone from wanting to avoid John to wanting to tell him how she actually felt. It sounded like a bad idea, but something inside her told her to just do it.

“When we win, and all the boys come to me and give me a hug, I wish you would do that too. Especially you.” She couldn’t believe herself for letting those words out of her mouth, but she didn’t really want to stop herself. “When we lost and I tried to give the boys little consolation, I wish I could just come up to you and say how amazing you did. You always did good...”

John’s stomach did the most sickening twist and he could hear his heart thumping on his ears. Even twenty minutes ago when he brought his feet wandering the hotel trying to look for her, with nervousness building with each step he took, he’d still believed that she hated him. He just wanted to apologise, hoping that she would stop hating him; he wouldn’t have ever thought about hearing all these things from her.

“You can do that from now on,” John suggested, trying to keep himself calm and composed. A subtle smile reigned on his face.

“So what? We’re just gonna be friends now?”

John let out a breathy chuckle. “Friends isn’t exactly what I have in mind.”

“What is it, then?”

John took a step forward. Even though she looked a bit surprised, she didn’t budge, giving John the courage to take a few more steps until their bodies almost touched. 

Her face was so close. Her eyes were staring at his and the relief almost pained his chest — the relief of knowing that she was looking at him fondly. He couldn’t find hate in her eyes, no irritation or annoyance, only something warm and loving.

“Tell me if you don’t feel the way I feel for you,” John mumbled softly. Just like her, he was also extremely overwhelmed by the waves of emotions that kept washing over him.

She didn’t answer, only staring back at him. He could feel her heavy breaths; her lips quivered as she let out little huffs. He hoped that her heart was thumping as hard as his and for the exact same reason.

And when her gaze shifted into his lips, John understood that it was the sign.

It explained one thing, that she wanted him just like he wanted her.

So John did the thing he’d always wanted to do; the thing he’d always imagined doing, that always came up in his mind when he lied in bed on a lonely night, when he secretly observed her while she was working, or when she’d fallen asleep in his shoulder a few nights ago — to hold her face and kissed her.

The electric feeling that shot upon their bodies when their lips met was proof that the thing they had been feeling for each other was the exact opposite of hate. It was just something in disguise. Something beautiful. Attraction, affection, care, love, you choose the words.

She held onto John’s waist as she kissed him back, getting lightheaded because he was kissing her so passionately, yet so gentle. They weren’t holding back like they had always been doing; the desperation and the desire, it was all poured into the kiss. All they could feel was each other’s lips, and, God, she tasted so sweet, so John kissed her deeper. 

They were completely breathless after John pulled away and rested their heads together, After a few silent seconds, he stepped back, fixing his gaze on her face as he gently caressed her cheeks. He took his time admiring her pretty face, the face that always appeared in his dreams, and to be able to hold her close like he was doing right now felt like a dream to him.

“Say something,” she whispered.

John grinned as he tucked in some strands of hair behind her ears. The gesture made her blush.

“My name is John, I’m from Barnsley,” he said.

She giggled, shaking her head, and John’s chuckles followed right away. “Hi, John, it’s nice to know you,” she replied, also stating her name and where she came from. This was how they should’ve introduced themselves on their first meeting, friendly and full of smiles, but she didn’t mind that it only happened now.

“Nice to know you too,” John said, leaning closer again to give another peck on her lips. “And I really, really… Really, really like you.”

John could see her cheeks getting even more red. She couldn’t contain her giggles and felt like she was too shy from John looking at her so fondly. He’d never looked at her like that before, but she loved it and definitely could get used to it. 

“I really like you too. A lot,” she mumbled.

Their lips met again, she was the one who went for it this time. She kissed John softer, more gentle. He appreciated it by pulling her closer by her waist. Everything felt nice and warm, as they enjoyed the fuzzy feeling inside of them.

They’d been so stubborn, probably too scared for nothing, too busy denying how they truly felt and believing things that weren’t true. But now they’ve found courage to reveal the truth, to be honest to each other and to themselves. They wouldn’t fight their feelings this time. They’d let each other know about it and from now on, they would never let it hide in disguise.

