#i’ve spent so long trying to avoid knowing myself and i don’t want to do that anymore

[t4tstarvingdog]

i think i have to become more transgender

[bueckers]

UNFINISHED BUSINESS ━━━ paige bueckers ( 2 )

synopsis: putting an end to everything, drea thinks she’s totally and completely done with paige bueckers. that is until the blonde is finally honest with her.

pairing: paige bueckers x fem oc

warnings: angst and smut. they’re so toxic but also like made for each other.. alcohol use, scissoring, fingering, lots of paige’s hands.

notes: another long one so there wasn’t any major cliffhangers, hopefully this makes up for the wait.. :) also a paige & flau’jae feature because i love them sm.

The morning sunlight filters through the hotel curtains, and she’s sitting at the edge of the bed. I can feel the space next to me where she was lying, still warm but empty now. She’s moving around, getting dressed, and I’m fighting the urge to reach out and pull her back into bed. But I know I shouldn’t.

“You don’t have to go yet,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. It’s more of a plea than an offer, and I hate how desperate I sound. I can see her hesitate, her back to me as she fiddles with her shirt. For a second, I think she might stay, but then she turns to face me, and I can see the determination in her eyes. Why was it so difficult for me to just say it?

“Except I do. We never actually talked… if you missed that part,” she says, and I try to ignore the slight raise in her voice.

In attempt to busy myself, I grab my shirt from off the ground and pull it over my head. “The whole point of last night was to avoid that, Drea. We ain’ gotta talk about it.” I respond, and I’m only half joking, but I still wince at how much of a dick I sound.

She’s serious, and instead of agreeing or starting an argument, she ignores it. “Look,” she starts, and I can see her struggling to find the right words, her eyes glued to the bedsheets. Not me. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to say anything, that I get it, she deserved an explanation. But I don’t want to make it easy for her. Not when I know this is probably the last time we’re going to be like this.

“Last night.. it shouldn’t have happened.”

I furrow my eyebrows. "You don’t gotta say that. It’s not like we didn’t both want it,” I huff out.

She looks at me a certain way, and I can tell she hasn’t put much thought into what she’s saying. But she’s saying it anyway. "That’s not what I mean," she says quickly, like she’s trying to fix it. "I’m not saying I didn’t want it. I just… I shouldn’t have let things get so deep between us. How things ended.. it’s my fault.”

Her fault? She shouldn’t have let things get so deep? Theres no way she means these things, right? She stands there, biting her lip, and I know she’s waiting for me to say something. My throat feels tight, and my mind is a mess. I’m caught between wanting to shout at her, to tell her how wrong she is, and just shutting down completely.

This is Drea. The one person who’s always known how to get under my skin, in ways both good and bad. And now, while she’s standing right in front of me, telling me she regrets how deep we got, that basically, she thinks I cut her off because she caught feelings, I can’t help but feel like a fool. I spent so much time convincing myself that she didn’t feel the way I did, that I’d imagined the whole thing. Now it turns out she was in it too. And I don’t know what to do with that.

I wanna tell her to stop, to not say anything more. But I can’t let myself be that vulnerable, not when I’ve spent so long trying to protect whatever pieces of myself I have left. This is, like, the biggest joke of my life, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

When I finally do speak, my voice comes out quieter than I expect, almost detached. “So, what now? We just pretend none of this ever mattered?”

Drea’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see something flicker in them—regret, maybe, or doubt. It seems like this is the most straightforward conversation we’ve had about the way we actually feel, and everything’s coming to light and an end at the same time. Just as quickly, she pushes it away, her expression hardening, and it makes every dot in my mind connect. “I’m not saying it didn’t matter. It did. That’s why we need to stop.” She’s trying so hard to be the rational one, to be the one who ends this cleanly. But nothing about this is clean.

I nod slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Fine. If that’s what you want.” God, I even sound bitter.

She looks at me like she’s searching for something—maybe a reason to stay, or maybe just confirmation that this is the right choice. But then she sighs, her shoulders sagging with the weight of it all, and I know nothing, at least in this moment, would change her mind about me.

“Please take care of yourself.” She kept me grounded when I couldn’t find my footing, and those words just feel so cruel. It sounded like we’d never be speaking again, and I hated that thought.

I nod, unable to trust my voice, and then she’s gone. And just like that, it’s over. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

A few days pass in a blur, and my time in Phoenix is slowly coming to an end. It’s safe to say the events of the city had only temporarily kept my mind off of everything, and now I’m sitting in a bar with Flau’jae, trying my best not to let the rain cloud over my head poke out. She’s talking, animated as ever, but I’m only half-listening, my mind drifting back to Drea more often than I’d like to admit.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” Her voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

I blink, forcing out a smile. “Sorry,” I apologize, stretching my arms out in a way to reset. “I’m listening now. Promise.”

Flau’jae narrows her eyes at me, clearly not buying it. “Nah, you’re not,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. “What’s got you so deep in thought? You’ve been acting like you’re here, but not really here, y’know?”

I shrug, trying to play it off. “Just tired, I guess. Been a long week.”

She studies me for a moment, her gaze sharp. “Uh-huh. And this long week wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone, would it?”

I bite my lip, trying to stay cool. Flau’jae doesn’t know about Drea and me—no one does, really. We made sure of that. But if anyone’s gonna pick up on something, it’s her. I should’ve known better than to think I could just sit here and pretend everything’s fine.

“Maybe,” I say vaguely, hoping that’s enough to satisfy her curiosity. “I just got a lot on my mind, I’m fine,” I reassure, furrowing my eyebrows as if it was nothing to worry about.

She raises an eyebrow, leaning in like she’s about to uncover some big secret. “Stuff, huh? Girl stuff?”

I roll my eyes, trying to play it off. “You’re too nosy for your own good, you know that?”

She grins, laughing a little. “Paige! Come on, spill. Who is she?”

I hesitate, and for a second, I consider telling her everything. But that’s a slippery slope, and I’m not ready to go there. So instead, I won’t reveal too much. “It’s complicated,” I sigh.

Flau’jae crosses her arms, fully intrigued. “Complicated how?” She could be a detective.

I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “Just... complicated. Things didn’t end the way they were supposed to. And now I’m stuck trying to figure out what to do next.”

She nods slowly, taking that in. “So, you and this girl… y’all were close?”

“Yeah,” I huff out, nodding as I press my lips together. “Real close.”

Flau’jae gives me a knowing look. “Thats who you was texting last night at the game?”

“Maybe,” I drag out, a shit-eating grin gracing my face. Then I slip up. “I was jus’ too scared to say anything to her face.”

Her eyes widen, and she brings a hand up to cusp her lips. It takes me a bit to realize, and as soon as I do, she cuts me off. Damn it. “Thats why you was hugging her a little too long after the final buzzer.”

“Hey! I ain’ even say a name,” I say quickly and louder than intended, trying to backtrack.

She leans forward, eyes wide with amusement. “You didn’t have to! You gave me everything I needed to know. Paige, what the hell? You and Drea, for real? I didn’t know you had game like that.”

I jerk my head back, scrunching my face up at her. There was no doubt that Drea was one of the prettiest faces in the game, and the fact that she can ball too just really adds to it. “I can show you what these rizz hands can do,” I joked momentarily. “It wasn’t even supposed to be a thing, though. We kept it on the low for a reason.”

Flau’jae shakes her head, holding her lips a little tighter now. “You know what Twitter would do with this? You been out here sneaky-linking and didn’t even give me a heads-up?”

Sneaky-linking? Was that really what it was? “Can we stop talking about this?” I say, half-laughing despite myself.

“And y’all met in high school, too. That’s some next-level soulmatism or something.”

I chuckle, licking my lips as I lift up my drink. The clinking of the ice fills the silence, and I’m able to put a close to the conversation. “It’s over now, anyway. Doesn’t matter.” It’s a lie. We’d clearly went over that it did matter.

Flau’jae studies me for a moment, her eyes narrowing as if she can see right through me. But then she lifts her hands up in surrender, a smirk playing on her lips. “Alright, if it’s really over, how about you find someone tonight? You could use it if I’m being honest,” She retorts, referring to the mood I’ve been in the entire night because of my situation.

“Chill!” I laugh, shaking my head as I lean back in my chair myself. “You make it sound so easy.”

She shrugs, and I hesitate, taking a second to let my eyes wander around the bar. A couple of eyes meet mine, lingering longer than what’s considered normal. I’m not sure if they might know who I am, or just think I’m attractive. Or maybe both.

Flau’jae seems to notice too, shooting me a wild and bright smile. “See? you still got it. Just make a good choice.”

The car hums beneath me, the city lights flashing past as I sink into the leather of the backseat, my head leaning against the window. I can still taste the alcohol on my tongue, and my mind is replaying the past few hours like a hazy, disconnected reel. All I can think about is her.

You’d think after a night out I’d at least be able to get the mass of Drea off my mind, but I think it just made everything worse. No matter how hard I try to push her out, physically and emotionally, she’s always there, right on the edge of my thoughts.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, my thumb hovering over her contact. I know I shouldn’t text her. I know it’s a bad idea. But our last conversation on repeat and the emptiness from earlier are making my judgment untrustworthy, and before I can stop myself, I’m typing out a message.

Yo, you up?

I stare at the screen, the words staring back at me. It’s a weak attempt, but I’m past caring. A part of me almost hopes she won’t respond, that she’ll leave me to deal with the consequences of my choices alone. But then I add another text, like I can’t help myself.

Idc if you’re not

It feels like a challenge. Like I’m daring her to ignore me, to stay out of it. But I know that’s not what I want.

I swallow hard and send one last message, my fingers trembling slightly as I type.

You still in Phoenix, right?

The words hang there, waiting for her response. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can’t tell if it’s from the countless amounts of dirty shirley’s or the anticipation of hearing from her. Or both. I really hope I don’t throw up in this car.

I lean back in the seat in attempt to relax, but I can literally hear my heart beating. I wonder if the driver can, really. I don’t know what I’m hoping for, but I know that if she’s still here, if she answers… I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist whatever comes next.

The minutes stretch out in silence, broken only by the occasional sound of the car’s tires hitting a pothole. I keep my eyes glued to the screen, watching the three little dots appear and disappear. I should put my phone away, maybe even go back to the hotel and sleep this off, but I can’t. I’m too far gone for that.

The Uber turns down another quiet street, and I feel the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. It’s not just about tonight. It’s about all the nights that led up to this, every bad choice that brought me to this moment. The thought of facing it alone is unbearable, and I realize that’s why I texted her. Not because I want her to come over, but because I don’t want to be alone. Or that I do, just with her.

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I almost drop it in my rush to check the screen.

Why?

A single word, blunt and to the point. She’s guarded, as usual. But the fact that she responded at all makes me happy enough.

I just… I hesitate, staring at the blinking cursor. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say, but I settle on honesty.

Just wanna see you. Is that so bad?

I hit send before I can second-guess myself. My fingers hover over the screen again, and then I add another message.

I don’t wanna stop seeing you fr

It’s more than I planned to say, more vulnerable than I planned to be, but it’s the truth. And I’m too tired of pretending otherwise.

The reply comes quickly this time, and I can almost hear her voice in the words.

Are you drunk texting me right now?

And no, you mean you don’t wanna stop fucking me

Her words hit me like a punch in the gut, and for a moment, I just stare at the screen, the bright light from my phone casting harsh shadows in the dark car. I can feel the truth in what she’s saying, but it’s only part of it. Yeah, we’ve been physical, and I’m not denying that’s been a big part of this whole thing, but it’s not just that.

No, Drea. It’s more than that. We both know it always was.

You said it three days ago.

I hesitate before hitting send, but I know I have to. I can’t keep hiding behind the bullshit. She deserves better than that even if she won’t appreciate it.

The reply doesn’t come right away, and the silence feels like it’s pressing in on me from all sides. I shift in my seat. This whole thing—this whole night—feels like I’m balancing on a razor’s edge, and I’m terrified of falling off.

When her response finally comes, it’s short.

It’s 2am.

Ok, it’s not ideal. but I can’t stop thinking about everything you said.

And everything I didn’t say.

There’s another long pause, and I can almost picture her on the other end, trying to figure out what to say. We’ve been dancing around each other for so long, caught up in this push and pull, and now it feels like we’re on the verge of something, but neither of us knows how to take the next step.

Then, her next message comes through, and it’s enough to make my chest tighten. It’s hesitant but willing.

Where are you?

Outside your hotel.

Her reply is instant this time.

Come up.

I shove my phone into my pocket and step out of the Uber, my mind on a million as I make my way to her room. Every step feels heavy as if I’m walking through mud, but there’s a part of me that knows this is where I need to be—where I’ve always needed to be.

When I reach her door, it swings open almost as soon as I knock, and there she is, standing in front of me. Her eyes are guarded, just like her text messages, but I can see something softer underneath. Something that tells me she’s just as scared of this as I am.

“Paige,” she says, her voice a little wistful as she fiddles with the door knob. She looks me up and down, almost as if I’m being examined before I’m allowed in.

I don’t know what to say, so I just step forward, closing the distance between us. “I’m not drunk,” I state, shooting down her concerns from a few moments ago. She wouldn’t proceed if there was a chance I wouldn’t remember anything in the morning.

She looks at me for another long moment, like she’s trying to decide if she believes me. Then, with a sigh, she steps aside, letting me in. The door closes behind me with a soft click, and I lean against it. Suddenly we’re alone in her room, the reality of the situation settling around us.

“I know I shouldn’t have texted. But I did, and I’m glad I’m here.” I ramble, although still stern.

She sighs, and the curls that fall perfectly over her shoulders bounce a bit. Shes in a pair of short pajama shorts and a long, grey Nike tee-shirt that could’ve been mine. Correction, it definitely is mine. “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”

“It doesn’t have to be hard. We can make it less complicated.” I try to reason.

She stiffens, her breath catching as she looks at me, her eyes searching mine. “I—“

“I’m serious,” I cut her off, my voice low as I step closer to her. I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking. “I don’t know when I’m gonna see you again. And I can’t… I can’t leave tomorrow without letting you know how much I care.”

I don’t say it out loud, but the words are there, hanging in the air between us. I love you. And I’m sorry. But I can’t bring myself to say it. I don’t know why. Instead, I just hope she can feel it, hoping she knows without me having to spell it out.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she says quietly, her back turned to me as she walks further into the room. “Running to me when you’re feeling lost. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” I admit, taking a step closer. “But I’ont know how to stop. I’ve tried, but… since you’ve been apart of my life it’s been hard to let you go. I don’t wanna lose you—“

“You already did,” she cuts me off, turning to face me, and it scares me how serious she sounds. There’s pain in her eyes, but there’s also something else—something that makes me hope, even if just for a second. “We both did.”

I close the gap between us, and I can tell it catches her by surprise because of the look she gives me. My hands gently cup her face. “Then why am I here? Why did you let me in again?”

She glances down at my lips, and despite being angry, she doesn’t respond with words. Physicality has always been our response for everything involving each other. It’s all we know. She leans into my touch, and it feels like a birthday gift. Her eyes flutter shut before she opens them again, and it’s enough to make me lean in, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that’s more desperate than anything else.

She kisses me back, her hands finding their way to my shoulders as she pulls me closer, and for a moment, it feels like everything else fades away. It’s just us, tangled up in each other, trying to find something solid to hold onto.

But then she pulls back, breathless, her hands still resting on my shoulders. She’s looking down, like she’s fighting some internal battle. “Oh my God,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You are drunk.”

“I told you I’m not,” I murmur, trying to find her eyes and pull her back to me by the waist, but she resists, her fingers gripping my shoulders tighter. Her resistance is strong, her fingers digging into my shoulders as if she’s trying to push away the intensity of the moment. “Please, Drea.”

She shakes her head, eyes still averted. “I can taste the alcohol!” She brings her thumb up to brush over my lips. “I knew it, why the fuck would you lie?” She’s trying to walk away at this point, but my grip is too tough. I won’t let her go.

“No, listen,” I say, more eager and clear. “What I said, what I meant—none of that has to do with being drunk. I’m here because I need you. Because I want you. This isn’t just about tonight.”

Drea’s resolve falters, her eyes flickering back to mine with her perfectly arched eyebrows crinkling up just a bit. “You’re saying all the right things, but I can’t just ignore—”

I cut her off by pulling her closer, my grip firm but gentle on her hips. My thumbs move beneath her shirt, stroking her skin and feeling the muscle. “I know.” My lips are ghosting over her ear. “But please, just for tonight, let’s not think about it.” I press a kiss right below it. “Just be with me. Let’s just be here.”

“Paige..” she starts again, her voice softer this time, and I love it when she says my name. I lean in, silencing her with a kiss that’s both insistent and tender. She melts into it, her resistance breaking as she wraps her arms around my neck. Shes quick to sneak her tongue in, the movement making me wince, furrowing my brows at how good she tastes.

I guide her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and she falls onto it with a soft thud. I follow her down, my body pressing against hers as our kiss grows more fervent. My hands explore her curves, skimming over the fabric of her shirt as it rides up, and I feel her shiver beneath me.

“Is this mine?” I breathe against her lips, the warmth of her hands on my cheeks making my face flush a vibrant red. Drea nods, her breath hitching as she catches the look in my eyes. Without another word, I grab the hem of her shirt and yank it up over her head, tossing it aside. The shirt hits the floor, and she starts giggling like a school girl, her chest now fully exposed and daunting.

The sound of her laughter makes my stomach flip, and I can’t help but grin, leaning down to capture her mouth in another kiss. This time, there’s no hesitation, no holding back. Our bodies press together, her skin warm and soft against mine, like it was made for me.

My hands begin to wander a bit too much, all the way down to her shorts. Slipping my hand in, I can already feel how wet she is. She lets out a soft gasp as I trace slow, deliberate circles against her clit firmly. “Tell me what you want, baby,” I whisper, my breath fanning over her neck.

Her body has always reacted to every touch, every word. She’s trying to stay composed, but I can tell she’s barely holding on. Her hips instinctively push against my hand, silently begging for more, but I keep my movements steady, torturously slow and sloppy. I want to hear her say it.

“You,” she breathes out, her voice wavering. She’s antsy, I can feel it—the way her muscles tense, the way her breath comes in shallow pants.

“C’mon,” I murmur, nipping at her earlobe. “You can do better than that.”

She whimpers, her hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging into my skin as she tries to find the words. “Please… I need—” She breaks off, a soft moan escaping her lips when I press harder, right where she needs it most.

But then she grabs my wrist, stopping me just before she can fall over the edge. Her eyes lock with mine, and they’re low, dark, and daring. Three words that are very Drea. “Stop,” she says, her voice firmer now, even though I can tell it’s taking all her willpower. “I wanna feel you.”

The way she says it—so raw, so desperate—it’s enough to make me slip into a trance. I pull back, my gaze lingering on her as I strip off the rest of my clothes, watching as she does the same. Every inch of her is so perfect to the point where it should be a crime, and I want to touch every part.

I lay back on the bed, and she climbs on top of me, her movements deliberate and careful as she positions herself right over the bottom half of my body. I let my hands slide down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist before coming to rest on her ass. I tilt my head slightly against the pillows, mouth slightly agape. I can’t resist giving her a gentle squeeze, eliciting a soft noise from her. I smile, and my hands linger there, holding her close as she settles into place. We’ve done this countless amounts of times, and every single time it feels different. Better.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy, you know that?” I pull her hips down, aligning our bodies perfectly, and the feeling of her heat against mine makes my breath catch, but I’m still focused. “Could stay like this all night.”

Drea licks her lips, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she adjusts herself, the friction and jolting of our bodies a whole whirlpool of pleasure. “You better,” she whispers back, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as her hands grip my legs so she can find herself.

Slowly, she starts to move, her hips grinding down against mine in a smooth rhythm. Every slide of her body against me is agonizingly perfect, and I can’t help the groan that escapes as she finds a pace that makes my whole body push up against her.

My eyebrows furrow as I take sight of where we meet, her pussy flat against mine. The squelching of our juices together fills the room, and I lose it. Maybe the alcohol is accentuating the feeling for me, or she’s just this good. “Fuck…” I breathe out, my hands roaming up her back, feeling the muscles flex and move beneath her skin. “You feel so good. Always so good.”

Her response is a soft moan, her head falling forward slightly as she loses herself. I let my hands slide back down to her ass, guiding her movements, making sure every grind, every brush of our bodies, hits just right. I can feel her trembling, her thighs shaking as she picks up the pace, chasing that high.

I can’t resist teasing her a little, my hands kneading her ass as she rides me, my fingers brushing just along the edge of her entrance, close enough to make her squirm but not enough to give her what she really wants. She lets out a frustrated moan, hips moving harder, trying to get more.

“Paige!” she groans, voice full of need and just the right amount of anger, her breath coming out in ragged pants. “Stop playing with me. I can’t take it.”

My grip tightens, and I keep her exactly where I want her, reaching up to tuck a loose curl behind her ear, my fingers lingering as I brush my thumb gently along her cheek. “You can take it, baby,” I whisper. “I know you can.”

She looks at me with those pleading eyes, her breath hitching as she adjusts herself, arching her back more. The movement pushes her even closer to me, our bodies pressing together, and the feeling almost sends me over the edge.

Without warning, I dip two fingers into her entrance, the sight too pretty to resist. It makes her gasp, her body collapsing forward against me. Our skin sticks together, warm too from the sweat, and her chest is pressing against mine as she struggles to catch her breath.

Before she can lose herself entirely, I slide my hand to her lower stomach, pushing her back up, guiding her into place. “Nah, stay up w’me, ma.” My voice is shaky with the effort of holding it together. Out of breath, mouth wide open. “Hold that shit.”

She whines out, her voice high and so pornographic. “Mm—oh, I can’t…” Her words trail off into a desperate moan, her body shuddering as my fingers move in that come-hither motion, curling inside her just right. The feeling of her slick is almost too much to bear, making my head spin.

I push through, keeping her steady even as I feel myself starting to lose control. “You can,” I pant, my breath coming out in ragged bursts. “So close, I know you can do it.”

She’s trembling, her thighs shaking as she tries to follow my command, but I can see the strain on her face, her dilated pupils, the way she’s fighting to keep herself together. My fingers work faster, deeper, and she bites down so hard on her lip I swear it might bleed.

Finally, when I feel her body tighten around me, right on the edge of breaking, I tap her ass lightly with my palm and pull my fingers out just enough to catch everything. “Now, baby. Come for me.”

The moment I say it, she lets go, and we come together, our bodies moving in sync, the room filled with strangled noises. The pleasure is blinding, overwhelming, and I cling to her as we ride it out. She’s finally able to fall on top of me comfortably, hand resting on my chest.

We stay like that for a moment, tangled together, both of us shaking with the aftershocks, until we finally start to come down. I press a soft kiss to her temple, my heart still racing (for more than one reason I’ll admit) as I hold her close.

I can feel her hesitance, scared to move or say anything. But I can also feel her tiredness, the way her body sags against mine like she’s too worn out to keep up any walls.

Gently, I shift, moving my body so I’m laid up next to her, our limbs tangling together naturally. My arm stays draped around her, holding her close as she nestles her head into the crook of my neck, her breath warm against my skin. It feels good—too good—like maybe we could stay like this forever if we didn’t know better.

“I want you to mean what you said. All of it.” 

Her words hang, and I can feel her hesitation, the fear that I’m just saying things because it’s easier than dropping the bomb or just straight losing her. I swallow, pulling her closer.

“You’ont think I did?”

“Paige.”

“Drea, I do.”

She doesn’t respond right away, just presses herself deeper into me, like she’s trying to believe it, trying to let herself see us being more than what we are right now without it turning into shit. I know how hard that is, how many times we’ve proven we aren’t made for each other.

“Then prove it,” she finally murmurs, her voice a little stronger now, like she’s challenging me, daring me to back it up.

I nod against her, not sure if she can even feel it, but I know what she means. It’s not about words anymore—it’s about what comes next, and whether we can make it work. “I will,” I promise, and for once, I really believe it.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - modern!au, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, nonconsensual touching, and stalking. written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

“I’ve been thinking about us, again.”

He was barely trying to whisper, his voice loud enough to earn several pointed looks from the people around you. You’d tried to put yourself at a distance from the rest of the class, to sit in a deserted corner of the near-empty lecture hall, but he wouldn’t have cared if you were in the first row. That was something you’d had to learn quickly about him – Kunikuzushi was shameless at the best of times, actively vitriolic at the worst. Your public humiliation wasn’t just a pleasant side-effect of his company, but an active goal he was striving towards during every minute you spent together.

“You don’t have to look so worried – if I was going to break up with you, you’d know.” You kept your eyes trained on the lecturer, your expression schooled to practiced disinterest, but his voice lulled like you’d broken into tears. You felt him shift that much closer to you – his thigh pressing into yours. “I just don’t think we spend enough time together. I know, I know, we’re both busy, but still. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

You were. Just last week, you’d spent two hours locked in your bedroom closet – lights off and knees pulled into your chest – because Kuni had somehow gotten your address and decided it would be a good use of his time to loiter on your doorstep and refuse to leave until you came out. You planned your day-to-day schedule meticulously to make sure it would never bleed into his, went out of your way not to have to go where you knew he would be, but there was only so much you could do to get away from someone willing to blow off his classes and skip work just to spend the better part of a day sending you candid pictures from one of his countless burner phones. You could only be thankful he was too caught up in his own delusions to ever let his obsession turn violent. Lashing out at you for never acknowledging whatever relationship he thought you were in would be akin to admitting you didn’t have a relationship at all, he would never do that.

He took up your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You tried, weakly, to pull away from him, but he only let out a breathy chuckle, his head soon resting on your shoulder. Compared to how he’d acted when you first met – standoffish, bristly, constantly on the verge of losing his temper – he was practically a touch-starved puppy, happy so long as he could sit in your lap and bask in your attention, positive or negative.

If only you’d ever wanted a pet.

“I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say it.” Another laugh, a playful squeeze to your hand. “I think we should move in together.”

You snapped in his direction, your knees jolting against the bottom of your desk and earning a few pointed glares. After mouthing a sheepish apology, you dug your nails into the back of his hand, keeping your voice as low as possible. “Kuni, I— I don’t think that’s—”

“Don’t think it’s practical?” Predictably, he cut you off. “I knew you’d say that. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be able to find the nerve to leave your apartment.” You felt his smile against the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck as he nuzzled against you. “I’ve already handled it. By the time that moron—“ He rolled his eyes towards your professor. “—shuts up, everything should be taken care of.”

You felt something heavy and sharp drop into the pit of your stomach. “But, you don’t have a key—”

“I made myself a key a couple weeks ago – got tired of waiting for you to offer. I love you, babe, but you’re too timid for your own good.” His grin, pressed the curve of your throat. “You can thank me later on, after I’ve shown you our new place.”

His hand fell to your thigh, just a touch too high not to trigger some buried, primal instinct inside of you. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate – bolting upward and tearing yourself away from him. Your chair scaped against the tile floor, your palms slamming against the desk, and in an instant, every pair of eyes in the lecture hall were on you. The professor scowled in your direction, his ire tangible. “Do you have something to say, (L/n)?”

You opened your mouth, but your mouth was dry, your throat suddenly swollen shut. Your gaze fell back to Kuni – his smile still wide and his eyes still so, so dark.

Wordlessly, you shook your head and collapsed back into your seat. As the lecture picked back up and all concentration was returned to the front of the rom, Kuni latched onto you once again, his hold twice as strong and twice as suffocating as it had been.

It was almost a comfort to know that, this time, there wasn’t anything you could do to get away from him.

[legiblyloathed]

Ain’t He Darling? (Chapter 2)

Yandere! Wally Darling x Reader

A/N: This has gone from a oneshot to a twoshot to what’s now shaping up to be at least a five chapter story and for that I apologize. The “date” with Wally was only meant to be half a chapter and now it’s a full one. I will, in fact, learn nothing from this and will continue to accidentally increase my workload in the future. Many thanks for the kind comments on chapter 1, and I hope you enjoy chapter 2!

People who requested to be tagged; @whynot5243 @tikosan @itsyellow @twerkingnutella18 @azoart Y’all keep me going, I wish you the best.

Prev ——— Next

You know, maybe it was hasty to imagine Wally killing me as the worst case scenario. I think I’d take getting murdered in the woods over the uncomfortable silence I’ve been stewing in all afternoon.

Or at least, the silence is making me uncomfortable. Ever since I dragged myself out of the house to paint with him like I promised, I’ve spent damn near every minute avoiding eye contact like it’d kill me. Not that it seems to be working, as every time I glance up from my painting, I can see him out of the corner of my eye, and without fail he’s always focused on me. How he’s managed to finish his own drawing in between these moments is beyond me, but the way the easels are laid out, I can’t see his canvas anyway. There’s every chance it’s blank, and he just coerced me out here to stare at me without interruption.

But now, the sky is shifting to a myriad of colors, and I send up a silent thank you to the heavens for the excuse to leave. “Well, this has been fun,” I start, wiping the excess paint on my hands onto the apron he loaned me. “But I don’t wanna have to walk home in the dark, so I’d best be off.”

“It has been fun, hasn’t it?” After who knows how long of complete silence, his voice makes me jump slightly. Wally takes a few slow, measured steps in my direction, stopping just a little too close to my personal bubble. His eyes glued to my messy painting of the woods, and his eternal smile seems to widen. “You’re good at this.”

I manage to let out a laugh. “Not really, but I appreciate it.” I glance over my own art at the back of his easel, morbid curiosity eating away at me. As much as I want to see what the resident weirdo drew when he wasn’t trying to burn a hole in my forehead, something tells me it’s better not to know.

Wally’s head turns slightly, following my gaze to his own artwork. “Oh, do you want to see mine?” he asks, not waiting for my answer as he walks over and grabs it off the easel. He stares down at it for a moment, as if ensuring its quality, then turns it around and holding it up for me to see. “I worked hard on it. What do you think?”

Upon examination, I think I should have chosen a different neighborhood to move into, one with less terrifying residents. Staring back at me is a portrait of none other than myself. I’m sitting on a bench, which, after a moment, I recognize as the one under the apple tree where Wally had been the day prior. I look relaxed, leaning back and resting my weight on my hands behind me, my attention drawn to something off to the right. As I scan it over, I note that I wasn’t drawn with the clothes I wore today, but the ones I had on yesterday, down to finest of details. It’s beautiful, and I hate it.

I’m left frozen in place, gawking at the perfect recreation of my likeness in silence. The man doesn’t seem to mind, content to let me take in the details of his piece as he in turn observes my reaction. When I manage to pull my attention back to his face, I stammer out, “That’s…” A hell of a red flag? My worst nightmare on a canvas? A fear I’d have deemed laughable before this moment? “…incredibly realistic.”

Wally turns the painting back to himself, looking down at it with an air of fondness. “I suppose it is. I can’t take all the credit, though.” His eyes look up at me, his head unmoving. “I had a very inspiring model.”

At this, I can feel the two sides of my brain start to feud. The optimistic side makes a good effort to insist that this explains the staring, that he just wanted to get the details right and I was wrong to treat it like a problem. The more realistic side then slaps the optimistic side upside the head and points out that no amount of staring could explain the sheer level of detail in clothes that I’m not even wearing today.

My thoughts continue to conflict with each other, the turmoil so strong that I don’t even register Wally getting closer until he’s barely a foot away from me. I jolt back, nearly falling over. He seems unbothered. “Say, neighbor, would you mind helping me carry all this back to Home? The paintings are delicate, I don’t want them getting crushed.”

Part of me really wants that painting getting crushed, but I don’t dare admit that out loud. Instead, I nod. “Alright, but we gotta hurry. It’ll be dark soon.” Already the sun is casting long shadows, obscured by the trees to the west. Wally and I pack up the paints and fold up the easels, and I balance them all in my arms while he holds the canvases to his chest. Together, the two of us set off towards the house in the center of the neighborhood.

No words are exchanged as we journey through the town. He seems content with the silence, and I’m content to not have to talk to him. It seems the rest of our neighbors have called it a day, Wally and I being the only two people out and about. The weight of the supplies makes my arms ache, but if the alternative is carrying a piece of art that feels just a little too haunted for my taste, I think I can tolerate the discomfort. I don’t know how the hell he managed to drag all of this junk out in the first place.

The sun has sunk down past the horizon by the time we make it to Home, painting the sky a myriad of purples and deep blues. It takes all I have left in me not to collapse upon the porch, made all the worse by Wally’s continued nonchalance as he opens the door and beckons me inside. I brush past him into the living room, dumping my armload of supplies onto the coffee table. With a weary huff, I throw myself down onto his couch to catch my breath, my eyes drooping shut.

“You feeling alright, there, neighbor?” The sofa sinks ever so slightly as he settles down beside me. When I don’t reply, too busy staring at my eyelids and regulating my heartbeat, he speaks with what almost feels like genuine concern, “If you were getting tired, you should have spoken up. I’d have been happy to take a break.”

I shake my head. “Fine, I’m fine. Just need a minute before I head home.”

There it is again, that damn laugh. “What do you mean? This is Home.” The sound of a door squeaking registers in my periphery, and I let my eyes open, squinting against the bright colors of his house. I take a glance out of the corner of my eye, and sure enough, his own are glued on my face with a smile that registers as a little too suspicious for my tastes.

An increasingly familiar sense of unease overtaking me, I push myself up and lean away from him, hoping he didn’t notice, yet knowing he did. “I mean yeah, it’s your home, Wally,” I say, “but I have my own home to get back to.”

He lets out a soft hum, and I swear his smile wavers for just a moment. “I suppose you do,” he murmurs, sounding like he was talking to himself more than me. Risking another glance, I’m surprised to see his eyes not on me, but focused on the paintings that he had leaned against his armchair. My portrait, with its flat, distracted gaze, seemed to be staring back at us from the angle at which it stood.

With this newfound distraction from his observation, I move to push myself up off the couch, snapping him out of whatever stupor he’d been wandering in. I make sure to speak before his mouth catches up to his brain. “Well, today’s been… fun, but I think I’m gonna head out.”

I feel a hand clasp around my forearm, and I barely bite back a yelp at the contact. “It’s pretty dark out there, neighbor. Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep here tonight? I think you’d be safer.”

Nope, nope, nope nope nope. I pull my arm away, praying it didn’t look as panicked as it felt. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll have to pass. It’s not that long a walk, I’ll be fine.” I step away towards the door, and my stomach sinks when I hear Wally get up as well.

As I prepare to head out, the same hand settles upon my shoulder instead. “Well, if you’re sure, I won’t stop you,” he drawls, a trace of emotion I can’t quite name evident in his tone. He slips past me, opening the door himself. He tilts his head, eyes locked on mine. “Let’s do this again sometime. Won’t that be nice?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a challenge. Straightening up, I stand in the doorframe and meet his stare as evenly as I can. “I’m sure it would be.” The evening chill washes over me as I exit Home. “Good night, Wally.”