—

well, now. how do i say this? i just want to say thank you so much for the support you've been giving "something in disguise", i don't think any of my stories had ever received love like this, and it just makes me so happy.

2300 words — i honestly don't consider this last part as perfect, but i tried my best and i hope it's good enough. they deserved their perfect ending and i hope this is it.

i hope you enjoyed that one<3

My Masterlist🤍

[bgyuus]

chifuyu matsuno x reader

; where takemitchy takes his friend out for his birthday and his present? you.

cw: light spoilers, fingering, riding, mentions of choking, no condom, overstimulation, he calls you princess/slut, unedited writing. 

note: i'm finally reading the tokyo revengers manga and ngl, it was a total rollercoaster while reading it. also, chifuyu’s in his present time (the pic below 😫 *simp screams*) 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHIFUYU!”

Takemitchy exclaimed, engulfing his old friend in a tight hug.

The ebony black haired male smiled, thanking him as he hugged back. It’s been a while since he last hang with him. Having their schedule busy with meetings and such, they couldn’t find the right time to catch up on things. Sure, they see each other everyday but spending the rest of the day with an old friend without worrying about work just hits different. At least that’s what Chifuyu thought.

“Shall we go have dinner then go see your present?” the blonde asked with a smile. Chifuyu nodded in response, shutting the car door behind him as Takemitchy speeds off into the horizon.

“Thanks for the dinner, man,” the birthday boy said, smiling at his friend in the drivers seat. “No problem! And now! It’s time for your present!” Takemitchy exclaimed. His voice filled with anticipation. He looks more excited than Chifuyu himself.

“Alrighty, we’re here!” he said, parking the car in front of a fancy looking complex. “Are we in Shibuya?” the black haired male asked, facing the building in awe. Takemitchy only nodded as he skipped into the building, making Chifuyu ran up to catch him.

The elevator stopped at level 4. As the two adults stepped out from the lift, Chifuyu’s jaw nearly dropped at what he saw. Right outside the elevator was a counter, handled by a middle-aged man, who was occupied with a women- who was dressed in a very thin silk dress. The male's eyes wondered around the boards beside the counter. They were filled with pictures of- lewd photos. Chifuyu cocked an eyebrow at this. What even-

"Looks like this place hasn't change one bit," Takemitchy said with hands on his hips, a proud and nostalgic look displayed in his eyes. “Oh, Takemitchy, right? Here for your reservation?” the man behind the counter asked. Blondie nodded furiously. Why is he so excited? Chifuyu raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Actually, I’m just here because I made the reservation, the one who’ll be doing the job is Chifuyu,” Takemitchy said proudly, pushing his friend towards the counter.

Chifuyu swallowed hard. Is this place what he thinks it is? "Alright, sign here and please proceed to the waiting room," the man said, handing a form to Takemitchy. Chifuyu tugged his shirt and pulled his friend aside. "Oi, what're- what am I suppose to do?" he asked, sounding nervous. "You're a 26 year old virgin, I'm helping you out!" Takemitchy explained while signing the form and handing it back to man behind the counter. Chifuyu mentally face palmed himself. This was definitely not how he imagined getting his virginity loss. Especially not with some random girl at a brothel.

"Wait! This is not how I-,"

"You may now go to the waiting hall, gentlemen," the man said, pointing to a room not far from the lift. Takemitchy thanked him and head towards the room without wasting any minute. Chifuyu walked after him, deadpanned at his friend's excited behaviour. "Look, I appreciate the effort but-" "Chifuyu, meet my friend, y/n!" the blonde said, holding hands with a girl in front of him.

The black haired man stared down at the girl. She was gorgeous. Is he lying? Of course not. His eyes trailed down to your body, scanning every inch of your curves. You laughed as he snapped back into reality. "Can't wait to do the dirty, are we?" You teased, pulling him towards you by his tie. Chifuyu's cheeks heated up as you brought your face close to his. “Aww, Takemitchy, you didn’t tell me he was a shy one,” you exclaimed, turning your head to face your blonde friend. “Eh? Chifuyu? Shy? Please, he’s one of Toman’s Top Admin, why would he be shy now?” Takemitchy laughed, making the said boy’s cheeks even hotter. You faced the man in front of you again. Now it was your turn to blush. The faint smell of his cologne filled your nostrils. His skin was fairly smooth. His eyes, oh how you got lost staring into his light blue orbs. Those orbs were just so mesmerizing that you didn’t notice that he was also actually staring into yours. Takemitchy gave off a small chuckle, making both of you snap back into reality.