“Good night, neighbor. Sleep well.” My steps are steady and even as I walk down the porch stairs, and the light still pouring out as I walk away tells me that the door is still open. That he’s still there, still watching me. I hurry along towards my house, being sure to break out of his line of sight as soon as possible. It doesn’t help with the paranoia, but I pretend it does.

Tears nearly stream down my face in relief as I enter my own home and close the door, leaning back against it and sliding down to the ground. I don’t bother getting up, not to eat, not to shower, nothing. I just sit there, alternating between keeping my eyes closed to try and relax and opening them when I see those horrible eyes taunting me in the inky black. As I feel myself drifting off, one final thought crosses into my mind:

I never got my painting back from Wally.

[ghostofskywalker]

Patched Up

Fives/Reader

Fictober Day 13 of 31

Words: 1,100

Summary: You would think that ARC troopers would know when their injuries needed to be treated, but apparently your boyfriend decided that the rules didn't apply to him this time around.

Clone Troopers Masterlist

You tried to keep your steps light as you stalked through the halls of the Resolute, one destination in mind. The recent battle had been dangerous, and there were quite a few of your friends laying on cots in the medbay, their wounds bandaged and bacta’d as they slept. There had even been a few close calls for you as an emergency medic, but thankfully your injuries were nothing more than a few scrapes here and there. 

However, you knew of another trooper, one who had not been as lucky as you were this time around, and he had been notably absent from the medical bay. Despite catching a glimpse of him earlier, the moment you, Kix, the other medics, and the various medical droids began to treat the various battle wounds, he was gone. Fives may have thought he could hide away in the shadows and tend to his own wounds, but you were not going to let that happen. 

One of the best things about being a high-ranking medic meant that your badge granted you access to any area of the ship you wanted, and that included the barracks. Too many times had clones tried to hide their injuries and avoid getting (sometimes live-saving) medical treatment, so you had that access to every set of bunks in case of emergency. Today would be the first time you needed to enter Torrent’s main bunk room, and you had a sneaking suspicion about where you would be able to find who you were looking for. 

Jesse was sitting at a table in the corner of the main room, and he looked up from his datapad in shock when you walked in. He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “Where is he?” 

You expected some resistance, or maybe even some feigned confusion, as he covered for his squadmate and fellow ARC trooper. Thankfully though, he surprised you by saying nothing in response, pointing towards one of the doors in the back of the room, where where presumably their bunks were arranged. 

You stopped by Jesse before continuing across the room, keeping your voice low so that you weren’t overheard. “How bad is it?” you asked, voice lower than you had spoken with before. 

“Not great, but you know how he is,” he responded. “Hopefully he listens to you more than he does to the rest of us.” 

The door to the barracks hissed open. You could see that only one of the six bunks was occupied, and like you suspected, Fives was curled up on his bunk. “I told you Jesse, I’m fine,” his voice echoed through the space, clearly having not looked up yet. 

“I’m not Jesse, but I’ll give you another guess.” 

A smile crossed your face as you could hear him sigh. “Cyare, what are you doing here?” 

“I have access to every single barrack on this flagship, specifically for this reason,” you said, walking over to get a good look at him as he tried to turn away.

He sighed. “That’s supposed to be for emergencies only.” 

As you sized up his injuries, which included a busted lip, an arm wound that was already bleeding through its bandage, and a black eye, you snorted. “I hate to break it to you babe, but this qualifies. Why aren’t you in the medbay?” 

Despite the fact that the romantic aspects of your relationship with him were still in their infancy, you had known him long enough (and spent enough time alone with him) to know when he was trying to sell you a speeder full of banthashit. And no matter how many cute pet names he called you, or how dreamy he tried to make his eyes look, you weren’t going to let the subject drop. 

“I already went to the medbay,” he said. 

“Really? Because I haven’t seen you, and I’ve been there the whole time since everyone re-boarded.” 

A silence fell across the room as Fives realized his fate. “You all have enough to worry about,” he said softly. “I can take care of myself.” 

“But you don’t have to,” you responded, reaching out to take his hand and help him sit up. He didn’t try and resist, and you hoped that this meant he would allow you to treat him. “At least let me change your bandages and put some bacta gel on your lip. I don’t like to see the people I love hurt like this.” 

Fives nodded, extending his injured arm slightly. As you began to unravel the hastily applied bandages, he spoke. “You love me?” 

I have since the moment we met, your brain said, but you kept those thoughts in. “Yes,” was the simple answer you offered instead. “And I understand if you think things have been moving too fast between us-” 

But you didn’t even get to finish that sentence before he squeezed your hand to cut you off. “I love you too, so much.” A smile broke across your face. “And trust me, if I didn’t have all these injuries right now I’d be kissing you already.” 

“We can get to all that when you’re healed,” you said, slowly wrapping new bandages around the wound on his arm, which looked to be from a blaster. “Just focus on getting better.” 

A pout crossed his face, and you leaned in to place a soft kiss on his cheek, laughing at the way he tried to chase your lips with his own. An idea took hold in your brain, and after you had finished securing the bandages on his arm, you manage to place a small amount of bacta gel on your fingertip without him noticing. Leaning in once more, you smiled as Fives took the bait. Once his lips were puckered, you gently coated them with the bacta gel, and you laughed at the look of reproach he shot you when he realized you weren’t actually going to kiss him. 

 “At least stay with me then,” he said. “You know, just in case my bandages need to be changed again.” 

 “Fives-” 

“Please?” You rolled your eyes playfully as you climbed into the bunk with him, thankful that the GAR-issued cots were actually quite roomy. You couldn’t really resist that request, and he damn well knew that.

Right as you had cuddled up together, there was a knock at the door. “You two better not be doing anything in there!” 

“Shut up Jesse!” You called back, and you could hear his laughter through the wall. 

Things would be okay, especially if you had Fives by your side.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[ghiblinsm]

cannon list

first movie:

Wade doesn't actually know anything that really happened to you in the workshop, just bits and pieces that were hinted by Francis.

“You have to live with the shitty thing you did for the rest of your life.”

you love your dad, really you do. but you will always have a bit of resentment for what he signed you up for.

"It doesn't get better, and it doesn't get easier. I can't keep lying to myself,"

during the months you were being injected fluids in your blood, Austin had kept asking his mom to call Wade and see what happened.

“Yo, this is Wade. I’m either out doing mercenary stuff, getting into trouble, or just avoiding your call. Leave a message. Beep”

Anytime Wade sees you with clothes that show your arms and legs, he always thinks about how the scars on your skin were caused by him. (not s.h scars but thunder like scars caused by other types of torture)

“Who knew that bringing my daughter to a workshop full of dangerous crap would be a bad idea? Genius move, Wade. Just chalk it up to another day of being a fantastic father.”

He's never brought it up but sometimes he notices you looking in the mirror a little longer then usual then sees you later in a new outfit of pants or leggings and a long sleeve or cardigan.

"I can't stand to look at my scars, every time I look at them, I'm reminded at what happened. How he failed to protect me and i don't want to hold that against him..."

More often then you two both like to admit, you both make a bunch of self-deprecating jokes about being a bad father/daughter.

Wade: "You know, sweetheart, I always thought I'd be a great dad… but I guess I took 'daddy issues' to a whole new level, huh? Can I put that on my résumé?"

You: "At least you made the list. I didn’t even make it onto the ‘good daughter’ list. I’m just the bonus kid with the emotional baggage. You’d think I’d be on sale by now."

second movie:

When you first met Russell you could only think about how scary it must've been for him to be surrounded by people trying to say they knew how he felt.

"You’re a mess, Russell. But I took responsibility for your actions, and I can’t just leave you."

when you were put in the ice box prison you kind of gave up, just like you father. except since you saw how much Russell was trying you decided to at least help him not get beat up.

"I’ve spent my whole life trying to do what’s best for everyone else. I forgot to take care of myself."

during the whole ordeal your heart and mind were in-between resentment and pity for your dad. he was acting like the world stopped when vanessa was shot when it didn't. you still feel bad for feeling this way.

"The only way to get through the day is to keep pushing forward, even if it feels like you’re dragging the weight of the world."

a secret you didn't even tell your dad was that when most of the x force died you giggled and sent a video to Austin.

"I'm sorry for your loss...*later* Austin i need to laugh so fricking badly but i can't because i'm with colossus. what do i do?"

Wade's a little disappointed in himself for this one but, when you all were in the ice box prison and he saw you trying to keep Russell out of shit, he thought he could leave Russell in your hands and stay out of everything, despite more prisoners getting violent.

"I want to be the person who helps people. I want to be the person who can make a difference. But I don’t know how."

Third movie

the day Wade tried to join the avengers you were chilling with Austin who was on the phone with Peter and somehow interviews came up in discussion and you heard Peter ask Austin how common alliterative names were because Happy was talking about a disrespectful guy that came in for an interview and had a 'dumb' name.

"I’m just a guy who loves a good time. Who cares about the rest?"

when nicepool led y'all to his honda, you were thinking back to peter's situation with two other spiderman and when wolverine and your dad were in the car you couldn't help but ask nicepool how his y/n was.

"You can’t change the past. You can only learn from it and hope that you don’t repeat the same mistakes."

you were friends with laura for a short while at the age of 11 and when you two met again in the void you both immediately did y'all's handshake out of instinct.

“Life is short! So we should spend it having fun and making memories!”

couldn't really think of more stuff for the third movie that would involve spoiling stuff I have planned so it was cut short.

hope y'all liked it!

"Well everyone loves me" by Rizzy105 on wattpad

[bunnies-and-loverboys]

To the (trans)masculine person looking to get into actually wearing lolita fashion

including out and about, and not just in the secret of one’s bedroom

Hi! I’m an average trans guy with a love of lolita fashion and also a big hairy bear body that is very much not a cisgender woman’s body. Here are some pieces of advice I have collected from my time wearing the fashion, that I think can make the experience of wearing the frills a happier one when one is transmasculine, or, frankly, any sort of masculine.

The list is a bit long, so it's under the "read more". Happy reading!

Evaluate what makes you uncomfortable in a gender-related way and what doesn’t, then act in consequence. I know that having long hair and wearing skirts doesn’t bother me, but shaving myself makes me feel quite dysphoric. Thus, I wear my lolita dresses and skirts happily, while sporting a neatly trimmed beard.

Experiment to avoid some bad surprises. Related to the first piece of advice, if you don’t know whether something will make you feel uncomfortable/less manly/dysphoric, try it out in private before you go to an event, to avoid feeling uncomfortable at the event or having to leave before you want to out of discomfort. I wasn’t sure If I’d feel better taking pictures of myself in my lolita coords without a beard or with, so I shaved and tried to take pictures and found that I preferred to sport my facial hair while wearing lolita. While experimenting beforehand won't get rid of ALL bad surprises, it'll already be a good number avoided.

Be ready for things to not fit you as they should or not fit you at all, but do not get discouraged. A lot of lolita clothes are made with a conventional woman's body in mind. If you do not have breasts, you might find that some tops and dresses have weird proportions on you, like the waist of a garment being much smaller than the bust of that garment. In that case, either look for custom sized clothes or get a size bigger than what you’d need and alter it/get it altered to fit you. If you are taller, or broad in the shoulders, or fat, or multiple of those qualifiers, it will be harder to find lolita clothes that fit you, but there are options. Some brands have wider ranges of size or provide custom sizing; turn to those. Don’t beat yourself up about smaller clothes not fitting you, although I know it is hard when you really like the design of something and it doesn’t come in your size; some people alter things that don’t fit them to make them bigger, though, so not all is lost. If you want to start making your own lolita clothes, go for it, it is not seen as a bad thing, in fact, most people I’ve met found it really cool.

Be prepared for strangers to be weird about lolita fashion. That may come in the form of being asked strange questions (“Are you a boy or a girl? Is this a regional costume? Is it cosplay?”) or in the form of people looking at you weird and whispering among themselves, or in some cases even heckling or worse. Some may opt to do specific things for peace of mind. For instance, when commuting in lolita fashion, I wear a face mask and long socks to get less attention about my facial and body hair. It is also good to be in groups while commuting, or at least with one other person you know. If people are weird to you, remember it's them being weird and not your responsibility for them being weird; you're just out and about wearing clothes.

Be prepared for people to assume that you are a woman if you are not displaying any conventional outward sign of masculinity while wearing lolita fashion. For some people, I understand that it may be a dealbreaker, especially if you are a transgender man who has spent a lot of time and effort into be recognized as a man publicly. Personally, while I don’t like it, I understand that they are rarely blessed with meeting someone who wears lolita fashion, much less men doing so, and do I consider it a fair, if unfortunately wrong, assumption. Additionally, be prepared for people to assume that you are a transgender woman if you are displaying outward signs of masculinity while wearing lolita fashion. Most people who aren’t super informed about queer people know of transgender women more than they know of gender-non-conforming transgender men, and some more bigoted people will lump cis queer men and transgender women together arbitrarily in their refusal to understand more about transgender people or queer people in general. While being a transgender woman is not an insult (though some people may try to make it one, in less elegant terms), you can politely inform them that you are a man if it suits you to do so, or ignore them and go about your day.

Wearing lolita fashion as a man is definitely intimidating, but if you love the way it looks and find ways to make it work for you, and you have fun wearing it, then you’re doing it right. Lolita fashion is about unashamed joy in pretty details, and anyone of any gender has a right to unashamed joy in the garments they want to wear. A lot of lolita fashion wearers I have met welcomed me gladly upon seeing me genuinely enjoy the fashion, and a number of them are queer themselves, although most often women. So, there’s room for men in lolita fashion, and let us never forget that Mana, the icon himself, is, after all, a man (although not the big and hairy variety).

I haven’t seen a whole lot of men rocking the fashion, and even less the ones with a bear physique, but I hope this encourages anyone who has been wanting to try, but felt intimidated by it, to give it a shot!

[lvrmoons]

When they say something hurtful (part 2)

It had been over a year since your bad break up with Atsumu. Thankfully, you successfully avoided him for that entire year and had no contact with him. When you first realized he had no intention of apologizing or contacting you again, you were beyond hurt, but it turned to anger, and later acceptance. You were quite satisfied with your life now, although sometimes still longing for Atsumu to be by your side again, but you knew that would never happen. 

Or that’s what you thought. 

You coincidentally bumped into him at the convenience store and he awkwardly asked you for some of your time. You agreed, wondering what he was going to say after all this time. So here you two were, outside a small, quiet cafe, with barely any people around. 

“Um... I don’t know where to start but I guess I should apologize first.. Y/n- you do not know how sorry I am. I keep thinking bout that night and how awful I was to ya. I wanted to apologize straight away. Seriously. But I knew you deserved someone much better than me. I know I’m prideful and stubborn and I’ve been working on that. And when I finally reasoned with myself to at least apologize to you instead of just letting you go, you already blocked me... I know I’ll never get the chance to be by your side again, but I hope you’ll accept my sincerest apologies for hurting you.” He tried keeping eye contact with you but ended up staring at the table in between you. You kept quiet for a while as Atsumu sweated buckets from thee awkwardness and nervousness.

“..You know... If you had ran out of the house that night and told me to come back, I would have dropped my bags and come running into your arms.” He finally looked up at you. “And it seems I would do the same even now..” You said, smiling softly at him. He stared at you in shock and you became shocked to when you saw the tears forming in his eyes. 

“A-are you ok??” You ask, standing up and hurrying next to him. 

He hugged you waist and buried his head into your stomach. 

“Thank you. So so much. I seriously don’t deserve you and I promise to treat you like the princess/prince you are.” 

Your face softened as you got reminded of how much you loved this boy. The both of you were held in each others embrace for a while before deciding to go back to his home, your home. 

________

It had been 3 days since that last argument and you still weren’t home yet. Suna, who thought you would come back after a day, became frantic as his calls went straight to voicemail and his messages weren’t going through. He even tried contacting you through social media but was left on delivered. After the third day, he finally found your friend’s contact and called her.

When the friend said you were hit by a car and was now at XXX hospital on the verge of death, he thought it was a prank, Your way of getting back at him. But when he got to the hospital and saw the IVs running through your arm, a cast on your leg, and lots of big patches on your face, his heart dropped, he felt sick to his stomach as he slowly and hesitantly made his way over to you. His trembling hand just barely grazed your face before he immediately pulled it back. He dropped onto the chair next to your bed and rested his head on his hands trying to stop himself from crying. He couldn’t believe you were on the verge of death, he spent his last moments with you arguing and he wouldn’t accept that. 

You were awoken by the sound of Suna’s crying and you turned your head to see a disheveled Suna. Crying.

Oh how you wished you could take a picture, but you knew exactly how he felt, no thanks to his vicious “prank”.

“Rin..” You whispered. His head shot up faster than you could blink and was by your side in half a second. 

“Y/n.. I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to hurt you or scare you. I don’t know what I was thinking pulling that prank. I can’t imagine how you felt. Please... please don’t leave me.” He held your hand as he pressed it against his tear-stained face. 

You didn’t say anything as you wanted him believing that you were dying for a little while longer. 

After a few minutes of silence, he finally looked at you and you were smiling. 

“I accept your apology. But seriously, if you do something like that again, I will actually leave you.”

“I promise I won’t.” He whispered.

“Good. But you know, you still haven’t asked me if I’m ok.” You say

“Are you ok??” he asked, concern written all over his face. 

“Yea actually. You just got pranked! OHHHH” you said laughing.

You could see the concern wiping off his face. He dropped your hand and started walking away. 

“Wait Wait! Come back, I’m just kidding.” You call out still laughing a little. He turned to you and rolled his eyes before making his way over to you again. 

“I actually did get hit by a car, but it didn’t hit me too hard. I’m actually getting discharged today if you’re willing to wait with me.”

“... What about your leg..” He asked staring at your cast.

“Oh, that I did break. But it could be worse.” you shrug.

“y/n.. please care about yourself more. I don’t want any part of you to be hurt.” He said. “And I promise not to hurt you in the future. Ever.”

“Well, you better keep that promise forever because that’s how long I’ll be by your side.”

“Always. I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

_________

You anger had subsided after a few days but rethinking the words he said to you still made you feel hurt. But instead of isolating yourself and drowning in your sorrows, you knew you had to talk to Oikawa. After all, communication is key. Over the few days after the fight, Oikawa left you alone and he knew to just give you space and time to think. So you were the first to call. 

You asked him to come over and in just a few minutes. He was already outside your door. When you opened it, the first thing you noticed was that he was still in his practice uniform and he was sweating a lot. 

“Were you at practice?” you ask the seemingly obvious.

“Yea- But I came over as soon as you called,” he said, catching his breath.

“Go shower first, you smell.” You say leaving him at the door and sitting at the kitchen table. He nodded and quickly went to the bathroom, not wanting to keep you waiting. When he came back it was silent. 

“Look, I just thought it would be better for us to talk and stuff instead of letting the situation sit and hurt both of us,” you say breaking the awkward tension. 

“Thanks, for calling me over. I’ve been wanting to sincerely apologize and I’ve been thinking about it every day. I know what I did was unforgivable and I know the chances of you allowing me to continue being your partner is low but the selfish part of me wants you to take me back. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said that day but I know being angry and annoyed isn’t any excuse to say those things so I truly apologize. Like you said to me before, high school is only a part of your life, you still have so much time to figure out what you love and to set goals. I realize that now, I should spend more time with my loved ones since volleyball will always be there but who knows when I’ll lose you. Um, yeah, thank you so much for always being there for me, and I hope you find someone who deserves you.” He starts standing up before you even had a chance to talk. 

“Sit your ass back down right now.” You say glaring at him. He sat down immediately. “Why do you keep talking like we’ve already broken up?”

“I- um-”

“To be honest, I didn’t know what I was going to say when I called you over, but I don’t want to break up. From what you said, you pretty much understood my feelings without me even telling you. I just hope you won’t use my insecurities as an advantage in arguments. And you need to stop beating yourself so hard when it comes to volleyball. And I’ll always be here for you when your down so you can vent but don’t get mad at me. That’s all, I think.”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you though. Really, I swear I’ll treat you better and that’s not just an empty promise.”

You chuckle, “I believe you. I love you so much Tooru.”

“Thank you for loving me when I don’t deserve it. I will forever be yours.” 

[silentglassbreak]

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Please don’t hate me��but it’s gonna get worse. 😬

Warnings: Nothing crazy, just a lot of wanting to rip your own hair out.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86

Part 3 - Drowning

One thing I’ve always prided myself on, is my innate ability to avoid an issue as long as humanly possible. Maybe that’s not a good thing? Maybe it’s just delaying an inevitable issue? That being said, in this particular situation, my problem was a person, and her name was Rachel.

So, naturally, I was avoiding her like the mother fucking plague.

I’m only a human, and a man, at that. I am not blind, I see the issue at hand. I’m attracted to her. And that’s a fucking problem. I could go down the list of reasons why that is a problem, and I have, hundreds of times, over the last three days. However, I decided very quickly after our last encounter that the best possible option was to keep a wide enough distance, not be obvious about it, and survive until I made it back to California and in the arms of the only person I know can make the problem disappear.

I had this plan, and although, with all of my certainty, I knew that it’s not the best one, to see Mileena after the show in San Diego, and have some very serious PDA in front of everyone.

Now, that wasn’t out of the norm for Leena and I, as it was pretty clear to everyone that we were wild for each other. So badly that the other members of our group were sometimes uncomfortable by it.

Then, once I had Mileena to myself, before I allowed anything fun to happen, I would tell her.

I would tell her about Rachel; my giving her a ride home, her answering the door nearly naked, inviting me in to her room.

Might leave out the part where I jerked off to her face, and body, and black boy shorts that barely covered her.

That was what I would take to my grave.

So, imagine my chagrin when Rachel spent the three days following the excursion trying to fucking corner me.

It started with a text I woke up to.

Rachel: Noah…can we talk?

Absolutely not.

The next text came once we were on the bus, and I was safely locked into my bunk.

Rachel: Are you asleep?

Yup.

Then, once we made it to the venue in Atlantic City, and were finishing up the M&G, the next one came.

Rachel: Noah, I really need to talk to you before the show. It’s important.

I sent Nick to go find her, to see if it was a tech issue. I hardly felt like I could handle that again, with all of this other nonsense swirling around in my head. It wasn’t, and she asked where I was.

Nick, none the wiser, sent her to the green room. When I saw the door open, a flash of blonde hair behind it, I slipped into the bathroom.

I heard her sigh heavily, and then the next text came in. This one gave me pause.

Rachel: Well, clearly you’re avoiding me, so I guess I’ll just text you. I just wanted to tell you that I am so fucking sorry. I wish I could say I don’t know what came over me, but I do. Alcohol and absolute insanity. Noah, please believe me when I tell you that I know you are in a relationship, and respect the hell out of that. What happened last night will never happen again. I just don’t want this to ruin our friendship or work relationship. Hopefully this text makes you open to talking after the show.

By this time, I had long since turned my read receipts off, and just stared at the message.

I almost replied. Almost. But, my sane mind taking over, slipped my phone back into my pocket instead.

We didn’t stay at a hotel. Rather, we showered at the venue, and were back on the road within two hours after the show had ended. We had an painfully long drive back to San Diego, so we had to get moving fast.

I laid in my bunk, headphones blasting Sleep Token’s latest album, and was feverishly texting Leena.

I had hoped she hadn’t picked up on my extra-neediness since the night prior, and just chalked it up to me being homesick.

Leena: Addie is walking more. She took twelve straight steps today without falling down!

Me: Oh FUCK YEAH. My little fucking rockstar!

Leena: She misses you so much.

Me: I miss her too. I miss you both more than life itself. But after SD, I’m done touring for at least six months. Probably will never tour again so I don’t miss you guys so much.

Leena: Oh you’re so cute when you lie.

I couldn’t tell if the text was cold or not?

Me: I’m serious. I can’t do this shit without you guys. I’m missing so many of Addie’s milestones.

Leena: We’ll see baby. And I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got to get some sleep. I love you, Noah.

Me: I love you more, Leena.

Leena: Promise?

Me: Always.

I had been catching up on the newest season of Stranger Things when I noticed the bus was quiet. I checked the time and saw it was nearly 3AM. I heard and felt no movement about the hallway, so I carefully slid my bunk door open, and hopped out. I was dying for some water and had to pee something fierce.

I froze coming to the end of the hall, noticing a blue light emitting from the couch in the front. I realized quickly it was Folio, and took a relieving breath. I approached him, but he didn’t acknowledge me.

“Hey, late night?” He was staring at his laptop screen, clicking away at the keys.

“Mmm.” Was the only response I received.

I decided disturbing him was probably not the best idea, so I slipped into the bathroom silently. When I stepped back into the hall, he was no longer seated, and was standing at the fridge with the door open.

“I think Nick ate my fucking lunchable.”

I snorted, reaching in next to him for a water bottle. “Probably.”

I cracked the cap and took a long pull. Folio eventually closed the door with a huff, and looked directly at me.

“So,” His eyes were oddly serious, not something I see much in Nick Folio. I raised an eyebrow.

“So?”

“Are you and Rachel just not speaking anymore, or…?”

I felt my heart drop down into my feet, my stomach simultaneously wrapping in a tight knot.

“What do you mean?” I kept myself cool.

“Well, she’s been asking for you, and we keep sending her your way, but she somehow never seems to find you?” His voice had a deadly evenness to it that made my skin crawl. Unless he lived in my brain, what the fuck could he possibly know?

“Well, it was a busy day.” I took another swig of my water to hopefully hide my uneasiness.

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? I guess.”

I nodded, hoping that was the end of it. Until he spoke again.

“You guys seemed friendly at the club the other night.”

That was it. Put a bullet between my fucking eyes.

Despite all of my efforts to hide the absolute terror I felt, I knew instantly that it was showing through. He raised his brows in response.

I tried to answer, but choked a little on the residual water in my mouth. I cleared my throat and closed the bottle.

“I just gave her a ride, dude.”

Nick eyed me from head to toe, not buying it.

“Yeah? Cause she seemed real sure about what was going to go down that night. Then you disappeared for an hour.”

My eyes blasted open. “What did you just say?”

Folio tossed his hands up in defense to my sharp tone. “Listen man, I’m no snitch. Not saying I’m going to go crying to Leena about it, but you may not want to shit where you sleep - you get me?”

My jaw had hit the floor, broken through the bottom of the bus, and was tearing along the Indiana asphalt beneath us,

“Folio, you’ve fucking lost it, dude!” He shook his head in amusement, clearly not believing me. “Nothing fucking happened with Rachel! I gave her a fucking ride. That’s it!”

My voice rose, so I instantly brought it back down, not wanting to alert the six other people sleeping.

He nodded then, his body language changing slightly. “Yeah?” He put his hand out to me, fist pushed forward. “On God?”

I bumped his fist. “On God, Buddha, Odin, or whatever other deity. Nothing fucking happened.”

He sighed. “Okay. I believe you dude.” I sighed in relief. “But Noah?” I glanced back up at his face. “If you’re telling the truth, then you should know, she said some pretty graphic shit about you at the bar. Claiming she had you wrapped around her finger, and she could get you into bed. Even with Mileena in the picture.” He glanced knowingly down the bus hallway.

“Watch out for that, dude. I thought Rachel was cool. I might’ve even had a thing for her. But hearing the way she talked about you? Something ain’t right.”

-

The salty, warm air of San Diego wrapped its arms around us as we stepped off of the bus at the hotel. It was refreshing, being so close to the finish line. Aside from my own bout of homesickness, I could see the guys were exhausted, and we were all ready for the post-tour coma, and being in the comfort of our own homes.

The hotel check-in process was tedious. Rachel stood at the counter, handing out keys as the attendant handed them to her.

“Nick.” He snatched his and walked back over to where I stood, waiting. “Folio.”

He took his card without looking at her. Something told me he was a little more than salty about this entire debacle.

“Jolly.” Only one left. “And, Noah.”

When my fingers took the key, her head whipped over and her eyes pierced up at me. I averted my gaze, plucking the card out of her hand, and intended to head to my room immediately.

“Hey! Who let these misfits in here?!”

Everyone’s heads whipped around, looking for the source of the voice. Her eyes were the first thing I caught, a day-breaking smile tearing across my face.

Mileena and Laura were walking through the lobby, waving at us. As soon as Mileena saw me, she broke out in a run. She always did when we were away for so long. It was one of her hopeless romantic traits that I indulged in at every opportunity.

I immediately unshouldered my backpack and began jogging toward her. Her body slammed into mine with only a force she could accomplish. My arms instinctively wrapped around her, securing her right into place against my chest.

I immediately got a face full of her midnight black hair, the scent invading my senses. She smelled like rose hips, fresh brewed coffee, Addison, and home. An overwhelming sense of ease washed over my skin.

Jesus fucking Christ, I love this girl.

She pulled herself back far enough to press her face against mine, her lips mashing mine in a frantic attempt to get as close as possible. My own fought back, nipping her bottom lip, before hers turned up into a smile.

“Thank fuck. I have been dying.” I croaked out.

Setting her feet on the ground, her arms snaked around my midsection, between the lapels of my jacket, burying the side of her face into my chest.

“Not as bad as I have.” Her words were a mumble.

“Look, we get it. You love each other. All star-crossed and shit.” We turned to look at Folio, who was smirking. “But do the rest of us get any love?”

She pulled away from me then, quickly wrapping Folio in an airtight hug. “Ah, I missed you too, punk.”

He chuckled at her and let her go. She made her rounds, even giving Rachel a one-armed embrace, which is when I noticed the look of humiliation on her freckled-face. Standing against Leena, my brain seemed to snap right back into place.

There was no contest. Mileena was stunning. Drop fucking dead mouthwatering. Rachel was…not.

After she made her way back over to me, I slung an arm easily over her shoulders, pulling her close enough to press a soft kiss on the top of her head.

“I thought you guys weren’t coming until tonight?” Nick was standing questionably close to Laura, which caught my eye immediately.

The latter shrugged, and pointed to Leena. “She showed up at my house at 9AM, insisting we leave sooner.”

“Best decision, honestly.” Was all I added.

We all began our trek toward the elevators, stepping in together. My room was on the second floor, so Leena and I stood at the front.

“Guys, I, uh, get you haven’t seen each other in three months, but,” Jolly’s voice was awkward. “we’ve only got like an hour until we have to head to the venue for sound check.”

The doors opened, and I nodded to my friend, acknowledging him. I then turned my head back to my girl, now standing outside the elevator, and flashed her a devilish grin.

“You better fucking run.”

-

Mileena has this way of moaning, and I can’t exactly describe how this is even possible, that sends a legitimate shiver up my spine. It’s chemical, the way her voice raises pitch and cracks at the end. How sometimes it’s my name rolling off her tongue, or just an incomprehensible noise, that makes me coil up and breath ragged. She has me by my fucking hair, and shows no signs of letting up.

Her eyes are always so wet, pleasure-soaked tears spilling down her cheeks, when she’s looking up at me whenever I’m burying myself inside of her.

She looks at me, not like she loves me, but like she knows me. Like she needs me. Like I’m the entire fucking universe and she is just spinning helplessly in some uneven orbit. It’s fucking unbelievable.

So when I finally reach my end, and am collapsed on top of her, fighting for air, I’m also peppering soft, affectionate kisses on her neck while she giggles tiredly.

“You’ve been so warm and fuzzy lately. I’m into it.”

I snicker into her skin, blowing warm air across her throat. “Can you blame me? I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

She sat up slowly, pulling herself away from me.

“And I, you, my love.” She stood off the bed, eyes searching the floor for her panties. “It just kind of came on suddenly. You sure you’re okay?”

She was concerned, which caused a lead brick to form in my gut. It’s guilt. I feel guilty.

“I mean, I’m fine.” I tried to waive a nonchalant hand to brush it off, but she still quirked her eyebrow the way she does, telling me I’m not getting away that easy.

“Yeah? Not very convincing there, Sebastian.” Her tone is playful, but there’s something under it.

“Just been a weird couple of days.”

She was pulling her leggings on. “How so?”

She was still so casual, but I know Mileena. She needed to know.

“Well-“ But before I could continue, there was a a loud banging on the door.

I fully expected to hear Jolly, or Nick, but instead, Rachel’s high-pitched whine came through the door.

“We’re leaving in 5 minutes, Noah! With or without you!”

I saw the face Leena made in response to the thick attitude laced in Rachel’s voice. “Damn, I wonder what’s got her so crabby?”

I sighed, and turned my back toward her while searching for my shirt. “Who knows.”

Soundcheck took way too long today, having to continuously stop for minute inconveniences. One of the laptops crashed, so we were at a complete standstill for about fifteen minutes. In that time, Nick and I decided to take a second look at the set list, trying to switch things up.

“Guys?” We both looked up to see her, galloping toward us, a stressed look on her face. Rachel was wearing a low-cut tee today, with black cargo pants and army boots.

“Listen, this computer is giving us a hell of a time, and I just don’t trust it. Would one of you run out to the bus and grab the backup?”

Nick stood up straight and gave a military salute, before jogging off the stage toward the side door. I chuckled and shook my head, looking back down at the clipboard in my hand.

“Changing it up tonight?”

I scanned the paper over and over, not looking up at her. “Thinking about it.”

“Why not play a song you haven’t played in a while?”

I looked up at her. “Like what?”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “Worst in Me?”

I shook my head. “Song blows live. Plus, we haven’t performed it in years. I doubt any of us even remember how.”

“Well, you pulled off The Fountain a while back.”

The sharpness of her tone struck a cord, so I dropped the clipboard on the amp I sat on, and stood up.

“We did.” I stood tall. I felt challenged.

“So why not play something else from that album?”

Her eyes had something in them. It almost looked like malice.

“Because we only played that song for a very specific reason.”

She scoffed. I almost couldn’t believe I heard it, but there it was.

“For Mileena, right?”

This made me narrow my eyes. Folio was right, something is off about her.

“Yep. For Leena.” My words held no room for argument.

She nodded her head slowly, lolling her tongue around between her teeth, before turning on her heel and walking toward Nick, who had re-entered with the computer in hand.

Something in the pit of my stomach burned, in a very bad, terrifying way.

What the fuck had I gotten myself into?

-

The show ran relatively smoothly. Mileena and Laura stood at the rails, making it easy to come undone more while she watched. We had a good time with our set, goofing around and enjoying ourselves.

After, I made no effort to hang around the green room. I was tired, and all I could think about was Leena, in sweats, wrapped in a hotel comforter, braid in her hair, stuffing her face with a burrito while we watched Stranger Things. It sounded heavenly.