“Sorry about that,” you said slowly, eyes glued to the floor, not wanting to let this Chifuyu guy to see your red tinted cheeks. Funny how this was actually your first time experiencing a quickened heartbeat for a customer. You slowly jerked your head up to look at the male. Chifuyu took a quick glance at you, making your eyes meet again once more. He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure of what to say. “Ay yow! I’m not here to just sit and see y’all being all gushy and wasting my money,” Takemitchy complained in a jokingly way. You shot your head up as if you had escaped from a trance. “Alright, Chifuyu! Let’s get going, shall we?” your playful smirk crawling back to your lips, grabbing both of his hands and lead him to another room, leaving Takemitchy alone with his earbuds plugged in.

Chifuyu scrubbed his body under the hot steaming water. One second she was like a teenage girl staring at her very new boyfriend then suddenly she became a playful flirt again, he sighed in thought. He was sure that he could here her heart beating rapidly as if it was about to burst out from her chest.

And yet, here he was, taking a shower before losing his 25 years of being a virgin to a girl he doesn’t even know, let alone have met before. Sounds kinda messed up to be honest, he chuckled at his joke. After slipping on his undergarments and a robe, he exited the bathroom while wiping his damped hair. “Look, I know you’re only doing your job but-” he got cut off, eyes widened at your figure who was slowly taking off your dress, revealing a see through lingerie. Being the kind (and nervous as fuck) gentleman, he immediately looked away, blood rushing to his cheeks and a slight pain growing in his boxers.

You walked up to him and slowly pushed him onto the bed with a light touch of your finger. Chifuyu’s breath hitched as you placed your legs at his sides. You dragged a finger along his jaw to his chin, tilting it upwards, making his eyes stare into yours. The both of you stayed there in silence, listening to each others quicken heartbeats. Your cheeks were tinted red, it was noticeable to Chifuyu. His eyes flickered to your lips then to your eyes. You gulped nervously. On the inside, you were practically cursing to yourself, telling you to get a grip and just treat him like your usual customers. You closed your eyes, wishing that this was just a dream or hoping that the man in front of you isn’t that Chifuyu guy but another customer.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to find that he was leaning into your touch. Fuck it, you thought as you slammed your lips into his. Surprisingly, he too, kissed you back. You slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to your body. Chifuyu placed his hands on your waist and soon, his hands grabbed your thighs and wrapped them around his waist. The kiss then became sloppy as he bit the bottom of your lip gently, gaining access to explore your mouth.

You finally let go in desperate need of air. Chest huffing up and down whilst your sweaty forehead leaned against his. Your cheeks were definitely red now and same as his. "It's okay if you don't want to do it," you said nervously, looking down at- shit. Your eyes widened at the tent in his undergarment. All that kissing made him hard? Your cheeks flushed even more now. Chifuyu noticed this and looked down. Shit, shit, shit, shit, he cursed to himself. "Uhm," he laughed in a nervous and unsure tone. For the first time in your life, you're being this flustered and nervous. There was definitely something wrong with this guy, you concluded as you looked at Chifuyu who was fumbling with the ropes of his robe.

"Uh, I'll take care of this myself," he said, pushing you off his lap. You quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. "I know you don't want your first time to be with a, um, a p-prostitute like me, but let me help you with that, plus you don't wanna let Takemitchy's money go to waste, don't you?" you explained. You avoid looking at him, cheeks still tinted red with embarrassment. With a light tug from your hand, Chifuyu went back to the bed.

"F-fuck, that's it," the male sighed, hands gripped onto your sides as you rode him. Screams can be heard from you as you slammed yourself onto his cock. It was tiring, really. Getting your pelvis to hit his everytime was a pain. "Fuyu, I can't," you gasped as his tip hit your cervix. "Now now, princess, you were the one who was all over me in the first place," he said, pulling you by the neck, slightly choking you whislt making your foreheads touch. You flinched at his sudden demeanor. Where did the shy and nervous Chifuyu go? 