Evidently, the rest of the crew felt similarly, as everyone decided to journey back to the hotel together. It didn’t take long, a short ride over from the venue. I had opted to ride with Laura and Leena, nearly bouncing out of my seat while we talked about the show.

“The crowd was fucking awesome tonight!” I say in the middle of the backseat, leaning between the driver and passenger’s seats, my arm draped over to hold Leena’s hand.

“It’s because we were there.” Laura was confident in her statement, which made Leena and I crack up.

“Oh definitely. You screaming ‘Fuck it up Folio’ really got’em going Lo.”

The ride was easy, and even fun. It helped me ignore the growing anxiety in my stomach.

I had been trying to push it back to the depths of my brain, the conversation. I knew it had to happen, but I couldn’t decide when. Originally, I had planned to tell her when we got back to the hotel; rip the bandage off, so to speak.

My selfishness wanted to wait, have a nice, relaxing night with her before we got home, and I gave her the full rundown.

The scariest part of it all? I had not a clue how she would react.

Mileena was anything but the jealous type. She had watched meet and greets with girls hugging me way too long, interviews where the host flirted with me, concerts where I was literally grabbed by women. It never fazed her. She never let a slip of the eyes, or a twitch of the lips. She always just smiled and told me I was a rockstar. It’s normal.

So she would understand this, right?

Waiting in the elevator was painful. The bus had beat us back to the hotel, and we all ended up, once again, together rising through the hotel. I felt my chest release the breath I had been holding once the door opened. I took Mileena's hand in mine, walking us down the hallway, and headed into our room.

She made herself comfortable, kicking off her Converse near the side of the bed, and flopping down on the blankets.

"Ugh, I'm so tired."

I snorted, pulling my shirt over my head. "Oh, yes. I know you must be so wiped from standing."

She tossed a pillow at me, that I caught and tossed back at her, laughing in the process.

"Listen here, buddy, I've been at home with that demon baby you made, for months!"

I feigned shock, grabbing my chest. "Demon baby? Nah, not my Addie."

She stood back up off of the bed, grabbing her backpack and pulling out her pajama pants.

"Oh please, she's insane, and you know it."

I shrugged. "I mean, she's highly intelligent. She can't help it."

She shook her head and shimmied out of her jeans, but paused before she put her pants on, scrunching her nose.

"Could I ask for a big favor?"

I rolled my eyes dramatically. "Yes, Leena, I'll let you wear my sweats."

She smacked at me with her pants. "No, dork. Can I please shower first?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You want me to join you?" I smirked, sticking my tongue out of the corner of my mouth.

"No." She was abrupt, and my face fell. She let out a sheepish grin. "My period started this afternoon after you left. It's pretty horrendous. Real horror movie shit. I'd rather be alone for that."

I pressed my lips in a tight line and nodded. "Fair enough."

I personally didn't care if she was bleeding, and she knew that, but she did, at least for the first few days, and I respected that.

She tip-toed over to me, and pressed a light kiss on my cheek, smiling sweetly. "Thank you, baby!" She scurried to the bathroom and hollered before shutting the door. "Out in a few!"

I sighed, sitting on the bed, and turned the TV on, flipping to the option for the streaming networks, pulling up Netflix and getting the show ready. I then pulled the fridge door open to see it was understocked, only one water bottle left, and no sodas.

"Babe?" I called from the bed, and made my way toward the bathroom. "The mini fridge is bare. I'm going to run down to the lobby and grab stuff from the snack bar."

"Ginger ale please!" She called from the shower.

"You got it."

I slipped my shirt back on and left the room, making my way toward the lobby. The snack bar was full of food, drinks, and regular amenities.

I grabbed myself a Dr. Pepper, a ginger ale for her, a 3 Muskateers, a bag of skittles, and four water bottles. After telling the attendant to charge it to my room, I was headed back up. It wasn't until after I got off the elevator, plastic bag rustling the only sound around, did I hear the footsteps behind me. I ignored them, continuing my stride toward my room.

"Noah!"

The voice made me stop, and groan loudly. "You've got to be kidding me." I didn't even bother hiding my irritation.

I whipped around, nearly colliding with the body behind me.

"What do you want, Rachel?"

She stepped back, eyes wide. "Gosh, could you at least act like you don't hate me?"

I sighed loudly. "Your room isn't on this floor. What do you need?"

My impatience was clear, and it was meant to be.

"You're still ignoring me! You can't just pretend I don't exist. We work together."

"We're not working together right now. So, technically, yes I can." I turned to walk away, but her hand caught my arm.

"Noah, Jesus Christ!"

I was fed up, wound up, and fucking over this.

"What, Rachel?!" My voice was loud, but I didn't care. She was going to make me be mean to her, but I'd do what I had to, to get my point across.

She took a step toward me. "We never talked after the other night!"

"What the fuck is there to talk about?!"

To that, she looked offended. "Are you kidding? You're seriously going to sit here and act like the night at the club was nothing?!"

"It was nothing! Just because you dreamt up some crazed fantasy in your head about me, doesn't mean that anything that happened that night meant anything!"

She huffed, and I could see the tears welling in her eyes. I felt no sympathy.

"We had fucking fun, Noah! For once, I felt like you actually noticed me!"

My eyes had to mock something like disbelief, because she shrugged, wiping at her eyes.

"We've been working together a while now. I get anything and everything you need, always. I take care of you guys on tour. We spend every damn day together! And after all this time, you just feel nothing?!"

If my eyes were any wider, they may actually fall out of my skull.

"Are you kidding me?!" I took a step back. "That is your fucking job! That's what we fucking pay you for!"

"Oh, and the other night, when you fucking came to my room? That was just part of my job?!" She narrowed her eyes, an anger shining through. "I saw the way you looked at me, Noah. The car ride? The club?" She shrugged. "You didn't feel anything?"

I scrubbed my palm over my face. "No, Rachel! I didn't! I'm in a fucking relationship? What the fuck happened to respecting that?!"

"It's hard to respect when you're shoving it in my fucking face!"

"Shoving it in your face?! Since when does the fucking world revolve around you?!" I squeezed my eyes shut. "For fucks sake, Rachel! You've lost it, or something."

"I know you fucking thought about it, Noah. Tell me you fucking didn't."

For no good reason whatsoever, I was frozen again. Her voice, her eyes on me, she had me fucking cornered. Because if I said no, I was lying. If I said yes, I was an asshole. I wasn't sure which I preferred in that moment.

Her lips curled in a vicious smile. "You did. You wanted to come in that night. You wanted me."

She was fucking sick. Insane. Out of fucking control.

I let my voice fall flat and even. "Rachel, I'm going to warn you, you're playing a dangerous game here." I straightened my spine, standing much taller than her. "And I will remind you, I am your employer."

She shook her head. "You going to fire me for telling you I have feelings for you? After you ogled me half-naked? Yeah, that'll go over well."

My jaw dropped. What the fuck? How the fuck did I get here?

I just wanted to lay in bed, snuggle my girl, and eat fucking candy and junk food. I wanted my daughter, and my dog, and my house. I wanted to not be here. I could feel my throat closing.

"Look, I'll give you space. But, just think about it, okay?"

And with that, she turned around and made her way back down the hallway.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, stoic and frazzled, trying to urge myself to move. I was one foot in the grave if I didn't get ahead of this. I needed to talk to Nick, or Jolly, or Folio, or Sumerian, or a lawyer. I let the gears in my head slowly start again before I finally managed to turn around back toward my room.

I took a deep breath, attempting to gather myself before I slipped the card in and pushed the door open.

"Care to explain that?"

Her voice was hard, cold, concrete. She stood, hair still dripping, my Shippuden tee shirt hanging loose around her shoulders, arms crossed tightly across her body.

"I...I uh," My voice came out stuttered and choked. I didn't have the right words to form. "She...I....We...." It wasn't working. I was trying so hard, but I was stuck.

"Hurry up, Noah. You've got thirty fucking seconds."

I stood corrected. I was already in my grave.

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Chapter Twenty-Seven | Where It All Started…

D O M ‘ S P O V

I didn’t just kiss Liv, I was asked to make out with her long enough to get Rhea’s reaction. Instead they planted the one person I didn’t want in the front row and got her reaction instead.

It was everywhere - Dom Mysterio ruins his personal life for career.

Every blog, every fan, every interview I did was a blurred line that I only perpetuated by being in character outside the ring. I did this to us, I fed them the exact storyline, and when it became a reality I hit abort. Only no one cared about a leaked sex tape when you had me making out with Liv in the bright of day.

Everyone was believing it was real and part of me did too when I was sharing a room with Liv and spending entirely too much time together.

My future wife wasn’t stupid, she could fucking smell the bullshit on me. I was lying, cheating, doing all the things I made her feel crazy for even asking me.

I was supposed to be packing my stuff but I couldn’t get myself to focus when Liv strutted her way through my bus to the back where she found me. “Daddy Dom?”

With no warring she straddled me in the chair sitting in the corner. “We should celebrate… maybe stop pretending this doesn’t feel right?”

“Celebrate my girl seeing tonight? Celebrate all the ways I convinced myself it was acting when I almost fucked you?” I shot back, full of resentment.

Liv adjusted herself on my lap and I could feel the heat of her pussy through her skimpy clothes. “She’ll get over it. She doesn’t have to know anything else.”

“You reek of fucking desperation,” I snarled back while standing up. In a puddle at my feet I stepped over her entirely before holding the door open for her to leave.

I wasn’t shocked when she didn’t willingly leave. She was stubborn and I could tell the way she had been looking at me that she wanted shit I shouldn’t give her.

“So now it’s a problem? We shared a bed, showers, you were sneaking around with me before anything happened on the lives.” She folded her arms and fixed her face to her pissed off setting.

Dropping to the bed, I leaned forward, completely giving up on fighting it. My elbows dug into the tops of my legs and I tensed enough to take whatever I had coming.

Continuing, she stood in front of me, “I’ve been patient, Dom. She doesn’t get you like I do. You know we almost happened once and I’m not losing that shot again…”

Liv’s mess of blonde hair flipped over her shoulder before she bent at the waist, her hands on my shoulders, and her mouth quickly pressing against mine.

I didn’t want her, hell, I didn’t need her but something about her felt easy. All of her felt easy when she sunk deeper into me, her mouth opening up in mine, and those small moans barely slipping out. She was desperate and I could feel it right up against the boner I shouldn’t have.

My girl at home wasn’t easy. We spent most of our lives avoiding loving each other, ruining every relationship that wasn’t us, trying to keep our hands off each other, and when we finally gave in - it didn’t suddenly change. Nothing was picture perfect or easy but we needed eachother.

She had my name on her ass and I had her name carved into my tattoos. She was all over me and no amount of Liv was going to erase that.

For some reason, I let Liv push me back onto the bed and her small frame crawled on top of me. Pulling her shirt off I found my eyes stuck to the lace bra her hard nipples tried to pierce right through.

My hands automatically reached out enough to squeeze her tits and whatever reserve I had seemed to take shelter in the back of my mind.

“One time. That’s it. I don’t want her hurt…” I whispered my words as her tits pressed against me and her mouth kissed my neck.

I felt her tongue trace hearts when she looked at me, “Whatever you want, Daddy Dom. You don’t have to hide me. It doesn’t have to be hard… well… this does.”

Liv’s hand smoothed down my joggers, her palm pressing firmly into every inch of me I was trying to turn off.

I was trying to think of things that turned me off when her hand slipped into the waistband of my underwear, taking every inch of me in her grip and steadily dragging her grip up my length.

Fighting back the groans blooming into my chest I took dominance back, pressing her into the same bed I fucked the love of my life.

“Stop talking. She’d never say shit like that.”

Hovering over her body I started down at her extra long trying to figure out what I was doing. Maybe this had to happen. Maybe we didn’t fit the way we forced it to. Maybe all I had to do was fuck Liv hard enough for it to hurt us both.

Her hands caressed the sides of my face, her lips pursed and her eyes begging me to fuck her. “Daddy… fuck me the way you’ve been wanting to…”

She wasn’t wrong… I had jerked off thinking of hitting it from behind in the shower just to keep the urge under control. “Take these off,” I demanded while I pushed back enough to give her room to wiggle out of her clothes.

I watched her slowly take off each item of her skimpy clothes, teasing me with it and contorting her body into flirting. She was a bombshell blonde who was under five feet and always had a snarky remark on the tip of her tongue. Attraction wasn’t the issue.

Her hard nipples made her small tits look even more petite against her frame. Her back arched as my hand grabbed her hip and I let myself fall down into her.

“Daddy… I’m so wet for you. Please.”

My mouth covered her ear as my hand worked to take myself out of my pants. Whispering into her ear I smirked against my own thoughts, “Shut the fuck up or I won’t fuck you.”

“I’m not her babe. I’m gonna scream, I’m gonna close my legs and choke every last drop out of you. Im gonna choke on your cock until my mascara runs down my face. I’m gonna do everything I should have when you went crawling back to her last time.” She was breathing heavy before I truly even touched her and so wet it felt desperate. All of it was easier than the love of life and that was all that mattered.

Wet or not, being inside Liv was like a vice, squeezing every inch of me. “Goddamn it.”

“You feel how tight I am, daddy?” She whimpered after letting a drawn out moan fill the air.

Everything I couldn’t do to my future wife I did to Liv. I fucked her hard and relentlessly. Her dirty fucking mouth constantly telling me how good I felt only made it worse when I bit down on her nipples just to slow down.

Every punishing thrust against her hips rocked her body, flirting with her hilt, and made her legs shake against me. Yet, she didn’t complain. She simply took it.

Pushing me down and straddling my waist Liv’s pussy swallowed every inch until her head fell back. I knew she was going to come when her hips swayed in there jerky movements.

Lacing our fingers together she whimpered, “I’m gonna come daddy. Daddy…”

Sitting up, I wrapped my arms around her back and let my hand push her into me, picking up the pace of her hips. My face was buried in her neck and nipples scraped against my chest.

“Come on my cock,” I almost whispered to myself when I felt her body tense. “That’s it baby girl, that’s it.”

Liv made zero effort to remove herself from my lap when I gritted my teeth through trying not to come with her. “Baby girl I’m gonna come…” I tried to warn her when she wrapped her arms around my neck instead. “Liv… I can’t come in you. I’m not strapped up.”

“Daddy, I want it.” She begged while rocking her hips enough to make it impossible to say no. I couldn’t control the jerking my cock was doing against her tight pussy or how her orgasm was coating my cock. Every part of her was sexy enough to deserve every drop.

Holding her tight against me, my arms around her tightened, and I groaned through my orgasm painting her pussy walls. “Fuck.”

After coming, we both laid there trying to recover when I reached for my phone. I saw a message there from an unknown number and out of curiosity I opened the text.

UNKNOWN: Karma is a real bitch.

UNKNOWN: [ dark photo of Randy holding Dom’s love in their bed ]

Fighting every urge to throw my phone I gripped it so hard it hurt my hand. The love of my life was in bed with Randy Orton and I couldn’t even be mad because I just fucked Liv.

Analyzing the photo I looked for clothing, condom wrappers, anything to make my own bad choices feel better when Liv looked over my shoulder. “Have you guys tried dating other people? No one is gonna want her after Randy tears her apart.”

“Liv, shut the fuck up.”

“290, 6’ 5” - it certainly ain’t small, babe. I’m happy for her. She’ll leave us alone then.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted her to leave me alone.

[queenofmistresses]

I want you there

a/n requested by anon! so excited to write all of these requests, I think I’ll keep them in the order of the request on the ask just to help me out lol! Hope you like them!!!!!!!!! Unfortunately I can’t write like I’m it’s based in Ireland- i was raised to talk like i’m middle class even tho we’re poor 😂

I was getting so excited for prom. I had picked my dress, decided how I was doing my hair, and makeup, everything. It was all planned out. It was amazing.

Until James told me that the Doctor Who convention is on the same day. Right when I’d finally plucked up the courage to ask him. What am I meant to do now? I was so excited, even if we were going as friends. It was going to be one of the best nights of my life.

Now, I’m stuck with the guys who asked me. A guy who is an absolute arsehole. Apparently I would rather go with him than alone. I don’t want to go alone. Not after I told Michelle how excited I was about who my date was going to be- avoiding the fact that it’s her cousin.

So here I am. Waiting on the steps in my house. In the dress I spent hours choosing and taking in to fit perfectly. My hair perfect, my make up perfect. And my date barely having spoken to me since he asked me out.

Oh. And he’s late.

Maybe it’s better if he’s late. Maybe it’s better if be doesn’t come at all. Maybe I should take everything off and tell my mum to pretend I’m sick if he does come.

I give up pretty quickly, I never wanted to go with him. I sigh and head up to my room. I stand in my room for a bit, just staring at my reflection in the mirror. I had never felt like I looked nice in anything I wore before. But I went all out. I saved every penny I could so I’d be happy with how I look.

But the more I keep staring at myself, the more I hate how I look. The longer I stand there, the more imperfections I see. I don’t know how long I stay there but before I know it I’m crying. All my friends were out having fun, probably not even noticing that I’m not there. And James is probably having fun at his convention.

I want to take everything off, get into my pyjamas, curl into bed and sleep. Then I can forget about this night completely. I start with my hair, slowly taking the pins out and letting my hair fall down.

Before I get very far I hear a knock on my door. Already frustrated I yell out, “Mum I told you I’m fine. I’m just going to bed and I’ll forget about it.”

“Um- y/n? It’s James.” I hear in response. I quickly scram to wipe my face.

“Hold on! I’m um- changing!” I yell out. When I’ve done the best job I can (which isn’t a very good one to be honest), I open the door and am faced with James. In a suit. And a Doctor Who scarf. With his hair done. Looking so, so handsome.

“James? What are you- why are you- huh?” I splutter out, unable to gather my thoughts.

“Wow. You look amazing. I- wow.” That takes me by surprise. After a moment he shakes his head and realises I’m still waiting for an answer. “Oh! Your mum called, she said your date didn’t show up.”

“Oh. It um really doesn’t matter. I didn’t like him anyway.”

“T-then why do you look like you’ve been crying.” I chuckle at that.

“It doesn’t matter. What about your Doctor Who convention? You were so excited for it.” He shrugs.

“I’ll go to the next one. Do you er, wanna go to prom together?” I almost start crying again at that. He looks so goddamn handsome, I want to mess his hair though.

“I look a mess, you’ll have to give me 10 minutes to fix all this.” I indicate towards my face. He walks towards me, just a few steps, looking almost nervous. “But yes, I’d love to.” He breathes out, smiling. “You can just sit on the bed if you like, and I’ll um try to fix this.”

He nods a little and sits on the bed while I get started on pinning my hair back. I think I can feel him staring at me, one quick glance tells me I’m right. “What?” I laugh, seeing him just watching me.

“You’re just- pretty. I mean you always are but you put a lot of effort into it and you just. You look perfect.” I can’t not blush at that, so I look away and finish off the look.

“Ready?” I ask him. He stands up and holds his hand out for me to take. I slide my hand into his and smile, standing up.

“Let’s go then.”

[mischiefmaker615]

Ghost (Loki Love Story) Ch.15

Arrival at the tower went better than expected.. considering the circumstances. Most members were out on long term assignments, so it only left Bruce, Tony and Steve, and Natasha. They greeted you with cheer, as did you to see your old comrades again- before you had left to pay attention more to New Asgard. Tony was already at the bar when you all arrived, Steve sticking close to your side as if you had your own personal body guard.

Loki, however wasn’t exactly greeted with the same happiness as Bruce and Natasha stiffened, as if he had done something wrong. Which.. New York yes, but that was years ago. Upon coming back to life, you think you’d have a do over right?- assuming he won’t try taking over again. They made it seem like he would and gave him a nod with their eyes practically studying him.

‘’well lets not all stiffen up, Loki’s been a huge help when I had an injured arm, I’m sure he’ll be plenty of help around here’’ you tried lightening the mood with a smile, Natasha looking back at you with narrowed eyes.

‘’I suppose due to the circumstances.. two spare rooms won’t be needed?’’ it wasn’t much of a question but Nat almost seemed to hide disgust at the thought of you and him sharing a bed.

‘’it would be physically impossible right now, I appreciate you all helping to prepare. We’ll get settled and I’ll show him around..’’ you declare, wanting to get out of the thick vibe growing in the room as Bruce avoided eye contact with Loki, as if making little eye contact would piss him off to Hulk-out.

With that, you took Loki’s hand and pulled him along to prevent just that. ‘’we’ll be around, thank you-‘’

Loki followed you towards the hall, sending Steve a smirk over his shoulder before he turned his attention back to you as you led him by the hand. ‘’with your quick wish to leave the room and to the spares, one would assume you are eager to-‘’

‘’they can assume all they want, you’ll just have to ignore them while they adjust to your presence.’’ You said dryly, keeping your eyes forward as you clutched still at his hand. ‘’they didn’t have to be so cold towards you-‘’

‘’a not so surprising reaction from them darling, the only presence I care about being around, is yours. I suppose this curse of ours could be seen as a blessing’’ he winked and your cheeks reddened as you stopped at the elevator and pressed the button.

‘’..don’t you.. care about independence?’’ you asked without really thinking much into it while your mouth beat your brain. ‘’you aren’t bothered by being stuck like this? Surely you’d want some privacy-‘’

‘’I’m stuck with the utmost glorious woman I have laid eyes on, which speaks volumes because I have literally been in the presence of goddesses.’’ He lightly teased, a hand at the small of your back at he led you first into the elevator before he joined your side. ‘’I have high feelings for you Y/N,.. I’m not saying we need to rush into anything because we’ve kisses but.. even if we weren’t stuck together, I most likely would have been finding myself at your side the entire time anyway..’’ he confessed and you hesitantly clicked the button for your floor.

Cheeks red, you glance over at him while you rubbed your arm shyly. ‘’your very poetic when you speak’’

Loki gave a hard laugh as the elevator began rising, taking hold of your hand in his as he brought your knuckled up to his lips with a grin. ‘’and I also enjoy doting on you darling. Request it and I shall do my utmost ability to get it done if it is to please you. I’ve spent to much of my life feeling alone..’’ his smile faded ever so slightly at the sudden confession, moving his eyes forward now once the elevator stopped. ‘’..i do not wish the chance to feel that again.’’

Your eyes traveled down, knowing you would never abandon him, but having the pressure of possibly having him fall back into his upbringing trauma was difficult to think on. You stayed silent the rest of the way, leading him down a few halls before you stopped at a door.

‘’..this was always mine when I occasionally stayed here, it should be spacious enough’’

‘’I think I prefer less spacious.’’ Loki smirked and you lightly shook your head with an eye roll while you opened the door.

The sight had you stop in your tracks, a light gasp leaving your lips as you took in the room. It was almost exactly the way you left it! It wasn’t terribly long since you’ve been here, but you knew there should be a good amount of dust on the surface. Running a finger across the desk, there was none. Your weapons were still mounted on the wall, your sheets and blankets seemed to have been washed and a few trinkets here and there, amongst your books were organized and accounted for.

‘’I kept everything the same encase you returned..’’

The voice behind you both got you turning, Loki making eye contact before he rolled them with a distasteful groan. ‘’can we not have a moments piece Rogers?”

‘’I gotta make sure the settling in part is.. settled.’’ Steve says dryly, his tone dramatically changing when he looks over at you. ‘’I’ve only added a few other essentials, though I know you brought some from home. Apparently, Tony is throwing a party tonight to celebrate your arrival.’’

‘’he throws parties practically every night.’’ You sigh.

‘’I know, but he says he’ll be keeping it small, pretty much just all of us.’’ Steve shrugged, keeping himself leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed.

‘’yes yes we’ll be there, is that all?’’ Loki waves off as his body noticeably stiffens by his very presence, taking a hold of your hand while Steve’s eyes flick down to it before back at yours.

‘’we’ll be around if you need anything.’’

‘’of course, thank you and..’’ you waved around the room with a content smile at feeling a bit more at home. ‘’..thank you.’’

‘’your welco-‘’ the door closed on it’s own with a mild slam, making you quickly turn to catch the brief flash of green in Loki’s eyes.

‘’you really need to lighten up.’’ You warn, knowing he had used magic to slam the door.

‘’I will not light up darling.’’ Loki said, awkward at the Midgardian terms as he almost says it with distaste. ‘’he’s only trying to ward you away from me.’’

‘’I’m yours?” you asked carefully, your eyes falling down at the grip on his hand tightens ever so slightly.

‘’we’re soul mates Y/N-‘’

‘’Loki.. I won’t be destiny’s puppet.. we know it but it doesn’t mean we need to follow it just because we got a bit of a.. spoiler alert through magic. We could do whatever we want with this information not everyone gets the chance to get, to rewrite-‘’

‘’I don’t wish to rewrite anything darling, nor is it possible to change it.’’ He cut you off, seeming to remind you how tall he was as he faced you with barely a step apart. ‘’surely I’m sure you have learned from the Midgardian films; what future cannot be changed. If you so much as try to adjust things, most likely doing so it what will make it happen anyway.’’ He said and placed a finger at your chin, a shiver running down your spine as he tilted your head up so you were paying closer attention.

‘’like it or not Y/N, you cant get rid of me.’’

‘’like a cockroach.’’

The voice had both your eyes move to the door as Tony’s voice stayed muffled behind it.

‘’hard to kill, hard to get rid of.’’

‘’is privacy going to be a constant issue around-‘’ Loki fumed as he made for the door but in a huff, ready to practically break it open to probably kill Stark before he was suddenly teleported back, ramming into you as you both stumbled and fell onto the bed, Loki on top while the door opened itself.

‘’usually there’s a lot less dialog when your doing it Reindeer Games’’ Tony noted casually as he leaned against the door frame.

Your cheeks heated up, Loki’s hands on either side of your head while yours spread out above it. His body struggled to hold itself above yours, slight strain barely shaking the mattress as he fought not to lower himself in that instant but what could be felt was his erection, causing his own cheeks to redden upon his realization.

‘’Stark, you have about two seconds to tell me what business you have here before I make a perfectly good reason for you heroes to call SHIELD and get me-‘’ Loki gritted out, pushing himself off the bed- as much as he would have loved to stay and turned to glare at him. his anger mildly defused with a smirk when Tony poorly hid his reaction at seeing how much he was.. packing.

‘’so I lied, I may have invited a bit more people than just us but I figured since you just got here and still may need a few things, Pepper said you could help yourself to her wardrobe.’’ Tony explained quickly, his eyes staying on Y/N as you sat yourself up awkwardly with still a light hue on your cheeks.

‘’thank you-‘’

‘’no need Stark. I have it handled.’’ Loki snapped, raising your curiosity you would note later as Tony smirked.

‘’why? Want the dresses all to yourself?’’

‘’I’m absolutely sure you wouldn’t wish to be thrown from that window a second time-‘’ Loki snapped, a step towards him having you grasp his arm so you both wouldn’t get teleported again.

‘’thank you Tony, we’ll be getting ready and see you out there.’’

‘’cool’’ Tony smiled with a small wave, clearly less annoying with you than with any interactions with Loki as he headed off, leaving the door open as you sighed.

‘’how long will we be stuck here?’’ Loki groaned and laid back on the bed, his arms spread out to his sides as he looked thoroughly annoyed.

‘’just until we figure this thing out.’’ you said gently as you sat beside him.

Upon feeling your presence beside him, he moved a hand to rest on your thigh, his thumb stroking as if you were his own personal stress reliever. ‘’or, we could just stay stuck together and go back to your place like none of this ever happened..’’

You gave him a gentle look, a look of hesitation that seemed to speak for you that you were still unsure of your decision.

Loki sighed and patted your leg, giving you a silent okay fine before he sat up. ‘’alright darling, I suppose we should get ready for this not-so-rare event Stark is hosting. I think I shall have the perfect remedy for your outfit.’’ He smirked, as if the thought alone had lifted his spirts as he stood, taking your hand to pull you up and placed you in the middle of the room.

‘’I have a few things of my own, there’s really no need-‘’

‘’darling, none sense’’ he smiled and began eyeing you up and down while begiving to move around you in circles. ‘’it would up my spirits considering how the beginning of this stay went and I promise to make it stunning.’’ He beamed before his eyes flashed that light, green hue and your skin began to tingle.

Looking down at yourself, you felt your clothes begin to stretch and move, as if he was using that fabric to help with the main ingredient to his magic. With a small flash that had your eyes closed for a moment, you reopened them to find that you were wearing a flood length, skin tight, emerald dress with a gold trim around your waist. The main thing that got your attention was the draft and noticed how much cleavage you were showing, making you hug yourself with your eyes widening.

‘’this is beautiful Loki- but perhaps something less.. fancy?’’ you asked but he knew the fanciness wasn’t your main issue as he tilted his head as if to try to see behind your arms.

‘’darling you look gorgeous-‘’ he encouraged, noticing how he even made it so your back was exposed to not have any discomfort to your wings.

‘’t-thank you but.. perhaps something that matches the occasion..’’ you plead behind your words and he sighed, waving his hand and the process begins all over again as the fabric morphed and revealed you into a more single dress, a black cloth that looked more like a chambermaid would wear at some royal castle.

‘’what’s this?” you raise a brow, it looking plain and simple with a little less cleavage but you covered none the less.

‘’I can’t have gawkers left and right while we attend, it is uncomfortable enough with Roger’s existence here.’’ Loki mumbled, straining his neck to look behind you as your ass and you quickly used your wings to block him.

‘’than what was the first option you formulated??”

Loki’s eyes flicked back to yours and smirked. ‘’that was merely for me.’’

‘’Loki!’’ you almost whined and he placed his hands up in a surrender position. ‘’alright darling, alright. One moment,’’ and with the flick of his wrist, you now wore a black cocktail dress.

It was mid-thigh high, a mild dip but not to much chest tricking out, you noticed your height was different and noticed the gold heels you now wore and a slightly low back just enough for your wings. With a relaxed sigh, you smiled and lowered your arms.

‘’thank you.’’

‘’your welcome darling.’’ He said proudly, his eyes everywhere else but your eyes as you snapped his fingers at him to get his attention before he noticed your growing concern.

‘’you are using your magic to do this.. won’t I be naked if you accidently drop the spell? Let alone exhaust yourself-‘’

‘’darling I assure you, as much of a sight you will be,’’ he smirked before getting serious. ‘’I shall be absolutely fine. There is no effort in such a simple spell so there is nothing to worry about.’’ And with that, he waved a hand over himself and his glow consumed him, revealing himself to be wearing an all-black suit.

Your cheeks reddened as you unknowingly drank him in, a chuckle snapping you out of it as you adverted your eyes and shifted in place. ‘’..you look nice..’’

‘’why thank you darling, I dare say with confidence that we will look like the hottest couple in New York.’’ He said with a grin, having attempted an American accent, not necessarily failing miserably but enough to have you laugh and relax.

‘’stick to your poetic vibes.’’ You tell him with a smile and go over to his side, taking his arm for him to lead you.

‘’very well darling,’’ he grins, his voice almost taking on a purr as he leads you forward.

‘’let us get this over with.’’

Tag List: @violethaze @fire-in-her-veinz

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 8: Influencers

I want to talk to Rhoda, but I get Chapman.

Sie messages me from the street corner, and I wander over to the edge of my building to look down at hir, where she waves at me.

Then I retreat from the edge and message back, “Come up.”

I do want to talk to hir about a great number of things. Especially just after Ptarmigan’s divination.

So I wait.

Chapman comes up through the building, doing hir usual thing of Artistically hacking the alarms and locks and somehow avoiding notice. And after a little while, the access hatch opens and sie extract hirself from the floor below to stand before me.

It’s a much cooler day than yesterday, and Chapman’s wearing an outfit that looks like a cross between a witch and a clown, just without any significant makeup. Hir purse is a big, black leather crossbody affair with chrome studs and spikes all over it. A floppy wide brim black wool hat hardly conceals hir magenta pompadour. That gives hir sort of a Boy George look.

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of how Chapman dresses. It makes me inordinately happy and puts me at ease every time I see hir latest outfit.

But I try to cling to some of my irritation and discomfort from the last day and a half, because I have things I want to remember to ask.

But I start with something light and fun that I also want to know about, “How many clothes have you?”

“Oh,” Chapman says with a little grin. “Less than you might think. But that is a question that I try to make my coworkers ask every day, even though I’ve already answered it. I’ve sort of turned my apartment into a walk-in closet, but I cycle through every item several times a year. I just try to make it so that I don’t wear the same outfit twice in that year. Every day is a different combination.”

“Amazing.”

“I’m proud of it! It took me a while to get it down to a routine.”

“Ptarmigan visited,” I report, changing the subject abruptly.

“Ah,” Chapman responds. “May I sit down?”

I smile in my way, and sie settles down cross legged, managing to get hir purple, black, and red skirt to billow out and lay spread out in a circle around hir.

“I wanted to talk to you about Ptarmigan,” Chapman says.

“Good,” I reply.

“I don’t personally know her very well,” Chapman starts off. “Obviously, there are lots of people I know even less about or not at all. But as far as Artists go, I haven’t spent much time around her. Maybe an incarnation or two, but that’s not long enough to really get a sense of someone. And mostly, I know rumors and gossip. Did she tell you her Art?”

“Nightmares,” I say.

“Yeah. I think if she and I were to combine our Arts in a collaborative project, as she’s suggesting, we could create one of the worst storms this world has ever seen. If we wanted to. And I’m not necessarily talking about a weather system, though it might manifest that way.”

“Scary.”

“Yes.”

“Is Säure Artist?” I ask, deliberately trying to keep hir a little off balance.

Chapman sighs and says, “I certainly hope not. With what I’ve seen in the last two weeks, I’m having a hard time convincing myself he’s not a dragon, and we can’t even confirm that. If he’s a dragon and an Artist, that could be a difficult combination to confront. It would also suggest that the clumsy flailing of Equisetum Wildlife in trying to rehome dragons is a much more complex ploy that it looks like.”

“Am I Artist?”

Chapman shakes hir head, “I don’t think so. I could scan you, if you consent, to try to confirm it. But if you are an Artist and you’re hiding your nature, even subconsciously, I wouldn’t be able to tell. Still, I’m not sure which of my siblings you’d be, if you were. Besides the person I’ve gotten to know over the past two weeks, I don’t recognize you at all. Not in that way.”

“Something new?”

Sie squints at me, “Did Ptarmigan suggest that?”

“Someone did.”