You can't do it anymore. You toppled on top of him, gasping for air. Chifuyu found this amusing. "Is my wittle princess tired?" he asked in a playful tone while stroking your hair lovingly. You nodded in response, too exhausted from riding and cumming for the third time. You feel like you were about to pass out when he suddenly flipped you over. "Ass up, face down for me, princess," he whispered. You wouldn't be lying if you say his tone of voice turned you on.

You obeyed his words. Chifuyu groped at your ass, feeling the soft flesh against his warm skin. You squirmed under his touch, wanting him to desperately put his dick back inside of you. "Chifuyu, please, ah!" You yelped at the sudden contact. He inserted a finger into your wet entrance, pumping them slowly. Enjoying the pleasure his finger's giving, you didn't realize that your hips started to rock against his hand, following the pace of his digit.

"Stay still, you slut," he snapped as he slapped your ass making you moaned in both pain and pleasure. Chifuyu's free hand grabbed your hip to lock you in place. He stopped penetrating your cunt with his finger and pumped his cock, which was already leaking with precum. You winced at the pain as he inserted his cock inside you. The blacked haired male didn't move, he let you readjust to his size and once he got the signal, he slammed his his against your ass, making you screamed.

Tears slowly streaming down your eyes as your knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets too hard. Takemitchy said this will be his first time but the way he thrusts-

"Why are are you crying? Don't you like this?" He sounded sadistic and that nearly made you cum on the spot. "Chifuyu, I'm about to cu-," he grabbed a fistful of your hair, making your back hit his chest. "Hold it, hold it in for me, princess," he whispered into your ear. His voice, oh my god, his voice literally nearly made you burst. But you did hold it in for him. At this point, you’d do anything for him. 

His thrusts never slowed down. His hand gripping at your waist guided your body, matching his thrusting rhythm. "Chifuyu, please, I can't hold it anymore," you panted. He grabbed your face and kissed you roughly. Tongue swirling, fighting for dominance. His lips trailed down to your jaw then to your neck, sucking and biting, leaving dark purple blue marks. His thrusts began to slow down, signaling that he was close too. “Shit, come for me, princess,” he whispered into you ear and this time you finally came whilst feeling his cum dripping down your thighs. 

Chifuyu sat up from the bed. He smiled softly at the girl sleeping peacefully beside him. He checked his phone and saw a message from Takemitchy. 

Seems like you’re enjoying yourself, Chifuyu! I’ll be going home now. Hope you like the present! 

- Takemitchy

The ebony black haired male smiled at his friend’s message. He turned to face the girl again. She stirred in her sleep, her feet lightly kicking his waist. He chuckled at her sleepy behavior. Their first encounter was weird enough for him. It was as if they were teens again. Staring and getting lost in each others eyes. He smiled at remembering the incident where she stared at him as if he was the first man she had ever seen in her entire life. 

“Hey, you’re up early,” the girl said, rubbing her eyes. She crawled towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning against his bare back. “Are you really this clingy after doing your job?” Chifuyu laughed at her pouting face. Heat rises to her cheeks once more as she let go of him. “No, it’s just that, you’re warm that’s all,” she crossed her arms in denial. She looked at the man beside her. He was laughing with his toothy grin shining against the rising sun. The girl’s face blushed at how gorgeous he looks. Chifuyu noticed her tinted cheeks. He kissed her a good morning kiss, taking her by surprise. 

“This sounds weird and sudden but wanna be more than just my present?” 

note: okay! so that was longer than i expected but this does show how much of a simp i am for this guy lol. anyways, hope you enjoyed the story! <3 

[nationalharryleague]

Valentine’s Day

Summary: Y/N receives a special candy gram on Valentine’s Day. 