“Ah, hm,” Chapman looks down at hir hands, which are in hir lap, fidgeting lightly. “It wouldn’t be unprecedented. During each of the Earth’s mass extinction events, and after, weird shit similar to dragons suddenly emerging, happened. Almost all evidence of such things has failed to make it into the fossil records. At least, not in any way that a human would recognize. There are more than a few such novel beings hiding around the planet. Sleeping, mostly. Sometimes participating in the chaos that is life here. They learn from us Artists and try to keep their work big, broad, and easily dismissable. Which is what we do most of the time. We keep learning that drawing attention to ourselves is a bad idea.” Sie looks off to the North. “Or, at least, some of us do.”

Chapman waits patiently as I type out my next question, “Am I center of dracomorphosis?”

Sie laughs, “I like that word. I don’t know. But if Ptarmigan says you are, she’s probably right and probably not lying. But whether you caused it or are just the locus of the event is the real question, I think.”

I have to say, I’m liking Chapman’s answers today. They feel more honest, more complete. Of course, if sie is an immortal being of unfathomable age like sie says sie is, then sie’s had all the time in the world to perfect the art of misdirection and lying.

And to think, just a couple days ago, I thought sie was just 5 years or so younger than me and there wasn’t much of an age gap. Not that, well, we’d be more than friends or QPPs eventually. And I’m still a little bewildered by my habit of being attracted more to humans (and human-like people) than to other dragons. But it feels inadvisable to develop any sort of intimate relationship with something that is maybe as old as the Earth, if you’re not.

I find myself worried about the power imbalance there.

On the other claw, I am attracted to Chapman still. Maybe even more so. And that’s throwing me for a loop. So I need to be extra careful with myself.

And in my mouth, I’m still chewing on Rhoda’s proclamation and advice, which Chapman definitely heard loud and clear.

We must work toward a state of the world where beings like Chapman and Ptarmigan or letting mortals manage their own affairs.

A very important question occurs to me and I don’t know if Chapman can answer it, but it needs to be asked.

“Are dragons immortal?” I ask.

Chapman rolls back, grabbing hir ankles through hir skirt and looks around, then says, leaning forward again, “As a class of beings, yes. Effectively. You’re so diverse and so archetypal, you’ll continue to exist long after the last species of life on Earth goes extinct, I imagine. But as individuals? That seems like a potentially bad idea, if you reproduce. If you’re immortal and you lay eggs like the stories suggest, you’ll all have to figure out a way to leave the planet one by one as you get older, so as not to crowd everyone else out. So, I’d say, probably not. Unless the Earth has something really nasty in store for all of us.”

“Is dracomorphosis new?”

“Eh, that’s hard to say. We didn’t have a word for dragons until humans coined it. So we didn’t recognize you as such until then. But I wouldn’t be surprised if you all weren’t somehow part of things like the Cambrian explosion, where life suddenly evolved at a rapid pace to fill in empty niches and develop new ones. Like, maybe the first of you were born during those times, as spiritual influences of evolution. And maybe your ancestors did manifest physically, without us noticing it. Life is beautifully complex. It’s easy to miss stuff like that if you don’t know to look for it.”

One more super important question that will give me a sense of who and what I’m working with, I think. I take my time to spell it all out, “Does Fairport matter?”

I waffled on adding “to you” on the end of that, but decided that the broader, more open ended question would get a more telling and honest answer, and…

“Yes,” sie says. “It matters as much as any other city on the planet right now. There’s the whole butterfly effect, which I’m sure you’ve heard about too many times to count, of course. Anything we do here on the front of maintaining and expanding human rights for anybody and everybody, human or dragon, is going to help shape the rest of the world. It’s a battle that must be fought, even if it isn’t a decisive one. But also, you matter, and Rhoda matters, and so do the Kims, Jill, Cerce, and Nathan, and everyone else who comes and goes in this building. You’re alive, for however little that might be, and that’s inherently unfair to you. Life is a cruel, bitter experience unless you work to make it otherwise. And every life that gets to experience safety and joy is important.”

I feel like I want to argue with that last bit, somehow, but I’m not sure in what way. Is it because I want to find a reason to distrust Chapman, or because I just disagree that if only some life finds joy and safety that makes the world better.

For instance, the fact that I was born to experience severe physical dysphoria and be bewildered by it for fifty years before accidentally finding relief, and very few other people were and don’t get that pain and the memory of it, seems inherently unjust in itself. And the fact that I do get the magical relief that I have, and other people don’t, that’s wrong, too. That makes the world worse, in my estimation. 

But before I can figure out how to say that, Chapman continues.

“I think we can trust Ptarmigan to be completely on board with that, by the way. She might be the Artist of Nightmares, but based on the name and presentation she’s chosen for this incarnation, here and now, unless she’s playing a truly nasty game, we can probably follow her lead, to some extent.”

What? I ask, “What?”

“She’s absolutely got her own agenda, and she deals with really nasty shit as her Art, but, I think –”

My tablet buzzes, and we both look at it. It’s a Discord notification. A direct message from Tannis, my neighbor to the East, whom I used to call Loreena.

I feel the shift of Chapman doing a scan, and trust that sie isn’t scanning me. Ptarmigan seemed to think I could only sense when Arts were used on me, but I’m pretty sure I can sense their use in proximity to me as well.

In some stories, dragons can perform magic as well as any human wizard. Sometimes we’re the source of magic. But is Chapman’s Art magic?

“You’ll want to answer that,” sie says.

I huff and open Discord and then touch Tannis’ account icon, labeled with the username siren_of_the_woods.

She wrote, “Five dragons meet at the observation tower of the Fairport Arboretum: myself, Astraia, Joel, Wentin, and Brenna. We humbly request an audience with Your Highness here, at your earliest convenience. Thank you.”

At the immediate sight of the phrase ��five dragons” I think it’s a trap. A terrifying proposition, in any case. And addressing me as “Your Highness” feels like sarcasm, and I don’t like it. I haven’t yet changed the name of the Discord server, but I’ve made a post in there about how I don’t really think of myself as queen. But Astraia is there, and though I’ve only seen her in person once, I want to think of her as an ally and friend, and…

“Go,” Chapman says. “You will go to this meeting either way, now or a little later, and you need to know what they are up to anyway. Going now is better.”

I look up at hir.

“I’ll message Ptarmigan and we’ll both back you up. We might take a while to get there in person, against your flight. But we don’t need to be to reach you with our Arts,” sie says. “But, I don’t think you’ll need our help there. They’re all members of your server, they’re friendly to you. Focus on that and you won’t feel obliged to fight them.”

I look down at the tablet and hit the thumbs up icon, then shift over to my AAC app and say, “How you know?”

“You felt me scan, right?” sie asks.

“Yes.”

“Near future possibilities. It told me enough to extrapolate that,” Chapman says. “Combined with how much I know about your current situation already, how you manage your instincts, and my experience as an Artist, I’d call it a very well educated guess.”

“Okay.”

“I also wouldn’t doddle any longer talking to me. I’ll see my way out.”

One more question, not actually as out of the blue as it sounds, “Is Salish Raven Artist?”

Chapman sighs, “I don’t know. It’s been known to happen, but this world is gorgeously complex and we’re just a small part of it. Don’t go seeing us where we might not be. But do go. Please. Hurry.”

I turn my tablet off, put it in my purse, and leave.

I hear Chapman call after me, “Take care!”

I’m getting a little tired of things happening, you know?

On the way to the meeting of Southside dragons, I find myself thinking about how I should look up the cultural significance of ptarmigans. The bird. To see if there’s any meaning there that Ptarmigan herself is trying to draw upon, or that maybe she’s created. Chapman just said not to see Artists where they might not be, but I think Ptarmigan might be there.

I also wanted to ask why the two of them seem to fight or argue so easily, but I can imagine either of them replying, “Because we’re siblings.”

There’s never enough time to say everything.

And, I think I’ve said this before, but it always hits me that back when I could talk just like a human, I hardly ever said anything.

What are we going to do at this meeting? Talk? Probably.

But what about Joel? I know he really needs a huge keyboard, or something really creative, to let him talk in any kind of verbal capacity. Yes or no questions work for him just fine, but in a meeting like this? I’d imagine he’d feel left behind and left out all too easily.

Even when I’m given time to be reasonably articulate, that’s how I feel around anyone who talks with their larynx. Especially in a group.

How thought out is this meeting? It seems rushed and possibly desperate. Especially with how I was notified at the last minute.

Oh.

Maybe I’m being called there to solve a problem, such as communicating with Joel.

I hope not. I don’t feel prepared.

But, of course, Tannis didn’t say that’s what they all needed. They wanted “an audience.”

They’re going to tell me something, or ask me something, if it’s not an ambush.

And, for some reason, not on the Discord server.

And that’s about all the time I have to think about this, because I’m already descending to the park clearing where the observation tower is.

And I’m about to meet three of these dragons in person for the first time.

On the north face of the hill that constitutes the Fairport Arboretum, which is a hill covered in trees and trails, there is a paved lot with a log tower in it. It’s not quite at the top of the hill. That space is reserved for a radio array for the college radio station, and probably a couple other purposes.

As I glide in on the mid day thermals, I see them in a circle in the space in front of the tower. And there are some humans standing beside a few of the dragons. Caleb, Astraia’s boyfriend, is there.

There’s also a family huddled at the top of the tower, watching, children half hiding behind their parents.

So it’s not exactly a private meeting. It’s a very public spot, and park goers and students cutting across the arboretum can be expected to stumble upon it at any time.

But, I wonder if the family in the tower were there unexpectedly, or if they’re keeping an eye out for approaching dragons, because they do point at me, and then I see one of them typing into their phone.

Joel is one of the humanless dragons, and he yawps almost cheerfully and backs up well before I come near for my landing.

Astraia greets me with a series of poinks, and I think I can guess who the others are based on conversations in the Discord.

Brenna would be the one accompanied by a light skinned man in a straw hat, graying brown beard, and blond ponytail. Also partners, like Astraia and Caleb, only older and married with kids. Brenna looks like a really big wolf, like the Gmork from the Neverending Story, only with antlers, huge chicken feet, and her fur seems to be downy feathers. Her tail has spikes hidden in the fluff. Many scholars wouldn’t dare call her a dragon, but I know better.

These are all of the type of dragon that’s older than the word itself. The ones that got called dragons by the speakers of the word after their facts. I’m more of a classic renaissance dragon. Or one from modern fantasy. I feel almost fake here. Out of place.

And Tannis, I’m certain, is the one with the head of an eagle, the upper torso of a woman attached to where the neck would go on the body of a bear with bat wings, and a tail that looks like an octopus arm. She also has a human with her. A woman with dark skin and locs, dressed in neon pink and blue athletic gear.

Which leaves Wentin. A dragon with a “W” name that I didn’t give it. I know its pronouns because it had given them and its name on the server. Username eat_you, I’m pretty certain it’s the dragon I had nicknamed Theremin, because it can sound exactly like one. Spooky as shit if it’s the only thing making noise in the middle of the night.

Wentin is without a human and looks like a dire lion with a head that’s just a mix of all sorts of things. Its snout is as long, broad, and bulbous as that of a deinosuchus, but with lips and covered with that lion-like fur. Its eyes are forward facing and lidded, as expressive as any mammal’s, with enough cranium behind them to hold a sizeable brain. But its ears are a classic spiny finned dragon’s ears. And it has a dark brown mane of quills.

Wentin is big. Phenomenally big in comparison to the rest of us. And as I land it grins to show off its shark teeth, then opens its mouth to say, in a whiny, creaky voice, obviously using a syrinx way more expertly than I can, “Hello, Queen Meghan. Welcome to my territory. It is so good to see you in person.”

There’s no way that Wentin could fit in a building or a house. A garage, maybe, if there was no hoard in it. And I’ve no clue what it’s been eating.

I think that if none of the other dragons are fighting with each other right now, it’s because Wentin doesn’t want it. But maybe we’re all actually more reasonable than that, now that we’ve gotten used to ourselves.

I flap my wings a few more times as I stretch my legs on the ground, then settle down in the spot Joel made for me, opposite of Astraia, with Wentin directly to my left. I feel like I could fit neatly into Wentin’s mouth, but I know I’m not quite that small.

“Yes,” I say, and then make to pull out my tablet and put it on the ground in front of me. I press, “Hello.”

Tannis has hands and is holding her phone. I can see bullet scars on her upper torso, and bite scars all over her shoulders, all six of them. Far more healed than I’d expect for such a short time since her fight with Astraia. Like the rest of us, she doesn’t bother to wear clothes.

Astraia’s haunches are definitely doing better, but those huge claw marks, which definitely came from Tannis, don’t look like they’ll ever fade, let alone heal flush with her skin. They’re red, with a thin layer of scar tissued skin growing in them. Astraia seems completely unbothered by them otherwise. A shiny new tablet that’s twice as big as mine is on the ground in front of her, like the way I like to work. She’ll be typing with three of her eight snouts, of course.

Joel’s pretty much how I last left him.

Brenna, who is the second biggest dragon there, sits on her haunches and looks at her partner, Ian. Either she’s the one I named Caterwall, or she’s from outside the range of my morning song.

Ian addresses me to say, “I speak for Brenna. I am her voice here. I’d do the same for Joel if I could, but we don’t have that connection.”

Joel garumphs.

“Joel speaks for himself,” Wentin croaks gleefully.

I look at Joel and he glances at me and twitches his ear.

Yeah. OK.

I feel like my body has short circuited with so many dragons in one place, and with me sitting so close to the monster that is Wentin. All control has been left to the me that rides this crazy thing. I am shaky and unsettled, and yet also so, so calm.

I breathe in as I type, “I am here. Thank you all.” As much politeness as I can muster seems in order, but expedience still reigns. I am starting to really hate it. And now I’m finding myself intensely jealous of Wentin.

With my extra wide field of vision, it’s pretty easy for me to keep an eye on Joel while talking to the others, and so far, besides that ear twitch, he seems fairly relaxed. He’s bothered by his lack of voice, but isn’t showing it.

Astraia speaks, doing her hydra ballet for typing, four eyes on us, four on the screen, a snout to hold the tablet down, and three to speak, “Thank you for coming. We’ve encountered a problem you should know about.”

Tannis completes her thought, “There is at least one dragon who is allied with Säure.”

[circular-bircular]

Miscellaneous Thoughts

Alright, now that I’ve sat for a bit with my thoughts, got food, and destressed some…

Thoughts are going under a cut. This is all just ramblings and musings in regards to syscourse. Don’t take it too seriously.

I am sick and tired of the “sides of syscourse” bullshit. There aren’t sides. The sides are completely arbitrarily decided by those who tout themselves as leaders of the community, and if they don’t do so themselves, they are held up as paragons by those who regurgitate their disgusting displays in attempts at coherent thought.

I do mean that in regards to “all sides.” There are some of those who follow me who sicken me with how they attempt to interpret my words.

But then there are those who also engage with conversation, when possible. There are those who attempt to further conversations. And there’s those who are just trying their best, to understand or to learn more.

I’m… frustrated. Mostly that I can’t exist without this. It’s my entire disorder. I can either exist openly online as a DID system while participating in syscourse, or I can’t be online as a DID system. I can’t have a blog about my experiences without having to bring Endogenic systems into it, in some way.

I see my endogenic friends struggling right now due to fakeclaiming, and that’s hell. But I also see endogenic systems saying, “anti-endos have no idea what it’s like, having people tell you each day that they hate you or that you don’t exist!” And I know they mean me. Because they believe anti-endo means CDD.

I’m a CDD system. I’ve got DID. I struggle with it. And each and every day, I see more and more people who are trying to punch at the anti-endos doing things that directly impact me, as someone who isn’t a fucking anti-endo. As someone who isn't even pro-endo anymore. I'm not anti or pro anything! I'M JUST TRYING TO FUCKING EXIST.

The ToSD is real and valid, regardless of who participated in the writing and popularization of it. There’s plenty of research that supports it. Attacking the ToSD is not attacking anti-endos. It’s attacking CDD systems.

DID is a trauma only disorder. You cannot have DID without having repeated childhood trauma. You do not need to hate your system or be disordered by your plural aspects of self to have DID, and anyone saying otherwise is ignoring even the DSM. Attacking DID diagnostic criteria is not attacking anti-endos. It's attacking CDD systems.

Anyone, at all, who harasses anyone else, is either a troll, or hurting. They aren’t fucking evil. They aren’t irredeemable. They’re certainly a damn sight more than a fucking parasite — how in the goddamn insurmountable levels of hell do you think it’s appropriate to compare living, breathing human beings to parasites, and deem them worse and lesser? What gives you the right to treat others like this?

For fucks goddamn sake, I just want to live. I just want to survive with this disorder online. I want to talk about my experiences. But every single goddamn time I’ve tried, I get caught in this loop.

First, it was pro-endos, insisting I was valid while gaslighting me and harassing me into thinking I didn’t have goddamn trauma.

Then, it was anti-endos, insisting my hurt was valid while demonizing the pro-endos who hurt me first.

Then it was all of you fuckers, every single person in syscourse — yes, even you — who perpetuated these cycles. And the thing is, I’m not blaming you, I’m not upset with you; it’s just fucking impossible to avoid at this point!!

And the thing is, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave this place. I’ve spent a goddamn decade trying to carve out a hole for myself to hide in here. This became my home for so goddamn long because I didn’t have one of my own. And god, I have made a lot of connections here, people who I would miss. People who I DO miss.

But you all make it so damn difficult. Pro-endos hurting me more each day. Anti-endos hurting my friends and taking the battling gun approach to fighting ableism.

I’m so tired.

I’m just. So goddamn tired.

I think that’s all I’ve got in me right now. That’s all the energy I can muster for this. At least it’s words that count toward my daily total, right?

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 3

summary: the first official encounter with James Buchanan Barnes is...not exactly love at first sight.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: let me know what you think! thanks for reading, xox!

tag list: @bangtanxberm (let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_________________________________________________________

I was exhausted. 

For my first full day, we’d toured the entire facility, and I still felt like there was so much I hadn’t seen. There were rooms full of screens with dozens of agents talking on headsets, rooms with mechanical arms and welding sparks flying, rooms with so many weapons I felt like I was on a military base. It seemed to go on forever. Hangars, shooting ranges, labs, even an extensive medical wing for mission or training injuries. Natasha and Steve had been more than accommodating, staying with me through dinner. I’d met a few other Avengers, ones I recognized from either the news or online. It felt like a strange, high-tech college dorm, with ultra-powerful roommates. Not that I knew what that was like. 

I’d spent what should have been my college years in living hell. Not something I wanted to think about at that particular moment, though. I was just glad to be back in my room. Just glad to have a room to call my own, really. I twisted on the bed, my back sinking into the plush bedding. The feeling of a comfortable bed after a hot shower would never lose that euphoric feeling. Not when I’d gone so long without it before. 

This room was unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting. Soft light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the walls. The bed felt good beneath me, oddly similar to those of the luxurious suites I’d grown so accustomed to in Vegas over the past few weeks. 

A shiver tore through my body as an unwelcome thought reminded me of the cold, rickety hospital bed I’d spent so many nights sleeping on before my escape. How long ago was that? Years? Decades? I shook my head, willing the thoughts to fall out of my ears and never return. There was so much I still didn’t remember. 

Taking a deep breath, I focused on something good. A friend. Natasha had assured me this was a safe place, but could I really trust it? Could I trust her?

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried again to silence the doubts swirling in my mind.

This room, it's like a cage that's too comfortable to be real. How did I end up here? How did Natasha convince me to trust her, to trust them? I’ve spent so long avoiding people, avoiding connections. And now, I’m here, surrounded by... superheroes? I’m supposed to believe they have no other motive? 

She said I don’t have to work with them, I don’t have to fight. Why would she say that if it isn’t true? To get me to come with her. God, I’m so dumb. Of course they’ll want me to fight. Why else would they want me here at all. The only thing I can do is fight. 

At least if I’m here, I’d be fighting for the good guys this time. At least, I hope so. 

Natasha, she’s different. Right? I saw it in her eyes. She understands what it means to fight against the darkness. She told me the Avengers are a family, a team. She had no one before them. I have no one now. Can I really have that too? Would they accept me if they knew…knew everything?

Closing my eyes tighter, I try to push away the memories of the experiments, the pain, the fear. Flashes of white, hot anger and blinding rage. 

Natasha said they'd protect me. She said I could start anew here. But how can I trust these people I barely know? What if this is just another trap, another illusion to get me to do someone’s bidding?

I feel a lump forming in my throat. 

I have to give it a chance, don't I? I have to believe in something. Believe in someone. Maybe this room, this bed, is more than just a comfortable cage. Maybe it’s a sanctuary, a haven where I can rebuild what HYDRA took away from me.

Maybe I can have a life here. 

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that I'm not alone anymore. I'm not that scared, fragile girl they took to their labs so long ago. I’m not the angry, violent assassin who escaped them. 

I’m Charlotte Rossi, and I survived. I survived all of it. I survived for a reason.  

Maybe, just maybe, I can learn to trust these Avengers. Maybe I can find a new purpose here, a reason to fight back.

As sleep started to claim me, I took a shuddering breath, making a promise to myself:

I'll give them a chance. I’ll trust them. For Natasha. For me.

And with that, I let the darkness take me, hoping that when I woke, I'd find the strength to face this new chapter of my life, whatever it may bring.

The night had been turbulent, the remnants of my nightmares still lingering in the corners of my mind like cobwebs. I had always found solace in the quiet hours before dawn, where the world seemed to hold its breath, and the horrors of the past felt momentarily distant. 

Slipping out of bed, I padded through the dark common room to the balcony, my bare feet cold against the smooth tiles. Like everything here, the balcony was pristine and expanse. It stretched in a large semi-circle, boasting the best view of the entire compound. Except maybe the one you’d get from any of their impressive aircraft. 

The first hints of sunrise painted the sky in soft hues of pink and orange, casting a serene glow over the lake. As I settled into a chair, the tranquility of the morning wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. Nightmares weren’t new to me, but I never quite learned to quickly bounce back from them. There was still a cold sheen of sweat on my chest as I leaned back, taking in my surroundings. 

My attention was drawn to the trail surrounding the compound's lake, where a figure emerged from the early morning mist. I tensed out of instinct. He moved with a surprising amount of grace for someone of his size, every step purposeful and powerful. Even from a distance, I recognized him - James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. 

There was an undeniable magnetism about him, something in the way he carried himself, a nearly predatory confidence that was both captivating and intimidating. A shiver ran through me as I watched him turn a corner and disappear from sight. 

I knew I’d see him eventually, it was inevitable. Some part of me found peace in the kindness of the rest of the team. If there was going to be an issue with my being here, surely I’d have picked up on it by now. Why would they have even brought me here if anyone had a problem with it?

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice Steve approaching until his shadow fell over me. He held out a steaming mug of coffee, the aroma rich and inviting. "Couldn’t sleep either?" he asked, his blue eyes kind and understanding.

I accepted the coffee with a grateful nod, the warmth seeping into my hands as I wrapped them around the mug. "Thank you," I murmured, taking a tentative sip.

"Want something to do today?" Steve’s voice was casual, inviting. "I have a training session with some of the agents. You're welcome to watch. Might give you a sense of what we do here."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the prospect of witnessing their training firsthand, but cautious about any hidden motive. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to rope you into participating.” Steve lowered his own mug. “I don’t like ulterior motives. If there’s ever something I think, you’ll know it. I’m just a guy who was new here at one point too, I know the first few weeks can be a little…aimless.” 

Chuckling, I nodded. “Yeah, you could say that. I was hoping for some kind of activities list, like at summer camp.”

“You went to summer camp?” He looked incredulous. 

“I’ve seen movies.” 

“Ah,” He sipped his coffee. “That’s where I learned about -” He gestured vaguely. “Everything, I suppose.”

There was a moment of silence as he decided if he was going to address the obvious. 

“I had a lot to catch up on, too.” He spoke softly. “For a while, I had to write down everything new about the world that I wanted to remember. I watched a lot of movies, probably not historically accurate, but I definitely enjoyed learning that way.” He smiled, looking back at me. “Not a lot of people can relate. Just know I’m here.” 

“Thanks, Steve.” I pressed my lips together in a small smile. 

“For what it’s worth, you’re much more well-adjusted than I ever was. You must catch on quick.”

“You have no idea.” 

We leisurely finished our coffee before going to our respective rooms to get dressed. I had returned to my room to find a small pile of folded black clothes on the bed beneath a handwritten note.

‘In case you don’t feel like wearing sequins all week - xo, Nat’

I grinned, pulling out a set of black workout tights and a matching long sleeved top. It was chilly out here, which I guess was to be expected from upstate New York in October. Not nearly the balmy temperatures of Nevada. I did a quick change, laced up my sneakers, and met Steve back in the common room so we could make our way to the training wing. 

The moment I stepped inside, I was awestruck by the high-tech setup. The room was a marvel of modern design, sleek and functional, with state-of-the-art exercise equipment lining the walls. Rows of punching bags hung from the ceiling, several sparring rings placed throughout the massive room. 

The sound of bodies moving and the echo of instructions filled the air. Agents in SHIELD uniforms were scattered across the training mats, engaged in various forms of combat. Steve led me to a vantage point where I could observe the proceedings without being in the way.

A small group of six agents stood around one of the mats, waiting for him. They paused their stretching to greet him as we walked up. 

“Team, this is Charlotte. She’s going to be around for a while, I trust you’ll all make her feel welcome.” Steve’s words were met with nods and various greetings towards me, to which I smiled and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. Maybe they’ll think I’m just someone’s long-lost cousin, here to visit for a few months. 

Steve’s movements were a symphony of precision and power as he demonstrated different combat techniques to the agents. His punches were lightning-fast, his blocks seamless. Each motion was deliberate, a testament to his expertise. The way he moved, the way he fought, it was both beautiful and awe-inspiring. I could tell he was pulling his punches, using as much effort to go easy on the agents as they were to try and land a single blow on him. Super soldier strength was no joke. 

I watched, captivated, as he guided the agents, offering corrections and encouragement in equal measure. There was a quiet intensity about him, a dedication to his craft that was impossible to miss. At that moment, I understood why he was the leader of the Avengers, why he was Captain America. He was confident, not arrogant. Kind, yet firm. He had their respect but he so clearly respected them as well. He was the kind of guy you’d want to follow into battle. 

As the training session continued, I found myself drawn into the rhythm of their movements, the energy in the room palpable. Despite myself, I felt familiar patterns happening within me. My eyes tracked their movements, clocking every position, every wince, every shift of weight from one foot to the other. With an almost computerized precision, my mind began to catalog the fighting style of all six agents and the super soldier right in front of me. 

Later that day, I retreated to the workout facility in the Avengers’ building. It was smaller, but equally as nice. There were small modifications, clearly for accommodating superhumans. For starters, the ceilings were much higher, likely to accommodate for those who could clear a 30 foot tree in a single jump. The weights ranged far beyond the standard 45 lb plates and 100 lb dumbbells, which was where the other facility capped out. 

I punched a few buttons on the treadmill and worked up to a moderate pace. The row of treadmills faced the lake, already one of my favorite things to look at. I focused on the trees, the wind rustling through them. I controlled my breathing, thankful for the peace and quiet. The solitude lasted a good half hour before I heard the door slide open. 

“Hey stranger,” Natasha’s familiar rasp announced her presence. 

“Long time no see,” I tugged the safety cord out of the treadmill and let myself slide off the back, landing on my feet. 

“Heard you got to see Rogers in action today?” She strode over and took a seat on the bench nearest me. 

I shrugged. “The basket weaving class was full.” 

“Well, if you want to see the more exciting training sessions, I help out with weapons and hand-to-hand a few days a week.” She winked.

“If I had known that, I wouldn’t have wasted my first training session on Steve!” I mocked a tantrum. 

“Hey, super-soldier hearing here.” Steve strode through the door, right on cue.

“Beat it, Rogers, we’re having a girl talk.” 

Dropping his bag, Steve pulled out a roll of tape and began wrapping his hands for what I assume would be a round of sparring, either with the punching bag or an actual person. “You’re just mad I set the bar so high with Charlotte’s first training experience.” He grinned. 

Raising my eyebrow, I watched as Natasha rolled her eyes and grinned. There was so clearly something between them, it took me less than 48 hours to pick up on it. I wondered if it was something they’d explored yet, or if they lived in denial. 

Before I could make a snappy remark, the doors opened again and in strode the one man I wasn’t sure I was ready to see yet. 

Blue eyes snapped up to look at me, and he stopped in his tracks as the door slid shut behind him. Based on the way his jaw clenched, I don’t think he was quite ready to see me either. The world felt like it slowed to half speed, I felt my thoughts get muddled. I was slipping away from reality. No, please no, not here, not now -

White hot light exploded in my skull as I collapsed to my knees, fighting against myself.

“Charlotte!” Natasha was at my side instantly, holding my arm.

“Stop…Me���” My breathing was labored, I spat each word out through gritted teeth as I felt myself losing the internal battle for control.

“What do you mean, what’s going on?” She gripped my upper arm tightly, looking at Steve in concern. He hovered over me, halfway crouched. 

Then it all went black. 

________________

Steve looked from Natasha to Bucky, still frozen by the door. Charlotte had collapsed to her knees, face contorted in pain. In the few seconds since she’d cried out, sweat had already broken on the back of her neck. 

“Stop…Me…” Her voice was somewhere between a growl and a plea. 

“What do you mean, what’s going on?” Natasha asked, looking up at Steve. Before anyone could react, Charlotte sent them both tumbling backwards. In one fluid movement, she’d rolled forward and closed the distance between her and Bucky. Her momentum carried her from the roll straight into a fighting stance. Before Nat or Steve could scramble to their feet, she’d swung into a roundhouse kick straight at Bucky’s head. 

He ducked, eyes wide with surprise but movements instinctive. Charlotte went straight from her kick into a crouch, swinging her leg to sweep his out from under him. He landed on his back and rolled away from her as she advanced. Left hook, right jab, knee to the ribs, Bucky narrowly blocked each one. She was quick. 

For a split second, Bucky took his eyes off of her fists and looked at her face. A chill nearly paralyzed him as he saw the blank expression on her face, the unseeing and glassy eyes. His pause was costly, and he felt the full weight of that when her foot collided with the side of his head. He spat blood on the ground just as Steve’s feet stepped between him and Charlotte. 

Steve blocked her jabs as rapidly as they came, with Natasha running up from behind. 

“Get the hell out of here!” He yelled at Bucky, still on the ground as blood pooled from the cut on his eyebrow. “Go!” 

Bucky didn’t question it, rolling to his feet and sprinting out the door. 

Natasha came from above and wrapped her legs around Charlotte’s neck, throwing her to the ground. Without releasing her, she continued to squeeze. Steve dropped down, pinning her arms as she writhed against Natasha. After a violent resistance, she went limp as she finally passed out. 

“What…the hell just happened.” Nat fell back on her elbows, breathing hard. 

“I have no idea,” Steve held a hand out, helping her to stand. “Do you think she needs medical?” 

“Well, I don’t think we should just go tuck her into bed after this.” Natasha rubbed her sleeve across her forehead, wiping sweat off. “You go check on Barnes, I’ll call up to the room and see if anyone’s here to help me take her in.”

Nodding, Steve took off in a jog after Bucky, following the trail of blood splattered on the ground.

[hauntedveil]

In just a few days, I will be going back to school, and it's almost surreal to reflect on the person I was just a year ago…

A year ago, I started my graduate studies at a large prestigious university. Since then I’ve:

1. Started transitioning- Embracing my natural hair was a significant change for me. Since childhood, my hair had been regularly chemically straightened, and I never knew what it actually looked like in its natural state. After years of dealing with dry, brittle hair that was falling out at the roots, I decided to stop all chemical processing and allow my hair to grow as it was meant to. This journey has been challenging; filled with tearful nights and more moments of low confidence than not. I still struggle with my self-image, as my long, straight hair was deeply tied to my sense of identity and beauty. As I work on regrowing my hair, I’m gradually coming to terms with my changing appearance. I’m attempting to redefine my standards of beauty, and I trust that, in time, I’ll feel like myself again—beautiful in a new way.

2- went vegetarian. This might not come as a surprise to myself, considering I've spent much of my life already limiting parts of my diet. For a few years, I was pescatarian. When I started college and began cooking for myself, the only meat I would occasionally prepare was bacon for breakfast. Raw meat has always genuinely repulsed me. There wasn’t a specific reason or a pivotal moment that led me to fully embrace vegetarianism; it was more of a gradual shift. Perhaps part of me was drawn to the idea of doing something that might make me seem more interesting, and I also believed that being vegetarian would encourage healthier eating habits. With some heart issues in my past, I’ve become more intentional about my diet. I don’t hold anything against eating meat; I simply recognize that avoiding it is better for the environment—and ultimately, better for my health as well.

3. Became goth- I had never been educated about subcultures. Growing up black meant that any music that wasn’t rap or RnB was deemed “white music”. In middle school, I was bullied heavily for liking One Direction and Justin Bieber. So naturally, I hid my love for Fall Out Boy. There were no outwardly alt people at my school, so I was never exposed to subcultures. While I had friends who shared my taste in music, we were unaware that our interests were part of a broader subculture. I mostly listened to emo and metal, but without knowing any better, I labeled anything alternative as “rock,” unaware that it was more nuanced. Last year, while watching YouTube I stumbled across a goth makeup tutorial and decided to watch because I had been wanting to learn how to make more dramatic/dark makeup work on my features. From there, I was recommended more videos, and my interest was piqued. What made something goth? I began researching and soon found myself deep in the history and musical intricacies of the goth genre. To my surprise, I discovered that goth was a music-based subculture rooted in the very music I had been listening to for years. I continued educating myself and found I deeply resonated with the subculture and its ideologies. The rest is as you know it.

4. Got a piercing- now this may seem tame to a lot of you, but I remember being in middle school, swearing I’d never get any piercings or tattoos. I never imagined it would be something I’d want. It didn’t help that I’ve always had a huge fear of needles—I feel so bad for my piercer; I’m sure I stressed her out. So why did I get a piercing? I love how it looks. I’d been wearing a fake piercing now and then for a while, and I always felt prettier with it. I was hesitant to get a real one because I didn’t want to look too alternative at school. But at some point, I just thought, screw it. Learning so much about the anti-establishment and anti-conformist roots of punk and goth made me realize—why was I trying so hard to please people who have never accepted me? People who have never had a positive opinion of me? I got a piercing because I’m tired of hiding who I am. I’m a little weird and unstable, and who cares?

It's incredible how much can change in a year. I'm so far from the girl who was too afraid to express herself at a new school, still grappling with the sadness and disappointment of a lonely, unfulfilling college experience. I am no longer that girl, and yet, in some ways, I still am. I see her every time I look in the mirror. I remind her that it's okay if people see me now. They *will* see me, and I won't shrink because of it. I won’t. I'm so proud of her, and I know she’s proud of me too.

I’m excited to start school again, knowing that this time, I’ll be entirely myself.