Genre: Valentine’s Day Fluff with Middle School Band Teacher!Harry 

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Hi my valentines!!! There’s about 30 minutes left of Valentine’s Day for me and I finished this piece right in time!! Thank you to the angel herself @tbslenthusiast​ for beta reading this for me and I cant wait to hear what you all think!! More of my writing can be found in my Masterlist and I would love to hear some feedback! 

***

Valentine’s Day was never fun for you. You dreaded this day every year.

Valentine's Day in a middle school was full of teddy bears and flowers purchased by someone’s mom and having to tell 12 year olds to stop kissing in the hallway. You also knew that you would be inevitably interrogated by your students about your love life before getting any of them to listen to your lesson about the industrial revolution.

And every year, your answer stayed the same.

“It is none of your business,” you would begin with a teasing sigh. “But if you all have to know, I am happily single.”

And every year, you were met with a chorus of disappointed whines.

Your students were always desperate to wiggle their way into your personal life, a side-effect of being one of the youngest teachers in the school. You were closer in age to them than to some of your coworkers and they took advantage of that fact constantly, creating an open and honest dialogue with their favorite history teacher.

“But do you have a crush, Miss Y/L/N?” Jenna, one of your favorite students, piped up this Valentine’s Day from the front row. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she raised her eyebrow at you from her desk, inquisitive and adorably curious.

“How about this?” you started, raising your own eyebrow to match her’s. “I’ll tell you if I have a crush, if you can tell me why the printing press was so important to the industrial revolution.”

Your heart started to drop as you watched the massive smile stretch across her face, exposing a mouth full of braces with pink rubber bands. They weren't supposed to learn about the printing press for another week.

“It made information more affordable and easier to access which bridged the information gap between the rich and the poor,” she answered like she had the textbook right in front of her. She crossed her arms triumphantly and leaned back into her seat while the class oohed and ahhed around her, knowing she had kept up her end of their deal.

You felt your cheeks heat as your classroom descended into giggles as your flustered face. “Nice job, smarty pants,” you let out with a nervous giggle.

“Remember, honesty is the best policy,” another student shouted out, pointing towards the poster on the wall of your classroom next to the world map that read the same saying.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you conceded, raising your hands in surrender to the classroom full of seventh graders. “I do have a crush.”

Your students erupted at your admission. Whos, whats, wheres, whens, and whys were thrown out by the class, but only a gentle smirk rested on your features, refusing to relinquish any more information to the children demanding it.

“You aren’t getting anything else than that!” you raised your voice to settle the rowdy classroom with a laugh. You moved from the front of the class back to your desk, listening to the gentle click of your heels on the white tile and gathering the stack of worksheets for that day’s lesson. “Now, pass these around and stop asking questions,” you playfully scolded.

“That’s not what your poster says, Miss Y/L/N,” Jenna spoke up again, pointing out another poster on your wall.

Never stop asking questions! was written in bold rainbow colors on the wall and it was now staring back at you.

You let out a chuckle and shook your head at the floor, knowing they had caught you once again. “I’m going to take down all my posters and you’re going to have to learn in a boring classroom soon.”

“We are just looking out for your love life!”

“You deserve a boyfriend!”

“Or a girlfriend!”

“Just someone who loves you!”

You smiled wide at the class full of endearing faces in front of you. They had nothing but good intentions and were sweeter than Valentine’s Day candy. You loved these kids like they were your own.

“Guys, I appreciate your concern,” you confessed. “But I promise I have it under control.”

After that, they began to settle down, eventually letting you give your lesson on the industrial revolution and scientific advancements of the period.

But you knew you had told them a lie.

You did not have it under control, at all. You were hopelessly in love with the kind man with curly hair and green eyes down the hallway in the band room and had no idea what to do about it.

Harry was one of your first friends when you were hired last year, volunteering to show you around the school and fill you in on all the workplace gossip. He had flecks of cheeky mischief in his eyes as he told you about the gym and spanish teachers’ affair and how the coffee machine was broken by one of the math teachers after a bad administrative evaluation. You had listened adoringly, like he was explaining the meaning of life, and you hadn’t been able to shake your crush since.

You brought each other coffees on the daily and were always in and out of each other’s classrooms. He always made sure you were a chaperone on his field trips and you always made sure he was one on yours. He had even convinced you to let your classes come to band practice once a month so they could play music from the time period your classes were currently studying.

He was endearing and kind and charming and so so good with all the kids. He was also incredibly sexy, which made it even more difficult to control yourself around him. You had the fattest and most uncontrollable crush on him, but he was your friend and you didn’t want to ruin that.

The ring of the bell that signified the end of the class period brought you out of your Harry induced haze, waving goodbye to your students and shouting after them to do their homework and to stop kissing in the hallways. You stood against the door frame of your classroom and watched their little awkward bodies skurry towards their next class, but your attention was soon caught by the tall man who’s chocolate curls stuck out high above the sea of middle schoolers that surrounded him.

“Good morning, love. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he smiled wide, dimples appearing like they were inviting you to poke them, as he reached your classroom and your heart fluttered at his affectionate pet name.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry,” you beamed back at him, hoping he and the passing students didn’t pick up on the adoration that was becoming very hard for you to hide.

“Oi, stop that,” he called over your shoulder, slight disgust showing on his face. You turned around and were met by two kids sucking face behind you. “Guys, just go to class,” he exasperatedly sighed when he was met by their shocked and embarrassed faces. Once they were gone, the two of you descended into a fit of giggles.

“They have no shame!” you laughed.

“Absolutely none!”

“Why are you over here? Not that you aren't welcome, but don’t you have a class to teach?” you teased gently as students began to gradually fill up your own classroom.

“I thought I would stop by and wish you a happy love day.” He smiled wide at you and spoke sweetly. If you weren’t reading into it too closely, you thought he might even be blushing a bit. “And it’s okay,” he waved off his class, clearing his throat and his voice returning to normal. “They’ll survive a few minutes alone. I trust them.”

“You shouldn’t,” you giggled again.

“Yeah,” he nodded with a chuckle. “I probably should get back, but I wanted to invite you to come to my classroom and get some cookies whenever you get a chance today.”

You felt your heart soar at his invitation, no matter how friendly the proposal. “I am free next period.”

“I know,” he winked, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. “I will see you then,” he grinned as he began to walk backwards down the hallway, maintaining eye contact for as long as he could, before spinning down the hall just as the bell rang to start the next period.

You tried your best to focus on your lesson about the renaissance with your sixth graders, but your mind kept floating back to the delightful man who had invited you for cookies. 

Had he invited all of the teachers for cookies? Or did he ask just you? Was he just being nice? Or did he actually want to see you? Had he been flirting with you?

The lesson was interrupted when there was a knock on your classroom door. You opened it up to find one of your students, Matt, dressed in a giant heart costume holding baskets full of labelled chocolate bars.

“I’m here to give out Valentine’s Day candy grams, Miss Y/L/N!” Matt exclaimed, his face barely fitting into the far too large hole cut out for his face. Every year the student council set up a candy gram fundraiser and the kid in the suit never got any less cute. You let out a chuckle as you looked down at him, opening the door further and letting him into the room.

You watched with a smile as he called out students’ names and the genuine surprise and flattery that passed over their features. Cheeks turned red and shy smiles played on their lips as they made their way to the front of the room and retrieved their candy from the giant pink heart.

You were caught off guard when you heard your own name be called. Matt held out the meticulously wrapped pink candy bar out to you as the class let out an “ooh” and your cheeks heated with embarrassment. Your cheeks heated even further as you read the label.

To: Miss Y/L/N

From: Mr. Styles

Will you be my valentine?

Your heart fluttered in your chest and you had a very hard time holding back the large and toothy grin that wanted to appear in front of your students.

“Who is it from?” one of your students asked excitedly.

“I don’t ask who your Valentines are, do I?” you teased, but held the candy bar close to your chest over your heart. You could feel your heart racing underneath your hands.

The giant pink heart standing at the front of the classroom finished distributing his candy and your class led a chorus of goodbyes as he left the room, onto the next classroom to spread some more innocent young love. You impatiently watched the clock tick down the seconds until the bell rang and released both you and your students out into the school.

And just when it felt like it might never come, the bell rang through the school and your students were off into the chaos of a passing period. You followed closely behind after you gathered your things, the candy bar slid carefully into your bag. You flowed along with the flow of children that carried you down the hallway, heart racing as Harry’s classroom came into view, your feet quickly matching it’s tempo.

Your footsteps echoed on the tile in the acoustics of the large room, your voice bouncing off the walls as you said hello. He had been tuning a guitar when you came in, his attention flashing up from the instrument in his hands to you.

“I was promised cookies,” you teased him. “They better be good.”

“I promise they are. They’re my nan’s recipe.”

“Of course they’re your nan’s recipe,” you sighed with a chuckle.

“What’s so bad about using my nan’s recipe?” he asked incredulously, grinning as he settled the guitar back into its stand and moved towards you.

“Absolutely nothing,” you sighed adoringly. “I just think it’s very sweet.”

“You haven’t even tried them yet! You can’t say they’re too sweet.”

You couldn’t hold back the giant smile that was so wide it made your cheeks hurt, chuckling at his cheesy joke. He made you feel warm when he moved closer to you, like someone had just turned up the heat in the large room.

“I meant that you were sweet, silly,” you tried to joke, but it came out genuine and soft. You bit on your lip nervously, replaying the affectionate tone in your head over and over.

“Thank you, sweetie,” he smirked softly at the pet name and you felt like you were soaring.

He was close to you now, having crossed the room and standing only a few feet away from your body. You wanted to close the space between you two, to kiss him with all your might, to tell him you would love to be his valentine. But just as you built up the courage, he stepped away towards his desk, retrieving a cookie for both of you.

The cookies were shaped into small perfect hearts with a coarse pink sugar pressed into the soft biscuit. The cookie melted in your mouth and the sugar granules crunched between your teeth. You had to hold yourself back from releasing a moan at the taste. They were dainty and delicate and you could only imagine how much time he had put into them.

But you weren’t shocked. Harry was like that. He was gentle, taking care and measured precision with everything he did. He spoke to the kids with tender care, making them feel talented and successful, and was always there to lend a helping hand whenever one of them needed it. And he spoke to you the same way.

“Harry-” you began softly, but he cut you off before you could finish.

“-Yes, I would love to.”

“What?”

“I would love to be your valentine.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, flattered heat rushing to the surface of your cheeks, but you also looked at him with a slight confusion. He had asked you to be his valentine, hadn’t he?

As you looked at him in slight shock, you noticed the small and meticulously wrapped pink candy bar that sat on his desk. Oh my god, they didn’t, you thought.

You could only imagine the confusion that fell onto Harry’s features as you moved away from him and towards his desk, picking up the candy bar and reading the writing on the wrapper.

To: Mr. Styles

From: Miss Y/L/N

Will you be my valentine?

Oh my god, they did.

“Harry,” you chuckled, looking back towards him and holding the chocolate bar up. “When did you get this?”

“I got it this morning when the kids delivered it,” he said dumbfounded. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t send this.” You walked over to your bag that you had left near the door and retrieved your own matching candy bar. “And I’m assuming you didn’t send this either?”

You handed the pink package to him and he read the label closely, eyebrows furrowing even further, then relaxing as you watched the puzzle fall together in his head as it had in yours.

“The kids sent these to us from each other, didn’t they?”

“I believe they did, Mr. Styles,” you nodded.

His cheeks turned a bright red, embarrassment flooding his features. “I’m sorry about before then,” he stammered out. You watched the panic on his face as he searched for something to say that would cover his tracks, but you cut it off when you connected your lips to his.

His lips were soft and velvety and he tasted exactly like the sweet sugar cookie he had gifted you. Your lips moved gently over each other and you slid your hands up to play with the curls that rested at the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you as his hands found their spot on your hips. You couldn’t help the smiles that fought their way into the kiss and you broke apart moments later, both flushed and flustered, small giggles leaving both of you.

“I would love to be your valentine if you would have me,” you said breathlessly as you looked up to him.

“It’s all I could ask for.”

“This is the best Valentine’s Day ever,” you said softly against his lips, already pulling him back in for more.

“We’re just like the kids in the hallway.”

“They’re not too bad. I understand it now.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!! :)